Chapter 35

Chapter 35

A few brief seconds of silence.

There was appreciation, immersion, and quiet contemplation.

“I’ve never seen you wear clothes like this.”

Fu Yuze warmed his chilled body—still bearing the cold of the outdoors—watching Jiang Jining’s dark hair spill over his shoulders, his long robe shimmering like jade, and asked, “Why dress so beautifully just to come here?”

Jiang Jining leaned against his shoulder, gazing at Jingming Lake.

After a long while, his soft voice pulled Fu Yuze back from his thoughts: “I can’t go home… I wanted to come and say goodbye to Father and Mother.”

Home again.

What kind of home did he truly long to return to?

Bian Han had once said Jiang Jining’s parents had both passed away, leaving behind a son untouched by the world’s cruelties. Was that true—or false?

Fu Yuze gathered the strands of hair that had fallen onto the robe. The mud at the tips had partially dried. He stroked and smoothed them repeatedly, worried that leaving them unruly might damage the hair. Relying on his sharp intuition, he asked, “The first time I met you here—was that connected to this, too?”

Jiang Jining turned his head, closed his eyes, and rested his forehead against Fu Yuze’s chest.

His silence confirmed it.

Fu Yuze didn’t know how much Jiang Jining wished to say—or whether he was willing to confide in him. Nor did he wish to part ways when day fully broke. So he began by reassuring him: “They know you’re with me.”

Jiang Jining murmured, “Thank you.”

And said nothing more.

Fu Yuze simply held him like that. When he looked down again, the man had already drifted into peaceful, unguarded sleep in his arms. Faint tear tracks glistened on his cheeks, catching the morning light reflected off the lake’s surface.

In his dreams, he was still crying.

The sky had already brightened. Fu Yuze rewrapped him gently in the shawl and lifted him slowly, steadily. Jiang Jining’s arms hung limply at his sides. On one forearm was a small white medical patch—the mark left by a blood draw.

Fu Yuze checked again the scrapes and bruises from the last car accident.

All had healed.

The greatest emotional upheaval of his life had made this sleep especially deep.

*

He had an absurd, surreal dream.

In it, he leapt into a koi-filled lake again and again.

Yet each time he entered the water, he found himself back at the beginning—where the vast, white sky met the water, and only he remained. Later, even the fish vanished, and the water’s surface turned into a mirror.

A single drop in the ocean—the dream ended with sky and water stretching infinitely apart.

Standing alone, he looked back from afar upon the happiness and harmony of the past nineteen years—and saw family members who hadn’t appeared in his dreams for months.

The Jiang residence was exceptionally tranquil and elegant.

The scene shifted—

His father and mother’s hair had grayed prematurely—especially his mother’s. Her usually immaculate, delicate face now bore several fine lines. Smiling warmly, the two dined with their children. Clever, lively grandchildren nestled close beside their knees.

Another handsome figure sat at the round table. Though he spoke little, a closer look revealed he was constantly serving dishes to the woman beside him.

Only then did Jiang Jining notice his elder sister—who had once waited endlessly for love without marrying—had also pinned her hair up in the style of a married woman. Even after marriage, she remained radiant and vivacious, wearing a crimson *bixia* *beizi*, boldly exchanging tender, loving glances with her husband…

Jiang Jining couldn’t help but smile.

Everyone was living well.

The scene shifted again.

Within the stately, grand Duke’s residence stood an elegant courtyard, overflowing with blossoms.

Beneath a magnolia tree in full bloom sat a noblewoman, her embroidery needle moving deftly through silk. When the stitching was complete, she neatly folded a length of *xiangyunsha* fabric—cut to fit a young man of *ruoguan* age—and handed it to a servant.

It was his mother.

Jiang Jining unconsciously took a few steps forward.

The noblewoman glanced vaguely in his direction. He drew nearer and called out, “Mother!”

They were separated as if by an unbridgeable chasm.

As though she could no longer hear him at all.

Supported by her maid’s hand, the noblewoman rose and walked into a spacious, sunlit chamber. On the neatly made bed lay several more exquisitely crafted, brightly colored robes. She sat slowly beside it, stroking each one before murmuring softly, “Do you think someone might also make clothes like this for A Ning?”

“They will,” the head maid replied with certainty. “Doesn’t Madam dream of the young master every night? And you’re always cheerful all day. The immortal from Yuechan Mountain sent a letter to you and His Grace, clearly stating the young master is safe and sound. Perhaps he has even found love and settled down—just like the Second Young Lady…”

“That’s true.”

Having said this, the noblewoman’s eyes remained red-rimmed. She touched the robes once more. “Why did it have to be my A Ning? I’m only afraid he longs single-mindedly to return home—but doesn’t know the way. Inexperienced in worldly matters, I can never rest easy about how others treat him…”

“The immortal’s blessing—escaping disaster at nineteen—is a great fortune for the young master.”

The maid added cryptically, “Thank goodness His Grace took in that lord back then. He truly cares deeply for the young master. Otherwise, we’d have no way of knowing whether the young master is safe today…”

The noblewoman smiled bitterly.

“Yes—if not for this, A Ning would have fallen beneath those people’s swords…”

The head maid hurried to comfort her: “The Emperor has thoroughly investigated this matter several times out of remorse toward His Grace—and bestowed rare treasures upon you repeatedly. Little do they know our young master learned to swim at a very young age; he certainly did not drown in the lake. Madam, if you dwell on this daily, I fear it will only weary your spirit and sadden your heart…”

After this exchange,

the noblewoman sat silently in the courtyard for a long time.

Jiang Jining watched all of it quietly. Afterward, most of what followed were events that occurred after he left the Jiang residence—all confirming one thing: the family was safe and sound.

Separated by heaven, each living in peace.

Not the heartbroken scene he had imagined.

Everything was harmonious—as if this were the best outcome everyone could accept.

Though happy, Jiang Jining couldn’t help but feel a quiet sense of loss.

At the very end of the scene—

Jiang Jining saw the sister he had been closest to since childhood.

His sister had returned to her parental home with her husband, but during this visit, her heart itched with longing upon seeing her nieces and nephews. She took her husband along to a temple to pray for a child, yet when it was her turn to make a wish, she blurted out: "May little A Ning stay healthy and find peace and smooth sailing over there."

After making her wish, she donated a hundred taels of incense money, then turned to her smiling husband and said, "Ah… my sincerest prayer was for my A Ning. As for praying for a child, I’ll leave that to you."

The dignified marquis flushed red to his ears, taking her hand. "Don’t say such things in public."

Jiang Jining also smiled.

The scene finally faded to pitch black.

Jiang Jining knew he should wake up.

He felt a lump in his throat, a trace of warmth slipping into the hair by his ear, yet in truth, there was no greater sorrow or dejection.

He chose to slowly open his eyes.

Still the familiar white ceiling.

"Ningning?"

Bian Han immediately came over and sat down.

She had dozed off on the recliner in Jiang Jining’s room, waking now and then to check on him, and quickly noticed his movement.

Jiang Jining sat up, seeing her red-rimmed eyes and flushed nose, and spoke first: "...I’m fine."

Without another word, Bian Han hugged him tightly.

Feeling her emotional turmoil, Jiang Jining placed a hand on her back and patted gently, declaring slowly: "I can’t go back home. From now on… you don’t have to worry every day that I might disappear."

"Who says that?"

Bian Han grabbed his wrist. "Don’t give up so early—"

She had expected to see Jiang Jining distraught, despondent, or even broken down, but none of that happened.

After sleeping, Jiang Jining’s complexion was rosy, without a trace of illness. He looked at her and said, "I’m not talking nonsense."

"Did it really not work at all?"

Bian Han still couldn’t let it go, taking Jiang Jining’s hands as she asked: "Or were you interrupted? You didn't fall asleep? Did nothing really happen?"

"I slept for ten minutes," Jiang Jining told her truthfully. "Nothing happened. When I woke up, I was still in your study. I knew the method wouldn’t work for me, so I went to the lake feeling sad."

Bian Han was speechless.

She distinctly remembered it working when she used it…

"But I had a dream."

As Jiang Jining spoke of it, his eyes filled with tenderness. "Since coming here, I’ve never dreamed of home. I know this dream was real."

Only then did Bian Han’s spirits lift.

"What?"

Jiang Jining recounted it to her: "At home, there’s an immortal guiding my family. Though my parents miss me, they are at peace knowing I came here. My eldest sister is married now, thinking of me every day and wishing me peace and well-being here. My elder brother and sister-in-law also copy scriptures and pray for me…"

"Really?" Bian Han’s face lit up with joy. "You saw them!"

Jiang Jining nodded. "The dream said that someone sent a letter to my parents, telling them they knew where I was. If I hadn’t jumped into the river to come here, I would have been killed because of others' schemes… So this is like avoiding a calamity, a sort of win-win."

"Moon Chan Mountain."

Bian Han immediately confirmed with him: "Was the letter from Moon Chan Mountain?"

Jiang Jining said, "Yes."

"Oh my god…" Bian Han jumped up on the spot, radiant and thrilled, seizing Jiang Jining’s shoulders. "Now do you believe I can see everything about your family?"

Jiang Jining smiled and nodded.

Bian Han wanted to discuss more—like what Jiang Jining’s dream was from start to finish, or why nothing happened at midnight, but instead the dream was delayed…

"I’m coming in—"

Bian Jiacheng suddenly appeared at the door, glancing at the two clinging together and said, "What was all that shouting about earlier?"

Bian Han grabbed a nearby cushion and threw it at him. "Ning Zai and I aren’t finished talking yet!"

Bian Jiacheng caught it steadily, seeing they were both fine before saying, "Then call me when you’re done."

"Wait…"

Jiang Jining called out to stop him.

Bian Jiacheng turned back. "What?"

Seeing both of them looking at him, Jiang Jining didn’t bother with anything else and anxiously asked: "Where’s Fu Yuze? Wasn’t it him… who carried me back?"

Bian Han was taken aback. "Why look for him?"

"He already drove home," Bian Jiacheng shrugged. "You two broke up, and he was still hugging and carrying you around. How could he have the nerve to stay?"

Bian Han agreed.

Jiang Jining remained silent, wanting to push back the covers and get out of bed, only to find his clothes had been changed, his hair ends cleaned, and he was now in pajamas. He quietly wrapped himself back up and said to Bian Han, "I want to go find him."

"…"

Bian Jiacheng instantly understood.

He looked up and sighed over someone’s good fortune.

Bian Han also patiently guided him: "Why?"

Under their gazes, Jiang Jining’s face gradually flushed. Summoning his courage, he said: "I can’t bear to let him go."

Now that he couldn’t leave anymore…

The conflict between them no longer existed.

When Fu Yuze found him this morning, he had been so careful not to hold him too tightly. Remembering his own harsh and unreasonable behavior when he broke up, Jiang Jining felt waves of heartache.

Bian Han blinked and asked, "Are you going to beg him to get back together?"

Beg…?

"Do I have to kneel?" Jiang Jining hesitated, biting his lip in distress. "Can I not beg? If I talk to him properly, he probably won’t make me kneel on the ground…"

Bian Han couldn’t help but laugh at his train of thought.