Chapter 1

Chapter 1

At six in the evening, the sky had already darkened, much like this fallen city, filled with despair.

The old wintersweet tree in front of Yungjiang Restaurant had bloomed early, its faint fragrance stealthily creeping into one’s breath.

A sedan was parked in front of the restaurant. In the back seat sat a young, handsome man with a gentle temperament, though his lips were tightly pressed together at the moment.

He was Jiang Yicen, the current owner of Yungjiang Restaurant, returning today for one last look at his family establishment.

After the war broke out, the restaurant could no longer stay open. Now someone had bought it at a low price, and he had no choice but to sell, regretting only that he hadn’t managed to preserve the Jiang family’s last piece of property. The only comfort was that the money from the sale would be used to help those left homeless by the war.

No one knew that the owner of Yungjiang Restaurant would leave tonight. He had already decided to go to the front lines to defend his country.

Jiang Yicen instructed the driver, “Uncle Yuan, I'm going to pack some luggage. You take the car to the back door and wait for me.”

Uncle Yuan drove off.

Jiang Yicen stood at the restaurant entrance, not yet going in, when he saw several young people rushing over frantically from the other side of the street. In the distance, gunshots and screams rang out. Jiang Yicen’s body trembled slightly, his lips turning pale as he clenched his fists.

The person at the front called out to him. Jiang Yicen turned to see it was the principal of Guangji Middle School, followed by three students, all with determined expressions but still somewhat youthful faces.

Principal He looked at Jiang Yicen as if seeing a savior: “Boss Jiang!”

Jiang Yicen suppressed the discomfort in his body and mind, looked behind him, and pushed open the restaurant’s main door. “Principal He, come inside with me first!”

He led them into the restaurant without locking the door, leaving up the sign indicating normal business, just like any other day.

Yungjiang Restaurant had once been one of the most famous establishments in Lincheng, but now, due to the war, it had lost its former bustle. Even so, traces of its past prosperity and splendor remained.

No sooner had they reached the second floor than gunfire rang out in the main hall downstairs.

Someone was shouting, “Where’s the boss!”

Jiang Yicen’s body trembled slightly. He quickly said to Principal He, “Principal He, go up to the third floor, turn right, and enter the sixth room. That's a study. Move the statue of Guan Yin on the bookshelf, and you'll see a staircase behind it. Go down that way, through the garden's archway, and you'll find a Western-style building. The garden behind it leads to the back door. My driver will be there.”

Principal He hesitated, worried. “Aren’t you coming with us? Those people saw us come in—they won’t let you off!”

Despite his pale face, Jiang Yicen reassured him, “Don’t worry. I’m the restaurant owner. I can handle this and buy you some time to escape.”

On this once-bustling street, only Yungjiang Restaurant was still open. Those people would surely guess that. If Jiang Yicen went with them, none of them would make it out. He had already heard the bell ring as the restaurant’s main door was pushed open.

Principal He believed him. “Alright, take care. Thank you, Boss Jiang.”

Jiang Yicen took a fountain pen from his pocket—one he always carried. “My driver will take you away when he sees this pen.”

Principal He said no more and hurried upstairs with the three students. He only had time to glance back at Boss Jiang, who was straightening his light gray suit jacket and walking steadily down the steps.

Jiang Yicen rubbed his handsome face and turned on the phonograph at the corner of the stairwell. Usually, to match the restaurant’s style, he would play symphonies. But this time, he put on a new record, gently moving the needle to the edge of the vinyl. Soon, the empty restaurant filled with a popular song of the time.

“Spring arrives, green fills the window, a maiden embroiders by the window...”

He forced a smile, his hand resting on the pistol at his lower back, and walked downstairs while responding to the people below: “What brings the Colonel here? Have you had dinner yet?”

Principal He and his students found their way out of the restaurant. They located the back door and saw a sedan. He handed Jiang Yicen’s fountain pen to the driver.

When Uncle Yuan saw the pen, his face turned ashen. He had watched the young master grow up and knew the pen’s meaning—he could guess his decision.

Just as he took the pen, sharp gunshots tore through the thick, blood-like darkness.

Uncle Yuan’s eyes reddened. “Young master...”

---

Jiang Yicen’s last memory was the searing pain of a bullet piercing his chest. Several Japanese soldiers, enraged that he had deliberately blocked them and helped Principal He and his students escape, shot him dead in his own restaurant. But he had also killed three Japanese, one of whom was a leader of some importance in the Japanese army. One for three—he didn’t regret it.

But how could he still be opening his eyes? Given the brutality of the Japanese, there was no way they would have let him live to be rescued.

Jiang Yicen found himself lying sideways on a single leather sofa. On the wall hung an embroidered thangka of Tara, symbolizing salvation from suffering.

In front of him was a small round coffee table. Beside it was a window; the sky had darkened, and his reflection in the glass showed a different hairstyle and different clothes. He wore a pair of gold-rimmed glasses that looked like him yet unlike him—he had never worn glasses like that before.

He looked down and touched his chest. No trace of a bullet wound. His suit was lightweight and neatly pressed, unlike the worn-out one he had been wearing before. Since the war began, he had learned to be frugal, pawning expensive clothes for money and food.

Suddenly, the familiar “Four Seasons Song” broke through his thoughts, connecting two eras. He turned to look behind him. There was a folding screen stand.

Jiang Yicen stood up and tried to walk over, but after three steps, his vision went dark. He instinctively closed his eyes and grabbed the screen stand, accidentally knocking over a wooden horse carving. It fell onto the thick carpet with a dull thud.

He paused until the dizziness subsided, then felt a clear pain on his forehead. He pressed it gently—it hurt, but not as much as the bullet wound to his chest. There seemed to be a bump.

Looking up through the lattice folding screen, Jiang Yicen saw a young man with a coat draped over his arm. It had been a long time since he had seen someone so clean and tidy, without anxiety or worry on their face. He looked like a young master from a wealthy family, stylishly dressed.

Their eyes met. He thought he saw a hint of amusement in the other’s gaze—or perhaps he was mistaken.

---

Five minutes earlier.

Nan Shuyi parked the car, casually picked up the dark long cashmere coat from the passenger seat, and was about to enter Linjiang Restaurant when his phone vibrated. He tapped the Bluetooth earpiece.

On the other end was his friend Zhou Yi: “Nan Shuyi, you're really not coming today?”

Nan Shuyi replied lazily, without emotion, “You guys go ahead. I’m not going.”

Zhou Yi’s voice suddenly rose: “What are you doing? Don’t tell me your dad actually dragged you into a blind date with the youngest son of the Jiang family.”

Nan Shuyi was silent, which counted as confirmation. “There’s no way I’d actually marry a man.”

Zhou Yi laughed. “If it were a soft, sweet girl, I could understand. How did your dad get so ridiculous?”

Nan Shuyi revealed the truth: “Last time he pushed me to get married, I told him I didn’t like women. He remembered.”

As soon as he said it, laughter burst from the phone: “How badly does he want you to marry! Your dad's usually so old-fashioned—he can accept you liking men?”

Nan Shuyi: “Is it for me? It's for his company.”

He hung up directly, walked a few steps, and stopped at the Republic of China-style exhibition area in the front courtyard of Linjiang Restaurant. On the display stand was a phonograph, with rows of shellac records on a nearby shelf, likely placed there to match the restaurant’s history.

Two seconds later, Zhou Yi called again. “Anything else? If it’s not serious, hang up.”

Zhou Yi suppressed a smile and said, “Is information about your marriage partner serious enough? The Jiang family's youngest son is called Jiang Yicen, right? I have some impression of him.”

Nan Shuyi was curious about this blind date candidate. “Go on.”

He never cared much about others. The Jiang family had little interaction with his own, and he only knew their family dynamics were complicated. He had only briefly met the second son of the Jiang family.

Zhou Yi: “About half a month ago, I saw him at my high school classmate's birthday party. He just returned from abroad a month ago.”

Nan Shuyi browsed through the records on the shelf, casually pulled one out: "And then?"

Zhou Yi clicked his tongue twice: "His mother was Jiang Gongming's second wife. His first wife divorced him and soon after gave birth to Jiang Yicen. No wonder you haven't heard much about him. At sixteen, his biological mother sent him abroad. I usually don't mind these returnees, but at my classmate's birthday party, I chatted with him a bit. This guy is so damn pretentious. He keeps going on about America this and America that, and he has to toss in one or two English words in every sentence, as if he's scared people won't know he's from America. The way he acts—OK? Really? My god! Right! I felt like punching him in the face right then. Like, who doesn't know those few stupid words? Phony and snobbish!"

Nan Shuyi hadn't met Jiang Yicen, so he made no comment, while Zhou Yi continued on the phone to evaluate the blind date Nan Shuyi was about to meet.

"But, to be fair, he does look good. It's such a waste of his good looks. Oh, I got a photo of him at the birthday party—I'll send it to you, so you don't mix him up with someone else."

As he said that, the photo came through to Nan Shuyi's phone.

Nan Shuyi was wearing earphones, which didn't prevent him from checking the photo on WeChat.

Zhou Yi thoughtfully circled the person in the group photo: "See him? That's him."

Nan Shuyi placed the record on the phonograph and moved the stylus onto it. The crisp vintage singing, unique to the last century, filled the exhibition room.

"Spring arrives, green fills the window; the maiden embroiders mandarin ducks by the window..."

He freed a hand, opened WeChat, and glanced at the photo.

Thump.

Nan Shuyi heard the sound of something falling onto the carpet behind the screen. He looked toward the carved screen and through it saw someone inside. The person turned his head toward him with a dazed, innocent look in his eyes. He looked very much like the person in the photo Zhou Yi had sent, but his temperament was quite different.

Indeed, he was very good-looking, with eyes that seemed to speak.

Nan Shuyi hung up on Zhou Yi: "I've seen him."

"Jiang Yicen?"

Nan Shuyi hadn't expected to meet Jiang Yicen like this. He was quite different from the person Zhou Yi had described. In the photo, the person was indeed smiling—even in the photo you could see his pretentiousness, the snobbery in his eyes couldn't be hidden. But the man standing by the screen now—when he saw Nan Shuyi, his curiosity was plain to see. The rimmed glasses added a scholarly air; his features were handsome, refined and elegant. There was a noticeable red mark on his right forehead, like he'd bumped into something.

What a waste of such a good-looking guy—turns out he's a snob.

Jiang Yicen didn't pay much attention to the other's scrutiny. He didn't respond immediately. The other had addressed him in an uncertain tone, which made it clear they didn't know each other.

So all he needed to do was acknowledge his identity with a simple 'Hello.'

In his memory, he had never encountered such a dashing and handsome young master from a prominent family. Someone so striking—even if he had seen him once, he wouldn't forget. He was pretty confident in his memory.

Just then, Nan Shuyi's phone rang. His father was calling: "We've all arrived. Aren't you here yet?"

"I'm downstairs." With that, he hung up.

Jiang Yicen saw the man talking to no one in particular, and it was clear he wasn't speaking to him. That was strange. He noticed the other was holding a black, unfamiliar device.

A slight vibration came from the carpet. Nan Shuyi looked toward the source and saw a phone vibrating on the carpet. Thinking Jiang Yicen hadn't noticed, he reminded him: "Your phone fell."

Jiang Yicen saw a black device on the floor identical to the one in Nan Shuyi's hand. He bent down and picked it up. The object felt smooth in his hand. So it was called a "phone." He had no idea what it was used for.

He calmly put away the unknown object, his suspicions growing deeper, but also becoming more cautious. Where exactly was this place?

Nan Shuyi put away his phone and removed his earpiece: "Let's go. They're urging us."

Jiang Yicen didn't know where this gentleman was going to take him.

He said nothing more and silently followed.