Gu Wangshu stood before the full-length mirror in her bedroom, examining the face of the young girl reflected in the glass.
The mirror was oval-shaped, set within an intricately carved rosewood frame adorned with intertwining lotus patterns. The craftsmanship was exquisite, clearly an antique piece, likely brought over from Suzhou by her grandfather’s generation.
She had been discharged from the hospital for three days now.
In those three days, she had passed by this mirror countless times, meeting the gaze of this face in the reflection over and over again.
Yet each time, a faint, lingering sense of disorientation would still rise from the depths of her heart.
She still wasn’t quite used to it.
In her previous life, though she had been a sickly child, frail and bedridden for years, she had possessed a face as radiant as peach blossoms.
Especially when she smiled, her eyes would curve like crescents, bright and warm as the spring sun.
But the face reflected in the mirror now was entirely different.
It was an exceptionally cool and aloof face.
Her skin was as fair as snow, her eyes and brows carried a chilly elegance, with the outer corners slightly upturned, lending an innate air of detachment and nobility.
The bone structure of her face was impeccable, with a clean and defined jawline. Beautiful as it was, it exuded a frosty distance that seemed to push people away.
This face belonged to Gu Xihe.
No, it belonged to her now.
Gu Wangshu raised her hand, her fingertips gently brushing against the brow bone of the reflection. The cool touch of the glass against her skin felt undeniably real.
Suddenly, she remembered something.
When her grandmother had named her “Wangshu,” it meant “moon goddess.” Her grandmother had said she hoped she would be as clear and radiant as moonlight, capable of illuminating even the darkest corners of the world.
Later, her grandfather had named her cousin from her second uncle’s family “Xihe,” meaning “sun goddess,” forming a perfect contrast with “Wangshu.”
The elders likely held a beautiful expectation when choosing these names, hoping the two girls from the two branches of the family would shine like the sun and the moon, each with their own brilliance.
But judging by their appearances, the names seemed to have been reversed.
Gu Wangshu withdrew her gaze and took a deep breath.
In the three days since leaving the hospital, she had spent most of her time in this bedroom.
It wasn’t because her body still had major issues, but mainly because she needed time.
Time to process, time to adapt.
More importantly, time to observe and understand the environment in which she would now live as “Gu Xihe.”
The Gu family mansion on Barker Road in Mid-Levels.
Ten years ago, she had lived here for a while, but her memory of the house was limited to a vague impression of “very large.”
Gu Xihe’s bedroom was located on the east side of the second floor, the best position on the entire floor.
The room was spacious, at least four to five hundred square feet, decorated in a blend of Chinese and Western styles.
On the nightstand stood a Tiffany-style stained glass lamp, its shade painted with dragonflies and water lilies. Yet on the small side table by the window sat a celadon vase in the Song dynasty style.
Several paintings hung on the walls, all reproductions of Western Impressionist works—Monet’s water lilies, Renoir’s young girls.
Gu Wangshu opened the bedroom door and walked along the corridor toward the staircase.
The corridor was long, laid with deep red carpeting. On both walls, exquisite sconces were mounted at regular intervals, their brass arms polished to a shine.
At the end of the corridor was a floor-to-ceiling window. Outside, she could see the vast expanse of lush green trees covering the hillside, with the distant peak of Victoria Peak disappearing into a veil of mist.
She slowly descended the stairs, holding onto the handrail. As her foot touched the final step, a figure hurried over from the direction of the kitchen.
“Miss! Why have you come down?”
Sister Wen approached with a look of concern. She had clearly been busy in the kitchen and rushed out upon hearing footsteps on the stairs.
“You were discharged from the hospital just three days ago. The doctor said you need to rest quietly. You should be staying in your room and resting more.”
Her tone was gently reproachful yet full of care. As she spoke, she looked Gu Wangshu up and down, as if checking for any signs of discomfort.
“If you need anything, just tell me. Why trouble yourself to come down?”
She added, “I’m stewing soup right now—American ginseng with silkie chicken. It just needs to simmer a little longer, and I’ll bring it to your room later.”
Gu Wangshu stood at the foot of the stairs, leaning on the handrail, catching her breath slightly.
She lifted her eyes and scanned the spacious living room. It was empty, devoid of any human presence.
The servants were likely in the backyard or the servants’ quarters downstairs. Aside from her and Aunt Wen, the only thing moving on the first floor was the old mechanical clock on the mantelpiece, ticking steadily.
“She…” Gu Wangshu began.
She paused, swallowing the word “aunt” that had come to her lips, and instead said, “I mean, where is Mother?”
The term still carried a faint, almost imperceptible awkwardness when spoken by her.
But Aunt Wen didn’t notice, or perhaps she attributed this awkwardness to the discomfort of memory loss and thought nothing of it.
“Madam?” Aunt Wen’s tone held a kind of matter-of-factness, even a hint of resignation. “Madam has gone to play mahjong.”
Gu Wangshu was slightly taken aback.
“Mahjong?”
Her tone unconsciously carried a trace of surprise.
In her understanding, or rather, in her impression of Ming Lan from ten years ago, her aunt was an extremely dignified lady from a prominent family in Shanghai, refined in her conduct and polite in her speech.
Her daily life consisted of managing household affairs, tending to flowers and plants, reading a few pages of a book, playing the piano for a while, and occasionally attending charity events in high society circles.
Mahjong? Ming Lan playing mahjong?
Aunt Wen noticed her confusion and explained, “Madam has a few close friends she plays mahjong with. Today, they’re playing at Mrs. Fang’s house in Causeway Bay. It was prearranged.”
Gu Wangshu fell silent for a moment before asking another question.
“Does she… go often?”
Aunt Wen sighed.
“In recent years, yes.”
“Especially after the master… took a second wife.”
“Madam gets lonely in this big house all by herself. The master… he’s rarely home these days. I can tell she’s not happy.”
“Aunt Wen.”
Gu Wangshu walked over to the sofa in the middle of the living room and sat down, leaning against the beige cushions. Her gaze fell on a traditional ink-wash landscape painting hanging on the opposite wall.
It was a partial reproduction of Shi Tao’s “Searching for Strange Peaks to Sketch,” with bold and vigorous brushstrokes, likely an old collection left behind by her grandfather.
“What about the Ming family?” she asked.
“Your grandfather… Old Master Ming passed away a few years ago.”
Aunt Wen chose her words carefully. “After his passing, most of the Ming family’s businesses moved from Hong Kong to Southeast Asia. Your uncle oversees things there and is rarely in Hong Kong.”
She thought for a moment, then added, “In the earlier years, your mother still managed some of the Ming family’s businesses here in Hong Kong. But later, Madam gradually lost interest, saying she didn’t have the energy anymore, and handed them over to others to manage.”
Gu Wangshu listened, her fingers unconsciously stroking the soft leather surface of the sofa armrest.
The Ming family of Shanghai was once a prominent and influential clan.
After the outbreak of the Pacific War, the Ming patriarch, assessing the situation, moved the entire family south to Hong Kong. Relying on his shrewd business acumen and exceptional courage, he reestablished roots in this unfamiliar city.
At that time, there were many wealthy merchant families like the Mings who had relocated from the mainland to Hong Kong. They banded together for warmth, supporting each other, and thus formed many long-standing friendships.
The Gu family of Suzhou was one of them.
The Gu family had also moved from the mainland to Hong Kong during the turbulent war years.
Grandfather Gu Shiyong and the Ming patriarch had known each other since their youth, having crossed paths in Shanghai’s chamber of commerce. After arriving in Hong Kong, they became close friends who could talk about anything.
Later, the two families formed a marriage alliance: Second Uncle Gu Bingwen married Ming Lan, the daughter of the Ming family. This marriage was once celebrated as a perfect match in Hong Kong’s high society—”the Gu-Ming alliance,” a union of equals, a brilliant pairing.
But such tales remain just tales. No matter how promising the beginning, it cannot withstand the erosion of time and hardship.
As Gu Wangshu was lost in these old memories, she was suddenly pulled back by Aunt Wen’s voice.
“By the way, Miss…”
“There was a phone call earlier from Miss Zhang, saying she wants to come see you.”
“Miss Zhang?” Gu Wangshu frowned slightly.
It was a name she had no recollection of at all.
“Miss Zhang is Zhang Ziyu, an upperclassman you met while studying at the University of Hong Kong. She was two years ahead of you, the daughter of the Zhang family who owns Wing Shing Department Store.”
“You know Wing Shing Department Store, right? The one in Causeway Bay, with that huge sign.”
She thought for a moment, then added, “Miss Zhang is very straightforward and lively. You two were extremely close during your time at HKU, practically inseparable every day.”
“After graduating from HKU, she went to study in England and only returned to Hong Kong at the end of last year. She works at a… what’s it called…”
Aunt Wen patted her forehead, trying hard to remember. “Oh yes, something like a pictorial or a weekly magazine—anyway, she works at a newspaper office.”
Gu Wangshu listened, quietly storing each piece of information in her mind.
“I… was very close to her?”
“Very, incredibly close. She used to stay overnight at our house often. You two would chat until three or four in the morning. When I went to bring you midnight snacks, I could still hear you laughing.”
Gu Wangshu nodded and said nothing more.