“Cough, cough…!”
Song Zhiyao coughed violently as she slowly regained consciousness, feeling as if she had swallowed water by accident. Her throat burned, making it hard to breathe.
“Song Zhiyao, you want a divorce? Fine, I’ll grant it.”
The familiar yet chillingly cold voice echoed through the room.
Song Zhiyao’s mind snapped instantly awake, and she turned to see the speaker—
“Lu Yanzhi? What are you doing here?”
Her voice was hoarse, laced with shock.
Lu Yanzhi—her husband, who had been sent off to the frontlines the day after their wedding and hadn’t returned until she gave birth.
Wait a moment.
Song Zhiyao’s heart jolted. Before she lost consciousness, she had been in labor. She remembered faintly hearing the midwife say she had delivered twins—a boy and a girl.
“My children… where are they?” she asked.
In the next instant, a sharp grip tightened around her neck, and a wave of suffocating pressure made her gasp.
Lu Yanzhi’s eyes narrowed his gaze dark with murderous intent. His voice was icy: “Song Zhiyao, consider yourself lucky that Jian Shen is unharmed. Otherwise, I wouldn’t spare you.”
Song Zhiyao had to tilt her head back to look at him, her eyes wide. Yet all she could manage to ask was, “What happened to Jian Shen?”
Jian Shen—the name she had given her child.
At that, Lu Yanzhi’s eyes darkened further with rage.
How dare she ask? How could she even have the nerve to ask?
If it weren’t for him standing there, Jian Shen would never have ended up in the ice lake, unconscious and near death.
Yet as he looked at her familiar face—flushed from the struggle to breathe—a flash of hesitation softened his grip slightly.
In that moment, Song Zhiyao’s knee shot forward, aiming for Lu Yanzhi’s most vulnerable spot.
Lu Yanzhi reacted instantly, sidestepping and then pinning her leg down with effortless strength.
Song Zhiyao struggled, frustration rising in her chest. She had trained in self-defense since she was a child. How could giving birth have drained all her strength?
Still, she pressed on: “Lu Yanzhi, what happened to Jian Shen?”
With a harsh motion, Lu Yanzhi threw her onto the soft bed.
A piece of paper fluttered down in front of her.
“The divorce papers you asked for,” he said, towering over her. “This is the last time. If you dare come near Jian Shen or Jian Wei again, don’t blame me for being ruthless.”
With that, he turned and left.
Divorce papers?
Song Zhiyao blinked in surprise and picked up the paper. It was indeed a divorce document.
She understood the situation.
The Song and Lu families had a marriage agreement. On the day of her arranged marriage to Lu Jin Yu, the second son of the Lu family, the groom had fled.
To maintain the alliance between the two families, the groom was replaced at the last minute by the eldest son—Lu Yanzhi.
In other words, she had been hastily married off to her eldest cousin.
It was said that Lu Yanzhi held someone else in his heart and had rejected all marriage proposals.
So it made sense that, even though they had consummated the marriage and she had borne his children, he did not love her.
But… Lu Yanzhi had just said these were the divorce papers she wanted.
When had she ever asked for them?
Song Zhiyao slipped the papers under her pillow. Now, the most important matter was not divorce—it was Jian Shen, her child born after ten months of pregnancy.
She stepped out of the room, and the icy wind hit her face.
She turned back to fetch a cloak, and only then realized that this courtyard was the Gui Pu Courtyard, where she and Lu Yanzhi had lived after their wedding.
She paused at the doorway and glanced back at the house—her marital chamber.
It had clearly been renovated so thoroughly that she hadn’t recognized it at first.
Had so much changed during the time she was unconscious after giving birth?
Even more strangely, she didn’t feel weak; her body felt normal, her lower abdomen flat as before. It was nothing like someone who had just given birth.
A sharp intuition told Song Zhiyao that something extraordinary must have happened while she was unconscious.
The courtyard was empty.
Not a single one of her attendants was in sight.
Stepping out of Gui Pu Courtyard, she finally saw a Lu family servant. “Where is Jian Shen?”
The servant bowed his head. “Young Master resides in Zhi Mo Courtyard.”
As the servant started to leave quickly, Song Zhiyao called him back. “What day is it today?”
Had she really been unconscious for so long that Jian Shen had already been moved to another courtyard?
“Madam, it’s the ninth day of the winter month,” he replied.
Song Zhiyao froze.
She remembered giving birth on the twelfth day of the winter month.
Had she… gone back in time?
She quickly pressed further. “What year?”
“Eleventh year of Jiande,” the servant hesitated, but eventually answered.
Song Zhiyao’s limbs went cold.
She had given birth in the sixth year of Jiande.
In other words, she had been unconscious… for five years?!
Even worse, judging by Lu Yanzhi’s earlier words, it seemed she had remained in this state the entire time—otherwise, he wouldn’t have been asking for divorce papers.
What could have happened during these five years?
A chill ran down her spine, as if unseen eyes were watching her every move.
After a long moment, sensation slowly returned to her body, and she headed toward Zhi Mo Courtyard.
The courtyard was bustling.
Lu Jian Shen was still unconscious, and Lu Yanzhi had summoned the city’s doctors.
From a distance, Song Zhiyao observed, hesitant to enter directly. After all, Lu Yanzhi had threatened her. She might not even be allowed in.
She waited outside and soon intercepted one of the doctors leaving.
Just as she was about to ask about Lu Jian Shen, Lu Yanzhi’s voice, sharp with anger, cut through the air: “Song Zhiyao!”
Her wrist was gripped painfully.
His hand trembled slightly, as if struggling to control his emotions. “You’ve gotten what you wanted. That’s enough.”
Song Zhiyao’s heart ached.
She had no idea what had happened in the past, and there was no way she could explain!
Five years of unconsciousness… who would believe her?
Moreover, Lu Yanzhi had married her unwillingly in the first place. If she tried to explain, she’d probably be accused of witchcraft or worse.
She lifted her eyes to him. “I don’t want anything else. I just want to know about Jian Shen.”
“Hah.” Lu Yanzhi sneered coldly. “Stop pretending, Song Zhiyao.”
“Leave here. Now.”
His eyes were icy, his voice even colder.
But Song Zhiyao no longer looked at him.
Her gaze shifted past Lu Yanzhi to the entrance of Zhi Mo Courtyard.
There, peeking out from the gate, was a small head.
A little girl.
Dressed in red, her skin pale as snow, her round face staring in their direction.
Her large black eyes were full of fear.
At once, Song Zhiyao froze her heart racing.
That had to be her daughter!
The resemblance was unmistakable—it mirrored her own childhood exactly.
She instinctively tried to smile, but the little girl, as if seeing a monster, shrank back immediately, hiding behind the gate and refusing to peek out again.
Only a flash of red cloth was visible.
“Enough!”
Pain shot through her wrist as Lu Yanzhi noticed the little girl’s fright.
He gripped her harder, his voice low and trembling with restrained anger. “Get out!”