Autumn in Suzhou seemed veiled in a layer of mist. The weather had grown somewhat colder, but the sunlight was so lovely that even people felt languid and lazy.
The young girl napping on a chaise longue beneath an osmanthus tree had her brows tightly furrowed. Her pearly teeth bit down on her lower lip, nsometimes lightly, sometimes harder, as though she had fallen into a troubled dream.
“Wanwan…”
Within the dream, that familiar voice called out to her in a strange tone.
Tender, lingering, and filled with intense desire.
A pair of strong hands gripped her tightly around the waist. Warm kisses lingered by her ear and trailed down her neck, leaving her whole body weak.
But that voice soon turned into a pained cry.
“Wanwan, Wanwan!”
The tall, elegant man knelt on the ground, his eyes—dark as black jade—stained crimson.
Eventually, those pained cries softened into relieved murmurs.
“Wanwan, don’t be angry anymore…”
“I’ll come keep you company right away, all right?”
“We’ll entwine ourselves beneath the earth and never part again.”
Terrified, Wen Yunwan opened her eyes and gasped for breath.
In a daze, she touched her neck. Her hand came away slick with sweat.
No. This wasn’t right.
The warmth of the sunlight, the damp heat of the sweat, even the weight of lifting her arm…
Those were all sensations only the living could feel. Ghosts could not feel such things.
“Miss, you’re awake?”
A maid with her hair arranged in twin buns came toward her with a beaming smile. “I was worried you hadn’t woken up and would miss the opera.”
Wen Yunwan clicked her tongue and called out, “Dongzhi?”
Dongzhi answered brightly, “Yes, I’m here.”
The sight before her was far too bizarre. Wen Yunwan forcibly swallowed the words, “You’re already a mother—why are you still pretending to be young?” She looked around once more.
This was not the magnificent, solemn Chancellor’s residence in Shengjing. It was the small courtyard where she had lived before marriage.
“What time is it? And what opera am I going to see?” Wen Yunwan asked, pretending to be muddleheaded.
“It’s almost past noon. The one you’re going to see is…” Dongzhi thought for a moment, then lowered her head awkwardly. “I don’t remember either. You said watching the opera wasn’t important. Seeing the jieyuan [1]Jieyuan is the the candidate who ranked first in the provincial imperial examination jQuery('#footnote_plugin_tooltip_3455542_1_1').tooltip({ tip: '#footnote_plugin_tooltip_text_3455542_1_1', tipClass: 'footnote_tooltip', effect: 'fade', predelay: 0, fadeInSpeed: 200, delay: 400, fadeOutSpeed: 200, position: 'top center', relative: true, offset: [-7, 0], }); was what mattered…”
Dongzhi, An opera, The jieyuan.
Only then did Wen Yunwan confirm that she had been reborn, returning to the year she was fourteen.
She and several close friends had made plans to go watch an opera at the theater on East Street.
Wen Yunwan quickly accepted the fact that she had been reborn.
Accepting it was one thing, but even after she climbed into the carriage, she remained somewhat dazed.
Her mind was filled with the voice from her dream.
That voice had belonged to Song Yanzhou, her husband in her previous life.
But the Song Yanzhou she remembered had been elegant and immaculate, aloof and solitary. He had been gloomy and stubborn in his youth, and later became Chancellor Song, a man powerful enough to shake the entire imperial court with a single move. He had always been cold and reserved. Even in bed, he had been proper and restrained. How could he possibly have said something like, “We’ll entwine ourselves beneath the earth”?
Besides, he had always called her Madam. He had never addressed her by such an intimate name.
Wanwan.
“I must have gone stupid from being a ghost.”
Wen Yunwan irritably tugged at her sleeve. Dongzhi hurriedly smoothed it flat again, distressed.
“Gently, Miss. This outfit cost fifty taels[2]Tael: A traditional Chinese unit of silver used as currency jQuery('#footnote_plugin_tooltip_3455542_1_2').tooltip({ tip: '#footnote_plugin_tooltip_text_3455542_1_2', tipClass: 'footnote_tooltip', effect: 'fade', predelay: 0, fadeInSpeed: 200, delay: 400, fadeOutSpeed: 200, position: 'top center', relative: true, offset: [-7, 0], });,” Dongzhi said.
Only after she had carefully flattened every wrinkle did she look at Wen Yunwan in confusion. “Miss, when did you become a ghost?”
Wen Yunwan cast her a listless glance. “I didn’t become a ghost. A ghost possessed me.”
What difference was there between the Song Yanzhou in her dream and a ghost? He was nothing like his usual self.
With a single sentence, Wen Yunwan immediately put Dongzhi on alert. The maid chattered on about finding a master to drive out the evil spirit, then said they ought to go burn incense and worship Buddha to dispel the bad luck.
Dongzhi: …
If the master really came, wouldn’t he capture her—the evil spirit—first?
Perhaps because she had died so abruptly in her previous life and then drifted about as a lingering soul for many years, Wen Yunwan was still listless even after she sat down in the private box.
“They’re here, they’re here!”
The girls’ attention was not on the stage below but on the window on the other side.
Their seats were excellent. Once the large window on the left was opened, they had an unobstructed view of the stage and the open seats below.
The window on the right faced the street. If they leaned out, they could see the road the newly named jieyuan was expected to pass along.
“I heard he comes from a poor family and is extremely handsome.”
“Yes. He came from a little place like Pi County, yet he actually outscored so many sons of noble families and powerful officials.”
“What was his name again?”
“Song Yanzhou? I think that’s it.”
The girls spoke animatedly, yet they could not even remember his name.
To them, it was an unfamiliar name. To Wen Yunwan, however, it was all too familiar.
Song Yanzhou was her husband in her previous life, and the male lead of the novel.
After Wen Yunwan died, she spent several years as a ghost drifting around Song Yanzhou before discovering that she was living inside a novel. Her impoverished jieyuan husband—the poor scholar she had nearly forced into marrying her, was the male lead of that novel. And she was the male lead’s deceased wife—the white moonlight[3]White moonlight: A cherished, often unattainable or lost love who remains idealized in someone’s heart jQuery('#footnote_plugin_tooltip_3455542_1_3').tooltip({ tip: '#footnote_plugin_tooltip_text_3455542_1_3', tipClass: 'footnote_tooltip', effect: 'fade', predelay: 0, fadeInSpeed: 200, delay: 400, fadeOutSpeed: 200, position: 'top center', relative: true, offset: [-7, 0], }); of his heart.
It was impossible to say whether Song Yanzhou had truly loved her. In any case, she had certainly received all the treatment befitting a white moonlight. While she was alive, even after he became Chancellor Song, he never changed his habit of attending to her. Yet in the novel, those everyday moments were merely glossed over as part of the past—and so was she.
Her existence was meant to highlight the male lead’s devotion, create difficulties for the woman who came to win him over, and turn her into a ghost so she could be angered all over again.
In the end, Song Yanzhou would fall in love with that woman, and the woman would heal his family with an appearance resembling Wen Yunwan’s. Everything would have a perfectly happy ending.
Except for Wen Yunwan, who had died young.
“Yunwan, come over here!”
Someone called out to her, pulling her back from her thoughts of rebirth.
“The jieyuan is here! Didn’t you say you wanted to see just how handsome he was?”
When the girl saw that Wen Yunwan was not moving, she came over and reached for her.
Wen Yunwan merely raised her head lazily to glance at her, then lowered it onto the cushioned rest again. “I don’t want to see him anymore. You girls go ahead.”
She did not want to be anyone’s stepping stone again. Whoever wanted the role could take it.
In this life, she had to stay far away from Song Yanzhou.
Unable to pull her away, the girl squeezed back to the window herself. Every word of the discussion about Song Yanzhou reached Wen Yunwan’s ears.
Faint gasps arose around them, followed by a brief silence.
The young man walking along the street had skin so fair it seemed to reflect the light. His high nose and slightly deep-set eyes outlined distinct features, while his sharply defined jaw contrasted with his calm, dark eyes…, lending brightness even to the surrounding scenery.
He was very tall. His broad shoulders carried a long gown patched in several places, its sleeves a little too short. Yet his calm bearing somehow made the shabbiness of his clothes seem insignificant. He seemed completely unconcerned with the embarrassment such shabby clothes might have caused another young man his age. His expression was cold as he walked forward, without the high spirits a young man ought to possess. He was so bleak and still that it seemed a layer of mist clung to him.
After the brief silence, the discussions began again.
“He really is handsome, though he’s far too thin.”
“Handsome, yes, but can handsome looks fill your stomach? Look at his clothes—they’re even patched.”
“That’s right. He’s so thin I can see his bones from here.”
“This is simply too shabby…”
In her previous life, they had discussed Song Yanzhou in exactly the same way.
The place faced the street, and they were speaking loudly enough that if Song Yanzhou truly passed below, he would certainly hear them.
Remembering how those hands—hands that would one day hold enormous power in the imperial court—had carefully put on her shoes and socks in her previous life, Wen Yunwan held herself back and held herself back, but ultimately could not stop herself from speaking.
“Stop talking about him.”
She did not want Song Yanzhou to hear them, even if he might not care.
Song Yanzhou truly did not care.
From childhood to adulthood, he had heard plenty of people discussing him.
Besides, what these young ladies had said was simply the truth. There was no need for him to take offense.
He walked down the street as he always did, accustomed to such things, when he suddenly heard a lazy yet crisp voice silencing them.
“It’s so noisy outside. Close the window quickly, so we can continue watching the opera.”
The voice was clear and languid, but remarkably effective.
The expensive window was shut at once, cutting off all those unpleasant words.
The lean young man calmly glanced at the window, then continued on his way.
He was going to Prefect Wen’s residence to collect the reward awarded to the jieyuan.
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