Ye City
The carriage jolted through the wind and snow, finally arriving at the back gate of a secluded estate. Zhen Mi instructed a few trusted maidservants to lift Cao Zhi and carry him into a storage room tucked in the far corner of the backyard. The place was rarely visited, relatively safe.
The storage room was cold, but at least it shielded them from the storm. Zhen Mi wasted no time resting—she immediately had a brazier brought in and personally laid thick old quilts on a pile of dry straw in the corner. She sent the other servants away, leaving only her most trusted maid, Xiao Tao, to assist.
By lamplight, Cao Zhi, exhausted from days of hunger and cold, shivered under a fever and coughed weakly, mumbling incoherently.
Zhen Mi rolled up her sleeves, revealing her pale, delicate wrists. She carefully pressed a damp cloth to Cao Zhi’s forehead to reduce the fever.
The following days passed in constant, sleepless vigil. Cao Zhi remained trapped in high fever and unconsciousness. Zhen Mi practically lived in the small adjacent room, personally preparing medicine and checking his condition. She dismissed the other servants, leaving only Xiao Tao to bring necessary supplies.
She soaked a soft cloth in warm water, wrung it out, and repeatedly pressed it onto his burning forehead. At night, when Cao Zhi shivered with cold, she draped her own fox-fur cloak over him, wrapping herself in an old cotton robe beside the brazier.
Sometimes, late at night, Cao Zhi would fall into terrifying nightmares, thrashing his arms and calling out hoarsely, “Dian Wei!” “Zhang Xiu, you dog!” or sobbing in despair.
Zhen Mi would instinctively hold his flailing hand, murmuring soothingly, “It’s alright…” His hand was cold and rough, scarred and chapped, contrasting sharply with her soft palm. Strangely, her gentle touch seemed to calm him, even if just a little.
During this time, Zhen Mi’s husband, Yuan Xi, remained a distant, cold presence. From the estate’s other side, he may not have even realized a dying person was hidden in the corner. Occasionally, servants brought news from the city, usually just about the second son hunting or indulging himself.
Zhen Mi’s expression remained indifferent. Her marriage to Yuan Xi was long dead in all but name. Yuan Xi, indulging in pleasures, had suffered a chronic illness that left him impotent—a humiliation and torment for a young, beautiful woman.
She felt like a golden canary trapped in a luxurious cage, unseen, watching her youth and vitality slowly wither. Caring for this dying boy became the only thing that made her feel alive and useful.
A turning point came.
After days of careful attention, Cao Zhi’s fever finally broke. His breathing grew steady and long. His long eyelashes fluttered, and he slowly opened his eyes.
Cao Zhi’s gaze wandered, confused, trying to understand where he was. Then he saw a figure.
A woman stood with her back to him, focused on a small cauldron bubbling on the stove. She wore a simple, pale moon-white cotton dress. Her black hair was tied neatly with a wooden hairpin. Her profile was delicate, yet carried a lingering weariness and subtle melancholy. Sunlight filtered through a high window, casting a soft halo around her.
Cao Zhi stared, momentarily stunned. This… this was a fairy? She was breathtaking. No woman he had ever seen could compare to her beauty—words could not describe it.
He moved slightly, his voice breaking the silence.
The woman immediately turned. Their eyes met.
Cao Zhi froze completely. The woman before him was even more stunning than the fleeting glimpse he had seen before. Her eyebrows arched like distant hills, her eyes clear like autumn water. Her pale complexion carried a faint bluish tint, but it only enhanced her grace. Especially her eyes—pure as a mountain stream, now filled with surprise and concern for him.
“You… you’re awake?” Zhen Mi’s voice was melodious, like feathers brushing the heart. She hurried over, holding a bowl of warm water. “Don’t move. You’re still sick. Drink some water first.”
Gently, she supported his head and brought the bowl to his cracked lips. The warm water soothed his throat and brought a comforting warmth. Cao Zhi drank greedily, his gaze never leaving her face.
“Th…thank you…madam…” his voice was hoarse. “For…saving my life…”
“No need to thank me,” Zhen Mi replied, lowering her eyes. She placed the bowl down, her tone returning to her usual calm. “How do you feel?”
“Better… much better…” Cao Zhi tried to smile, but weakness and pain made it strained. “May I… ask… madam, your name? And… where is this?”
“My name is Zhen Mi. This is Ye City,” she answered simply. “It’s safe here. Rest and recover. What is your name? Why were you being chased?”
Cao Zhi’s mind raced. Ye City, Zhen Mi… could this be the famed beauty of the Three Kingdoms? But at this time, her father-in-law Yuan Shao and my father Cao Cao were enemies. He had to hide his true identity!
“I… I am called Chen Zhi,” he lied, his voice weak. “I came from Jingzhou to study. My father offended Zhang Xiu over political matters, and now he is hunting me.” He spoke vaguely, mixing truth with lies, trying to appear frightened and grateful.
Zhen Mi studied him but said nothing. Sharp and perceptive, she sensed the half-truths but didn’t press. In such chaotic times, who didn’t have secrets or burdens? She had not saved him to interrogate him.
“Then rest,” she said lightly, moving past the topic. “The medicine is ready; drink it before sleeping.”
In the following days, Cao Zhi (as Chen Zhi) recovered steadily under Zhen Mi’s care.
She brought him medicine and meals daily, checking his wounds. Conversations between them gradually increased.
At first, simple questions about his health or the weather. But Cao Zhi, with his modern soul and knowledge, could not hide his insight. Even posing as a student, his cleverness and occasional insights were unusual. Zhen Mi noticed this, her curiosity piqued.
Once, when she brought him a meal, a hint of loneliness and fatigue showed on her face. Cao Zhi couldn’t help asking softly, “Madam Zhen… is something troubling you?”
She hesitated, thinking to brush it off. But looking into the clear, sincere eyes of the boy before her—and recalling the isolation in her mansion—she couldn’t help but speak: “It is… merely watching the fallen leaves and reflecting on life. The world turns, year after year, but all we see are flowers bloom and wither, leaves green and yellow…” Her voice carried a deep, unspoken loneliness.
Cao Zhi was silent for a moment, then glanced at the bare branches outside and softly recited:
*”People have no roots, drifting like dust along the road. Scattered by the wind, this body is but fleeting…”*
Zhen Mi’s eyes shot open in shock! She stared at him in disbelief! That verse… captured exactly the sense of helplessness and solitude in her heart! It pierced her deeply.
“This poem…?” her voice trembled.
Cao Zhi panicked internally. He stammered, “Ah… it’s… from my travels… an old scholar, drunk, once recited it… it… seemed to fit your mood just now… so I remembered it…” He lowered his head, pretending to be embarrassed.
Zhen Mi didn’t press further. She only looked at him deeply, a complex mix of shock and an indescribable thrill, like finding a kindred spirit. How many more surprises did this “Chen Zhi” harbor?
She discovered that speaking with him was comforting. He understood her emotions, occasionally offered fresh insights or verses, stirring her heart. His gaze was clear and focused, with open appreciation and concern—the kind she had never felt from Yuan Xi.
Cao Zhi, in turn, was captivated by Zhen Mi’s kindness, hidden talent, and beauty. In the cold despair of chaos, she was his only warmth and light.
According to history, at the Battle of Guandu, Ye City would fall. She would be taken by Cao Pi, later embroiled in court intrigue and meet a tragic end. Such a beauty should not suffer that fate—he would save her, rewrite history.
A subtle, unspoken emotion quietly grew between them in the dim, dusty storage room. Both avoided revealing their identities, yet greedily drew from the warmth and understanding of this fleeting moment. Outside, the winter remained harsh—but inside, two hearts were slowly, unknowingly, drawing closer, burning hotter.