When she opened her eyes again, it was not the sterile white ceiling of a hospital that greeted her.
Instead, sunlight streamed in at an angle, almost too bright, cutting through a small window dusted with floating motes. Warm golden patches spread across a polished wooden floor, shifting gently with the light. The air was thick with the scent of flowers, layered with the damp, earthy smell of soil and fresh water.
Jiang Yining sat up abruptly.
A sharp, pounding pain exploded in her head, and her vision went dark for a moment. She lifted a hand instinctively to rub her temples, but the instant her eyes landed on it, her body froze.
This was not her hand.
Slender, pale, with delicate joints and neatly rounded nails, faintly reddened from long hours of contact with water. Her own hands had once been softer, fuller, carrying the warmth of a girl raised with care.
Her heartbeat turned frantic.
She threw off the thin blanket and stumbled toward the small mirror hanging on the wall.
A face looked back at her.
Young.
Delicate.
Skin like pale porcelain, a small chin, a gently curved nose.
But it was the eyes that made her breath catch.
Clear and bright, their outer corners slightly lowered, giving them an innocent, almost lost expression.
It was a beautiful face.
But it was not hers.
It felt unfamiliar, yet strangely known, like a memory she could not quite grasp.
“Ningning? You’re awake?”
A soft voice came from the doorway, filled with concern.
Jiang Yining turned sharply, her heart nearly stopping.
A middle aged woman stood there, wearing an apron and holding a watering can. Her expression was kind, her smile simple and warm.
She had called her Ningning.
“Auntie Chen…”
The name slipped from Jiang Yining’s lips before she could stop it.
At that moment, a flood of memories rushed into her mind, fragmented yet overwhelming.
An orphanage.
Lonely years.
Working alone in H City.
Struggling, enduring, finally opening a small flower shop.
And a name.
Jiang Yining.
She was also called Jiang Yining.
Her mind reeled.
She should have died.
Eight years ago, in that car accident, when she had thrown herself forward to protect Xie Shiyan.
But now she was alive.
Alive in a future eight years ahead, inside the body of a twenty five year old woman who owned a flower shop.
Her soul remained the same.
Her body had changed.
And somehow, even their names had aligned.
…
Jiang Yining stepped out of the flower shop, raising a hand to shield her eyes from the sunlight.
The wooden sign above the door came into view.
Softly carved letters read, “Lemon Whisper Florals.”
Below it, along the windowsill, rows of thriving potted plants basked in the sun.
Among them, several pots of lemon mint stood out.
Their deep green leaves spread wide, releasing a refreshing citrus scent blended with a cool hint of mint.
“This… this can’t be real…”
Her voice was hoarse, almost unsteady.
Something that belonged only in fiction had happened to her.
She stood there, staring blankly at the street.
Eight years had passed.
H City felt both familiar and completely foreign.
Towering buildings lined the roads, traffic flowed endlessly, and the air of prosperity pressed heavily against her chest.
A wave of confusion rose within her.
Her parents.
How had they endured losing her?
Her younger brother, Jiang Yunting, was he taking care of them?
And Xie Shiyan…
What had become of him?
What about Xiao Xiao, Nianan…
Eight years was enough to change everything.
Her thoughts spiraled, sharp and chaotic, piercing through her mind like needles.
The headache returned suddenly, stronger than before.
Her vision blurred.
The world tilted.
A piercing ringing filled her ears, swallowing everything else.
“Ningning, Ningning, what’s wrong?”
Auntie Chen’s voice sounded distant, as if coming from far beneath water.
Jiang Yining felt her body lose balance.
She fell forward, everything fading into darkness.
The last thing she saw was Auntie Chen rushing toward her in panic.
…
As her consciousness drifted, she found herself standing on a mist covered mountain peak.
A quiet pavilion stood there, wrapped in silence.
A cold wind brushed past her.
At the edge of the pavilion stood a slender figure, her back turned.
“You’re here.”
The voice was familiar, yet distant.
The figure slowly turned.
The moment Jiang Yining saw her face, a chill ran through her entire body.
It was herself.
Her original self.
Young, radiant, dressed in the white dress she had worn before the accident.
“Who are you?” Jiang Yining asked, her voice trembling.
“I am Jiang Yining,” the girl replied calmly, though exhaustion lingered beneath her tone. “The Jiang Yining of the flower shop. I’m so tired… Living is exhausting. The orphanage, the part time jobs, the debts, being alone… it never ends.”
She lifted her hand, staring at her fingers, which seemed almost transparent.
“I don’t want to live anymore. I truly don’t.”
Her gaze shifted to Jiang Yining.
“Live for me instead. Keep the flower shop… and see this world for me.”
There was no resentment in her eyes.
Only relief.
A quiet surrender.
“I’ll go and be reborn in your place. And you… live well as me. Alright?”
A deep ache rose in Jiang Yining’s chest, mixed with an unfamiliar sense of responsibility.
Looking at the emptiness in the other girl’s eyes, she nodded firmly, her throat tightening.
“Alright.”
The world twisted violently.
Everything spun, as if she had been dragged into a whirlpool.
Then—
Beep… beep… beep…
The steady sound of a heart monitor echoed in her ears.