Huo Xuan turned to look back at Xie Mingzhu. His expression remained unchanged, but a flicker of something deep and knowing flashed in his eyes. “What do you mean?”
“You know exactly what I mean.”
Her dark, deep eyes stared steadily into his, unblinking.
From the moment he had suddenly reappeared here, to the way he had flown into a rage and beaten Qin Haoyu—deep down, she had already understood. Huo Xuan must have been reborn just like her, carrying all the memories of their past lives. Yet even so, she stubbornly wanted to hear him say it out loud.
Seeing her persistence, Huo Xuan could not help but let a faint smile cross his face. “Don’t be so stubborn. Whether it’s true or not, does it really change anything? I am still the same person I have always been.”
And my feelings for you have never wavered.
Xie Mingzhu lowered her gaze slightly, her voice barely above a whisper. “Perhaps you are still you… but I am no longer the same person I used to be.”
Looking at the girl standing before him, Huo Xuan felt a dull ache in his chest.
The Xie Mingzhu of the past had been so bright, vibrant, and full of life—so different from the weary, dispirited woman standing here now. Though her features were still those of a woman in her twenties, the sparkle in her eyes had long since faded.
Huo Xuan stepped closer, his gaze warm and intense. “You are still you. No matter how much you have changed, you will always be Xie Mingzhu.”
Xie Mingzhu lifted her head, staring at him in a daze.
“We must keep moving forward,” he said gently. Whatever happened before is in the past, and it stays there.”
Xie Mingzhu remained silent.
Huo Xuan’s hands curled slightly at his sides. After a moment’s hesitation, he reached up and patted the top of her head lightly. “Let today be the turning point. Leave all the unhappiness behind and embrace this brand new life ahead of you.”
Xie Mingzhu stayed frozen for a moment before slowly nodding her head.
Seeing her agree, Huo Xuan smiled and asked, “What would you like for dinner? I’ll start making it right away.”
Xie Mingzhu sniffled softly. “I want the scallion pancakes you make.”
She pressed her lips together and added, “I’ve been craving them for such a long time.”
Huo Xuan’s mother had been an excellent cook, and he had inherited her skill. The scallion pancakes he made were something Xie Mingzhu had never been able to forget—nothing sold in the village shops ever tasted quite the same.
Hearing her request, Huo Xuan grinned. “Very well. We’ll have those, and a pot of millet porridge to go with them. Does that sound good?”
Xie Mingzhu nodded again.
“Go inside and rest for a while,” he said. “I’ll get started on dinner and call you when it’s ready.”
Cooking was never Xie Mingzhu’s strong suit, so she offered instead, “I’ll go finish cleaning up the room next door for you.”
As he walked toward the small kitchen, Huo Xuan called back, “Leave it be—I’ll take care of it later.”
But Xie Mingzhu did not listen. She filled a basin with water, grabbed a cloth and a broom, and headed into the adjoining room.
Now that there were no other educated youth left in the brigade, there should be no problem with Huo Xuan staying there temporarily.
The room was only covered in a thin layer of dust, which wiped away easily with a damp cloth. It took her about an hour to scrub and sweep until every corner was spotless.
Once she was done, she looked around and realized how empty it was. Aside from the bed, the table and wooden cabinet were completely bare.
That was when it struck her—she had not seen Huo Xuan bring any luggage with him.
She turned to go out and ask him, but as soon as she stepped out carrying the basin, Huo Xuan walked in.
He had taken off his outer jacket because of the heat from cooking, leaving him in just a plain white short-sleeved shirt. Even the loose fabric could not hide the firm, well-defined muscles beneath.
Xie Mingzhu quickly averted her eyes and glanced around behind him. “Where is your luggage?”
Huo Xuan shrugged casually. “Forgot it.”
In truth, it was not quite that he had forgotten. He had brought a suitcase with him, but during the entire journey, his mind had been racing, filled with only one thought: to get here as fast as possible and stop her from marrying Qin Haoyu. When he had rushed off the train, he had been in such a hurry that the luggage had simply slipped his mind.
But he would never admit to such an embarrassing mistake.
Xie Mingzhu frowned and looked him up and down. “The weather isn’t scorching yet, but you still can’t wear the same shirt every single day, can you?”
It was already May. Though the countryside was cooler than the city, the temperature was still hovering above twenty degrees Celsius. Any garment worn for two days straight would begin to smell stale.
Hearing her remark, Huo Xuan instinctively took a step back, then lowered his head and sniffed cautiously at his own clothes.
After all, he had run all the way from the commune station to the village the day before, working up a heavy sweat. And he had not changed or washed his clothes since then…
Realizing this, he turned and hurried toward the door. “Before it gets dark, I’ll go buy a couple of new shirts.”
Before Xie Mingzhu could reply, he was already gone.
She sighed helplessly and ran after him, calling out loudly, “Wait! Come back!”
Huo Xuan had already wheeled out the bicycle and was about to mount it. Hearing her shout, he paused. “Do you need me to bring something back for you?”
“Just come back first,” she said. “I have clothes here you can use.”
At once, Huo Xuan shook his head, assuming she meant her own garments. “There’s no way I can fit into your clothes!”
Xie Mingzhu rolled her eyes in exasperation. “Who said anything about wearing my clothes? Come inside first.”
Seeing her insistence, Huo Xuan propped the bicycle up and followed her back into the room.
Inside, the large trunks holding Xie Mingzhu’s dowry were already stacked neatly against the wall. One of them was a heavy red sandalwood chest—the traditional “bottom chest” every bride in the region received, filled with things meant to last a lifetime.
Xie Mingzhu lifted the lid. It was packed full of clothes, folded neatly in two sections: one half held women’s wear, and the other half men’s.
Seeing the neatly arranged garments—clothes that had been intended for a married couple—Huo Xuan’s heart suddenly sank, his mood turning heavy.
Xie Mingzhu was busy rummaging through the chest and did not notice his change in expression. “These were prepared by Aunt Xin for Qin Haoyu,” she explained. “Now they’re no longer needed. If you don’t mind, you can wear them for the time being.”
Aunt Xin was her adoptive mother.
Ten years earlier, when her father had been arrested for political reasons that could not be openly discussed, he had sent ten-year-old Xie Mingzhu away in the middle of the night to stay with a former comrade-in-arms, so as not to drag her down with him.
From then on, that couple became her foster parents. Her father had instructed her to tell everyone that they were her true parents.
They were kind-hearted people and treated her with great care. Though their family was not wealthy, they always did their best to give her a good life. Xie Mingzhu felt nothing but deep gratitude toward them.