Gu Wangshu stood before the dressing mirror in the bedroom, studying the face of the young woman reflected in the glass.
The mirror was oval-shaped, set into an intricately carved rosewood frame. Twining lotus patterns had been carved into the wood with exquisite craftsmanship. One glance was enough to tell that it was an antique, probably something her grandfather’s generation had brought over from Suzhou.
She had been discharged from the hospital three days ago.
Over those three days, she had passed this mirror countless times, and countless times she had found herself face-to-face with the unfamiliar reflection.
Yet every time, a faint, lingering sense of unreality still rose from the depths of her heart.
She still wasn’t quite used to it.
In her previous life, although she had been sickly and physically frail, spending much of her time confined to bed, she had been blessed with a beautiful, peach-blossom-like face.
Especially when she smiled, her eyes would curve into gentle crescents, bright and warm as the spring sunshine.
But the face reflected in the mirror now was completely different.
It was an exceptionally cool and aloof face.
Her skin was as pale as snow, her features delicate and composed. The outer corners of her eyes tilted upward slightly, giving her an innate air of reserve and quiet nobility.
Her bone structure was exquisite, her jawline clean and graceful. She was undeniably beautiful, but there was a coolness about her that seemed to keep everyone at a distance.
This was Gu Xihe’s face.
No.
It belonged to her now.
Gu Wangshu raised a hand and gently touched the brow of the woman in the mirror. The cool sensation of glass against her fingertip was so real that there could be no mistaking it.
Suddenly, she remembered something.
Her grandmother had named her “Wangshu,” after the moon goddess. Her grandmother had said she hoped she would be like moonlight—clear and radiant, able to illuminate a corner of the world even on the darkest night.
Later, her grandfather had named his second brother’s daughter “Xihe,” after the goddess of the sun, creating a perfect counterpart to “Wangshu.”
When the old man had chosen their names, perhaps he had been expressing some beautiful hope: that the two girls from the two branches of the family would be like the sun and the moon, each possessing a light of her own.
But judging from their appearances, he had apparently gotten the names backward.
Gu Wangshu withdrew her gaze and took a deep breath.
During the three days since leaving the hospital, she had spent most of her time in this bedroom.
It wasn’t because there was anything seriously wrong with her health.
She simply needed time.
Time to process everything.
Time to adjust.
More importantly, she needed time to observe and understand the environment in which she would now have to live as “Gu Xihe.”
The Gu family mansion on Baguio Road in the Mid-Levels.
Ten years ago, she had stayed here for a while, but her memories of the house were vague—only that it was “very large,” “very quiet,” and that there were “so many orchids in the garden.”
Gu Xihe’s bedroom was on the eastern side of the second floor, the best location on the entire level. It was spacious, at least forty or fifty square meters, and decorated in a blend of Chinese and Western styles.
On the bedside table stood a Tiffany-style stained-glass lamp, its shade decorated with dragonflies and water lilies.
Yet beside the window, on a small table, sat a celadon vase modeled after the style of the Song Dynasty.
Several paintings hung on the walls, all reproductions of works by Western Impressionist painters—Monet’s Water Lilies, Renoir’s paintings of young girls.
Gu Wangshu opened the bedroom door and walked down the long corridor toward the stairs.
A deep red carpet covered the floor. Elegant wall lamps were mounted at intervals along both sides, their brass arms polished to a gleaming shine.
At the end of the corridor was a floor-to-ceiling window. Beyond it, the lush greenery covering the slopes of the Mid-Levels stretched into the distance, while the higher peak of Victoria Peak disappeared into a veil of mist.
She rested a hand on the banister and slowly made her way downstairs.
The moment her foot touched the final step, someone hurried toward her from the direction of the kitchen.
“Miss! Why did you come downstairs?”
Sister Wen approached with a worried expression. She had obviously been busy in the kitchen and had rushed out as soon as she heard footsteps on the stairs.
“You’ve only been out of the hospital for three days. The doctor said you need to rest. You should be staying in your room and getting plenty of sleep.”
Her reproachful tone was filled with concern. As she spoke, she looked Gu Wangshu up and down, as though making sure she wasn’t feeling unwell anywhere.
“If you need anything, just tell Auntie Wen. I can run errands for you. Why did you have to come downstairs yourself?”
Then she added, “I’m making soup right now. American ginseng with silky fowl. It’ll be ready after it simmers a little longer. I’ll bring it up to your room when it’s done.”
Gu Wangshu stood at the foot of the stairs, one hand resting on the banister as she caught her breath.
She raised her eyes and looked around the enormous living room.
Everything was quiet and spotless, yet the house also felt strangely empty, without the slightest trace of warmth or life.
The servants were probably in the backyard or in their quarters downstairs. Apart from Gu Wangshu and Auntie Wen, the only sound on the entire first floor came from the old mechanical clock on the mantelpiece, ticking steadily away.
“She…” Gu Wangshu began.
She paused, swallowing the word “Aunt” that had almost slipped from her lips before changing it to:
“I mean, where is Mother?”
The title still sounded slightly unfamiliar coming from her mouth.
Auntie Wen didn’t seem to notice—or perhaps she simply attributed the awkwardness to Gu Wangshu’s difficulty adjusting after losing her memory and thought nothing of it.
“Madam? She went out to play mahjong.”
Gu Wangshu froze slightly.
“Mahjong?”
There was unmistakable surprise in her voice.
In her understanding—or rather, in the impression she had of Ming Lan from ten years ago—her aunt had been the epitome of a refined lady from a distinguished family.
Born into one of Shanghai’s prominent families, she had always been poised and proper, with impeccable manners.
Her daily life had consisted of managing the household, tending to the flowers and plants, reading for a while, playing the piano, and occasionally attending charity banquets with other society ladies.
Mahjong?
Ming Lan played mahjong?
Seeing her confusion, Auntie Wen explained, “Madam has a few close friends she regularly plays with. Today they’re playing at Mrs. Fang’s house in Causeway Bay. They made plans beforehand.”
Gu Wangshu was silent for a moment before asking,
“Does she… play mahjong often?”
Auntie Wen sighed.
“She has these past few years.”
“Especially after Master… took a second wife.”
“Madam gets bored staying alone in this big house. Master… spends most of his time away from home. I can tell she’s unhappy about it.”
“Auntie Wen.”
Gu Wangshu walked over to the sofa in the middle of the living room and sat down, leaning against a cream-colored cushion.
Her gaze settled on the ink-wash landscape hanging on the opposite wall.
It was a section copied from Shi Tao’s Drafting After Exhaustively Searching for Strange Peaks. The brushwork was bold, vigorous, and deeply seasoned. It was probably part of her grandfather’s old collection.
“What about the Ming family?” she asked.
“Your maternal grandfather… Mr. Ming passed away a few years ago.”
Auntie Wen carefully chose her words.
“After his death, most of the Ming family’s businesses moved from Hong Kong to Southeast Asia. Your uncle oversees things there and spends most of his time outside Hong Kong.”
She thought for a moment before adding, “A few years ago, your mother was still managing some of the Ming family’s businesses here in Hong Kong. But later, she gradually lost interest in them. She said she didn’t have the energy anymore and handed everything over to someone else to manage.”
Gu Wangshu listened quietly, her fingers unconsciously rubbing the soft leather covering the armrest.
The Ming family of Shanghai had once been a prominent and powerful clan.
When the Pacific War broke out, the elder Mr. Ming had read the situation correctly and moved the entire family south to Hong Kong. Relying on his sharp business instincts and extraordinary courage, he managed to establish a new foothold in the unfamiliar city.
At the time, there were many wealthy merchant families like the Mings who had migrated from the mainland to Hong Kong. They banded together, supported one another, and in the process formed many long-standing family friendships.
The Gu family of Suzhou was one of them.
The Gu family had also moved from the mainland to Hong Kong during the years of war and turmoil.
Her grandfather, Gu Shiyong, had known the elder Mr. Ming since they were young. They had crossed paths through Shanghai’s Chamber of Commerce, and after arriving in Hong Kong, they became close friends who could talk about anything.
Later, the two families became connected through marriage when her second uncle, Gu Bingwen, married Ming Lan, the daughter of the Ming family.
At the time, the marriage had been celebrated throughout Hong Kong’s upper society.
The Gu-Ming union.
A perfect match between two equally prestigious families, a marriage that seemed made in heaven.
But a celebrated marriage was still just a celebrated marriage.
Even the most beautiful beginning could not withstand the erosion of time and hardship.
Gu Wangshu was still thinking about those long-ago events when Auntie Wen’s voice suddenly brought her back to the present.
“Oh, right, Miss…”
“We received a phone call earlier. Miss Zhang called. She said she wanted to come over and see you.”
“Miss Zhang?”
Gu Wangshu frowned slightly.
She had absolutely no recollection of the name.
“Her name is Zhang Ziyu. You met her when you were studying at the University of Hong Kong. She was two years ahead of you, and she’s the daughter of the Zhang family that owns Wing Cheong Department Store.”
“You know Wing Cheong Department Store, right? The one in Causeway Bay. It has a huge sign.”
After thinking for a moment, Auntie Wen added, “Miss Zhang is a very straightforward girl. You two were extremely close when you were at HKU, practically inseparable. You were together almost every day.”
“After graduating from HKU, she went to England to study. She only returned to Hong Kong at the end of last year. She works for a… what was it called again…”
Auntie Wen tapped her forehead, trying to remember.
“Oh, right. I think it was some kind of pictorial or weekly magazine. Anyway, she works for a magazine.”
Gu Wangshu listened without revealing anything, carefully storing each piece of information in her mind.
“I… was very close to her?”
“Very. Extremely close.”
Auntie Wen laughed.
“She used to stay overnight here all the time. The two of you would chat until three or four in the morning. Whenever I brought you late-night snacks, I could hear the two of you laughing.”
Gu Wangshu nodded and said nothing more.