The man before her was precisely Shen Yitang’s type.
Fair-skinned, dressed impeccably, and refined in his speech. The Parker pen in his breast pocket and the Rolex on his wrist both gleamed with a handsome luster.
Yet Gu Huaizheng’s face kept surfacing in Shen Yitang’s mind against her will.
Unkempt, wildly untamed, and fiercely stubborn.
Ten years. Gu Huaizheng had been dead for ten whole years.
They had spent five years together, and for five years she had resented him. Yet after his death, she had spent a full decade yearning for him.
When she snapped out of her daze for what felt like the tenth time, Shen Yitang knew it was time for this blind date to end.
Shen Yitang stood up. “I’m sorry. You’re wonderful—it’s my problem.”
Disappointment flickered across the man’s face, but he still took the initiative to settle the bill and bid her a polite farewell.
After a trip to the restroom, Shen Yitang noticed a fine drizzle falling outside and remembered that she had left her umbrella behind in the private dining room.
So she headed back to retrieve it.
Clatter! A white porcelain plate slipped from the hands of the woman clearing the table.
Shen Yitang turned around, only to be caught off guard by a strangely familiar face.
The other woman hastily lowered her head to apologize. “I’m so sorry.”
Hesitating for a moment, Shen Yitang called out, “Zhong Liyue?”
“You work here?”
Zhong Liyue had been one of Shen Yitang’s childhood companions, though they had never been particularly close. Both had been pampered young ladies from wealthy families, spoiled and willful, neither willing to yield an inch to the other.
Yet now, not a trace of that former heiress remained in Zhong Liyue.
The arduous years had etched far too many marks upon her, making her and Shen Yitang look as if they belonged to two entirely different eras.
Shen Yitang knew that she, too, would have ended up just like her—if not for Gu Huaizheng, who had shielded her every step of the way.
Even in death, he had left her the title of a martyr’s widow, sheltering her from the wind and rain and granting her a life of peace and stability.
Clearly, Zhong Liyue had no desire to reminisce. “I’m sorry, we’re not allowed to chat with customers during work hours.”
“Oh. I’ll let you get back to it, then.”
Shen Yitang took her umbrella and hurried away, not daring to look back again.
She didn’t dare imagine whether she would have even survived those turbulent years without Gu Huaizheng.
Perhaps because she had thought of him far too many times today, she dreamed of Gu Huaizheng again that night.
Dark clouds pressed down heavily, as if bearing physical weight. Surging waves churned amid a hail of bullets, and the crimson stench of blood permeated heaven and earth.
A young soldier with a blood-smeared face placed a military cap insignia into her hands. “Sister-in-law, I’m sorry. Regiment Commander Gu… he was martyred…”
As if a sharp blade had pierced her heart, the piercing agony suffocated her. Shen Yitang clutched her chest tightly, parting her lips in vain, but not a single sound came out. She was like a stranded fish, parched and dying on the sand.
Shen Yitang was roused by someone rudely patting her cheek.
A man’s impatient voice drifted into her ear: “Wake up. What’s wrong with you now?”
Then, a coarse, large palm carelessly wiped away the tears on her face. The calluses on his skin brushed against her tender cheek, bringing fine stings of pain.
Gu Huaizheng’s voice seemed to come from beyond the horizon, yet it sounded distinctly beside her ear.
“If you’re unhappy about something, just say it. Stop crying all day long, as if I’m bullying you or something.”
“It’s not like I forced you to come follow the army. If you really don’t want to stay here, I’ll go buy a boat ticket tomorrow and send you back.”
“If you want a divorce, that’s fine too. I’ll make things clear to our parents.”
Gu Huaizheng spoke on and on, utterly unaware of the tempest his words had stirred in Shen Yitang’s heart.
Shen Yitang snapped her eyes open. Through a hazy veil of tears, beneath the dim, yellowish light, a face both familiar and strange appeared before her.
For ten years, she had never been able to see his face clearly in her dreams, to the point where she almost thought she had forgotten what he looked like.
Only now did she realize that this face had been etched deep within her heart all along.
A whole ten years. Why did you wait until tonight to finally enter my dream so clearly?
“Damn it. Whoever wants to put up with this can go ahead—I’m done.” Seeing no reaction from her, Gu Huaizheng impatiently pulled back his hand and moved to get up and leave.
Suddenly, Shen Yitang caught him by the arm. Her soft, sweet voice, tinged with a slight rasp, reached his ears: “Gu Huaizheng, are you human?”
Her tone was unexpectedly laced with a hint of reliance and longing.
Gu Huaizheng nearly laughed out of sheer exasperation. “If I’m not a human, what else could I be, a ghost?”
“It doesn’t matter even if you are a ghost.” Shen Yitang stretched her arms out toward him. “Gu Huaizheng, hold me!”
The woman before him was drenched in sweat, strands of hair clinging to her fair skin. Her eyelids were slightly swollen, and her tears had soaked half the pillow.
Even in such a disheveled state, she remained breathtakingly beautiful.
All the resentment in Gu Huaizheng’s chest instantly evaporated, leaving behind only heartache.
More than that, sheer disbelief. “Are you… throwing yourself into my arms?”
Shen Yitang glared at him. This man was truly obnoxious. Even in a dream, his words were so grating. After all these years, he hadn’t improved one bit.
Gu Huaizheng tentatively pulled her into an embrace. Not only did she not push him away in disgust, but she wrapped her arms tightly around his neck, pressing her entire body flush against his.
A warm, soft, fragrant body in his arms sent Gu Huaizheng’s blood surging wildly.
With a swift whoosh, he blew out the kerosene lamp. “Remember this: you came to me on your own. Don’t you dare throw a tantrum at me tomorrow!”
“Forget it. Even if you do, I don’t give a damn anymore.”
“Gather ye rosebuds while ye may! Drink while there is wine today!”
“Shen Yitang, even if I die on you tonight, I’ll die a happy man!”
Shen Yitang’s soft, muffled sobs echoed continuously throughout the night.
Utterly exhausted, Shen Yitang felt as if she had barely closed her eyes when the familiar yet long-forgotten morning bugle call sounded.
This dream was so long… Why hadn’t she woken up yet?
Keeping her eyes closed, Shen Yitang savored the bugle call, reminiscing about those years she had once utterly detested, yet longed for so desperately after losing them.
Suddenly, a scoff sounded right beside her ear: “You’re already awake, so why keep pretending to sleep? I can see your eyes moving under your lids.”
“What, were you too passionate with me last night and now you’re shy?”
A shadow loomed over her, and a raspy voice laden with warmth murmured in her ear, “You actually liked it too, didn’t you?”
Shen Yitang snapped her eyes open.
The shadow pulled away quickly, and she could finally see clearly—it was that punchable face of Gu Huaizheng’s.