Han Lin watched Yang Dai’s departing back, then lowered his gaze to the basin of bowls. In the end, he still resigned himself to doing the work.
After Yang Dai returned to the room, she did not rest either. Instead, she lowered her head to examine her wrist.
Ever since Han Lin had gripped her wrist earlier, she felt a patch there burning hot. At first, she thought it was just because he had held her too tightly.
But after an entire meal, the heat only grew worse. Worried that something might be wrong, she had hurried back to the room to check.
Loosening her long sleeve, Yang Dai discovered that on her right wrist a red mole had appeared—and it was this mole that was burning.
She stared at the mole for a long while, even tried touching it with her hand. She could swear that when she woke up earlier, this mole had definitely not been there.
The heat did not subside. At last, Yang Dai pressed her entire left hand against it, trying to cool the skin that way.
Unexpectedly, the scene before her eyes suddenly shifted.
No longer the paper-covered walls of the 1970s, but once again the storeroom holding her dowry.
Realizing she had returned, Yang Dai did not hesitate. She turned toward the door of the warehouse. Earlier, the noise outside had been chaotic and unclear.
Now that she had a chance, she needed to find her grandfather and father to ask what had happened.
In the past two years, the Crown Prince had grown arrogant and unmanageable, quarreling with the Emperor multiple times. The Emperor had reprimanded and even confined him, but had never said he was unfit for the throne.
To say so publicly before the court was to utterly strip him of any chance to rise again.
Regardless of the Crown Prince’s fate, Yang Dai’s first duty was to help her grandfather and father protect the Chengguo Duke’s century-old foundation.
Growing more anxious, she abandoned her ladylike composure and ran toward the warehouse doors.
But no matter how she tried, the door would not open.
In desperation, she grabbed the axe by the entrance and swung it down—but the door did not budge.
Only then did she sense something wrong.
When she had been checking the storeroom earlier, four close maids and the stewards had been by her side.
If she had fainted, she should have awoken in her boudoir, not here.
But now she was in the storeroom, with no attendants in sight.
Tightening her grip on the axe, Yang Dai forced herself to calm down and think.
“Miss Yang… Yang Dai… Yang Dai…” Suddenly she heard someone calling her. The voice shifted near and far, yet instinctively she answered.
A flash of white light—and she was back in the paper-covered room, axe in hand. Han Lin stood before her.
“There’s even an axe in our room?” Han Lin’s tone was casual, but when his eyes fell on the axe, his expression grew serious.
He hadn’t yet pieced together all his memories, but he knew one thing: the axe in Yang Dai’s hands could not belong to this household.
Seeing clearly who stood before her, Yang Dai could not even name the jumble of feelings inside. Her grip loosened, and the axe slipped from her hands.
Before it could crash to the ground, the man caught it swiftly, even twirling it playfully.
What had been heavy as a thousand pounds in Yang Dai’s hands was no more than a toy knife in Han Lin’s grasp.
“Sit.” Han Lin pointed his chin at a stool. “We need to talk.”
In her heart, Yang Dai didn’t want to speak with him at all.
Since their betrothal, they had hardly met, restrained by propriety. Only when she accompanied her mother to pay respects in the palace, or at banquets, had she encountered the Crown Prince.
Every time, Han Lin had seemed like a predatory wolf.
Once, leaving the palace, she overheard two young eunuchs gossiping: the Crown Prince’s attendants had once again been replaced. One dragged out had a mouth full of blood, tongue cut, eyes gouged.
The Internal Affairs Office had assigned a new batch, but all trembled with fear, not daring to serve him.
Already disliking his gaze, after hearing such stories her impression of Han Lin had sunk even lower. Still, bound by status, she could only endure, continuing as the admired young lady of the capital, quietly awaiting marriage.
But now, in a different era, she had the right to refuse.
Just not yet. For now, she needed to straighten things out.
“Your Highness, please speak first.” Though she addressed him as Crown Prince, her tone carried no respect.
Han Lin caught the implication, glanced toward the door and window, and said nothing.
Yang Dai rolled her eyes inwardly. She wasn’t stupid—she dared speak like this because she had heard her sister-in-law ride out on her bicycle, and also heard Han Lin find an excuse to send his mother away.
“Father confined me in the Eastern Palace, and in the end I was given a cup of poisoned wine to finish me.” Han Lin’s voice was calm, detached from the telling of his own death. “And you? How did you come here?”
He couldn’t make sense of it. The Emperor had long wanted him gone, but always kept the mask of a benevolent father, letting the world see that it was the Crown Prince’s fault. To depose and execute his own son—what a tragic act of compulsion for an emperor.
Yet the Chengguo Duke’s army was no weak force. Even if they were implicated, their clan would not necessarily be annihilated.
Yang Dai stayed silent, shocked. She had only heard fragments—that the Crown Prince had angered the Emperor, been publicly scolded. She never imagined it ended with his death.
She shook her head. How had she woken up here? Even she could not explain.
“You arrived before me,” Han Lin declared firmly.
When they had woken in the same bed, she had opened her eyes first. She had only heard of his reprimand, nothing else.
He, on the other hand, had been confined, denied contact save for food deliveries.
After three days, the poisoned wine was placed before him.
It was not the first time he had been poisoned—earlier attempts were slow, weakening him over time. But this was swift and fatal.
He could have evaded it. But thinking of his failed life, he chose to drink, leaving at least a shred of dignity in death.
Yet instead of dying, he awoke in this new era.
No emperor, no prince. Everyone equal. His name and face unchanged, but his status gone—reduced to a pauper, hungry, homeless.
Yang Dai then spoke of how she had returned to the storeroom but could not escape. Their gazes both fell on the axe again.
She picked it up once more, pressed her hand over the burning mole.
Moments later, the storeroom appeared again before her eyes.
She tried to leave, to find her grandfather.
But after repeated attempts, she had to accept the truth: she could not return. Exiting the storeroom led only back to the 1970s.
The only advantage—her dowry remained accessible. She could take out anything she wished, with a single thought.
Though silent, Yang Dai considered this a small blessing amid misfortune.
After steadying her emotions, she looked at Han Lin again.
One question still plagued her: how had he recognized her with such certainty?
If not for his persistence, she would have preferred to feign ignorance, pretending to be the original girl.
“I have sharp eyes,” Han Lin answered flippantly from the bed, not serious at all, making her roll her eyes once more.
“Truly the model young lady of the capital—even your eye-rolling is exemplary.” He leaned closer as he spoke.
Yang Dai felt unbearably uncomfortable and instinctively pushed.
She hadn’t used much strength, but Han Lin stumbled into the cupboard, the crash echoing loud.
Startled, Yang Dai leapt back, widening the distance.
She was just a delicate woman. If Han Lin turned violent, she could not withstand it.
Seeing her reaction, his teeth clenched. “I don’t eat people. Why shrink away like that?”
“You wanted to know how I recognized you, didn’t you? At this distance, I can’t explain.”
He still spoke lazily, even with a faint smile, not looking angry at all.
Yang Dai glanced out the window. Her mother-in-law was already in the courtyard, head lowered, busying with something.
Their voices needed to be kept lower.
“Fine, talk.” She reluctantly sat back down, her eyes fixed warily on his hands, ready to defend herself.
“The eldest Miss Yang, the very picture of noble grace. Even your gait is unique. That back of yours is unforgettable.”
“What nonsense!” Yang Dai flushed red, incensed at such shameless words, and shoved him again.
This time, unguarded, her hands were caught. In one motion, he pulled her forward so that she fell into his arms.
“You throw yourself at me and then scold me?”
Yang Dai’s fury flared so hot she nearly wanted to kill him. But his grip was unyielding; she couldn’t break free.
At last, unable to hold back any longer, she blurted out the words she had been choking down all morning:
“Divorce—I want to divorce you!”
Her voice was raised too loud in anger. And just then, the door was suddenly pushed open.