Before the rain began, the two of them finally got into the car.
On the way back, the rain started pouring heavily.
Yin Wuzhi was lost in thought, trying to recall what he might have done to provoke Jiang Wu to the point of triggering his unreasonable side.
Jiang Wu always managed to find a way to refute him from every angle.
Eventually, Yin Wuzhi realized his brain had gone blank, as if Jiang Wu had completely muddled his thoughts. Unable to think, he stared out the window.
Raindrops pelted against the car windows, quickly merging into streams that trailed downward.
Jiang Wu, after causing a ruckus for quite some time, grew tired and leaned to one side, gazing at Yin Wuzhi, whose expression was grave.
How strange, Jiang Wu thought. Now, when he brought up the empress, Yin Wuzhi didn’t even seem sad anymore.
Hmph.
The autumn rain came fast and furious. As they approached Jiang Wu’s house, Yin Wuzhi carefully asked, “Do you want me to drop you off at home later?”
“What do you think?”
“.” Yin Wuzhi froze, feeling as if someone had gripped his throat.
Jiang Wu still maintained that calm, gentle, and indifferent demeanor as he gazed at him, but that very expression instilled fear in Yin Wuzhi.
He replied softly, “Then I’ll take you home.”
“Okay.”
It seemed things were back to normal.
Yin Wuzhi let out a sigh of relief.
The torrential rain poured down relentlessly. To avoid getting soaked, the car drove directly into the garage. Yin Wuzhi stepped out first, circled to the other side, took a deep breath, and opened the door for Jiang Wu.
Jiang Wu stepped out on his own and walked toward the living room. Yin Wuzhi followed behind, carrying his backpack. “Are you going upstairs now?”
“Yes.”
Everything seemed normal again. Yin Wuzhi relaxed further. After taking Jiang Wu upstairs and placing his backpack down, he said, “I’ll come by tomorrow to help you with your homework.”
“It’s raining.”
“It’s fine; I live—”
He noticed Jiang Wu’s expression again.
“It’s raining, and you still want to leave me? Do you not like me anymore?”
Yin Wuzhi said, “Then I won’t leave. I’ll stay over tonight… is that okay?”
Jiang Wu laid sprawled on the bed and soon fell asleep.
Once Yin Wuzhi was certain he was soundly asleep, he unconsciously wiped the sweat from his forehead.
Even during their first meeting, Jiang Wu wasn’t this difficult to handle. Back then, he seemed to act with intent—he wanted to provoke Yin Wuzhi. Now, however, it felt like he was tormenting Yin Wuzhi purely for the sake of it.
Well, maybe torment… wasn’t the right word.
Yin Wuzhi climbed into bed and stared at Jiang Wu’s delicate, pale face, utterly baffled by him.
Could it be that Jiang Wu had grown tired of him and was trying to break up? Or was he acting out because he didn’t want to go on a date?
But wasn’t this date Jiang Wu’s idea in the first place?
After napping for a while, Jiang Wu woke up to find Yin Wuzhi in the bathroom, filling the large tub with water while also bringing food upstairs for him.
As attentive as could be, Yin Wuzhi said, “Once you’re done eating, the bath will be ready for you to soak in.”
Jiang Wu, being fed by Yin Wuzhi, said, “I used to enjoy soaking in baths too.”
Yin Wuzhi nodded. “I can tell.”
“In warm pools, I shared many happy memories with the empress.”
Yin Wuzhi also recalled those memories. As he watched Jiang Wu quietly eat, his gaze gradually turned complicated.
He finally understood.
Jiang Wu kept bringing up his past life. But before Yin Wuzhi regained his memories, Jiang Wu was careful to avoid the topic, seemingly to spare Yin Wuzhi from sadness.
Now, a bold thought crossed Yin Wuzhi’s mind:
Does Jiang Wu know that I’ve regained my memories?
“Yin Wuzhi.”
“I’m here.”
“I keep mentioning the empress. Does it upset you?”
Yin Wuzhi: “….”
Should he feel upset or not?
Jiang Wu’s gaze locked onto his, his voice soft, almost tender. “Yin Wuzhi, have I hurt you?”
Yin Wuzhi put on a pitiful expression. “Of course, I’m upset. You keep mentioning someone else in front of me…”
“That’s not ‘someone else,’” Jiang Wu said. “That’s you.”
“But I don’t remember, so to me, it’s someone else.”
“Oh.” Jiang Wu nodded. “You don’t remember, and I keep bringing him up. You must feel terrible.”
Yin Wuzhi nodded.
“I almost forgot.”
Yin Wuzhi frowned. “How could you forget? Do you not love me anymore?”
“I haven’t stopped loving you,” Jiang Wu replied. “I just think you’re not as good as the empress at loving me.”
“…!”
“Yin Wuzhi, you should go.”
“Go?”
“Put down the bowl and go home.”
“But why…”
“Because finals are coming up, and I need to reminisce about the empress.” Jiang Wu sighed sadly. “I’m sorry I’ve hurt you again. But when exams approach, I feel hurt too. So, for now, I can’t spare the energy to care about you. Can you understand that?”
Yin Wuzhi wanted to say he couldn’t. But recalling Jiang Wu’s state during the midterms, he felt a mix of emotions. Back then, Jiang Wu had been thinking of him all along.
“I can understand,” he said. “Now finish your rice, and I’ll leave.”
Jiang Wu slowly finished eating. Yin Wuzhi wiped his mouth and said, “I’m leaving now.”
Jiang Wu stayed silent. Yin Wuzhi walked to the door and said, “I’m really going.”
As he opened the door and stepped out, he glanced back and noticed something off in Jiang Wu’s expression.
But Jiang Wu didn’t speak.
Yin Wuzhi remained on high alert. “Jiang Wu, do you have something to say?”
“I didn’t want you to leave,” Jiang Wu finally said. “But you knew I was reminiscing about the empress. You knew you are the empress, yet you still left me alone. You’re so cruel. Couldn’t you tell I was eating slowly on purpose to make you stay?”
Yin Wuzhi: “…”
He didn’t leave in the end, but he quickly realized Jiang Wu was starting all over again.
No matter what he did, Jiang Wu always managed to find fault with it. Yin Wuzhi felt suffocated, like being trapped in a shrinking plastic bag.
After finally coaxing Jiang Wu to sleep, Yin Wuzhi became more convinced: Jiang Wu must know he’d regained his memories.
But Jiang Wu wouldn’t say anything, leaving Yin Wuzhi clueless about how to bring it up himself.
And what if he admitted to remembering, and Jiang Wu accused him of lying and said it meant he didn’t love him? Then what?
Yin Wuzhi tossed and turned before finally falling asleep, only to have a bizarre dream.
In his dream, he was surrounded by tiny versions of Jiang Wu, each no bigger than his palm.
They all looked the same—listless and lazy.
The tiny Jiang Wus crowded around him, so densely packed that he couldn’t find a place to step.
Yin Wuzhi dared not move for fear of accidentally crushing them.
“Yin Wuzhi,” one of them said, “I want a hug.”
Yin Wuzhi bent down, ready to scoop one up, when a chorus of voices echoed around him:
“Yin Wuzhi, I want a hug.”
“Hug me.”
“Hug me.”
He crouched down and started hugging them, but there were too many. His arms weren’t enough, and the tiny Jiang Wus kept slipping from his grasp, making soft thuds as they hit the ground.
Soon, another voice accused him, “Why didn’t you hug me?”
Then, a wave of forlorn voices rose:
“Why didn’t you hug me?”
“Why not me?”
“Why not me?”
“I…”
Another tiny Jiang Wu chimed in, “Yin Wuzhi, I want a bath.”
Yin Wuzhi prepared water and carefully began undressing them. The tiny Jiang Wus were soft and delicate, so he handled them with extreme care. But there were too many, and his pace was too slow.
The others grew impatient and began clamoring:
“Hurry up. I want a bath.”
As Yin Wuzhi hastened his movements, he accidentally tore off one tiny Jiang Wu’s arm.
The crowd fell silent, staring at him with accusing eyes.
Then, all at once, they began to cry, unleashing a flood of tears.
“Yin Wuzhi, you’re bad,” they wailed.
The sound of autumn rain tapping against the floor-to-ceiling windows jolted Yin Wuzhi awake, gasping for air.
He threw off the covers, got out of bed, and gulped down a glass of water.
It was terrifying.
Maybe he should just confess to Jiang Wu. Could things really get worse than they already were?
But then he thought of The Book of Grudges.
…And was once again overcome with a suffocating sense of dread.
In the days that followed, Jiang Wu still found ways to give Yin Wuzhi a hard time. But with finals approaching, Yin Wuzhi employed a subtle strategy: he highlighted additional key points for Jiang Wu to study, attempting to exhaust his energy.
It worked. Once Jiang Wu finished studying, he would curl up in Yin Wuzhi’s arms and fall asleep. Quiet, obedient, and impossibly adorable.
Good, Yin Wuzhi thought. Let’s keep it this way. If things stay like this, I can manage.
But no matter how much he wanted to delay it, the exams arrived as scheduled and were over before he knew it.
After finishing his last paper, Jiang Wu promptly fell asleep at his desk.
Yin Wuzhi, anxious that Jiang Wu might cause trouble again, waited until everyone else had left before cautiously approaching him. Gently, he lifted Jiang Wu’s shoulder and carried him on his back.
Descending the stairs and leaving the school building, he suddenly heard someone shout, “It’s snowing!”
He looked up to see snowflakes drifting down from the sky.
Jiang Wu stirred and opened his eyes, his gaze settling on Yin Wuzhi’s ears and slightly long hair.
“Yin Wuzhi,” Jiang Wu murmured.
Yin Wuzhi responded immediately, “I’m here.”
“The exams are over.”
“Yes.” Yin Wuzhi’s heart sank. He had a feeling Jiang Wu was about to start again.
“The empress once told me,” Jiang Wu began, his tone soft and deliberate. Yin Wuzhi braced himself as Jiang Wu continued, “that she liked me without any reason.”
Jiang Wu’s eyes gleamed with curiosity. “I wonder… as someone without memories of our past lives, what is it about me that you like?”
I’m sorry, Yin Wuzhi thought. But I am already the empress from our past life.
Adjusting his grip, he hoisted Jiang Wu higher on his back and opened his mouth to speak, but Jiang Wu beat him to it.
“I really like you.”
Yin Wuzhi froze, wary. This felt like a trap. Jiang Wu couldn’t possibly be this straightforward. Surely he wouldn’t confess without first getting an answer himself.
“I really like Yin Wuzhi,” Jiang Wu repeated.
Yin Wuzhi’s heartbeat quickened. Even if it was a trap, he’d willingly walk into it.
“I, Jiang Wu, really like Yin Wuzhi.”
Yin Wuzhi’s eyelashes trembled. “Why… why are you suddenly saying this?”
“You’re exactly like my empress, even without your memories,” Jiang Wu said. “When I tell you I like you, you still get shy.”
Beneath the hair on Yin Wuzhi’s shoulder, the tips of his ears quietly turned red.
Yin Wuzhi pursed his lips. “So… do you like the empress more?”
How childish, Jiang Wu thought, but this was precisely who Yin Wuzhi was—always seeking promises and sweet words, always wanting to hear more assurances. This was his Yin Wuzhi.
Meanwhile, Yin Wuzhi waited nervously for Jiang Wu’s answer. Would he say “yes,” “no,” or perhaps “both”?
“What do you think?” Jiang Wu asked. “Do I like the empress, or do I like you?”
“You’ve been comparing me to the empress a lot lately,” Yin Wuzhi muttered. “It has to be the empress.”
Jiang Wu’s hand lightly tightened around his neck, his chin resting on Yin Wuzhi’s shoulder as a faint smile graced his lips.
“Yin Wuzhi.”
“Mm?”
“What do you think is the most important thing in life? Getting into a good university, finding a stable job, earning lots of money, or meeting a soulmate who’s perfectly compatible with you?”
“By conventional standards, that’s what life is about,” Yin Wuzhi replied.
“My life has no goals,” Jiang Wu said despondently. “There’s nothing I want to work toward. I don’t even want to live.”
Yin Wuzhi understood. Jiang Wu was like a fish who had come ashore for him, living in this world against his instincts.
“My life is dull and meaningless. Living is a disaster for me,” Jiang Wu said. “There’s nothing that feels most important. If we’re speaking conventionally, the only thing I have… is this very moment.”
“From ancient times to now, every moment has made me who I am. So, if you ask whether I prefer the empress, the answer is no.”
Yin Wuzhi’s eyelashes fluttered.
“I like you the most,” Jiang Wu said. “This moment’s Jiang Wu likes this moment’s Yin Wuzhi the most.”
Every version of Jiang Wu, in every moment, liked every version of Yin Wuzhi in that same moment.
Yin Wuzhi’s heart pounded like a drum, and then he smiled, his eyes curving in joy.
“Yin Wuzhi,” Jiang Wu said. “You’ve regained your memories, haven’t you?”
Yin Wuzhi, caught off guard, stammered, “I…”
“There’s no need to hide it,” Jiang Wu said. “I’m not stupid.”
“…When did you figure it out?”
“I’ve known for a while, but I was certain that day I said the osmanthus flowers were blooming.”
In that moment, Yin Wuzhi’s eyes darkened slightly, and his fingers quietly tightened around Jiang Wu’s hand.
For a version of Yin Wuzhi without memories, osmanthus flowers would have held no special meaning. But for a Yin Wuzhi who remembered, osmanthus was a symbol, a signal.
It was Jiang Wu’s safe haven.
In their past lives, Yin Wuzhi had always silently squeezed Jiang Wu’s fingers whenever osmanthus was mentioned, even though Jiang Wu had assured him countless times that his love for osmanthus had nothing to do with “that woman.”
Still, Yin Wuzhi couldn’t help but feel distressed.
Jiang Wu had often wandered through clouds of golden osmanthus blossoms, lazily curling up within their scent. It was his refuge, even in his first life.
He had once hidden in the thousand-year-old osmanthus tree in the imperial garden. Its dense foliage and broad shade made it an ideal hideout for a child. When someone tried to find him, he would climb deeper, beyond the thick branches where no one could follow.
It was there that Yin Wuzhi had first found him, and it was there that their story had begun. Later, the tree became Yin Wuzhi’s own solace after Jiang Wu left.
Sighing, Yin Wuzhi said, “So this is why you’ve been tormenting me.”
“Who told you to lie to me?” Jiang Wu retorted before correcting himself, “To deceive me.”
“That wasn’t deception,” Yin Wuzhi protested. “It’s just… your obsession with justice makes me tread carefully.”
“Hmph.”
“I was about to confess everything to you,” Yin Wuzhi tried to explain.
“Liar.”
“I’m not lying….” he said, then quickly changed the subject. “Didn’t you just ask what I like about you? Do you still want to know?”
“Of course.”
“Well,” Yin Wuzhi paused, searching for words that weren’t tied to their past, “I like… your existence.”
For Yin Wuzhi, Jiang Wu’s mere existence was enough.
Just like many people in moments of helplessness, hoping against hope: when a gravely ill family member is about to leave, they might think, As long as they’re still here, even if they’re in a vegetative state, I can accept it.
It’s a kind of longing.
Yin Wuzhi, like many ordinary people, had been greedy before, had yearned before. But if he had to say what he liked about Jiang Wu, it was simply this: his existence.
As long as Jiang Wu was there, he was content.
Jiang Wu’s lips curled up on both sides, his tone remaining indifferent as he started dredging up old grievances. “But you’ve never confessed to me.”
“Do I really need to confess?”
“Why not?”
“Doesn’t my liking you this much already prove that I love you?”
“It doesn’t—”
Yin Wuzhi countered, speaking almost in a tongue-twister: “If I didn’t like you this much, you definitely wouldn’t like me this much either.”
“That’s not true,” Jiang Wu said. “If you didn’t like me, I’d be sad, but I wouldn’t stop liking you.”
Jiang Wu always managed to make Yin Wuzhi’s heart race out of the blue.
Yin Wuzhi pressed his lips together, trying hard not to laugh.
Jiang Wu called out again, “Yin Wuzhi.”
“I know.”
“Confess to me.”
“You’re actually asking for this now?”
The snow was falling more heavily. Yin Wuzhi set him down by the roadside, waiting for the driver to arrive.
He stretched out his hand to catch the drifting snowflakes.
But Jiang Wu paid no attention to the beautiful scene descending from the heavens.
“Yin Wuzhi,” he murmured, leaning limply against him. “Yin Wuzhi, Yin Wuzhi, Yin Wuzhi…”
“I know.”
“Yin Wuzhi.”
“All right, I’ll say it soon.”
“Yin Wuzhi.”
“Fine—fine. I like you. I like you. Happy now?”
…
His slender palm opened in front of Jiang Wu, the snowflakes melting into sparkling droplets of water.
In them was reflected Jiang Wu’s exquisite face.
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