Chapter 1 — A Strange Awakening
The scent of damp earth and crushed herbs filled her nose as Su Yanyue stirred, her body aching and cold.
Her fingers twitched against the rough fabric beneath her. Grass. Her eyes fluttered open.
Where… was she?
A heavy silence hung in the air, broken only by the soft chirping of birds and the occasional rustle of leaves. The sky above was a stretch of pale blue, too clean, too quiet—no sign of the city, no sound of machines or cars.
She sat up slowly, the motion sending a sharp jolt through her skull. Her fingers instinctively reached for the back of her head—there was a lump, dried blood crusting at the edge of her hairline.
Bits and pieces returned in flashes.
The clinic. The fire. Shielding the little girl. The explosion.
She had died.
And now… this.
She looked down at her hands. Pale, soft, uncalloused. Not her own.
The clothes on her body were coarse and handmade. Her feet wore worn cloth shoes. Her waist was wrapped with a simple cotton sash, holding a pouch with two copper coins and a folded piece of dried ginger.
Everything screamed ancient China.
Don't panic, she told herself. Think.
Before she could gather her thoughts, a rustling noise made her turn sharply.
Three tiny faces peeked out from behind a nearby tree.
Triplets.
All boys. All with identical round cheeks, obsidian eyes, and thick lashes. They couldn't have been more than three years old. Their hair was tied into tiny topknots, and their faces were suspicious, curious… and a little proud.
The one in the middle stepped forward boldly and crossed his arms. "You're awake."
The smallest one sniffed. "Father said you were too stubborn to die."
Yanyue blinked. "Father?"
"She means me."
A deep voice came from behind her.
Startled, she turned to see a tall man leaning against a tree, his posture casual but his eyes sharp. His clothes were simple, but his bearing was anything but. A bandage wrapped tightly around his waist, dark with fresh blood. Yet his tone was calm—almost indifferent.
"You carried me here?" she asked slowly.
"You were unconscious near the riverbank," he replied. "Bleeding from the head. My sons found you. I brought you back."
"…Thank you."
"I didn't do it for gratitude. You were in our way."
"Father's grumpy when he's hurt," the boldest triplet whispered loudly to the others.
The man gave the boy a side glance, but his expression didn't change.
Yanyue glanced at the hut behind them. Simple but sturdy. Smoke drifted from a clay chimney. Chickens clucked lazily from a coop nearby.
It wasn't a grand estate, but it was safe. Quiet. And—unmistakably—not modern.
She wrapped her arms around herself. She was in another world, another life.
And for now… this man, his three sons, and this small mountainside hut were all she had.