What was Bai Peiwen up to? From his tone, it almost sounded like he was worried she had run away or left without saying anything. But even if she had left without notice, was it really that important to him?

  She sat behind her desk, staring bnkly at the exercise book in front of her. She couldn't bring herself to grade it. The words seemed to float before her eyes, shifting… floating, shifting… floating, shifting… until, in the end, they all morphed into that little poem:

  "Do you remember the day we met beneath the flowers?I asked what your heart longed for.You whispered gently to me, 'I want you! I want you! I want you!'

  ……How tender and enchanting that feeling was, but there would also come the day with the words "Better to leave! Better to leave!" Oh, what can we truly believe in in life? What can we truly praise? If there is no enduring, unchanging love in this world, then what else remains in this world? Looking at Bai Peiwen, with his infatuation and longing, he's not a man cking in feeling! Would Zhang Hanyan, even in her grave, be willing to continue their bond?

  She thought and thought, and so she picked up a pen. In a burst of impulsive inspiration, she began to write, imitating Zhang Hanyan's tone, adding a stanza to that poem:

  "How many past events are hard to recall?How many grudges and affections have faded with the wind,Two worlds, how much obsession?Ten years of separation, how much longing,Is it possible for us to meet again, in this world and the next?Listen to the cuckoo softly calling in the woods:'Better to return! Better to return!'"

  After finishing the poem, she felt a sudden ringing in her ears and her heart racing, her face flushed with a frightening fever. She stood up, poured herself a gss of water, and drank slowly, but her heartbeat still wouldn′t calm down. She tucked the poem into the book and walked slowly to the window, gazing far into the distance. Beyond the schoolyard, the hillside was dotted with lush tea gardens, almost ready for the tea-picking season again.

  After school, she held Tingting′s hand as they walked back to the Bai residence. Along the way, she remained silent, overwhelmed by an unusual sense of unease. She found herself strangely afraid of the two red doors of the Bai house. She couldn't understand why she was breathing so quickly or why her heart was beating so fast. Was something about to happen? She bit her lip, her hand holding Tingting's beginning to sweat.

  As Fang Siying walked into Bai Manor, she saw Lao You washing the car in the yard.

  The Chevrolet was covered in dust. Upon spotting them, a smile crept up at the corner of Lao You's lips, and his sharp eyes were bright and warm.

  “Tingting, go upstairs quickly. Uncle Gao is here. He′s in your father′s room!” Old you said.

  "Uncle Gao?" Tingting let out a cheer and immediately released Fang Siying's hand, dashing into the living room while shouting, "Uncle Gao! Uncle Gao! Uncle Gao!"

  A chill ran through Fang Siying's heart. Uncle Gao? Oh no! Who was this person? God help her! Please don't let it be... She froze, her limbs turning limp like a pile of cotton.

  Her mind was a blur, and she realized she couldn't think properly—no, not "couldn't think properly," but "completely couldn't!"! The gears of her thoughts had completely stopped.

  She mechanically walked into the living room, standing there in a daze. She could hear the ughter and chatter coming from upstairs. Among Tingting's joyful ughter and shrieks, there was a male voice, cheerful, bright, and enthusiastic: “Tingting! You little thing! You're getting more and more beautiful, more and more adorable! Come! You have to take me to meet your teacher, Fang! Is she downstairs?”

  Fang Siying was taken aback. Like a fsh of lightning, her first instinct was to run! Leave right now! But it was too te. As she turned around, she heard a set of footsteps rushing down the stairs, along with Tingting's joyful screams: “Teacher Fang! This is my Uncle Gao!”

  Yes, she couldn't escape. She had to face this reality. Slowly, she turned around and stiffly looked at the man in front of her—tall, with light brown skin and a pair of sharp, bright eyes. She stepped forward and slowly extended her hand. “Hello, Mr. Gao,” she said ftly. “Nice to meet you.”

  "Oh," the man was stunned. He stared at her, completely ignoring the hand she had extended toward him. Their gazes locked for a long time, neither of them speaking. Finally, as if snapping out of a trance, a smile returned to his face. He took her hand, shook it, and said happily, "I'm gd to meet you too, Miss Fang." After speaking, he turned to Tingting, who was standing to the side, and said, "Tingting, shouldn't you go upstairs to talk with your dad? He's still sick and can't get out of bed. Also, I have something for you. Ask your dad for it!"

  "Okay!" Tingting cheered and rushed upstairs.

  The man, Mr. Gao, approached Fang Siying. His smile faded, and his gaze grew intense and unblinking as it fixed on her face. The look in his eyes was sharp, deep, and critical.

  He slowly shook his head.

  "I can hardly believe it," he said.

  "Did he send the telegram asking you to come?" she said coldly. "I should have guessed it was him. He's not as confused as I imagined."

  "He needs a pair of eyes."

  "So he called you! In fact, he doesn't need eyes now; what he needed were eyes eleven years ago."

  He stared at her, surprised, then began to examine her up and down, as if trying to look right through her bones. After a deep breath, he said:

  "You've changed! You've really changed."

  "A ghost from another world, how could it not change?" She replied, still cold and distant.

  He continued to scrutinize her. "But this doesn't suit you."

  "What?"

  "These gsses, this hairstyle, this outfit... You can't disguise yourself. No matter how you change your attire, anyone who has seen you before will still recognize you. Take off your gsses, Han Yan."

  Han Yan? Han Yan? Han Yan?

  Once this name was correctly spoken, all the disguises faded away. Han Yan! This name had been buried for ten years! This name had been hidden for ten years! This name had been dead for ten years! Now, had it come back to life? Was it revived? Revived?

  She heard footsteps on the stairs and looked up. She saw Tingting holding Bai Peiwen's hand, slowly walking down the stairs. Bai Peiwen's face was pale and haggard, but his expression was tense and excited. Grasping the handrail of the stairs, he asked tremulously, “Li De, do you recognize her? Is it really her?”

  Oh no, no, Gao Lide, you mustn't say it! If you say it, everything will be over! Oh no, no, Gao Lide, you mustn't say it! Zhang Hanyan has been dead! She died ten years ago!

  She lifted her eyes, pleadingly looking at Gao Lide, then gnced resentfully at Bai Peiwen. Her lips were cracked, her throat dry, her voice hoarse and mournful.

  "No! Bai Peiwen! That's not her! Zhang Hanyan was killed by you ten years ago!"

  After speaking, her vision blurred, and she could no longer stand. The ground seemed to sway beneath her feet, and she colpsed, losing consciousness.