The Beauties of the Song Dynasty

Chapter 2

The extremely bright sunlight shone in through the open lattice window. Beneath the lattice window was a low couch, and in the center of the couch was a square, four-legged, carved low table. A person was lying on the couch.

The man was dressed in a pure white soft robe, with black lotus embroidered on the collar and cuffs, which was very elegant. He rested his head on one hand and leaned against a low table, with his wide sleeves hanging down, half-covering the books on the table.

It feels like a dream, she thought.

She lowered her eyes and tried to get up, but a slight pain in her lower body made her fall back down, blinking in surprise.

"You're awake."

A gentle male voice suddenly rang out. She was slightly startled, looked up, and met his clear eyes, stunned.

It wasn't a dream. She realized.

"Are you alright? Does it still hurt? Yuan Niang said you're too weak, that's why you're suffering so much. We need to give you some nourishment." His voice was gentle and calm, just like his expression.

"Yuanniang..." she began, about to ask who this person was, but he casually replied—

"Yuanniang went to get your medicine; she should be here soon."

"Who are you?" She opened her mouth with difficulty, but the words wouldn't come out. There were too many questions she didn't understand, but she couldn't ask them, and she didn't know how to begin.

She seemed to have entered a strange world.

"What's wrong?" he asked, looking at her.

Without further hesitation, she asked, "Who are you?" As soon as she spoke, she saw a slight surprise in his dark eyes, a hint of shock in them. He slowly reached out and touched her forehead, saying gently, "Are you still feeling unwell?"

"Who are you?" she asked again, instinctively avoiding his warm hand and shifting her body slightly further into the bed.

"Wanlan?" He asked, puzzled, slowly withdrawing his hand. "What's wrong with you?"

Wanlan? Is that what you call her? Is that her current name?

She stared at his unusually handsome face, speechless. She didn't recognize this man. In fact, everything here was so different from the hospital she knew; it was all so unfamiliar. She didn't know why she was here.

Wasn't she originally receiving treatment at the hospital? Her congenital heart disease suddenly worsened, and her parents, following the hospital's advice, moved her to the intensive care unit, but her condition showed no improvement. She had been confined to that small room the whole time. When—did she end up in this bright, antique-style bedroom? And there was a man in ancient costume next to her calling her "Wanlan"?

Was she dead?

The man didn't ask her about her unusual behavior again. He just stared at her quietly with his clear, dark eyes, so focused and serious that it made her uneasy, and she looked away.

When the knocking came, she was clutching the quilt, at a loss. She turned to look at the man who got up to open the door, took a careful breath, and struggled to sit up.

"Oh dear! Madam! Why are you up? Don't move, don't move, you're still feeling weak!"

She looked up in surprise and saw a kind-looking middle-aged woman carrying a porcelain bowl walking quickly over. The woman placed the bowl on the table beside the bed and looked at her with great concern. She sighed, "Poor child, you've suffered so much. Here, drink some ginseng chicken soup to nourish your body. The young master has just been born, you mustn't develop any health problems."

She was very puzzled. Who was that young master? And what was his connection to her body?

Her gaze seemed to have its own will, slowly shifting to the man who had walked to the bedside. He stared at her with an inscrutable expression, his gaze seeming to see right through her. She bit her lip, lowered her eyes, and remained silent.

"Your Highness," the woman beside him called out angrily, "Madam has just woken up. Can't you be a little nicer? What more do you want from her in this state? The young master has already been born."

“Yuanniang,” the man said, his gentle demeanor like the warm sun in spring, soft and warm. He smiled slightly, his gaze falling on the bowl of ginseng chicken soup. “Zehua knows his mistake. Let Zehua take care of feeding Madam the soup. You go and take care of Xu’er.”

Upon hearing his words, Yuan Niang immediately stood up with a beaming smile, told him to be careful of the heat, and then went out.

He sat down in Yuan Niang's seat, picked up the bowl next to him, scooped up a spoonful with a spoon, blew on it gently before holding it to her lips, and said with a smile, "Here, be careful, it's hot."

She froze, her lips parted slightly as if to refuse, but the spoon tilted and the soup entered her mouth. The sweet and slightly bitter taste slid down her throat and into her stomach, and the hot sensation instantly spread from her stomach throughout her body, a tingling sensation rushing straight to her brain.

"Wait!" Seeing him scoop up another spoonful, she quickly stepped back and glanced at him sideways. "You didn't answer my question. Who are you? Where is this?"

He didn't answer, but insisted on handing the soup over, saying, "You finish drinking it first, and then I'll tell you."

Upon hearing this, she reached for the bowl in his hand, drank it all, and then handed the bowl back to him, saying, "Who are you?"

His eyes seemed to be full of laughter as he took the bowl with great surprise and replied, "I am your husband."

"Husband?!" She was startled and stared at him speechlessly.

He nodded, looking at her with amusement. "Wanlan, we've been married for almost a year now, have you forgotten? Yesterday, you gave birth to my son, and I named him Weixu. What do you think?"

She felt a wave of dizziness and stared blankly at him. "What's your name? What year is it? Where is this?"

“In the ninth year of the Kaibao era, this is Tokyo,” he said slowly, staring intently into her blank eyes. “I am your husband, named Zhao Defang, courtesy name Zehua.”

The ninth year of the Kaibao era... Zhao Defang...

She stared in shock, speechless. "Zhao...Defang? You...you're lying to me, right?" Was she really dead? Was she a ghost? Or was she just having a very, very long dream?

"Wanlan, don't you remember?" Zhao Defang frowned slightly, her eyes showing worry. "Have you forgotten me, forgotten yourself, forgotten everything here?"

She paused slightly.

She's not Wanlan, so what's this talk of forgetting? Is this Zhao Defang, who claims to be her husband, really the son of Emperor Taizu of Song? How did she become his wife and even have a son? Why did she wake up in the Song Dynasty?

Is she going to... play dumb?

"Wanlan?"

“Zehua,” she called softly, looking up. In ancient times, wives addressed their husbands by their given names, right? “I may…have forgotten many things.” She looked at him with a worried expression, but was surprised to find that her husband seemed to be startled, staring at her with some astonishment.

"What's wrong?"

“You haven’t just forgotten a few things, you’ve forgotten everything, haven’t you?” he said slowly.

She hadn't experienced those things at all, so how would she know? Lowering her eyes and nodding, she tacitly agreed, truly not daring to say that she wasn't his wife. Such a bizarre thing, he wouldn't believe it, would he?