Ai Mu dismissed most of her attendants under the guise of needing rest, keeping only Qing Dai by her side. What she truly needed was information—as much as possible, as detailed as possible. She had to quickly familiarize herself with this world and everything about the identity of "Ai Mu" in order to hide herself and prepare for the storm she knew was coming.
"Qing Dai," she murmured from the cushioned seat by the window, her gaze seemingly resting on the plum blossoms blooming defiantly in the snow. Her tone carried just the right amount of weariness and confusion. "After I fell into the lake, my mind has been hazy. Everything feels like it's behind a veil… What exactly happened that day? Why did I fall into the water with him?"
Qing Dai, unsuspecting, immediately recounted what she knew. "Lady, that day was a spring outing with several noble ladies. Young Master Gu came along with his elder sister. When the boat reached the center of the lake, somehow you and Young Master Gu fell into the water together. It was chaotic. By the time you were rescued, both of you were unconscious." She paused, then added, "The Prince investigated. They said the boat was old and the railing broke suddenly, causing the accident."
Together? A broken railing?
Ai Mu's fingers curled slightly. It sounded like a pure accident. But if that "Gu Liang" was truly him, then this accident might have been the very trigger that brought their souls into this world. But what if he wasn't Gu Liang? What if it was just a coincidence of name?
She crushed the thought. She knew Gu Liang—his obsession, his madness, the kind that would drag her off a rooftop. That kind of love wouldn't die just because the world changed. She was almost certain: the man who fell with her and slept for three days was him.
Suppressing the chill rising in her chest, she asked casually, "And after Young Master Gu woke up, did he say anything? About the incident?"
Qing Dai shook her head. "I don't know, Lady. I only heard that he's been weak and rarely sees guests. But the Gu family did send someone to apologize to the Prince and Consort, saying their son was careless and caused trouble for you. They were very sincere."
Careless? Caused trouble?
To others, it might sound humble. But to Ai Mu, it was a twist of the knife. Gu Liang never did anything without purpose. Was this apology a test? A way to retreat in order to advance?
Just as her thoughts spiraled, a servant's voice rang out like thunder:
"Lady, Young Master Gu Liang from the Ministry of Works is here to pay respects. He heard of your recovery and wishes to inquire after your health."
He's here.
Ai Mu's heart clenched, as if gripped by an invisible hand. So fast. He hadn't given her time to breathe.
She inhaled deeply, forcing down the storm in her chest. Her face quickly returned to the cold dignity of Ai Mu, the noble Lady of the Ai household—though beneath it, a faint pallor betrayed her tension.
"Let him wait in the side hall," she said calmly.
"Yes, Lady."
With Qing Dai's help, Ai Mu changed into a formal robe of moon-white silk embroidered with silver peonies. Her hair was pinned with a simple white jade hairpin. In the mirror, the woman looked pale from illness, but her brows held the sharpness of someone born to command. She reminded herself: You are Ai Mu, not the woman he dragged off a rooftop. Hold steady.
She walked slowly toward the side hall, each step like walking a tightrope. The corridor was silent, save for the rustle of her robes and the pounding of her heart.
Inside, the brazier burned warmly, but it couldn't chase away the chill in her bones. A tall, slender figure stood by the window, gazing at the snow-covered pines. He wore a plain robe of ash-blue, his long black hair tied with a simple ebony hairpin. Even from behind, his presence felt out of place—too quiet, too still.
He turned.
The face was unfamiliar—more refined than the Gu Liang she knew. Pale skin, delicate features, long eyes, straight nose, faint lips. But the eyes… deep, still, like a frozen lake. When they met hers, they seemed to pull at her soul.
Like him. But not. Her heart hovered, but her face remained composed. She walked to the main seat and sat gracefully, her gaze calm and assessing.
Gu Liang stepped forward and bowed, his posture elegant, his voice soft and respectful. "Gu Liang greets the Lady. I heard of your recovery and came to pay respects. It is a blessing to see you well."
His eyes stayed low, fixed on the embroidery of her robe—just as a disgraced man should behave before a noble Lady.
"You're thoughtful, Young Master Gu," Ai Mu replied coolly. "Please sit. Is your health improving?"
"Thanks to your concern, I'm much better." He sat with grace, his shoulders slightly hunched, giving off a subtle vulnerability. But when he lifted his lashes, his gaze flicked quickly across her face—especially her eyes. "That day at the lake… if I offended you in the chaos, I beg your forgiveness."
Ai Mu lifted her tea, letting the warmth seep into her fingers. "It was an accident. You needn't worry." She smiled faintly, distant but polite. "You were caught in it as much as I was."
Silence fell, broken only by the crackle of the fire.
Then Gu Liang coughed softly, covering his mouth with his sleeve. Ai Mu's gaze drifted to his hairpin—carved into the shape of a lounging black cat.
Her pupils contracted.
Gu Liang was severely allergic to cat fur. He never kept cats. But he adored black cats—mysterious, elegant, loyal. In their modern home, he had custom platinum cufflinks shaped like black cats. After she showed interest in a young intern, those cufflinks vanished. When she asked, he'd joked—chillingly, in hindsight—"You like other cats now. Mine shouldn't be around."
Now, in this world, this man wore a black cat hairpin—subtle, sharp, and out of place.
Coincidence? In a world where men were taught to be gentle and submissive, would one choose such a bold, personal symbol?
She forced herself to look away, lifting her tea to hide her reaction. But her hand trembled slightly, and a few drops of hot tea splashed onto her skin.
She gasped softly, a reflex born of countless burns in her past life.
"—ss!"
It was barely audible. But in that instant, she saw Gu Liang's fingers tighten around his cup, knuckles white. His lashes lifted sharply, eyes locking onto her hand with shock, joy, and something deeper—recognition.
Though he quickly masked it, that moment was seared into her mind.
"Lady?" he asked gently. "Was the tea too hot? Shall I call someone?"
Ai Mu's heart sank.
He knows.
That tiny, instinctive reaction had betrayed her. He hadn't come to pay respects—he came to confirm. And now, he had.
She slammed the cup down. The sound rang through the hall. She stood abruptly, face cold, voice sharp:
"I'm tired. Young Master Gu, please leave."
Gu Liang rose slowly, his gaze never leaving her. He didn't bow again. Instead, he spoke softly, with chilling certainty:
"Ai Mu."
Two words. A verdict.
She froze.
He had known all along.
She clenched her fists in her sleeves, nails digging into her palms to stay composed. She didn't respond. Any reaction would confirm his suspicion. Instead, she turned to Qing Dai:
"See the guest out."
Then she walked away—fast, stiff, almost fleeing.
Gu Liang watched her go, eyes gleaming with dark resolve. He touched the black cat hairpin.
It had belonged to this body's former owner. Unpopular, too fierce for this world. But when he saw it, he knew—it was a sign. A link between him and Ai Mu.
Now, he was sure.
"I've found you," he whispered, lips curling into a smile—bloody, satisfied.
The hunt had begun.