Chapter 1: Dream
Under the night sky, scattered pure white snowflakes drift down, embellishing this cold, desolate world...
On the snowfield, a beautiful woman in red twirls like a ballerina, weaving through the falling snow.
In the distance under hazy streetlights, a slender man holds a crimson umbrella, smiling at the cheerful girl from afar—so distant, so tender.
The girl notices the boy and stops. Her exquisite face blooms with radiant joy.
The boy's features remain blurred as he stretches out his hand...
The hand that seems within her reach turns translucent. When she reaches back, her fingers grasp empty air.
The boy vanishes. The umbrella clatters to the ground, its violent red screaming against endless white. The girl crumples to her knees, vacant eyes overflowing with ceaseless tears.
Is this...a dream? Then why does her heart clench with such raw anguish...?
A church materializes. Bride and groom walk arm-in-arm down the aisle.
The elegant groom recites vows with a voice clear as mountain springs. When the bride's turn comes, she freezes—for isn't that her own face beneath the veil?
Where is this place?
Everything shifts. Church pews warp into school desks buried under textbooks.
Wedding guests dissolve into chattering students. The vaulted ceiling becomes concrete tiles. The transparent groom fades, replaced by a dozing boy at a desk.
This scene...so familiar. Her high school classroom? This must be a dream—it has to be.
When conscious awareness intrudes during REM sleep, dreamers can shape their visions—"lucid dreaming," where one knows they're dreaming.
So she's dreaming now. Yet even recognizing her old school, her memories stay frustratingly vague, all related recollections blurred...
The sleeping boy at the neighboring desk stirs, lifting his gaze toward her.
When their eyes meet, her heart stutters then pounds like war drums.
A dull ache blooms beneath her ribs...
Tears slip free as she clutches her chest, peering through watery vision at him.
Her tears startle him awake. Starlight eyes widen with panic and helpless tenderness.
Memories surge like tsunami waves—long-buried recollections of this boy, of their shared history.
The dreamworld shudders, edges blurring...
She frantically turns to him. As memories solidify, his features sharpen into focus.
That familiar handsome face—chiseled jaw, thin lips, those drowning-pool amber eyes.
Seeing her long-yearned-for youth, she laughs through tears and embraces him. Warmth.
His palms gradually settle on her back.
Fearful of the dream's end, she urgently leans toward his ear, voice quivering:
"Luo Fan, I've missed you so terribly...
I'll wait—until silver threads our hair, until our bones crumble to sand!"
Cradled against him, she watches surprise and confusion melt into tender amusement. He parts pale lips: "Me too."
In the dream's final heartbeat, she desperately kisses his cool mouth. The lingering lemon scent feels cruelly ephemeral.
The vision dissolves. Never has she experienced such crystalline clarity in dreams—fully aware yet seeing him vivid as reality.
But reality's Luo Fan likely forgot her long ago. Otherwise he wouldn't have...
Yun Xinyu banishes the dark thought, clawing frustrated fingers through disheveled hair before pressing them to her sternum.
As if pressure could erase this dream-born heartache...
Her gaze sweeps the room—humble yet meticulously ordered, radiating warmth.
Beijing's property prices devoured years of savings for this Sixth-Ring Road studio. Worth every penny for stable sleep, free from sudden evictions and rootless drifting.
The floor-length mirror shows snow-pale skin, clear amber eyes, nightfall hair cascading down her back. Once carefully maintained curves now gaunt from relentless work. Her makeup-free face remains beautiful yet haggard, shadowed by sleepless nights.
As primary actress and part-time model—a true Beijing drifter without connections or elite degrees—her acting career stagnates while modeling pays the bills.
Ding-ding-ding.
The doorbell chimes alongside a male voice:
"It's me."
Gu Cheng—her boyfriend of two years. Public persona: flirtatious playboy from the Gu conglomerate. Private truth: devoted partner.
At twenty-seven, marriageable age, she'd accepted his proposal last month. Reliable, faithful Gu Cheng who treats her well.
The dream vow echoes suddenly: "Until silver threads our hair..."
She mentally scoffs at her dream-self's dramatics, rising to answer the door.
(End of Chapter)
