#168: Awakening from a Dream (1)

That snowstorm was truly immense.

The biting wind howled, and the entire world was enveloped in white, obscuring her vision until Shen Xiling felt as though she could no longer open her eyes.

She desperately wanted to catch one last glimpse of that person, but for some inexplicable reason, when she forced her eyes open, what greeted her instead was the unfamiliar yet strangely familiar canopy of a bed. It wasn’t from the small courtyard where she and her mother had lived during her childhood, nor was it from Fenghe Garden. Yet, she vaguely felt that she had seen it somewhere before.

She was utterly disoriented, unsure of the date or even where she was. Suddenly, a bout of chest tightness caused her to cough twice, startling someone nearby.

She heard hurried footsteps approaching, followed by a maid hastily drawing back the bed curtains. Bright daylight streamed in, reminiscent of a beautiful spring morning—so different from the bleak, snowy scene of Langya she had just witnessed moments ago.

The sudden brightness dazzled her eyes, making it difficult to open them fully. She didn’t see the maid’s face, only hearing her voice, choked with joy, as she turned and called out to those outside: “General! My lady has awakened, my lady has awakened!”

After her words, more sounds echoed from outside. It seemed many people were rushing in, their shadows flickering. Then, a man sat down beside her bed and urgently called her name: “Xiling?”

Shen Xiling’s vision was still unclear, but her thoughts were even more chaotic.

…General? Lady?

Who were they addressing?

It certainly wasn’t her and Qi Ying—she should have been called “Miss,” while he would be addressed as “Master” or “Lord.”

She felt a man sit beside her on the bed—a gesture too intimate to belong to Qi Ying. His presence was unfamiliar, and he called her “Xiling.”

But he always called her “Wenwen.”

Only “Wenwen.”

Shen Xiling was both bewildered and gripped by a growing sense of fear, causing her to shrink back slightly.

As she tried to edge away toward the corner of the bed, she strained to make out the man’s face. In the bright light, his features were somewhat blurred, but his outline was clear—sword-like brows, starry eyes, tall and imposing. He seemed both foreign and familiar to her.

She stared at him blankly, her mind a chaotic mess. At times, she recalled the overwhelming snowstorm from moments ago; at others, she was confronted by the jumbled reality before her.

It took a while for her to regain her senses—not because of anything else, but because her pillow had grown cold against her cheek. She had cried herself to sleep, soaking her pillow, which now felt icy.

Only then did she finally realize… all those vivid people and events were nothing more than another dream.

These dreams were far from novel—they had accompanied her nightly since she came to Shangjing, especially during the early days after parting from him. However, in the past, these dreams had always been fragmented, rarely forming such a coherent narrative. Perhaps it was because she rarely slept well, seldom achieving long stretches of uninterrupted rest.

But why had she slept so soundly this time?

With great effort, Shen Xiling began to piece together her memories, recalling… she must have fallen ill.

Gradually, she regained clarity, remembering that before she fell asleep, she had attended a tea gathering hosted by Madam Zhong, the wife of the Deputy Chief Imperial Censor. It was said that he had also been there, debating scriptures and doctrines with the Wei envoys in the front hall. Overjoyed yet anxious, she had exhausted every means to slip away from the back garden, nearly combing through the entire residence of the Deputy Chief Imperial Censor before finding the guest room where he was resting. She had pleaded with him through the door, longing for even a brief meeting, but he had refused.

They were separated by only a single door, yet it might as well have been a vast chasm.

And then?

Then… she left, returning to her own quarters.

Where was her residence again?

She couldn’t quite recall, but she knew it wasn’t Fenghe Garden—if it were, she wouldn’t hesitate to return.

So where was it?

…Ah, yes. The Duke of Yan’s Residence.

Yes, the Duke of Yan’s Residence.

She lived at the Duke of Yan’s Residence because she was married—to General Gu Juhan, who inherited the title of Duke.

Yes, she was married.

Shen Xiling’s gaze gradually cleared as she slowly turned her head to look at the man sitting beside her bed. This time, she finally recognized her husband—he looked somewhat haggard, with stubble on his chin, and his eyes were filled with concern.

He called her name again: “…Xiling?”

It seemed he was confirming whether she had fully regained consciousness.

Shen Xiling was indeed awake now. She had recognized everyone in the room—besides him, there was his younger sister, Gu Jingqi, and her own maidservants, Lianzi and Wanzhu. Outside, a man stood faintly visible—it appeared to be Gu Juhan’s adjutant, Xuchuan.

She recognized them all clearly, yet still felt somewhat disoriented. She kept thinking that Lianzi and Wanzhu should have been Shuipei and Fengshang, Jingqi should have been Zijun, and Xuchuan might have been Qingzhu or Baisong…

She shook her head, dispelling these absurd thoughts, and gave Gu Juhan a faint smile before answering hoarsely: “…General.”

Her voice was so raspy it startled even herself, but the people in the room were overjoyed to hear her speak. Only Gu Juhan hesitated for a moment, his expression dimming slightly. Gu Jingqi, however, was almost moved to tears, rushing to her bedside and taking her hand excitedly: “Sister-in-law, you’re finally awake! Why did you sleep for so long? We were all so worried!”

“You’ve had a high fever this whole time,” she chattered on incessantly, “and no matter how much we called you, you wouldn’t wake up—you just kept muttering in your sleep. The imperial physicians prescribed so many medicines for you, but you couldn’t take them, and they were at their wits’ end. They even said that if this continued, you might suffer brain damage from the fever!”

She looked genuinely shaken, and Lianzi and Wanzhu nodded along, their expressions reflecting their relief and joy. Shen Xiling knew she had caused everyone trouble with her illness and felt deeply apologetic. She reached out to pat Gu Jingqi’s head, saying: “I’m sorry for worrying all of you…”

As soon as she finished speaking, she began coughing, which sent everyone scrambling. Gu Jingqi panicked, only to be pulled aside by her brother, who helped Shen Xiling sit up slightly against the soft pillow while scolding his sister: “Your sister-in-law has just woken up. Don’t make such a racket.”

Gu Jingqi pouted, looking a little aggrieved but not daring to argue. Ignoring her, Gu Juhan asked Shen Xiling: “Are you feeling better? Are you still uncomfortable?”

Shen Xiling lacked strength, and even leaning against the pillow made her feel unsteady. Summoning her energy, she replied: “…It’s fine. I’ll be alright.”

Gu Juhan frowned, still watching her intently. Before he could say anything, Gu Jingqi chimed in cheerfully: “Thank goodness Sister-in-law is fine now! Otherwise, my big brother would’ve eaten someone alive! You didn’t see how terrible he looked these past few days—the court physicians practically fled our estate, staying as far away as possible!”

Her words were playful, and with Shen Xiling awake, the mood in the room brightened considerably. Even Lianzi, who was usually composed, couldn’t help but laugh softly.

Unfortunately, her teasing earned her a stern glare from her brother, leaving her visibly flustered. She quickly shrank back behind the maids.

Gu Juhan sighed, glanced at Shen Xiling, and then addressed the others: “You may leave for now. I’d like to speak with my wife privately.”

This was natural—now that his wife had awakened, the general naturally wished to share some intimate moments with her, free from interruptions. Gu Jingqi and the maids understood implicitly, covering their mouths as they giggled. Lianzi, more composed, curtsied and said: “Then I’ll go prepare your medicine, my lady.”

With that, she and Wanzhu exited the room, followed by Gu Jingqi, who winked and made funny faces at Shen Xiling before leaving.

These lively interactions brought Shen Xiling further back to her senses, and she gradually recalled more events outside the dream.

In reality, it had already been five years since she married and moved north of the Yangtze—just as long as the time she spent at Fenghe Garden. Many things had happened here, and she had formed connections with new people. Everything was good, peaceful, and warm.

Yet… she remained fixated on that dream. Though it tormented her with nightmares for years, it was also so beautiful that she couldn’t help but yearn for it.

She wanted to go back.

It seemed as though she had fully awakened, yet part of her lingered in the dream. Traces of it clung to her, and she even experienced fleeting hallucinations, occasionally catching a faint whiff of his sweet incense. Though faint, it lingered around her, making her believe he might have visited this room.

She thought herself foolish for entertaining such absurd notions, yet she couldn’t stop herself from wondering. After everyone left, she finally asked Gu Juhan: “General… has he come?”

Would he visit her?

Hearing her question, Gu Juhan let out a quiet sigh.

Earlier, he had dismissed everyone precisely because he knew she would inevitably ask about that person upon waking—and these were matters no one else could hear. Though they weren’t truly husband and wife, they had lived under the same roof for five years. He understood her deeply, at least enough to know that her heart and mind were entirely preoccupied with that man.

He had always known the depth of their love and harbored no inappropriate intentions. Still, five years had passed between them—a period no shorter than the time she shared with Qi Jingchen. In fact, perhaps it was even longer.

She had always been guarded, especially when she first arrived at the Duke’s residence. She treated him politely, maintaining a respectful distance as though keeping him at arm’s length.

He understood her sorrow and sympathized with her struggles, so he had always been gentle and accommodating toward her. Over time, he occasionally brought her news of that person , gradually helping her realize he wasn’t an enemy. Their relationship improved, becoming warmer.

Later, when his father passed away, he fell into deep despair.

She was an unusual woman—prosperity and comfort seemed unable to draw her close, but melancholy and suffering resonated with her deeply. During the mourning period, she showed great empathy and consideration, assisting him tirelessly with funeral arrangements. She behaved like the true mistress of the household, wearing mourning attire alongside him to greet mourners at the altar, acting more like a devoted wife than ever before.

It was only after sharing their deepest sorrows that she finally lowered her defenses toward him. As time passed, they grew closer, eventually becoming friends. Before he went to battle, she worried for him; when he returned safely, she genuinely rejoiced. Gradually, she stopped addressing him formally as “General” and began calling him “Wenruo.”