“Lu Mingshu…” Mingshu murmured the name repeatedly, and just as Lu Chang’s cold sweat was about to drip, she finally said, “It sounds nice.”
Lu Chang didn’t know why he was nervous, but hearing this, he secretly let out a breath of relief, only to hear her ask again, “Who named me?”
“Your late father,” Lu Chang replied without changing expression.
Attributing it to the deceased was safest, and besides, this answer worked on two levels—her name was indeed given by her father.
“Father is gone?” Mingshu’s eyelids lowered slightly as she looked at Lu Chang, then at Madam Zeng.
Seeing her confused eyes full of questions, with the momentum of someone about to inquire about eighteen generations of ancestry, Lu Chang immediately said, “You’ve just woken up, don’t tire yourself with all these questions. The past is a long story, perhaps you’ll remember it on your own someday. If you truly can’t recall, I’ll find time to tell you everything slowly once you’re better. For now, you need proper rest.”
“Yes, you must be hungry after being unconscious for so long. I’ll go make you some porridge,” Madam Zeng said, not wanting to end up in the same situation as her son, decisively leaving Lu Chang behind.
Fortunately, Mingshu didn’t ask anything more. Her wounds still ached dully, and her whole body felt dizzy. After just a few sentences, her energy was depleted, and she had to lie back down, staring blankly at the canopy, not daring to think about anything.
Thinking made her head hurt.
She had become a person without a past.
Soon after, Madam Zeng brought the porridge—well-cooked until soft, with a plate of pickled sweet garlic they had brought from Jiangning in the carriage. The sweet garlic was pleasantly sweet and sour, without the raw garlic’s spiciness, very appetizing. It was Madam Zeng’s specialty, which she sent to the Simple family every year, and was also one of Mingshu’s favorite cold dishes.
Having been hungry for so long, Mingshu caught the scent of the sweet garlic like a mouse-smelling oil and sat up quickly from the bed. However, rising too quickly made her head sink heavily, bringing another wave of dizziness. She forced herself to sit straight. Lu Chang helped stir the porridge until it cooled before handing it to her. She began eating slowly, but after just two mouthfuls, the dizziness in her head intensified, accompanied by waves of chest heaviness and sudden nausea. Before she could react, she vomited with a “wa” sound all over Lu Chang, and the porridge bowl fell from the bed.
Lu Chang remained very calm. He quickly extended his hand to let her rest her head on his shoulder while comforting her, “The doctor said that patients with head injuries often experience dizziness and vomiting as aftereffects when they wake up. You must not move too quickly; these symptoms will ease after some time.” Meanwhile, he took the wet cloth Madam Zeng handed him, first wiping the remnants from her lips and clothes before cleaning the mess on himself.
Mingshu leaned against his shoulder, weakly looking sideways at him—he was skilled at caring for others, showing no disgust at the mess, even more adept than Madam Zeng, a woman.
Were these people her mother and brother?
Although Mingshu had just woken up and her head was still foggy, this didn’t prevent her from making some initial judgments about her current situation. Her mind was empty, unable to retrieve any memories about her name, family, or where she lived as if she had appeared in this world out of nowhere.
But precisely because of this, her identity, background, and entire past had become a story that could be molded and fabricated by others. They said she was a daughter of the Lu family, so she became a Lu family daughter, but the truth was, that she had no way to judge.
With this wariness and doubt, Mingshu lay back down in bed. Lu Chang went outside to change clothes and wash up, while Madam Zeng stood for a moment before the spilled porridge before starting to clean up the mess. Mingshu saw the slight regret in her eyes.
Someone who hadn’t experienced hardship from a poor family would never look at a bowl of porridge that way.
Mingshu’s hand secretly emerged from under the covers as she examined it carefully—this was a well-maintained hand, with skin as white and smooth as jade, fingertips like spring onions topped with transparent fingernails shaped like lily petals, beautifully manicured nail edges, not a single callus on the palm, and except for faint lines at the joints, not a single wrinkle on the back.
A girl from a poor family could hardly develop such hands, not to mention the thousand-gold bracelet worn on the wrist.
Lu Chang said they were siblings, and while she had her doubts, they had gone through great trouble to save her when she was half dead, spending money and effort to care for her—what were they after? Her person or her wealth?
She couldn’t figure out their motives, but if they weren’t family, how could she explain the inexplicable sense of familiarity she felt upon seeing Lu Chang and Madam Zeng? Though she had forgotten her past, she still retained an innate closeness to these two people. Especially Lu Chang—she felt an inexplicable trust in him, his warm palm able to soothe the various anxieties and confusions arising from her memory loss.
Moreover, watching Lu Chang and Madam Zeng care for her without complaint or fatigue, even when she vomited all over him, he didn’t furrow his brow at all. Such thorough care would be difficult for anyone except the closest of relatives, wouldn’t it? In this world, apart from parents and siblings, even spouses might not be able to do this.
Thinking this way revealed many contradictions, and she couldn’t figure it out. She became increasingly confused, wondering what had happened before she fell down the mountain. She felt as if she had forgotten something very, very important—but what was it?
She wracked her brains but couldn’t remember.
“I told you not to think about it. Why torture yourself?”
A voice suddenly sounded in her ear, interrupting her thoughts. She opened her eyes to see Lu Chang standing by the bed, bending down to look at her. He had changed clothes, wearing a half-worn outer robe that had faded from washing, much thinner than his previous one.
“I… can’t help it,” Mingshu turned to her side, frowning as she spoke.
Seeing her brow furrowed like a river and her whole face like a bitter gourd, Lu Chang knew she was overthinking again. He suddenly remembered the former Simple Mingshu, the one in his memory—every time they met, she was bright and bold. Though he knew she meant no harm, her every gesture carried the commanding air of someone born to wealth, making her seem aggressive. He hadn’t liked it, but now seeing her like this, even her speech carrying weakness and grievance, he suddenly wished she could return to being the former Simple Mingshu.
But Master Simple and the Simple family were gone, and she could barely protect herself. Even if she remembered everything, she could never return to how things were before.
Thinking this, Lu Chang unconsciously reached out, his fingertips pressing against her temple and massaging gently as he said, “Your head hurts again? Even if you can’t help it, you must try to resist. What you’re meant to remember, you’ll eventually recall. Your injuries haven’t healed—take it slowly.”
Mingshu closed one eye to look at him. His tone was somewhat stern, and though he wasn’t much older than her, he spoke like an elder lecturing a junior. She responded with an “Oh,” thinking to herself—this must be her brother.
After massaging for a while, Lu Chang asked her, “Feel better?”
“Mm, much better, thank you,” Mingshu thanked him.
“Can you get up? You threw up those two bites from earlier. If you can, eat a bit more.” After seeing her nod to his question, Lu Chang turned to help her sit up slowly, then placed thick blankets behind her back. Only after she was settled did he bring the porridge over.
Mingshu reached out to take it, but Lu Chang didn’t give it to her. Instead, he lowered his head to blow on a spoonful of porridge to cool it, then brought it to her lips. She stared at him blankly, only reacting when he raised an eyebrow. She turned her head away uncomfortably, saying, “Let me do it myself.”
“Don’t move, or you’ll throw up again, and I don’t have any more clothes to change into,” Lu Chang seriously blocked her protest.
She had no response and obediently opened her mouth to take the porridge.
Well, he had said he was her brother—feeding his seriously injured sister was only natural, right?
Such deep sibling affection!
Once she could eat normally, Mingshu’s strength recovered more quickly. Though she still spent more time sleeping than awake, her symptoms like dizziness had improved. After two more days of rest, Mingshu could get up and walk normally. The various wounds on her body had either scabbed over or reduced in swelling. Except for the wound on her temple that still needed daily bandage changes, the other injuries had mostly healed.
During these two days as Mingshu’s condition stabilized, Lu Chang went out again, without saying where he was going, leaving Madam Zeng to care for her at the clinic. Though Madam Zeng appeared delicate, she usually wore a smile when meeting people and wasn’t as strict as Lu Chang. She took care of Mingshu with constant attention to her comfort, and despite their financial constraints, she did her best with medical care, medicine, food, and daily needs, only being frugal with herself. Several times, this made Mingshu feel guilty.
Through their interactions, Mingshu grew familiar with Madam Zeng.
By the third day, Lu Chang still hadn’t returned. Mingshu felt restless in the clinic and wanted to go outside to see if she could remember anything. Still harboring doubts, she wanted to go to the teahouse or the government office to make inquiries. Taking advantage of Madam Zeng’s afternoon rest, she left the clinic.
Not far from the clinic was Xunyang Town’s largest teahouse, a hub for information flow. Normally, any major events in the prefecture would be discussed there, naturally including local gossip. If any family had lost a daughter or there were any missing person cases, one could usually learn some details there.
For some reason, the teahouse was particularly crowded today, packed with people three layers deep inside and out. At the innermost table stood a man in coarse cloth clothing, apparently a carriage driver who frequently traveled between towns and was well-informed about the news. He was now vividly describing something to the surrounding onlookers. Mingshu walked a few steps closer and vaguely heard phrases like “the Simple family case” and “burned completely to ashes.” Her heart inexplicably began to panic. Just as she was about to move closer to listen, from the corner of her eye she suddenly noticed two men standing up inside the teahouse—one with a hawk-like nose, the other with triangular eyes, both carrying wrapped long objects at their waists, looking at her sinisterly.
Mingshu felt uncomfortable under their gaze and tried to move aside, but discovered these two men had already locked onto her and were coming out of the teahouse. She sensed danger, and when she tried to escape back to the clinic, her path was already cut off. The two men were clearly after her, having split up to surround her from both sides to prevent her escape.
They meant harm.
Without time to think, she instinctively fled into the alley behind her. After just a few steps, she heard footsteps and the sound of metal behind her. She hurriedly looked back to see the two men had drawn short daggers from their waists.
The bright flash crossed her pupils, and Mingshu’s legs went weak with fear—they weren’t trying to capture her, but to kill her outright.
Her head began throbbing again, but she couldn’t care about that now, only wanting to save her life. But after just a few steps, she heard the sound of wind behind her. In desperation, she crouched down covering her head, barely avoiding the blade striking from behind, but she couldn’t escape the second strike. At this critical moment, a foot suddenly flew out from the narrow passage beside the alley, kicking the man hard in the chest.
Before Mingshu could react, someone grabbed her hand.
Still that warm palm, firmly gripping her slender wrist, pulling her into the narrow passage.
“Come with me.”
Lu Chang had descended from the heavens.
[Author’s Note: Mingshu, don’t think that just because I have amnesia, you can casually pretend to be my brother. Watch this lady’s discerning eye!
Mingshu: Oh no, this brother is quite nice.]