In all the ten years that had passed, the soul living within Jiu’er’s body could not have been Jiu’er herself!

It was not as though Zhan Yuheng had never suspected it before. But after spending several visits with the small Jiu’er following her burns, he had fallen into complete despair.

That person was not Jiu’er. She was simply not his Jiu’er.

The great fire had burned his Jiu’er away. The one who survived afterward was nothing more than Jiu’er’s body — inhabited by another’s soul.

Yet at that time, he could not find his Jiu’er. He had no idea how to face that dull-witted girl.

And so later, unwilling to confront it, he had stopped going to see her at all.

It was not until recently, when the Empress Dowager brought up the matter of the Crown Prince selecting a consort, that he had gone again to Feng Manor.

But he had not expected that the Feng Jiu’er of ten years later would give him a glimmer of hope.

She seemed still to be a fool — yet somehow, she did not seem quite so foolish.

She clearly behaved like a simpleton, yet those eyes of hers would, from time to time, flash with a thread of sharp and brilliant light.

And then there were her many small habits — the foods she liked, the way she furrowed her brow when she was unhappy, the way she bit her fingers when she was thinking.

The way she smiled coldly when she was contemptuous. The stubborn indifference she wore as a mask over her despair.

That was his Jiu’er. Every part of it was his Jiu’er.

These past few days out of the city — he had not truly been carrying out official business. He had gone to Wuheng Mountain to seek out the legendary master of the Spirit Realm.

Rumor had it this master could see through the threads of cause and effect, and discern past lives and present ones.

He had no need to ask about past or future lives. He only wanted to know whether there truly existed, in this world, such a thing as a soul exchange.

The Spirit Mirror Master said that among the southern Dream Clan, he had heard tell of such things — though the distance was great, and it was only hearsay.

As for whether it was truly real — the Spirit Mirror Master had offered one sentence: “Cause and effect follow their course; what is fated will come in its own time; that which is forced will not be found.” And after that, he had said nothing more.

They said these masters — some of those called masters — earned the title for nothing more than a talent for speaking in riddles.

This time, Zhan Yuheng had been well and truly schooled: a venerated and enlightened monk, and all he had been given was some dozen ambiguous characters that could mean a dozen different things.

It was no different from giving him no answer at all.

And so he had returned crestfallen, and yet — without quite knowing why — upon his return he had made straight for the Imperial Academy.

Only upon arriving had he suddenly remembered: today was a rest day.

And yet he had not expected that at the very gate of the Imperial Academy, he would see Feng Jiu’er just preparing to leave.

A rest day, and yet she was only departing at dusk — was this not fate?

Feng Jiu’er’s consciousness was still somewhat hazy, the scenes whirling through her mind all jumbled together — and far more than just those tender, romantic memories.

It seemed as though she could see a great fire — a terrifying, monstrous fire!

Within the fire, someone was moving toward her.

She could not make out the face. She knew only that their approach brought her a sense of peace.

But the fire was fierce, and the blaze was burning her skin — it hurt terribly. She truly hurt so much…

Mother — Mother! Jiu’er is in so much pain… But Mother — why was she covered in blood? Why did it seem as though she was on the verge of death?

A burning plank of linden wood came crashing down from above. The tiny Jiu’er was terrified out of her wits — and in her field of vision, her mother threw herself over her without a thought for her own life…

“Mother!” All at once, Jiu’er’s eyes flew wide open, her breathing ragged and frantic!

Yet before her, there was no sea of fire — only a sea of flowers.

And the weight pressing down on her was not her mother — it was… Zhan Yuheng? What was he doing, pressing down on her like this?

A sharp sound cut through the air, followed at once by a sudden chill sweeping across her body.

Jiu’er’s heart lurched in alarm. She moved to stop it — but it was already too late. The clothes on her body were ripped open with force…