The proof he’d been searching for.

Cheng Chang held the safety talisman, momentarily lost in thought.

He had returned from Great Sui with a twenty-first-century body, wearing twenty-first-century clothes, even his heart was still the same worn-out heart it had always been — yet somehow, this one talisman had come back with him.

Did that mean, then, that everything he had experienced in Great Sui these past six months or so wasn’t simply a dream?

Seeing Cheng Chang fall silent, Duan Mingcheng assumed he was thinking about Liao Zhuo, and said, “Something urgent came up back at Liao Zhuo’s hometown — she got a call in the middle of the night yesterday and rushed back. I’ll let her know you’re awake, tell her to come back soon.”

“Also, that caretaker of yours — I don’t think she’s reliable. Taking leave every few days was one thing, but last night, right at the critical moment, she claimed she had something come up and slipped off again. I think you should hire someone else.”

Cheng Chang nodded and said that was fine.

Duan Mingcheng had only taken half a day off. He stayed a while longer to talk with Cheng Chang, then hurried back to the office.

After he left, Cheng Chang’s gaze returned to the talisman in his hand.

Outside, the world was loud and bustling; the hospital room sat silent and still. In this moment, the two worlds seemed to intersect in this ancient talisman in his hand. The hospital room felt like a cage, and he suddenly felt an urgent need to leave it, to go see for himself what this world he thought he knew so well was really like.

The phone on the bedside table buzzed.

Liao Zhuo had messaged: Awake? How are you feeling, are you okay?

Cheng Chang replied: Mm.

He thought for a moment, then added: Thank you.

After a while, Liao Zhuo sent a long voice message: “Sorry — something urgent came up at home, so I couldn’t stay at the hospital with you. I’ll handle it as fast as I can and come back soon. I’ve already asked your company for leave on your behalf; just rest up these next few days. Duan Mingcheng, your brother, and I just discussed it — we’ve decided to let that caretaker go. Your brother’s hired someone else to prepare your meals morning and evening. As for round-the-clock care, once I’m back, I’ll help find someone with you.”

After listening, Cheng Chang replied with another thank-you.

He’d only just woken, and his energy was still poor. After talking with Duan Mingcheng for a while, even his body felt drained.

When the nurse came in to change his IV and take his temperature, lowering the head of the bed, he fell asleep before long.

Cheng Chang stayed two more days in the hospital, then underwent a full checkup.

On the day of his discharge, his brother Hé Jiǎn came to help with the paperwork.

Hé Jiǎn wasn’t Cheng Chang’s biological brother — he was actually the son of the old hospital director who had once taken Cheng Chang in. Three years older than Cheng Chang, with no blood relation between them, their bond had been distant at first, growing into something closer only after the old director passed away.

While Cheng Chang packed his things in the hospital room, the door was gently pushed open, and a young nurse stood in the doorway.

“Mr. Cheng, I heard you’re being discharged today?”

“Yes.”

“It’s like this — I’m the nurse who’s been taking care of you since you were admitted. I had rotating days off the past couple of days, so… you might not recognize me.”

Cheng Chang said nothing.

In truth, he did recognize her. He’d seen her in those strange dreams of Great Sui.

“You— I—” Seeing him stay silent, the young nurse grew a little nervous. After a moment, she took out her phone. “I heard you won’t have anyone taking care of you for now after you’re discharged. Would you… add me on WeChat? That way, if there’s anything you need to watch out for, I can let you know directly.”

The excuse was a good one, but her flickering, uncertain gaze gave her away.

Cheng Chang looked at the young nurse. He understood perfectly well what she meant.

But…

“No need,” Cheng Chang said. “I have Dr. Zhang’s number.”

The young nurse looked up, startled, clear disappointment in her eyes. Her face flushed red instantly, and she stood there, at a loss, before finally managing, “Ah— I see, then…”

Fortunately, at that moment Hé Jiǎn returned, having finished the discharge paperwork. Seeing someone had arrived, the young nurse swallowed the rest of her words, lowered her head, and hurried off.

Hé Jiǎn strode into the room, picked up Cheng Chang’s bag, and as they walked out, nudged him with his elbow, laughing. “Not bad, huh? Barely any time at all and you’ve already recruited another little sister.”

Cheng Chang said, “You’re overthinking it. She’s just conscientious about her job.”

Hé Jiǎn laughed again, then pulled his car keys out of his pocket and handed them to Cheng Chang. “I brought your Mercedes G-Class over. You want to drive, or should I?”

“I’ll drive,” Cheng Chang said.

The pacemaker had settled in well and wouldn’t affect his driving. Though it was best to wait three months before getting back on the road properly, a short drive around the city should be fine.

“Alright, then drop me off at the office on the way.”

Hé Jiǎn’s office was in the CBD, close to Cheng Chang’s own company. Cheng Chang pulled over to let him out, then thought about it and, since he was already out and about, turned the car around and drove into the underground parking garage of his own company.

He’d thought it through clearly these past few days — he felt he couldn’t work right now, and not entirely because of his health condition, but because of… this bizarre, inexplicable experience he’d had.

Since returning, everything had felt unreal.

His whole being seemed to drift between two worlds, the noise and bustle of the crowd, the hurrying pedestrians, none of it having anything to do with him at all.

Cheng Chang hadn’t brought his work badge, but as a mid-level executive at the company, he entered the building through facial recognition at reception and went straight to the top floor to see the company’s top executive.

His original intent had been to resign outright, but the executive said, “How about this — I’ll give you an extended leave. Once you’ve rested up, come back whenever you’re ready. Just give me a call when you’re ready, and if you want a transfer, give a week’s notice.”

Made sense, thinking about it.

Once talent reaches a certain level, it becomes highly sought after — headhunting firms constantly calling to poach people, rival companies routinely offering double the salary. With Cheng Chang being such a rare combination of diligence and intelligence, it was understandable that the executive wasn’t willing to let him go so easily.

Cheng Chang didn’t stand on ceremony and simply nodded. “Alright, thank you.”

Stepping out of the office building, the sky was gray and overcast. It was an April afternoon; the weather, which had already begun warming, had been pushed back by a cold front, the air still carrying a lingering spring chill. Cheng Chang turned on the radio, and a woman’s voice announced that a powerful typhoon would make landfall in the Jiangsu-Zhejiang-Shanghai region over the coming days, reminding people to be cautious when traveling.

Shanghai traffic was, as always, hopeless, congested no matter the time of day. Fortunately, Cheng Chang’s apartment wasn’t far from the CBD, and within half an hour, he’d finally fought through the traffic and made it home.

The sky had grown darker than before. Looking out through the floor-to-ceiling windows, dark clouds hung heavy outside, the wind gusting in waves — sure signs the typhoon was approaching.

Cheng Chang had been away for over half a month, and the furniture had gathered dust. He did a quick cleaning, called to schedule a cleaning service for the next day, then sat down at the long table and, after some thought, opened his laptop.

The executive’s willingness to keep him around was, naturally, out of a desire to retain talent.

But he was still drawing a salary, and he couldn’t just wash his hands of everything — he had to at least give some account of himself.

Cheng Chang went through the emails from the past half-month, replying to the important ones, then sent instructions to his subordinates, assigning tasks, and drafted a memo to the entire company, including the overseas headquarters, explaining his situation, and copying it to relevant emergency contacts.

By the time he finished all this, night had fully fallen.

Cheng Chang had a few private kitchen restaurants saved in his phone. He picked one and ordered a nutrition-focused meal. While waiting for it to arrive, he sat on the couch and drifted into a daze.

Nothing to do, nowhere to turn.

Even inside, he felt hollow.

He’d almost never felt this way before.

Cheng Chang couldn’t help but wonder — what had his life been like before he crossed into Great Sui?

Back then, work had been demanding, endless overtime, occasionally catching the news, hanging out with friends — the days had simply passed, one after another.

He wasn’t someone with many hobbies or interests. In school, he’d been diligent and driven, almost never ranking anything but first. Because of his congenital heart condition, he’d always cherished life and opportunity more than others, spending his free time working hard, rarely wasting it — and so, in its own way, his life had been full.

Then he’d gone to Great Sui…

Once there, in Jinling, he’d spent his days constantly scheming how to stay alive under the “noble one’s” watch, with no room to spare for anything else. Several times he’d narrowly escaped mortal danger, always with Yun Xi’s help…

Thinking of Yun Xi, Cheng Chang drifted off for a moment.

After a while, unconsciously, he pulled the safety talisman from his pocket, set it on the coffee table, and stared at it without a word.

If… everything he’d experienced in Great Sui had truly been real, then after he fell off that cliff, what had happened to everything?

Counting the days, Yun Xi should be returning from suppressing the unrest soon. If she found out he’d disappeared — or worse, that he’d died — how would she react?

His thoughts drifted, aimless, tangled, wandering through his mind without direction.

After a while, the restaurant delivery arrived. Hearing the knock at the door, Cheng Chang’s mind snapped back to the present.

He rubbed his temples, forcing himself to calm down, went to the door to collect the food, and set the steaming dishes out on the coffee table — but he had no appetite.

He sat there a while longer, then, as if remembering something, pulled out his phone and searched for the period wuxia drama that had been airing on TV the past few days. He found the title and the female lead’s name, then… paid for a Tencent Video membership, wanting to watch the show.

The TV in Cheng Chang’s apartment was essentially decorative, used at most for the news. It took him a while to figure out that the “Aurora TV” app was just the smart-TV version of Tencent Video. Clicking in, he discovered that a regular membership couldn’t skip ads on the TV, so… he upgraded himself to Super VIP.

Honestly, the female lead’s acting really was mediocre — it was only the costume and styling that made her resemble Yun Xi at first glance. Her skin wasn’t as good as Yun Xi’s either, and her eyes especially — she was probably wearing colored contacts, which gave them a slightly artificial look, nowhere near as clear and bright as Yun Xi’s.

Cheng Chang watched for a while, half-wishing she would just stand there holding her sword, perfectly still, and not move at all.

He then registered a Weibo account and searched for the actress’s profile, scrolling through her photos — all clearly posed shots — which made her look even less like Yun Xi.

Disappointed, Cheng Chang reluctantly went to the drama’s official Weibo instead, dug up a few decent-looking promotional stills, and saved them to his phone.

Outside, the sky suddenly flashed, and a moment later, thunder cracked across the horizon, heavy rain pouring down without warning.

A gust of wind slipped in through the window’s edge, stirring the safety talisman on the coffee table.

One corner of the talisman lifted, and carried by the wind, it nearly fluttered to the floor.

Cheng Chang caught it with one hand and weighed it down with a porcelain cup, then walked to the window, sealed the two small casement panels shut, and drew the curtains closed.

Outside, the wind and rain raged, nearly drowning out every other sound. Cheng Chang turned up the TV volume a little, and seeing the food had gone lukewarm, picked up his chopsticks and prepared to eat.

Just then, a knock sounded suddenly at the door.