My mind is a jumbled mess, like a wad of cotton wool that I can't untangle. Maybe it's because I'm getting old, but I've become prone to these kinds of wild thoughts.
As I lay on my deathbed, my consciousness gradually faded, the noise around me faded, and I could not even clearly smell the medicine brought by the servant.
I felt a chill run through my body, as if I had fallen into an ice cellar.
Just then, a clear and pleasant voice suddenly came to my ears, like a bamboo flute soaked in spring dew, or like the sound of the stream in my hometown that Qianluo had mentioned, gently lingering in my ears.
He asked me, "Would you be willing to carry the memories of this life and meet Qin Qianluo again in the next life?"
Without thinking, I used almost my last bit of strength to squeeze out two words from my chapped lips and blurted out: "I'm willing."
They didn't ask about the cost, the reason, or even whether Su Jinyun would be there.
If only I could meet her again, even if it was just watching her grow up safely from afar, watching her no longer have to wield a knife, no longer have to face conspiracies and schemes.
Even just being able to say one more word to her or walk a little further with her would be enough.
When I opened my eyes again, I was an infant in swaddling clothes, with an unfamiliar lullaby in my ears, a white-painted roof in front of me, and a faint milky scent lingering in my nose.
Everything around me felt familiar. The "iron box" that flashed past the window was later told to me by my mother that it was called a car.
While walking on the street, I heard people talking about "China," and at night, my mother sang "The Song of the Yangtze River" to me.
Even the Great Wall painting hanging on the wall at home is exactly the same as the world Qianluo had described in her heart in her previous life.
My heart leaped up at that moment, like it was holding a ball of fire about to ignite, and even my cries became louder, as if responding to this promise that transcended life and death.
As I grew up, I unconsciously started pronouncing the name "Qianluo" from the time I was learning to speak, which my parents found strange.
When I went to school with my backpack, I couldn't help but look for that familiar figure in the crowd, even though I knew she might not be in the same school as me.
Until I was seventeen, I was admitted to the best high school in the city. On the first day of school, I was in the library.
Sunlight streamed through the huge glass window, falling on the blue-covered book "The Yangtze River Chronicle" on the top shelf of the bookshelf—the very book I had been searching for for a long time.
I stood on tiptoe for a long time, and just as my fingertips touched the spine of the book, I heard a clear voice behind me, like the tinkling of a mountain spring: "Excuse me, do you need any help?"
I turned around abruptly and met a pair of bright, sparkling eyes. The girl was wearing a clean white shirt, with her hair tied in a high ponytail, the ends of which were tinged with the golden light of the sun.
A faint smile played on her lips, and she held several picture books in her hands.
It was Qianluo, it really was her. Even though a lifetime had passed, even though she had changed her appearance, losing the heroic spirit of her previous life and gaining a touch of girlish naiveté.
I recognized it at a glance, and my heart felt like it was going to jump out of my chest.
Beside her stood a girl in a light gray suit, her eyes and brows carrying a familiar gentleness.
She smiled as she took the book "The Yangtze River Chronicle" from the bookshelf and gently handed it to Qianluo. The gentleness in her tone was exactly the same as when Su Jinyun put the phoenix crown on Qianluo back then.
The girl looked up at me, a fleeting, almost imperceptible ripple of familiarity flashing in her eyes. My heart skipped a beat. It was Su Jinyun; she had indeed come.
So annoying.
I have never backed down in this life. From the first day I met her, I took the initiative to rush up and say hello.
She was running 800 meters in her physical education test, and she was out of breath halfway through. I immediately rushed over to run with her and prepared warm water and a towel for her in advance.
Knowing that she liked the osmanthus cake from the shop near the school gate, I would get up half an hour early every day to queue up, and secretly put the still-warm cake in an insulated bag in her desk.
I even stayed up all night to paint a picture of the Yangtze River for her birthday. In the painting, three more houses were added to the riverbank, with wisps of smoke rising from their chimneys.
As she said back then, "Home is where you are."
No matter how close I got, Su Jinyun was still standing next to Qianluo.
She would help Qianlu organize her densely packed notes, highlighting the important points with different colored pens.
He would accompany Qianluo to the library until closing time, and hand her a cup of hot milk when she got tired of reading.
When Qianluo was sick, he would take leave to go home, cook porridge, and deliver it to her school in the pouring rain, also thoughtfully bringing her medicine.
What's even more annoying is that in my second year of high school, a girl named Qimeng transferred to our class.
Her long hair reached her waist, and she wore a pale yellow dress. As soon as she entered the classroom, she attracted everyone's attention, but she went straight to Qianluo's side.
Holding her hand, he smiled broadly, his eyes crinkling: "Qianluo, it's been a long time."
I recognized her at a glance; she was Yu Ying, the one who used the alias Qi Meng back then.
Now, there's another rival in love, making the already fierce competition even more intense.
I really want to have a fight, like we did on the battlefield back then, and settle the score with my fists to see who is more deserving to stay by Qianluo's side.
But in this world, hitting someone is illegal, and you'll get called in by the teacher, have your parents write a self-criticism, and even be disliked by Qianluo.
I could only hold my breath and watch as Qimeng rushed to bring breakfast for Qianluo and Su Jinyun helped Qianluo solve complicated math problems.
Watching the three of them chatting and laughing together, I felt like an outsider, unable to join in the conversation, and my heart ached with bitterness.
Strangely enough, the four of us lived together noisily.
Su Jinyun, Qimeng, and I couldn't stand each other and we bickered every few days.
Qimeng thinks I'm too impulsive. Last time, when Qianluo was bullied by a boy from the next class, I almost got into a fight with him.
She stopped things from escalating, and afterwards she lectured me, saying, "Violence won't solve anything."
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