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墨書 Inktalez
I looked at her in astonishment.
I thought that with my personality, I should have said goodbye to friends and such things for life. But this girl, from her expression to her tone to her natural body language, her concern for me couldn’t possibly be fake. If she could deceive my professional eye to such a natural extent, then she must be a deity.
I believed that such a deity did not exist.
So, this was not a deity; this was the Holy Mother, the true Holy Mother.
I softened my gaze, filled with a hint of fear, looking at her pitifully.
“Miss Melan,” the bold Red beside me explained, “she hit her head and is a bit confused right now…”
Tears streamed down the girl’s face as she rushed over to gently embrace me, her tears dripping onto my clothes.
“Liuying, I’m Han Meilan. Don’t you remember?… It’s okay, it’s okay. Just take care of your injury, and I’ll slowly tell you everything.”
Han Meilan—what a truly Holy Mother name!
I had a rather bad premonition. Han Meilan was the name of the world-famous Holy Mother from the renowned novel "Gone with the Wind." That girl was kind, brave, tolerant, grateful—she possessed all noble qualities. Clearly, Scarlett O'Hara was selfish, snobbish, and detested her while coveting her husband; yet she still naively believed in and defended Scarlett until her last breath.
I truly feared that this Han Meilan would be the same kind of person. I really couldn’t handle a woman who was loved by everyone and bloomed like flowers wherever she went. In the end, I would be left with a Thankless Task, having to become good friends with her—something I absolutely did not desire.
“Don’t be afraid, Liuying. Everything will be fine.” Melan gently stroked my back. “Cousin will come to see you soon; we will take good care of you.”
“Miss Melan is from Shentong Hall; Master Luo of Shentong Hall,” Red whispered beside me.
“Shentong Hall?” I felt a strange sense of unease about that name.
“Our Wanzi Mountain has a large Village, divided into four halls: Yuantong Hall, Zhongtong Hall, Shentong Hall, and Hui Tong Hall. Miss Melan’s cousin, Luo Dachun, is the Master Luo of Shentong Hall.”
I nearly gasped. Ever since I arrived here, this world felt fundamentally off, almost surreal. Many things deviated from historical accuracy, seeming fake, like a dream.
Were the four halls beneath Wanzi Mountain named after major courier companies? Was there some deeper meaning behind it, or was it just meant to provoke me? Hadn’t I already been through enough?
As I pondered this, Master Luo of Shentong Hall knocked and entered.
Upon hearing the name “Luo Dachun,” I envisioned a rugged, boisterous man with stubble, simple-minded and brawny. Who would have thought that the person who walked in was a scholarly-looking young man in a light blue shirt, smiling as he waved a fan.
“Ah, Liuying, you’re up!” The pale-faced man fanned himself and leaned closer, scrutinizing me with a charming grin. “I knew you’d be fine. As the saying goes, misfortune lives for a thousand years…”
As he spoke, he gracefully floated to the side, displaying an extraordinary lightness in his movements.
However, my anticipated fierce response didn’t materialize, making his display seem rather foolish.
Luo Dachun paused for a moment as our eyes met, my bewilderment reflected in his gaze.
At that moment, he wiped the smile off his face and asked seriously, “What’s wrong with you?”
“I’ve lost my memory. Completely,” I replied succinctly.
He stared at me for a second or two before suddenly bursting into laughter and patting my shoulder. “It’s alright; this might not be a bad thing for you. You can start anew and reinvent yourself.”
"Brother, what are you doing?" Holy Mother scolded.
The door made a soft sound again as the male god entered, holding a bowl of soup. A strong medicinal scent wafted through the air. He paused when he saw me standing there.
Luo Dachun looked surprised; I guessed it was because he had never seen Nie Qiuyuan carrying a soup bowl before, or perhaps he didn't expect Nie Qiuyuan to bring me medicine.
A sweet feeling blossomed in my heart. This was an opportunity. Even if things had gone as wrong as they could, it didn’t mean there was no hope left.
Holy Mother lowered her head slightly, her beautiful face blushing like a flower, avoiding eye contact with my male god.
My heart sank. Although Han Meilan's blush was not very obvious, my sensitive heart could not be deceived. I could see a flurry of pink hearts floating toward my male god in the air.
Fate truly allowed me no respite; just when I thought I had caught a breath of fresh air, it splashed a bucket of cold water over me without hesitation.
What is a formidable rival in love? For women, someone like Han Meilan should be the greatest threat.
This woman had looks and figure, gentle and graceful, kind and innocent—she would be the heroine in any book. A man who marries such a woman can expect a life of happiness. If I were a man, I would choose someone like her too.
As for me, I had a certain confidence that I could pretend to be like her. But the difference was that she was genuine; I might be able to maintain the facade for a while, but not for a lifetime.
Yet I stole a glance at the male god, observing his pale, chiseled profile. His indifferent yet captivating gaze stirred something within my heart, telling me that even if I had to pretend for a lifetime, what did it matter?
An oddly tense atmosphere circulated among the four of us in the room, causing my mind to involuntarily construct some storylines.
It followed the classic pattern most Korean dramas adhered to.
The proud and aloof male lead, the clever and adorable female lead, the gentle and affectionate Supporting Male Character, and the Saintly Woman who embodies the essence of a Holy Mother. The male and female leads are caught in a love-hate relationship, while the Supporting Male Character remains devoted to the female lead, entangled in a deep and tormenting romance. Meanwhile, the Saintly Woman is destined to love the male lead.
However, cough, cough, the disdain in the Supporting Male Character's eyes jolted me awake from my dream.
Now, the male lead and female lead... are siblings!
What kind of Korean drama is this!
The reality is that I have no chance; the Supporting Male Character finds me annoying, while the Saintly Woman truly loves the male lead. This beautiful Holy Mother will soon win over the male lead, and since the Supporting Male Character is her cousin, he will naturally help her. In short, it seems there’s no place for me in this story.
Nie Qiuyuan marries at twenty-two; if I haven't made a mistake in my understanding, then he is currently twenty-one. With only a year left, how can I find clues about my lineage? Could it be that this marriage at twenty-two refers to the Holy Mother?
I want to cry but have no tears.
Yet, I won’t give up until the last moment. All I can do now is to sabotage his engagement!
Though it feels quite wicked, what choice do I have?
“Liuying,” came Nie Qiuyuan's melodious voice from inside the room, “I have something to ask of you.”
Huh?
I wanted to nod with wild joy, but I wasn’t that foolish. Instead, I subtly shifted my gaze toward him, looking at him with questioning eyes.
“Do you really not remember anything from before?”
I nodded.
"Then for now, don't tell more people about your amnesia," Nie Qiuyuan said, glancing around and signaling to those in the know with his eyes.
I took a sharp breath.
My mind raced. Having lost my memory but unable to speak about it could mean several things. Considering my father's death, it seemed that his passing and my sudden emotional turmoil leading to a head injury might not be the whole story.
The most likely scenario was that I was actually a witness who had been silenced.
I immediately understood why it wasn't the maid exclaiming in surprise, "Sister, you're awake," but rather the male lead sitting steadfastly by my bedside.
My blood suddenly ignited, not because of the male lead, but due to some instinct within me.
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