“Yes, I see it, Mingye. These past few days, you’ve made me…”
The handsome yet deeply affectionate face before her was filled with surprise and excitement, a rare emotion that even Wanqing couldn’t help but be infected by. She nodded with a light smile, thinking of the worries and experiences of the past few days. She wasn’t usually this fragile, but now she felt as if she had been reborn after a calamity.
“Alright, you two have a lifetime ahead of you for sweet moments. If you don’t save my sister soon, she might never wake up.”
The way they gazed at each other, oblivious to everything else, clearly showed the deep affection between Wanqing and Leng Mingye. Though Feng Molí was overjoyed for Wanqing, he couldn’t help but lightly chuckle and remind them of the most crucial person today.
“Is this my mother? How do we save her?”
At his words, Wanqing—despite being a transmigrator—couldn’t help but blush. Shyly smiling at Leng Mingye, the two reluctantly let go of each other’s hands but still walked arm in arm toward him, looking at the figure in the pool.
“Give me a drop of your finger’s blood. Put it in this bottle.”
Though their hands were still entwined despite his interruption, Feng Molí sighed helplessly and pulled out a bottle from his sleeve, opening it as he spoke.
Though puzzled by his request, Wanqing and Leng Mingye exchanged a glance before biting their fingers and letting a few drops of blood fall into the bottle.
“Good, three drops are enough. I’ll go administer the medicine first. Mingye, bring Qing’er over later. Keep calling out to her—hopefully, she’ll wake up today. If she doesn’t, she might never wake again…”
As the two withdrew their hands, Feng Molí carefully took the bottle and pulled out another vial, shaking a pill in the blood mixture before leaping toward his sister with final instructions.
Though Feng Molí spoke calmly, Wanqing could sense his tension. The thought that her long-sought mother lay before her, her life hanging by a thread, made her brow furrow slightly as she turned to watch her uncle administer the medicine.
Though she said nothing, Leng Mingye could feel her anxiety and panic. Recalling Feng Molí’s words, he too was puzzled—how could someone dead for over a decade remain in a slumber until now? During his days in the cave, he had seen her. Her appearance matched that of the late Consort Hui, her complexion still rosy, with a faint but detectable pulse.
But now, faced with Wanqing’s distress, he didn’t know how to comfort her except to grip her hand tightly, as if his hold alone could dispel her fears. When she turned to him, he met her gaze with tender confidence.
“Don’t worry, your mother will wake up. Your uncle’s treatment will work. With all of us calling for her, she will wake—she must.”
“Mm.”
Though her heart was heavy with uncertainty, Wanqing nodded solemnly at the concern in his eyes, waiting with him by the shore. Only when Feng Molí signaled did she and Leng Mingye approach the pool.
“Mother, it’s Qing’er—the Qing’er you’ve always missed. No matter what you’ve endured, I need you. Not just me, but Uncle and Grandfather too… Mother…”
Up close, Wanqing finally understood why people mistook her for Consort Hui. The woman lying on the clean bed before her was her mirror image, as if looking into a reflection—except she was the one kneeling, while her mother lay asleep.
Remembering her uncle’s instructions, Wanqing clutched her mother’s hand, calling out to her between sobs, pleading for her to wake. Feng Molí had explained that her mother had been heartbroken by a man, then poisoned due to her sister’s schemes. Though the toxins had long been purged, she hadn’t awakened—likely because she had lost the will to live. Their hope was that Wanqing’s voice could rekindle her desire to survive.
“Mother, I know you’re grieving, but you still have us. Open your eyes—it’s Qing’er, the daughter you couldn’t let go of even in death… Mother…”
Though she had no deep bond with her birth mother, seeing her lying there stirred something in Wanqing. From what she knew, this woman must have been extraordinary—admired yet wounded by love. Otherwise, why would someone so proud hide her marriage and child from her family?
Standing there, it took her a long time to summon the emotions. Whether it was genuine sorrow or the lingering will of her original self, she found herself weeping, clutching her mother’s hand as she called out.
As she cried, Leng Mingye watched with aching heart and hopeful eyes, his strong arms a steady presence. Even Feng Molí—a man who manipulated empires, before whom even the kings of Daqi and Bo bowed—stood aside, discreetly wiping tears.
“Mother…”
Wanqing cried until she was nearly breathless, on the verge of giving up, when Leng Mingye gasped, “Her hand moved! Qing’er, it moved!”
Startled, Wanqing realized the hand she held had tightened. The discovery filled her with joy and emotion, and she called out tearfully.
“I—” After what felt like an eternity, when Wanqing’s eyes were red and swollen, the woman on the bed suddenly trembled violently. Her eyelids fluttered before slowly opening, revealing phoenix eyes brimming with unspeakable sorrow and tenderness. When she fully awoke, she stared in confusion at the familiar face before her—and the unfamiliar yet strangely familiar man beside her.
“Sister, you’re finally awake! Sister, it’s Molí—your little brother!”
Overcome with rare excitement, Feng Molí rushed forward like a child, tears in his eyes as he helped his sister sit up, his voice trembling with joy.
“Molí? You’ve grown so much… Is it really you? My little brother…” Feng Liusu studied him, recognition dawning as she traced the contours of his childhood face. Disbelief gave way to overwhelming joy, and she pulled him into a tearful embrace.
“Sister, it’s so good you’re awake. All these years, Father, Mother, and I prayed for this day. My efforts weren’t in vain. But calm down—look who’s here?”
Overjoyed that she recognized him, Feng Molí stepped back, gesturing to Wanqing.
“And this is… General Zhong Liang? Why are you—” Following his gaze, Feng Liusu’s eyes landed on the stunning girl who looked no older than sixteen—her mirror image. Instinctively, she almost called out “sister,” but Consort Hui had been in her twenties when she married and had a child. Bewildered, she turned to her brother, then froze in shock at the sight of Leng Mingye beside Wanqing.
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