Chapter 60

The plane touched down late at night. Even in a bustling metropolis like Haicheng, the streets still teemed with pedestrians and vehicles weaving back and forth under the blaze of streetlights.

Song Guiya wore a baseball cap pulled low, concealing most of her stunning features. She sat quietly in the taxi, gazing at the fleeting shadows flashing past the window.

It had only been two months since she’d last seen these streets, yet it felt like an entire lifetime had passed.

On the day she had come back to life, everything around her had been utterly alien and disorienting. Circumstances had forced her to compose herself and accept it all with grace, but deep in her heart lingered an inexpressible despair and isolation—like a fragile leaf of a boat drifting aimlessly through a foreign world.

Light and insubstantial, liable to scatter at the slightest puff of wind.

Only when she met Xi Tongyue had she found her safe harbor.

She considered herself fortunate.

But how much fortune and coincidence could the world really hold?

In the Battle of Yancheng, countless soldiers of the Da Yin Empire had fallen—why had she alone been reborn?

Every artist under Huo Yao’s management outranked her in fame, so why had Huo Yao come to pick her up from the hospital in person?

Xi Tongyue had held her contract for nearly two years without ever meeting her once, yet she had shown up to visit on the very night of her arrival?

And Xi Tongyue sheltering the old Song Guiya under her wing—was that truly just a chance encounter, as her memories suggested?

When Song Guiya returned to the villa, she saw the lights on and knew Xi Tongyue was already home.

The light in Xi Tongyue’s room was on, accompanied by the sound of running water—she was probably in the shower—so Song Guiya decided to head to her own room first, wash up, and change clothes before seeking her out.

After her shower, Song Guiya stepped out and noticed Xi Tongyue’s door ajar, the room inside pitch-black and silent. She headed downstairs to look for her.

She had just reached the living room when she spotted Xi Tongyue on the sofa, her hair still damp, talking on the phone. She must not have had time to blow-dry it before the call came in.

Wuyuan was curled up in her lap, dozing with half-lidded eyes in a picture of lazy indulgence—an expression eerily similar to that of the woman cradling it.

Song Guiya was a little surprised.

Just a month ago, Xi Tongyue and Wuyuan had been at each other’s throats over its lame leg. When had they gotten so chummy?

Not wanting to interrupt the call, Song Guiya quietly slipped into the kitchen and poured herself a glass of water, sipping it slowly while she waited. Once Xi Tongyue hung up, Song Guiya poked her head out from behind the island counter, her voice clear and smooth. “Xi Tongyue, want some water?”

Xi Tongyue didn’t so much as glance up. She set her phone down and picked up her tablet to deal with emails.

Unfazed by the cold shoulder, Song Guiya carried over the glass she’d already poured. She approached with a smile that bordered on placating. “Still mad at me? Come on, don’t be angry. I was wrong, okay?”

Xi Tongyue finally lifted her gaze, shooting her a cool look. “You certainly know how to bend with the wind.”

Hearing her speak loosened the knot of tension in Song Guiya’s chest. Staring at the woman’s porcelain-smooth face, deliberately schooled into indifference, she suddenly recalled how Xi Tongyue used to lose her temper all the time back then. The entire palace would hold its breath in dread—no one daring to raise their voice, lest they provoke this ancestor and lose their head by accident.

But Song Guiya had never been afraid.

Maybe it was because she found Xi Tongyue so breathtakingly beautiful that even her anger carried a unique, endearing charm.

Song Guiya set the glass on the coffee table and settled beside her, softening her tone. “I really do know I was wrong. I shouldn’t have rushed off into danger without talking to you first, making you worry for nothing. Next time, even if I’m absolutely certain, I promise I won’t. Deal?”

Xi Tongyue leaned back against the sofa, watching her in silence.

Song Guiya scooted a little closer and abruptly thrust her hand forward. “If you’re still upset, go ahead and hit me. Just don’t bottle it up—it’ll make you sick.”

With that, she squeezed her eyes shut, face set in grim resolve.

Xi Tongyue let out a cold huff, lips curving faintly, but said nothing.

Song Guiya knew, though, that half her anger had already dissipated.

As someone with zero dating experience, Song Guiya had never been good at sweet talk. She’d said everything she could think of, and with nothing else coming to mind, she picked up the hairdryer Xi Tongyue had tossed carelessly onto the sofa edge. Circling behind her, she began carefully blow-drying her hair.

Xi Tongyue didn’t protest. She picked up her tablet again, her slender fingers—like tender green onions—tapping idly across the screen.

Just then, a flurry of WeChat messages from her friend Xue Yin pinged the tablet. Xi Tongyue noticed the latest one in Xue Yin’s chat bubble displayed the word [Gift].

She tapped it open to see.

“Sister Xi, this is a treasure I’ve cherished for years. After watching that program clip, I figured it was time to share it with you.”

“[File][File][File]”

“No need to thank me. Have a pleasant night （sly grin）”

Xi Tongyue made no move to avoid Song Guiya’s gaze. She simply clicked on the top file.

Suddenly, without warning, the screen filled with the sight of two naked women locked in an intimate embrace, their necks entwined, accompanied by moans that grew louder and more urgent with each breath.

Xi Tongyue: ……

Song Guiya: ?

Xi Tongyue clearly felt the hands blow-drying her hair pause behind her. Without a change in expression, she closed the video, pulled up Xue Yin’s profile, and tapped the blacklist option in the upper right corner.

Song Guiya pretended nothing had happened, focusing intently on drying her hair.

The air held only the soft hum of the blow dryer, nothing more—yet Song Guiya’s state of mind had shifted entirely because of those intensely seductive sounds from moments before.

The smooth, silky strands slipping through her fingers transformed in an instant into tiny, soft hooks, deliberately teasing at her heart and stirring an itch she couldn’t ignore. She curled her fingers instinctively, wanting to seize them, to make them behave, but fearing Xi Tongyue might notice, she forced herself to remain calm and let them dance at her fingertips.

Yet the tree might wish for stillness, but the wind would not abate. Song Guiya felt her heartbeat quickening, growing louder, as if it would soon drown out the dryer’s noise.

“All done.” The moment she switched off the blow dryer, Song Guiya unobtrusively and swiftly stepped aside, hoping Xi Tongyue wouldn’t detect anything amiss. “It’s late. You should get some sleep.”

But things didn’t go as she wished.

“No rush.”

Xi Tongyue suddenly lifted her gaze, looking at her with evident amusement, her tone laced with teasing. “Miss Song’s heart is racing like that—don’t you need Doctor Qin to come take a look?”

Song Guiya: “……”

Song Guiya felt her cheeks grow hot, her throat dry. For once, her words came out haltingly. “N-No problem. It’s just the weather… a bit warm. Bound to cause some palpitations.”

With that, she picked up the glass of water from the coffee table and took a few sips.

Yes, this was tactical hydration.

Xi Tongyue shot her a sidelong glance, her weary voice rising softly and meaningfully. “Mm, even drank the water I was going to have. I can tell you were parched.”

Song Guiya froze, swallowing back the water that had nearly sprayed from her throat, only to erupt into a fit of violent coughing.

Wuyuan was abruptly roused by the coughing fit. It rolled its eyes disdainfully at Song Guiya, hopped down from the sofa, and padded with elegant steps toward the cat’s circulating water fountain by the floor-to-ceiling window. There, it extended its pink tongue to lap at the water.

All the while, it shot glances at Song Guiya.

It took Song Guiya a good while to recover. Her clear, cool eyes turned blankly toward Xi Tongyue, and she caught sight of a faint smile playing at the corners of her mouth. Delighted, she exclaimed, “Xi Tongyue, does that mean you’re not mad at me anymore?”

Her voice was still hoarse from the coughing, carrying a tentative note that was hard to miss. Coupled with the slight redness at the corners of her eyes, where tears glistened like elite polish, she looked utterly pitiable.

Seeing her like this, any anger in Xi Tongyue’s heart had long since dissipated completely.

What was there to be angry about?

Song Guiya had always been this way—a person who was bold and unrestrained, defiant of convention, yet upright, kind-hearted, passionate, and sincere. She possessed a breadth of spirit that even battle-hardened soldiers on blood-soaked fields could only envy.

When her country faced calamity and duty weighed heavy on her shoulders, she had chosen to defend the tens of thousands of defenseless civilians behind her, refusing to abandon the city even at the cost of her life.

Because she knew those people each had families—wives, husbands, children, grandchildren. She couldn’t bear to see them torn apart by war, their homes shattered and loved ones scattered.

But she had never once spared a thought for herself.

She had family too—siblings, parents, kin.

And her, as well.

Though Xi Tongyue ruled as the emperor of a nation, bearing the weight of rivers and mountains, she would gladly forsake the Great Yin Prosperous Era if it meant Song Guiya could live well.

From the moment she slew her brother, she had known deep down that she was no virtuous soul.

Had circumstances not forced her hand, she never would have wanted to be emperor.

She simply believed that anyone in this world could die—except Song Guiya.

Perhaps because of this, in her second life, when Xi Tongyue saw Song Guiya once again risk her own life to save others, that bone-chilling cold from a thousand years in an icy abyss wrapped around her once more, leaving her breathless.

But on second thought, saving someone had been no mistake—especially not for someone with Song Guiya’s abilities. She possessed more than enough skill to resolve even a crisis like that.

What could she blame her for?

She was simply afraid—afraid of losing her.

Yet she knew full well that even if Song Guiya swore to her today there would never be a next time, the truth was that if a similar situation arose again, Song Guiya would at most pause to consider a safer alternative before diving into the danger anyway.

So she couldn’t blame her.

Because the person she loved was exactly this kind of woman.

Xi Tongyue let out a soft sigh, her expression turning solemn as she fixed Song Guiya with a focused, earnest gaze. “Song Guiya, the world you live in now is an unprecedented era of prosperity. The nation here boasts a mighty army, with no more wars to fear. The people are economically well-off, and most will never know hunger. The environment we inhabit is as pure and idyllic as it gets.”

“You’re no longer General Song of the Great Yin Dynasty, shouldering the heavy duty of defending the realm. You’re just an ordinary person now—one with the power to live freely and without restraint. So, can you please start valuing your life a little more?”

“Just… for my sake.”

As she spoke those final words, Xi Tongyue’s voice remained as calm and still as a windless pond. Yet beneath the surface lurked a profound sorrow, nearly mournful. Her deep eyes seemed filled with ink that refused to dissolve, swirling endlessly within.

Xi Tongyue had always been a true favored daughter of heaven—haughty and aloof, holding herself above all others with unyielding pride. Even after ascending the throne, she had remained solitary and commanding, her presence domineering. No one had ever heard her speak in such a tone.

Song Guiya’s expression shifted. She leaned forward and pulled her into an embrace, her heart swelling with a complex, inexpressible mix of tenderness and aching softness.

“Xi Tongyue,” she murmured, “I promise you. I promise you anything.”