The wound was left unattended, and the pain dulled into numbness.
Animals detached from nature for too long lost their wildness; even their breathing became shallow.
Walking alone through the city, the fog grew thicker with every step, and her thoughts grew duller.
She breathed rapidly, fearfully, cautiously.
Yet it felt like mere instinct—she couldn’t truly sense the real pain or fear.
Her soul seemed to have been extracted, leaving only an empty shell that watched a damp black-and-white silent film.
Until someone smiled radiantly and whispered softly in her ear.
The voice carried an ancient charm of lofty poise—noble, lazy. It was like a mist of rain brushing over a flower garden, passing through a glass window, and lingering by her cheek.
In the end, the color that dripped down was rich and vivid.
She regained her senses.
This was clearly her territory, yet it fell to an outsider to tell her not to be afraid.
Zhao Chiyun had a beautiful face, but she was no simple character. They’d only known each other for a short while, yet she laughed and cursed with abandon, her moods shifting unpredictably.
“I eat.”
Gan Xun said in a deep, threatening voice.
Her initial panic had already been suppressed. Zhao Chiyun didn’t even bother raising an eyebrow at those words. She scanned Gan Xun from head to toe and saw right through her as a paper tiger.
She curled her lip in disdain, unwilling to bother arguing.
The dark door to the room stood open, and beyond it lay nothing but unfamiliar objects in a bizarre scene.
She should have died in the lake.
She wasn’t good with water. Logically, falling into the lake meant she wouldn’t die outright but would lose half her life at least. And yet, aside from hunger, she felt no discomfort now.
Perhaps her ancestors and bodhisattvas had blessed her, sending her to this foreign land.
She had sneaked peeks at plenty of idle books and loved tales like Peach Blossom Spring and Youyang Zazu. Now, she had no choice but to imagine something similar.
If that was the case, panic would be useless. She could only play it by ear.
Until she could smoothly return to the Mirror Country, her survival here would depend on this person.
As long as Gan Xun harbored no ill intent, she could count as her benefactor.
Gan Xun conceded first. “Forget it. I’ll find you some clothes to wear first, then get you something to eat.”
“After you eat, I’ll take you to the police station.”
She opened the closet and first checked inside for any clothes that didn’t belong to her.
—There were none.
It made sense. Zhao Chiyun’s words lacked logic, but she had no reason to fear surveillance checks, and stripping naked to lie here served no purpose.
A honey trap wasn’t necessary here—with a face like hers, anything she did would succeed anyway.
With all suspicions ruled out, it could only mean she wasn’t lying.
The world was full of strange things. Who knew where science ended and gods or ghosts began?
Gan Xun pulled out a dress she rarely wore. She thought for a moment, then went to fetch some underwear.
Zhao Chiyun examined the garment, which looked crude and shoddy to her. She was curious yet vigilant. “And what is this police station?”
“Like a yamen. Got it?”
Gan Xun squatted down and pulled open the underwear drawer. Her wound finally throbbed with pain, and she hissed.
“But don’t be afraid. As long as you’re not a liar—whether your memory’s muddled or you’ve truly encountered some inexplicable time-space event—when we have troubles nowadays, we go to the public authorities. They’ll help you sort it out.”
She wanted to send the woman away quickly. Better less trouble than more.
“How? Can they send me back?”
“Probably.”
Gan Xun said offhandedly, “Anyway, they’re definitely more capable than me. I’m just a little citizen—how could I help the County Princess resolve her worries?”
She reluctantly handed over a new set of underwear she’d bought. “Put these on before you come out.”
With that, she headed out.
“Wait.”
“What is it?”
The County Princess took it for granted. “Won’t you serve me while I change?”
“What did you say?”
Zhao Chiyun repeated, “Help me put on the clothes.”
Gan Xun’s fingers tightened on the doorknob as she forced her gaze to stay on Zhao Chiyun’s face, not letting it drop to her exposed shoulder.
“First time I’ve heard a request like that.”
She let out a dry laugh. “Can’t you dress yourself, or are you testing me?”
She paused, then awkwardly emphasized, “I’m straight.”
“What is a straight woman?”
“A woman unmoved by other women.” Gan Xun gritted her teeth. “I already told you—my entire net worth put together isn’t worth your time.”
“I see.” Zhao Chiyun smiled faintly. “Miss Gan Xun, don’t misunderstand. This County Princess isn’t skilled at dressing herself. Your clothes here are so strange—I can’t even figure them out by looking. I just wanted you to guide me a bit. How did you jump straight to grinding mirrors? Who even mentioned that?”
Her words fell like polished jewels as she toyed with the subtle shifts in the straight-laced Gan Xun’s expressions.
“If you’re straight, where’s the test? If you’re straight, what’s the harm in helping me dress?”
Gan Xun’s ulterior motives were exposed, and that piercing gaze left her too ashamed to show her face.
Too stupid—she had given herself away.
Still, there was something to gain: at least she could confirm the woman’s head was fine.
She thought quickly and knew a lot, even terms like grinding mirrors.
“You’ve never dressed yourself—what a huge air you must put on usually.”
“In our era, everyone’s equal. There are no nobles or commoners anymore—no servants to help with dressing. Of course, you could pay someone… but I don’t do that sort of thing.”
“No distinction between noble and base?”
“That’s right. No royalty, and no need for it.”
“Then how do you have yamens? You just said to seek help when in trouble.”
“Society always needs people to manage it. The people pay taxes, and they serve the people.”
Zhao Chiyun was displeased. “If you’re not going to help, then don’t. Why spout all this nonsense?”
“Why would I lie to you? If we’re talking royalty in the broad sense, they exist. They’re just rich people. Are you rich right now?”
Gan Xun hinted for her to drop the County Princess act.
Zhao Chiyun’s eyes darkened at that, a hint of melancholy showing.
She spread her hands. “I arrived here all alone—you know that best.”
The gesture revealed a glimpse of bare skin, and Gan Xun hastily averted her eyes.
Got it, got it.
What a mess.
Her own adaptability was impressively high. She had already accepted the premise that Zhao Chiyun was from ancient times and was earnestly introducing modern society to her.
Her figure was truly stunning.
“Dress yourself.” Gan Xun had her limits.
Zhao Chiyun could see she refused to serve her. Though displeased, she gave up.
“I hope for your guidance. This County Princess has never worn such crude garments before—I don’t know where to start.”
Gan Xun gnashed her teeth in frustration but saw the woman’s plain, matter-of-fact expression held no malicious provocation. She chose to let it go.
She explained in detail how to put on the underwear and how to wear the skirt.
For the sake of world peace, she needed to hurry up and send this living Buddha on her way.
As Zhao Chiyun listened attentively, her guard relaxed. She let go of the quilt corner, held the underwear up to her chest to compare, her eyes full of disdain.
“Why is the undergarment made like this? Won’t it bind when worn?”
“Who made it? Not even a flower embroidered on it?”
“No embroidery is fine, but couldn’t they use more fabric?”
This time, Gan Xun didn’t avert her eyes in time. Her gaze collided head-on with that glimpse of bare skin.
The impact left her dizzy, her heart racing like a southeast wind that blew the souls from peach trees—lost in freedom and the thrill of falling.
Sink deeper, fill fuller.
Gan Xun’s self-control was average; she couldn’t do anything about the heat rising in her face. She was probably turning red.
How pathetic.
She hastily shifted her gaze and stared at the wall in front of the desk.
A wool felt painting hung there—one she’d poked out herself. It was in cool blue tones: a tall, narrow-mouthed vase filled with blooming flowers.
The cold blue was like a cup of ice water splashed over her, extinguishing all the chaos.
“Embroidering is so tacky.” She muttered.
“The seamless fabric has great elasticity—you’ll see once you put it on. It won’t bind.”
She added, “…Or just try it first.”
It was one-size-fits-all and wearable by anyone, but for Zhao Chiyun… she couldn’t be sure of a perfect fit.
“Please wait a moment. If it doesn’t fit, I’ll tell you.”
Zhao Chiyun dressed slowly and leisurely. She picked up on the issue. “Gan Xun, are the people here all so shy? I didn’t even ask you to help me dress—why are your ears red?”
Her ears were filled with the rustling sounds Zhao Chiyun made, an endless whisper that never seemed to stop.
In her peripheral vision, a slender, pale arm lifted, clumsily tugging the bra down.
Gan Xun turned her head fully toward the closet. “Don’t look where it’s improper.”
As soon as she said it, she realized her speech had turned archaic—she’d been led astray by this ancient woman.
“We just met and aren’t close. I definitely don’t want to pry into your privacy.”
“You’re quite the proper person. It seems I misunderstood you earlier.”
She had thought her brazen, but she was this shy instead.
The County Princess generously offered her approval, but Gan Xun detected a teasing undertone in her prim tone—maybe she was overthinking it.
From the moment Gan Xun had patiently explained how to wear the clothes despite her irritation, Zhao Chiyun had seen that her temper and character were both decent.
Hearing this, she felt even more trust toward Gan Xun.
She successfully put on the underwear, and sure enough, it fit perfectly as Gan Xun had said.
The well-traveled Zhao Chiyun sighed in admiration. “This fabric is truly wondrous—like the immortal garments from books that expand and shrink to fit the wearer’s body. Please take a look—did I put it on right?”
It was also because of this immortal fabric that Zhao Chiyun knew she was no longer in the Mirror Dynasty.
Born to nobility, she had seen and used countless treasures from across the world—even those from foreign lands. It was impossible for such fine clothing to exist without her knowledge.
The only explanation was that the landscape had changed and the stars had shifted.
Gan Xun felt faint just listening. The ancient woman’s candid openness was so annoying.
But it made sense. If she really was some dynasty’s County Princess, she would long since have been accustomed to bathing and dressing under the gaze of many. Of course she wouldn’t feel embarrassed like Gan Xun did.
She convinced herself: they were both women, so helping adjust a bra was perfectly normal.
Besides, Zhao Chiyun truly didn’t know how, so teaching her from the beginning was just helping out—no problem there.
Zhao Chiyun sat cross-legged on the bed, meeting the slowly turning Gan Xun’s gaze with perfect composure amid the chaos.
The one shocked was Gan Xun.
Her breath hitched, and then her rhythm fell completely into disarray.
She had forgotten: yes, they were both women, but Zhao Chiyun looked like this.
Her phoenix eyes traced bold, heavy strokes of ink. Her entire face exuded luxurious nobility—even her blink rate differed from a modern person’s, like a slow-motion close-up from a period drama.
Her slender neckline vanished into her shoulders, her collarbone dipped deep, and her shoulders half-concealed drifting ink-black hair.
The light blue bra wrapped around half-hidden, full allure, yet her expression remained nobly aloof—untouchable.
The contrast value maxed out.
It exploded, like fruit soda surging in a glass bottle—fierce and sweetly sticky.
Gan Xun’s thoughts leaped: if Zhao Chiyun needed a job in the modern world, she could start as a lingerie model.
Then again, better not.
When ill at ease, the body produced all sorts of discomforts. Gan Xun’s throat went dry, her heart rate spiked—thank goodness there was no nosebleed.
Gan Xun hadn’t seen much of the world, but she really was a proper person.
She quickly reined in her thoughts of jade plates spilling pearls great and small, pointing businesslike at Zhao Chiyun’s left underarm.
She reminded her, “You haven’t got this part straight. Pull the edges all the way out. Adjust the rest however feels comfortable.”
“Got it. Then this…”
Afraid she’d show more, Gan Xun pressed the quilt down over her legs.
“No need to show me the panties—they’re simple. See these openings on either side? Thread your two noble legs in one at a time, left and right. Then pull the skirt on over top.”
“Do you understand?”
Zhao Chiyun nodded thoughtfully.
Gan Xun finally escaped the room.
The post-rain air was crisp and clear. Standing in front of the door, she greedily took a deep breath.
Only then did she smooth out the panic that had twisted her into knots in front of Zhao Chiyun.
