Chapter 181: Half a Year

Chu Mingheng thought of the children he had just seen and, fearing Lan Wu might misunderstand, hurriedly explained: “Those are all children selected from the imperial clan to be educated in the palace. If nothing unexpected happens, the crown prince will be chosen from among them.”

Seeing Lan Wu blow out one candle, he breathed a slight sigh of relief. Soon, however, he no longer wished to discuss these children with Lan Wu and instead asked her: “Ah Wu, you’ve always been by my side, but where are you when you’re not with me?”

Chu Mingheng had pondered these questions himself and had even asked Huifan, but that old monk said nothing.

“Is it somewhere you can’t come from?”

Lan Wu felt troubled. According to Chu Mingheng’s words, he was right—she truly couldn’t come.

So she blew out another candle flame.

But Chu Mingheng’s expression grew even more somber as he asked again: “Is someone preventing you from coming? Are you not doing well?”

That wasn’t the case at all.

Lan Wu quickly blew out two candles to deny this.

“Doing well… and no one is stopping you from coming…” Chu Mingheng stared blankly at the extinguished candles, seeming somewhat dejected.

Yet he clearly didn’t want to waste his time communicating with Lan Wu on his own emotions. Soon, he asked her again: “Ah Wu, as long as you’re doing well and happy, that’s enough. Then… do you ever think of me, even occasionally?”

As he spoke these words, Chu Mingheng hung his head low, as if afraid to hear a negative answer from Lan Wu. Even his movements as he raised his eyes to look at the candles were exceptionally gentle, his gaze fixed intently on the burning flames.

Only when he saw one candle go out, with no second one extinguishing after a long pause, did he finally allow a faint smile to appear.

Lan Wu didn’t know how long such dreams would last, and she feared that one day, when she entered dreams again, it would be like last time—years having passed.

She could still stay at Changyong Mountain for one more month. What could one month change?

Lan Wu hoped to speak with the Chu Mingheng in her dreams again—not about anything else, just to make things clear, to tell him not to grieve or feel sad because she could no longer come to his side.

Yet reality was exactly as she had imagined. The time span after she entered dreams began to stretch.

Just yesterday, when she entered the dream, she had seen the imperial clan children entering the palace. Today, upon entering the dream again, half a year had already passed.

Candles still burned in the hall.

Lan Wu walked forward and saw Chu Mingheng bent over the desk, buried in reviewing memorials.

He seemed ill, coughing softly from time to time.

It was already winter. A crack was left open in the window to prevent the wind and snow from drifting inside, yet the hall was not particularly warm. A cup of hot tea sat on the table, steam rising and forming a ring of condensation on the lid.

Only when Lan Wu saw the heavy snow outside the window did she realize that at least half a year must have passed since the scene from her dream yesterday.

Over these six months, had Chu Mingheng lit candles every time, wondering—would she come today?

And when the day ended without her arrival, did he think again—why hasn’t she come yet?

After half a year had passed, perhaps he wondered—would she never come again?

Lan Wu couldn’t help but feel her eyes grow moist. She reached out to wipe away her tears, hesitating as she was about to blow out the candles.

How could the feeling of waiting for her for half a year be anything but painful? But if, after today, the next time she entered the dream, another half a year passed for Chu Mingheng, what then?

Or perhaps even longer…

If that’s the case, would it have been better not to let him know of her existence from the very beginning?

Lan Wu straightened up slightly, only to hear the person beside her cough softly twice again.

Chu Mingheng was indeed ill.

His health had deteriorated severely over the years. It was only because he was still young that the Imperial Physicians had repeatedly advised him during their consultations, but he never seemed to listen.

Even without knowing the details, Lan Wu could guess this much from his behavior.

After coughing, Chu Mingheng reached out, picked up the hot tea on the table, and took a couple of sips.

Just then, a breeze rose outside the hall. A wisp of wind slipped through a small crack in the window that had been left open, extinguishing a candle on the edge of the desk.

Lan Wu was startled and instinctively looked over, then quickly turned back to Chu Mingheng.

Chu Mingheng’s reaction, however, was not so dramatic. He merely shifted his gaze slightly, following the extinguished candle toward the small crack by the window. He watched quietly, without uttering a word.

He knew the candle had been blown out by the wind.

Even if he didn’t know for sure, he assumed it was the wind, seemingly never considering any other possibility.

Seeing him gaze at the window for a while, Lan Wu then watched as he stood up and closed it.

He sat back down at the desk, but instead of immediately resuming his work on the memorials, his eyes lingered on the few candles that were still burning.

Lan Wu pursed her lips and stepped forward to blow out one of them.

Chu Mingheng visibly stiffened, turning to look at the window. Only after confirming that he had indeed closed it did he open his mouth, his voice somewhat hoarse.

“Is it… A’Wu who has come?”

Lan Wu slowly let out a breath and extinguished another candle.

Yes, she had come.

A bitter smile tugged at Chu Mingheng’s lips as he said softly, “A’Wu truly is hard to wait for. It has already been half a year.”

“Several times when I saw a candle go out, I thought it was you. But when I asked, there was no response, so I knew it was just the wind,” he murmured.

Lan Wu felt a pang of sorrow, her eyes involuntarily reddening.

“Why did it take you so long to come, A’Wu? I’ve missed you terribly,” Chu Mingheng said, coughing once more.

Lan Wu blew out another candle.

“Does A’Wu mean that you have missed me too?” Chu Mingheng asked her.

Lan Wu extinguished yet another candle, answering him with a “yes.”

“Then, A’Wu, will you come to see me a little earlier next time?”

This was not something Lan Wu could control. She even felt that she and Chu Mingheng were like the ill-fated lovers described in storybooks—separated too soon, yet forever longing for each other.

Perhaps sensing Lan Wu’s hesitation to blow out another candle, Chu Mingheng understood and changed his words: “It’s alright if it’s later. Just don’t stop coming.”

He could wait half a year, even a year, as long as he knew Lan Wu would still come to see him.

“A’Wu, Huifan said we will meet again in our next life. Do you believe that?”

This time, Lan Wu firmly blew out a candle.

They did have a next life, and they did meet again. Otherwise, she would not have been able to enter the dream of her past life.

Chu Mingheng chuckled softly, his gaze tenderly fixed on the direction of the candles, then slightly upward from the extinguished one, as if searching for where Lan Wu’s face might be.

“Since you believe it, I will not disappoint you.”

“A’Wu, I will wait for the day we meet again.”

“I only hope it won’t make me wait too long…”

The subsequent dreams seemed to accelerate time abruptly—sometimes half a year would pass, and other times, upon entering dreams again, a full year had already elapsed in the dream world.

Meanwhile, the three-month deadline was nearing its end, and Chu Mingheng’s final letter arrived.

Unlike before, this time he had only sent a single letter.