The End of the Past Story

It wasn’t until that night, lying in bed, that Si Jin finally realized.

Xiao Rong wasn’t jealous that their son was more capable than he had been in his youth. Rather, witnessing the innocent, budding affection between the two children had reminded him of their own past.

Yet those memories were remembered by Xiao Rong alone.

After all this time, Si Jin still hadn’t fully recalled their shared history.

So long, in fact, that it seemed she might never remember in this lifetime.

Xiao Rong rarely showed much emotion about this matter anymore, and he seldom brought it up.

But this time, he seemed deeply affected, unable to completely conceal his feelings.

Si Jin didn’t ask any further questions, and Xiao Rong didn’t offer any explanations.

As usual, after an intimate moment, they fell asleep in each other’s arms.

Little Si Jin grew drowsy during the tedious banquet.

After nodding off several times, she could no longer stay awake. Seizing the moment when her Parents weren’t paying attention, she slipped away.

This wasn’t the first time Si Jin had sneaked away from a banquet.

Once, her Parents had caught her, but they didn’t scold her—perhaps they understood that such events held little interest for a child.

With her Parents’ indulgence, Si Jin grew increasingly bold in her escapes.

She wandered far, until the clamor of the banquet faded into the distance and no one else was around.

Si Jin didn’t know if she was lost, but she kept walking.

Until she reached a small courtyard gate.

A wooden door was slightly ajar, and through the crack, she thought she saw someone inside.

Delighted to finally see another person, the little girl bounded forward eagerly.

She leaned against the door and asked, “Who are you? Why are you hiding in there?”

The innocent girl didn’t yet understand fear or caution.

She had been wandering alone for so long, and now, at last, she had found someone—someone who seemed to be a child like her.

But the person inside didn’t move or respond.

Si Jin persisted, asking again, “Are you playing a game with someone?”

“What game are you playing? Can I join?”

What a cold boy, she thought.

Perhaps no one was playing with him at all.

He seemed a bit pitiful.

Tilting her head, Si Jin strained to see the other’s face through the crack.

But it was too dark inside, as if there were no windows, with no light to see by. She couldn’t make out his features at all.

Giving up, Si Jin pulled her head back and spoke up once more: “My name is Si Jin—the ‘Jin’ from Brocade of Gold and Jade.”

Her voice was soft, and she felt a hint of shyness introducing herself.

Thinking she might have spoken too quietly, she pressed against the door again and called inside, “What’s your name?”

In the end, Si Jin chattered to herself for a long time but received no response from behind the door.

Annoyed, she walked away, wondering if she had really seen someone inside or if the darkness had tricked her eyes.

This minor frustration soon faded from her mind, and along with it, the memory of the figure behind the wooden door—almost the entire incident—was nearly forgotten.

Si Jin wondered whether meeting Xiao Rong—this person who might or might not be considered a friend—was a good thing or a bad one.

He was a bit strange and somewhat annoying.

From their first encounter, he had teased her, and soon after, she suffered from heatstroke, all because of him.

Later, she slipped away from the banquet with him, only to get lost. It was completely dark by the time she returned to her parents, and this time, her escape resulted in her first scolding from them. It was truly unfortunate.

There were more instances: falling into a mud pit with him, sneaking into a forbidden residence and scrambling over the wall in disarray to escape, or going outdoors with him only for it to pour rain the moment they sat down.

Such incidents piled up until, after another stroke of bad luck, Si Jin blurted out without thinking, “Why is it that every time I’m with you, something unlucky happens? Are you the reincarnation of the God of Bad Luck?”

As soon as the words left her mouth, the air grew deathly still.

Xiao Rong’s face showed no expression as he gazed at her with a heavy, intense look.

Si Jin’s heart skipped a beat, instantly realizing she had said something wrong.

She opened her mouth, but before she could speak,

Xiao Rong suddenly lowered his eyes, his voice low and hoarse as he said, “I’m sorry.”

Si Jin’s heart tightened again, and she quickly waved her hands. “No, no, no! That’s not what I meant. I should be the one apologizing. I said something awful—I didn’t mean it that way.”

Despite her lengthy explanation, Xiao Rong’s expression didn’t soften in the least.

Or rather, he showed no expression from start to finish, as if completely unaffected.

Yet it was precisely this unaffected demeanor that made Si Jin feel he looked utterly pitiful.

Pouting slightly, Si Jin couldn’t help but step forward and grab Xiao Rong’s hand. “Please don’t be angry with me, okay?”

“I’m not angry.” Xiao Rong’s voice finally carried a hint of emotion, trembling slightly.

He spoke earnestly, and though his gaze remained dark, looking into it no longer stirred much panic in her.

So Si Jin thought to withdraw her hand.

But the moment her fingers twitched, Xiao Rong suddenly tightened his grip, enveloping her entire hand in his palm.

Earlier, Si Jin had instinctively reached for his hand.

Now, caught in his firm grasp, she hurriedly exclaimed, “You, you, you—what are you doing? Men and women shouldn’t touch each other! Let go of me!”

The young girl’s tone was fierce, her brows tightly furrowed, but her voice lacked any real intimidation—even Si Jin herself could tell.

After a moment’s hesitation, Xiao Rong slowly released her hand.

“Then don’t be angry with me either.”

Xiao Rong was referring to his earlier act of gripping her hand.

After retrieving her hand, Si Jin secretly flexed her fingers beneath her sleeve.

After a long pause, she murmured softly, “I’m not angry with you either.”

The affection of youth was simple and innocent.

Si Jin’s thoughts were straightforward: she seemed to always run into Xiao Rong at banquets she disliked, and after slipping away, she no longer had to be alone—Xiao Rong would keep her company.

Although Xiao Rong wasn’t much of a talker and often wore a stern expression,

he was handsome and a good listener. She could share all the thoughts her older brothers laughed at with him, and he never mocked her.

So, Si Jin considered Xiao Rong a friend.

Their companionship continued like this for over a year.

The young girl began to grow up, and the thoughts in her heart gradually started to change.

“Men and women shouldn’t touch each other” was no longer just a phrase spoken lightly; even unspoken, such boundaries were unconsciously observed.

Si Jin felt this was only right.

But Xiao Rong seemed to think she was deliberately distancing herself from him.

At this point, Si Jin had nothing more to explain, for everyone was like this. She was almost a young lady now and couldn’t keep staying with boys all the time.

Moreover, Xiao Rong was older than her—he might even be approaching the age for betrothal soon—so she had even more reason to avoid spending time with him.

It seemed their relationship began to turn awkward from this moment onward.

Though Si Jin deliberately avoided Xiao Rong, she still frequently saw him.

He would appear out of nowhere like a lingering ghost, impossible to shake off.

And when Xiao Rong showed up, he never approached. Instead, he would watch her from afar, silently, with a heavy gaze.

Si Jin felt a creeping unease, unable to comprehend why he acted this way.

But she didn’t dare ask and could only continue avoiding him.

As this went on over time and happened repeatedly, Si Jin began to grow afraid of Xiao Rong.

Like the ever-changing emotions of a young girl, Si Jin now felt aversion and rejection toward Xiao Rong’s behavior, which seemed intrusive yet not entirely so.

Gradually, this feeling amplified within her, and every time she saw Xiao Rong, more unpleasant emotions arose.

Misfortune seemed to have returned to haunt her and Xiao Rong.

She was repeatedly frightened by him—seeing him twist a dead cat, stumbling upon him stepping on a human skull.

Xiao Rong was no longer the quiet little boy from Si Jin’s memories, and Si Jin was no longer the bold, innocent girl who would bravely approach him to talk.

Whenever Xiao Rong startled her, Si Jin would immediately run away.

It became almost instinctual—the moment she saw him, she would flee. Later, even when nothing frightening happened, her first impulse upon spotting him was still to run.

Fortunately, as they grew older, the vast difference in their statuses became increasingly clear.

Though Si Jin still intentionally avoided him, she no longer saw Xiao Rong as often.

At a banquet where Xiao Rong was absent from start to finish, Si Jin felt as if a weight had been lifted, yet her gaze kept drifting toward the corner where he usually appeared.

Truly, she didn’t see him this time.

Not at this banquet, nor at the next one.

As Si Jin approached her coming-of-age ceremony, her family often discussed her yet-to-be-decided marriage.

Si Jin herself had no particular thoughts on the matter. She had never considered whom she would marry or what kind of person he would be.

She only vaguely understood that marriage meant spending a lifetime with one person.

A lifetime—such a long word.

Si Jin found it hard to imagine.

After all, she and Xiao Rong had only been companions for a year or two, and now they weren’t even considered friends anymore.

As for a husband—could they really stay together for that long?

For some reason, ever since her family began mentioning her marriage, Si Jin often thought of Xiao Rong.

Perhaps because, aside from her father and brother, Xiao Rong was the boy she had interacted with the most in her simple life.

So, at that time, Si Jin often compared her unknown future husband to Xiao Rong.

He certainly couldn’t be as gloomy as Xiao Rong, nor as persistently haunting. He couldn’t be as expressionless, and most of all, he couldn’t be like Xiao Rong, who, after upsetting her, would only say “I’m sorry” and nothing more.

Then what should he be like?

Si Jin’s coming-of-age day passed simply, yet warmly.

Her family was all around her. Her father and mother had prepared a table full of sumptuous dishes, and her elder brother had prepared an exquisite coming-of-age gift for her.

After today, she would truly be considered a grown woman.

Even so, Si Jin still didn’t feel particularly mature.

Her experiences weren’t broad enough, her knowledge wasn’t profound enough.

There were still many things she didn’t know, many questions she couldn’t figure out.

After having dinner with her family, Si Jin returned to her room but couldn’t fall asleep for a long time.

After bathing, she lay on her bed looking at the familiar ceiling beams of her bedchamber, numerous thoughts flashing through her mind.

The more she thought, the more thoughts came, and the more chaotic they became.

Si Jin suddenly sat up from her bed – since she couldn’t sleep, she might as well not try.

The moonlight tonight was beautiful, the full moon hung high, and the night breeze was gentle.

She opened the window and stood by the windowsill, quietly gazing at the night sky.

Suddenly, an unusual sound came from somewhere, particularly noticeable in the quiet night.

Si Jin’s eyes widened in surprise as a dark shadow flashed before her eyes.

She didn’t even have time to see it clearly.

Rustle, rustle—

The bushes by her windowsill suddenly shook violently.

A scream had already reached Si Jin’s throat, but before she could make a sound, only her lips had parted.

The next moment.

A figure suddenly emerged from the bushes.

“It’s me.”

Si Jin’s eyes widened sharply, and she instinctively took two large steps backward.

The scream had already formed in her subconscious, but no sound came from her throat.

Xiao Rong’s gaze darkened, and his step toward the windowsill paused.

His expression was unreadable as he stared intently at Si Jin from a distance.

Si Jin took a deep breath, her mind alert that she should immediately shout for help – Xiao Rong appearing outside her bedchamber window was already improper.

But for some reason, when her feet moved again, they carried her back toward the windowsill.

Xiao Rong was also taken aback, the solemn expression on his face momentarily frozen.

Until Si Jin walked back to the window: “Why are you here?”

Xiao Rong gradually regained his composure.

His gaze remained firmly fixed on Si Jin’s face, as if he hadn’t been this close to her in a long time, unwilling to look away for even a moment.

Without moving his gaze, his hands slowly searched.

Then he took out a wooden box from his robe.

“Happy birthday.”

Si Jin’s eyes trembled as she looked at the wooden box Xiao Rong offered: “What is this?”

“It’s…” Xiao Rong paused.

He had intended to say “you’ll know when you open it,” but worried she might not open it.

He spoke again: “It’s a wooden doll I carved myself.”

As he spoke, Si Jin had already reached out and taken the wooden box from his hand.

She lowered her gaze to examine the box for a moment, then opened it right in front of Xiao Rong.

“Wait—” Xiao Rong immediately spoke up, and the hand that had been properly staying outside the window crossed the windowsill, reaching into Si Jin’s bedchamber.

Si Jin looked up, about to ask if she couldn’t open it in front of him, but saw that in the night, half of Xiao Rong’s face was illuminated by the candlelight from his room, revealing one bright red ear.

Si Jin blinked, then suddenly covered the wooden box with her hand, stopping the opening motion.

“Thank you, I’ll accept it.”

“You… won’t look at it?”

Si Jin’s lips curved into a smile.

The young maiden’s smile was like rippling clear spring water, flowing all the way into the depths of Xiao Rong’s heart.

“You should go. I want to look at it alone.”

The bedchamber window closed once more.

The person outside the window seemed to have already left.

Si Jin glanced at the flickering shadow cast by the candlelight inside the room.

Her smile deepened as she sat by the window, holding the box, separated from that shadow by a wall, and slowly began to open the wooden box.

Inside were a pair of wooden dolls resembling her and Xiao Rong, with a neatly folded letter tucked in a hidden compartment.

The room was quiet, the candlelight wavering.

The rustle of paper filled the air as the young woman inside the room, along with the pair of wooden dolls resting silently on the table, read the letter.

In the faint light of dawn, shadows danced along the bedposts.

For a moment, Si Jin felt disoriented before slowly opening her eyes.

She felt her body tightly wrapped in a strong, firm arm, enveloped by an overwhelming warmth from the front.

Suddenly, her lips grew warm.

Someone had leaned down and kissed her.

Si Jin lifted her gaze and saw a face resembling the young man from her dream, yet more mature, right before her eyes.

So close, he stared at her intently, as always, unwilling to look away for even a moment.

Si Jin froze for a second before he leaned down and pecked her lips again.

This kiss was firmer than the last, accompanied by a soft, clear sound.

After kissing her, he reached out to pinch her cheek. “What’s wrong? Did you have a nightmare?”

Si Jin suddenly smiled.

It was the same smile she had worn at the end of her dream, while reading the letter.

Yet, in reality, she had no idea what the letter contained.

Of course she didn’t know, because the truth was she had never read that letter.

And the pair of wooden dolls had long since disappeared.

Si Jin lifted her head and, before answering, returned his kiss.

Just as he instinctively moved to deepen the kiss, her rosy lips parted slightly as she whispered, “It wasn’t a nightmare. It was a beautiful dream.”

“Husband, I want a pair of wooden dolls.”

“This time, let’s carve them together, alright?”