Back in the modern world, Chi Wan tried countless ways to return to Great Zhou, but nothing worked.
What could possibly get her back? Death? Or visiting all sorts of spiritual places, like Mount Tai?
The highest mountain in Great Zhou corresponded to Mount Tai. She went there several times but couldn’t find the path back. Even under a tree that looked almost identical, only taller, there was no familiar trace.
The stone cliff face was also bare, with no carvings. Her internal energy had become half-dead again, lacking that profound feeling. At most, her punches carried a formidable force, but it was of no great use.
It was as if everything had returned to how it was before she transmigrated. Or perhaps, did transmigration even exist? Could it have all been an unforgettable, vivid dream?
Recalling everything she had experienced in Great Zhou, it had been a long lifetime. How could it possibly be a dream?
Chi Wan still remembered. After the children grew up, Yu Jiuzhou passed the throne to Chenchen. Guiyi became a general and, at the young age of twenty, conquered Beining, capturing the leaders of its various tribes and bringing them back to the capital to perform songs and dances. It had to be said, the people of Beining had a knack for singing and dancing. Then there was Yuyu, who made great achievements in the field of science. The first repeating firearm in Great Zhou was her creation, along with the invention of metal cartridges and breech-loading guns, which allowed for rapid reloading and continuous fire.
Compared to her two younger sisters’ successes, Chenchen was an even better emperor. She appointed the first Kun Ze Grand Secretary, the first Kun Ze Grand Marshal, the first Kun Ze Marquis, and so on.
She also focused on the development of technology for the people’s livelihood, perfectly continuing the golden age that she and Yu Jiuzhou had created, and even surpassing it.
Politics, economy, military, culture—all aspects reached an extremely high level, unparalleled by any other. The nation’s strength was unprecedented. Compared to the Zhengtong era, the country’s power had been greatly enhanced, making it the most powerful nation in the world at the time, without exception.
As for her, she took Yu Jiuzhou to travel the world, following seafaring ships to various places. The two of them, with a single horse, roamed to the ends of the earth.
Could the horse get tired? If it could carry a three-hundred-jin general, their combined two hundred jin was nothing.
Time flowed by. The two had their fill of a world of their own. In the latter half of their lives, they set up a farm near the capital. Of course, they didn’t grow vegetables; they grew medicinal herbs.
Chi Wan spent her days researching ancient medicinal formulas. She learned everything from the imperial physicians of the Imperial Medical Academy and those with inherited medical skills. Since she was idle anyway, what could be better than learning?
The zither, chess, calligraphy, painting, the classics, history, and literature—she learned everything that the children of ancient aristocratic families studied.
Although the actions of some aristocratic families were displeasing, their dedication to their children’s education was absolutely first-class. They learned all six of the gentlemanly arts.
The classics and history included Confucian classics and historical texts, but it wasn’t limited to just those; they would also learn about Mohism, Legalism, and more.
In terms of literature and art, poetry, songs, calligraphy, and painting were all required subjects. With so many types, one had to be proficient in at least one.
Martial arts, horsemanship, and archery were not just literal skills; they included military theory and the like. It was best if one had a talent for it, but even without talent, one had to have some understanding.
This also included arithmetic, calendrical science, medicine, and pharmacology. If not to cure diseases and save lives, then at least to avoid being deceived.
And there was also philosophy, metaphysics, agriculture, and more. The focus was on being well-rounded: specializing in one field while having a broad understanding of many others.
As for Chi Wan, since she was idle anyway, she decided to live and learn. Who could blame her for having such a brilliant mind?
After returning from their trip around the world, she and Yu Jiuzhou entered a life of retirement. They would sleep until they woke naturally, take walks, check on the medicinal herb garden, then tend to flowers, go fishing, and study. Of course, they studied only when they felt like it; everything was done at their leisure.
The two of them had stood together at the pinnacle of power, hailed as infrastructure fiends who had completely transformed Great Zhou. Their seafaring expeditions changed the global landscape. They had traveled the world together, and then settled into a comfortable and interesting retirement.
Their life together had been rich and full, with the person she loved most right by her side. There were no regrets. No, there was just one: that they had met too late.
The days passed just like that, one by one. Chi Wan thought they would continue this way until the end of their lives.
Who would have known that when she opened her eyes again, she would be back in the modern world.
“She’s awake! The patient in room 2105 is awake!”
Chi Wan saw the white-robed angel she hadn’t seen in years. The person looked pleasantly surprised. Then, an auntie in a white coat walked in. Her face was so familiar; she seemed to have seen her somewhere before.
The woman immediately began to examine her. Seeing Chi Wan’s lack of reaction, she frowned in confusion. “A mild concussion shouldn’t make you stupid. Was the examination not thorough enough?”
This familiar sharp tongue… Chi Wan’s eyes flew open. “Teacher?”
That’s right, it was her teacher. Distant memories suddenly flooded her mind. Looking at her surroundings, she realized—she was back?
Chi Wan tried to sit up but was immediately pushed back down.
“Don’t move. You need to stay in the hospital for two more days of observation.”
Chi Wan had no choice but to obey. As she sorted out her current situation, she learned that she had been in an accident on her way to an art exchange conference and was sent to the hospital, where she happened to run into her teacher, who was also attending the conference.
It couldn’t be helped. She had no parents, and the grandmother who had been kindest to her had also passed away. The only person they could contact was her teacher.
On the way to an exchange conference? Wasn’t that right before she transmigrated?
Chi Wan’s mind was still in a jumble. It wasn’t until she was discharged from the hospital and walking down the strange yet familiar streets that she finally understood that she was truly back.
Once, she had longed to return. But she had already lived a full life. Without Yu Jiuzhou, why would she even want to come back?
Chi Wan spent several days in a daze. She suddenly thought, could she return to the world of Great Zhou? However, she tried all sorts of methods, and none of them worked.
She even went to Mount Tai several times. Someone thought she was trying to jump off the mountain and pulled her back. A video of the incident was even posted online.
As a result, her teacher gave her a harsh scolding. At the end of the tirade, however, her tone softened as if coaxing a child. “You’re the best student I’ve ever taught. You have a talent for and an interest in traditional Chinese medicine, and you’re at the forefront of the younger generation. Even some of the old-timers can’t compare to you. You know that Chinese medicine is in decline, with a gap between generations. You are the hope of Chinese medicine.”
Chi Wan was speechless. What a huge compliment.
Why did she remember her teacher always saying she was the worst student she’d ever had? Was she misremembering?
She also used to say, “Don’t think you can slack off just because you have some talent.” Thinking back on her mentor’s classic lines, she wondered if her teacher even believed her own words now.
“There are many geniuses in this world. There are plenty of young people more skilled than you.”
“Although there aren’t many who study Chinese medicine, there are still many formidable old masters. Your medical skills are nothing to look at.”
“You want to revitalize Chinese medicine? Memorize these ten medical texts first, then we’ll talk.”
Now, her rhetoric had suddenly changed. If she weren’t in such a bad mood, Chi Wan might have laughed out loud.
But a warmth spread through her heart. Her teacher’s sharp tongue was normal; her senior apprentice-sisters had often been scolded to tears. But every student who graduated under her was now a renowned figure in the medical field. The change in her words was probably because she believed what was said online.
Chi Wan shook her head helplessly but also calmed down. She had tried so many methods to go back and failed. What else could she do?
Like a walking corpse, she visited the places she and Yu Jiuzhou had been. The scenery was similar, but now she was all alone.
Every time she thought of it, her heart would clench in pain.
Her spirit was gone. She no longer participated in various exchange conferences and instead started working in her teacher’s research lab.
Her teacher worked on all sorts of things related to traditional Chinese medicine, like cosmetics, and there were always people willing to buy the patents.
Her teacher was involved in scientific research and education, as well as pharmaceutical development. She even had a social media account, mainly for popularizing knowledge of traditional Chinese medicine. Well… it had very few followers, mostly students majoring in the field.
Chi Wan had initially chosen to research ancient medicinal formulas. She had actually sold a few patents. The income from small patents wasn’t much, but for someone so young, it was already quite good.
In Great Zhou, she had learned many lost arts of Chinese medicine. She could truly contribute to its development now.
That medical knowledge, along with the six gentlemanly arts engraved in her mind—she tried playing the guqin and the xiao flute, and recalled the books she had read and all the knowledge she had learned. No dream could make a person learn so much.
It had been a long dream, a dream that held a love that was etched into her very bones. Therefore, she was certain she had indeed transmigrated and had now returned.
The most important reason was that she refused to deny Yu Jiuzhou’s existence. Yu Jiuzhou had to be real.
Chi Wan even looked for that novel, only to find it had been locked, with not a single trace of it left online.
At the same time, a hope lingered in her heart. If she could transmigrate, what if Yu Jiuzhou could transmigrate here too?
Holding onto this thought, she couldn’t help but wonder, if Yu Jiuzhou did come here, how would she find her?
She had told Yu Jiuzhou everything about her life in the modern world—her hometown, her school, including many details. As long as Yu Jiuzhou familiarized herself with this world, she would definitely be able to find her.
What she needed to do now was wait, and earn money.
Her wife was born into wealth. After her rebirth, the greatest hardship she had ever endured was missing her while she was at war. Of course, she had to earn money to ensure they could have a prosperous life together in the future.
Her teacher collaborated with many companies—pharmaceutical companies, skincare companies, traditional Chinese medicine health and wellness companies, and so on.
Moreover, she could follow her teacher’s example and create an account. A livestream on ancient Chinese medicine? It felt like no one would watch. What about trying to write?
She could submit to publishing houses and magazines, or start her own public account.
The name—The Highest Mountain Buries the Jade Tablet.
The signature—Buries but doesn’t dig. Zhengtong’s great scumbag.
If Yu Jiuzhou saw this, she would definitely recognize it as hers. The signal was too specific.
And so, Chi Wan transformed from a walking corpse into a workaholic, the kind that even her colleagues found frightening.
She spent all day cooped up in the lab or writing. She sold a few patents, earning several million for sure, but she had no intention of enjoying it.
Several million might seem like a lot, but it wasn’t even enough to buy a large apartment. She had to keep working hard.
In reality, Chi Wan was just developing a few small patents to find a reliable long-term partner company. After all, this was medicine. Choosing a company was primarily about reliability. An unreliable company would end up harming consumers.
She wanted to make money, but she wouldn’t let people use her medical products to harm others just for profit.
Perhaps because she was busy enough, Chi Wan showed some signs of life during the day. But at night, when the work stopped, her heart was filled with nothing but Yu Jiuzhou.
She drew many portraits of Yu Jiuzhou, in ink wash or sketch, painting her beloved stroke by stroke.
During holidays, she would sit on the sofa and stare at her drawings for an entire day, not even noticing that she hadn’t eaten or drunk anything. It was only when she stood up and felt dizzy that she remembered she hadn’t eaten.
Normally, she ate on time. She just felt that Yu Jiuzhou would definitely not want to see her despondent and self-destructive.
Chi Wan couldn’t bring herself to love life, but she set a program for herself. She did what normal people did—eating, working, sleeping—each on time and with diligence.
Except for the first year, when she was too depressed and like a walking corpse, she had managed to live more like a person afterward.
Late at night, in the laboratory.
“Senior Sister, aren’t you leaving yet?”
Hearing the voice, Chi Wan finally looked up and realized it was already past midnight.
She was writing a research paper. In the medical field, papers were very important. For doctors, they were a key indicator for promotions. For academic researchers, they were a publication of their findings and one of the main criteria for evaluating a researcher’s ability.
A high-quality paper was enough to elevate one’s status in the academic world. She had developed many things in Great Zhou, and she would bring them out one by one. But first, she needed to have sufficient standing.
Sufficient standing meant she could choose her partners and not have to sell her achievements cheaply.
Before, people worked with her because she was her teacher’s student. In the future, they would do so for the name “Chi Wan.”
So, when things weren’t too busy, she would write her papers. She hadn’t expected time to fly by so quickly, and suddenly it was late at night.
Chi Wan looked at the junior student, her teacher’s new graduate student, and nodded as she closed her laptop. “I’m leaving now.”
What was this junior’s name again? Forget it, better not to say her name.
“Senior Sister, um… it’s really late. Can I get a ride back to the apartment with you?”
The research lab offered good benefits, including dormitories. Someone like Chi Wan had her own private apartment, while juniors like this one shared a two-person unit, though they had their own rooms.
Chi Wan’s own house was in the city center. It was an older complex, a property her parents had left her. She hadn’t lived there in a long time and had never thought of selling it. She had recently renovated it and moved back in.
However, it was a bit far from the lab—a forty-minute drive, or over an hour by subway, which was too much of a waste of time. Therefore, she also lived in the dormitory provided by the lab.
Still, she had bought a small electric car, which was very convenient for getting around the city. There were charging stations both at her apartment and at the company, and parking was ample since there were many office buildings nearby. Hailing a cab during rush hour on a rainy day was difficult, so having her own car was very convenient.
Chi Wan had no particular desires when it came to cars; as long as it provided shelter from the wind and rain, it was fine. The little EV was a good choice.
She nodded in agreement to the junior’s request. At this hour, the subway had stopped running, and it really wasn’t safe for a girl to be out alone.
She packed her things and slung her bag over her shoulder.
Just then, she saw the junior’s ID badge—Yu Xuan?
Meanwhile, Yu Xuan’s gaze kept drifting to her. This senior sister’s style was always clean: black jeans paired with a long-sleeved T-shirt and a black blazer.
In the dozen or so days she had been at the lab, this senior sister’s outfits were always a combination of black, grey, or white trousers, or black or blue jeans, with a grey, black, or white T-shirt on top, and a grey or black blazer.
Hmm… a very simple combination, yet this senior sister wore it with a unique flair, and she never repeated an outfit within the same week.
It felt like, although she clearly disliked putting effort into her outfits, she still respected workplace etiquette by trying not to wear the same clothes twice in a week.
In fact, many researchers were like this, prioritizing comfort and simplicity in their attire. Perhaps it was because Chi Wan was beautiful—tall and slender, as thin as a piece of paper, with such a delicate and pretty face.
Yu Xuan had never seen a woman who could look so clean and beautiful without any makeup.
Lazy yet sunny, clean yet handsome, innocent yet with the air of a cool, mature woman.
These two conflicting descriptions, when applied to Chi Wan, somehow didn’t conflict at all.
Most importantly, Chi Wan always carried a laptop bag or a canvas crossbody bag, depending on whether she needed to bring her computer.
Beyond that, Chi Wan’s professional skills were also incredible. When their teacher was away, she was the one in charge of the lab. Even when the teacher was present, her insights were always sharp and to the point.
With someone so professionally competent and with such outstanding looks—the kind that could rival a celebrity—right beside her, Yu Xuan found her gaze unconsciously drawn to her from the very first day she arrived at the lab.
What Yu Xuan found rather unfortunate was that this senior sister was too cold. Not in an ice-queen sort of way, but simply indifferent. She was indifferent to people and things, like a monk who had seen through the mortal world.
She had observed Chi Wan for so many days, and today she finally had a chance to strike up a conversation.
From the first day she was captivated by Chi Wan, Yu Xuan knew she had fallen for this clean and indifferent senior sister at first sight. After more than ten days, she felt a strong impulse to get to know her.
After all, in all this time, she had only exchanged three sentences with Chi Wan!
Three sentences! They were fellow disciples of the same school, so why was the senior sister so aloof?
Oh, wait, Chi Wan wasn’t technically the eldest senior sister; there were older ones in the lab. She was just the most capable.
Yu Xuan silently followed behind Chi Wan. This woman really wasn’t saying a word. There was an inexplicable, faint sense of lifelessness about her.
The two got into the car, and Chi Wan was still silent. Yu Xuan finally couldn’t hold back anymore. “I heard you’ve won a lot of awards, Senior Sister. Why did you choose the lab instead of clinical practice?”
She was very curious about this. Although she was studying under their teacher now, she still planned to go into clinical practice in the future.
Chi Wan had answered this question many times, and this wouldn’t be the last. “Social anxiety.”
Clinical work meant dealing with patients, their families, and even more complicated relationships with colleagues and layers upon layers of superiors. It was a life more grueling than that of a beast of burden. Using social anxiety as an excuse was very fitting.
Yu Xuan was taken aback. The answer was so brief. How was she supposed to continue the conversation now that the topic was dead?
“Senior Sister, do you want to get a late-night snack? I know a barbecue place that’s really good. It’s always crowded at night, and their crayfish is to die for.”
“I don’t eat at night.”
Chi Wan refused without hesitation. She could see what Yu Xuan was thinking and naturally wouldn’t give her any opportunity. To not cut things off decisively would only lead to trouble later. There was already someone in her heart, and it would always be that person.
Perhaps because she was young, Yu Xuan decided to be direct. “Do you have a partner, Senior Sister?”
She couldn’t be sure if Chi Wan was straight or gay, but her gaydar was going wild, and it was rarely wrong.
“Yes.”
How could that be? Yu Xuan didn’t believe it. The way her senior sister seemed to want to work twenty-four hours a day, how could she possibly have a partner? She understood that this was her senior sister’s way of rejecting her.
Just as Yu Xuan was about to say something else, Chi Wan suddenly turned on the radio. A news report caught her attention.
“Just moments ago, at the World Go Professional Championship held in the United States, our country’s twenty-nine-year-old professional Go player, Yu Jiuzhou, defeated South Korea’s Kim Eun-lo 9-dan to win the championship. It is reported that player Yu Jiuzhou became a 1-dan professional at the age of twenty-eight. By winning the World Go Professional Championship, she will be directly promoted to professional 9-dan. From now on, she will be Yu Jiuzhou 9-dan.”
“We all know that in sports, athletes are considered veterans after the age of 25. Yu Jiuzhou 9-dan was already twenty-eight when she burst onto the scene last year. Winning the championship this year and being promoted directly to 9-dan is remarkable. In the world of Go, performance tends to fluctuate after the age of thirty, but the definition of ‘old’ is rather vague. For example, some players in their fifties or sixties still maintain a high level of skill. This brings to mind a true veteran of Go, a female player who, at the age of sixty, is still winning championships…”
The report continued with more details about the world of Go, but Chi Wan wasn’t listening closely. There was only one name in her mind—Yu Jiuzhou.
During the seven or eight-minute drive, Chi Wan kept wondering if Yu Jiuzhou 9-dan and her Yu Jiuzhou were the same person. It wasn’t until the car stopped in the underground garage that she snapped back to reality.
She was anxious to get back and look up information about Yu Jiuzhou 9-dan. The moment Yu Xuan got out of the car, she locked it and said only one thing, “I have something urgent to do.”
Staring at her retreating back, Yu Xuan was completely stunned. Am I a monster? Why did she run away so fast?
No, wait. Chi Wan started acting strange after listening to the radio. That what’s-her-name 9-dan? Could it be that she knew her?
Chi Wan had no idea what Yu Xuan was thinking. She hurried back to her apartment, opened her computer, and typed “Yu Jiuzhou Go.”
Soon, information appeared before her eyes.
In 2025, Yu Jiuzhou had defeated a Go master and became a professional abroad, as the age limit for turning pro in their country was twenty-five, while it was more lenient overseas. Such a player, who had appeared out of nowhere, had won multiple matches last year and this year won the most prestigious tournament in Go, being promoted directly to 9-dan and becoming the fastest player to go from 1-dan to 9-dan.
Chi Wan read through the information word by word, then opened a video. In the tournament footage, regardless of the situation on the board, Yu Jiuzhou remained calm, showing no emotional fluctuation.
It was as if everything was under her control, as if she had already mastered the flow of the game.
However, in contrast to the player’s extreme calm in the video, Chi Wan’s hands were trembling. Looking at that familiar face, she could no longer control herself. Her heart ached with a sour pang, and tears streamed uncontrollably down her cheeks.
The familiar face, the familiar gaze, the familiar aura—even through a screen, Chi Wan could be certain that the person in the video was the woman she had longed for for so long.
For the entire night, Chi Wan frantically watched Yu Jiuzhou’s videos. Aside from the excessive scrolling comments that got in the way of her looking at her wife, there were no other problems. Unfortunately, there were too few videos, not enough to watch. She started looking for and downloading videos without comments. She had no idea how many times she watched each one.
There were many comments she agreed with.
【Her looks are the least remarkable of Yu Jiuzhou’s talents.】
It was also because of her looks that Yu Jiuzhou received more attention than other players, which was why Chi Wan could find videos from various angles. Unfortunately, she had only been competing for a year, and few tournaments had spectators, so there weren’t many videos.
While searching for videos, Chi Wan also saw that a fan club for Yu Jiuzhou had been established. An idea struck her, and she found an old account she hadn’t logged into for years and clicked to join.
A pinned message in the fan club made her eyes light up—a domestic Go tournament would be held in May. Those who wanted to watch Jiuzhou play could purchase tickets in advance through the public account.
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