Chapter 65: Identity is a Mystery

Yan Dan grasped the bronze mirror, staring at the reflection. It was a woman’s extraordinarily pale face. Panic surged through her as her eyes widened, and the corners of her mouth sagged slightly, hinting at despair. Seeing this face for the first time, she immediately sensed the temperament of Mrs. Zhao: delicate, slender, vigilant, and easily unsettled.

The girl holding the comb spoke softly, “Mrs. Zhao, how would you like me to comb your hair today?”

Yan Dan put down the mirror, turning to face her. “You… you also think I am Mrs. Zhao?”

The girl smiled faintly. “Mrs. Zhao, what’s wrong with you today?”

“I… don’t know what’s going on, but I am certainly not your wife.” Yan Dan tried to stand, but her legs buckled, and she collapsed to the floor. What was happening? Even after her long stay in Ye Wangchuan, she should have had enough strength to stand a few steps. She grabbed the medicine bowl from the bedside table and flung it toward the door. The bowl hit the floor, shattering into porcelain fragments with a sharp clatter.

The girl hurried forward anxiously. “Careful! Don’t step on the shards! Madam, are you hurt?”

Yan Dan stared blankly at her own hands, bewildered. How could she be so weak?

“Madam, I know you’ve been unwell for a long time, and your mood is bound to be unstable,” the girl said gently. “But don’t vent your frustration on yourself. Any injury will only worry Mr. Zhao.”

Yan Dan was helped back to bed, speechless. How had she suddenly become Mrs. Zhao? How had her appearance changed so completely? She remembered crossing the river at night, feeling fatigued, closing her eyes for a brief rest… and now she woke here.

If she had crossed the Naihe Bridge unconsciously and reincarnated into the mortal world, shouldn’t she have forgotten her previous self entirely?

What was happening?

Before she could make sense of it, the door creaked open. Mr. Zhao appeared, tall and imposing, brows sharp. “Manggui, I told you to take care of your wife. How did you let this happen?” He looked down at the shattered porcelain, then slowly at Yan Dan, finally resting his gaze on the girl.

A shiver of inexplicable fear ran through Yan Dan as the girl, Manggui, stumbled backward. “I-I’ll clean it up immediately…” she stammered, bowing before nearly fleeing the room.

Mr. Zhao stepped inside, brushing past the stool beside the bed, then placed his own clothes neatly on it. He frowned. “Why such a temper today?”

Yan Dan clenched her fists, restraining her frustration. “I told you, I am not your wife. What do you want from me?”

Mr. Zhao lowered his eyes, then straightened. “You are still recovering, so I won’t trouble you further.”

Her anger surged, fierce and helpless. She wanted to smash the bronze mirror at him, perhaps to awaken reality. Instead, she restrained herself. “I don’t know why my appearance has changed, but I am definitely not Madam Zun. Even if you claim we are married, you should see my temperament is nothing like hers.”

Without a word, Mr. Zhao moved toward the door and exited.

Yan Dan’s patience snapped. “Do you understand?!”

“I understand,” he replied lightly, pausing. “Madam, did you have a nightmare last night, or did you sleep well? What happened today?”

Yan Dan’s head throbbed with frustration. “You didn’t listen at all! You just spout nonsense!”

A slightly plump, middle-aged woman peeked into the room, smiling. “Mrs. Zhao, your husband cares for you. Don’t always lose your temper with him. Fortunately, Mr. Zhao is patient; otherwise, he might have sought someone else.”

Yan Dan’s anger flared further.

The door closed with a soft click, and the woman’s whisper lingered: “Mr. Zhao, your wife’s condition worsens daily, and she throws tantrums when she has attacks…”

Yan Dan sat on the bed, knees drawn up, trying desperately to calm herself. She had no idea how to navigate this new reality. Her immortal skills were gone, and she had little strength to move. She had to remain calm.

Recalling the events since awakening, the first person she met was Mr. Zhao, offering soup and medicine. If he had ulterior motives, perhaps the medicine contributed to her weakness. She had poured out most of it, but still sipped a little. Even drinking water afterward hadn’t felt right.

What exactly was Mr. Zhao doing? And why had her appearance changed completely? If he longed for his wife, why select her? Their faces barely resembled each other.

Yan Dan gazed at the setting sun outside. Manggui returned with food, placing dishes and chopsticks gently on the table. As she turned to leave, Yan Dan called out: “Wait.”

Manggui froze and smiled politely. “What else, Madam?”

“Please pour me a glass of water.”

Obediently, Manggui filled a cup and handed it to Yan Dan. After drinking, Yan Dan offered the cup back. “You must be thirsty too. Drink some water.”

The girl drank, a little confused. Yan Dan nodded approvingly. “That’s enough. You may go.”

Manggui bowed slightly and left quietly, closing the door behind her.

Yan Dan realized one possibility: Mr. Zhao recognized her as his wife. Perhaps there was more to the situation than she could perceive. While Zhao Huanqin remained inscrutable, Manggui might reveal subtle clues.

Her heart ached with a dull pain, entangled in fate, yet for now, she set aside past memories to focus on the strangeness before her.

Her eyes fell on the plate of orchid grass beside the bed. Still my ally… she murmured.

The first step to surviving this predicament was to stay calm and alert. Yan Dan lay quietly, eyes closed, collecting her thoughts. Random speculation would only mislead her; she needed reasoned deduction.

She felt like a hunter observing prey—or perhaps the prey avoiding a trap, waiting for the right moment.

Suddenly, footsteps approached. Yan Dan’s ears twitched as she focused on the sounds outside.

“I heard footsteps stop. Has Madam fallen asleep?” Mr. Zhao’s voice floated softly.

“Yes, Sir. She has been resting a long time. Would you like to see her?” Manggui replied.

A chill ran through Yan Dan. Her identity was now Mrs. Zhao. She would share a bed with a stranger—her supposed husband—though she had only just met him. The thought unsettled her completely.

After a moment, Mr. Zhao’s calm voice said, “Since she’s asleep, I won’t disturb her. You should sleep early too.” Footsteps receded.

Yan Dan’s frustration simmered.

Over the next five or six days, she remained restless. Manggui brought food, which she cautiously ate. When the next day’s medicine arrived, she sipped two cups in front of Manggui, pouring the remainder into the orchid grass pot unnoticed.

Through these interactions, Yan Dan learned more about Manggui and quietly inquired about Mr. Zhao. Though Manggui revealed little, she mentioned his full name: Zhao Huanqin.

Yan Dan silently repeated the name: Zhao Huanqin… a clue she had been waiting for.

Though Manggui appeared hesitant and shy, her actions spoke volumes. The girl was diligent, careful, and well-trained in service, yet not excessively so. Yan Dan recognized that even if Manggui were a lowly servant, she would still display genuine attentiveness to her master.

Seeing Manggui’s humility, Yan Dan said softly, “If you don’t want to say anything, you don’t have to. I don’t really need to know.”

Manggui’s cautious relief touched Yan Dan. Even if she didn’t speak, Yan Dan felt her strength returning. Slowly, she could walk a few steps, leaning on the table or cabinet. Exhaustion remained, but recovery was certain.

Neither Zhao Huanqin nor Manggui knew this yet. Yan Dan maintained a composed facade, observing quietly.

Hearing her words, Manggui responded carefully, “Madam, Mr. Zhao worries about you. Don’t let him worry in the future.”

Yan Dan smiled faintly. “Don’t worry. I won’t let him worry.”

If Zhao Huanqin had any ulterior motives, she would handle them—yet for now, she remained alert, cautious, and in control.