"Gu An'an, little Gu An'an, wake up now, Gu An'an. Sleepyhead Gu An'an, who will care for our little Gu An'an?"
Gu An'an slowly opened her eyes. In her blurred vision was a young woman sitting by the crib on a rocking chair, tearing at a flatbread while humming a tune of her own making.
She was momentarily dazed, unsure of where exactly she was.
The dream she had before waking was slipping away like a receding tide. The face in the dream had already dissolved into a blur of white light. The soft breeze and rustling leaves were now distant echoes. Yet the pain and sorrow from the dream still lingered like an unshakable shadow in her mind.
She moved her fingers. Thankfully, her hands were intact, and her legs seemed functional too. But the ache in her ribs and the bruised pain on her nose bridge were hard to ignore.
She turned her head toward the singing voice.
The woman, still immersed in her self-made lullaby, leaned forward when she saw movement on the bed and grinned broadly. "Our An'an's awake! Gosh, I was just about to barge into your dreams and drag you back out."
Gu An'an stared at her, stunned. It all felt a little too surreal.
That face was one she had seen for half her life.
Big crescent-shaped eyes, long lashes casting shadows over the red tear-shaped mole beneath the right eye. Glossy bow-shaped lips and cheeks still round with the last traces of baby fat. She looked adorably young.
Perhaps her gaze was too blank. The woman gave her a knowing look, gently placing a hand on her forehead. "It's okay. I heard people who just woke up from car crashes tend to be a little... slow at first."
Car crash? She had been in a car crash?
Gu An'an closed her eyes and, in her muddled memory, saw a torrential downpour.
She had been desperately trying to flee from a car chasing her.
It was a deserted road, no place to hide. Her only option was to drive faster. The vehicle behind her made no move to slow down.
The phone on the passenger seat kept ringing. She had no time to answer it, letting it ring like the soundtrack to an action movie.
She was about to shake the tail—just one turn, and she'd be there.
At some point, the car's Bluetooth picked up the call. The phone connected automatically. She hit the answer button without thinking. But when she heard the voice on the other end, she froze.
She recognized it clearly. It was her mother's voice.
That was how this high-speed chase ended: both cars crashing into the divider.
Branches fell onto the hood, smoke rising, blending with the rain. Water splashed against the windows, blurring the figures rushing toward the wreck.
The airbag pressed into her chest, suffocating, and she forgot to breathe.
Sirens pierced the stormy sky as she lost consciousness.
There was darkness, and something glowing strangely in the void. Voices speaking.
What were they saying? She couldn't make it out.
And then came the dream. That terrible, terrible dream.
All the memories came flooding back at once, mixed with strange, nonsensical images. She couldn't even remember what she had been doing before the chase. Who was chasing her? And that voice on the phone—was it really her mother?
"It's okay, An'an. Take your time. It's fine to be a little slow."
And just like that, Gu An'an felt like she had returned to Earth. She opened her eyes and parted her dry lips to speak.
"You're the slow one. Your whole family's slow." Her voice was coarse, like sandpaper scraping across a surface.
The woman looked deeply offended and stepped back dramatically, pointing at Gu An'an and crying, "How could you insult yourself like that?"
Of course. This dramatic woman was none other than Song Jin Zhu—Gu An'an's dearest friend, closest companion, and sworn family for life.
They had grown up together, faced every trial side by side, always pulling each other out of the abyss.
Gu An'an tried to smile, but the bruises on her nose and cheekbones twisted her expression into something slightly horrific.
Jin Zhu mimicked her exaggeratedly, scrunching her face and wiggling her eyebrows.
Gu An'an looked at Song Jin Zhu, and memories of their past flickered in her mind—both joyful and painful ones, all filled with Jin Zhu's presence. Seeing this vivid person standing before her made Gu An'an suddenly want to cry.
The overwhelming joy of reunion clashed with the sorrow she still carried. She didn't know where this emotion came from, only that it felt like finding something she had long lost—like a vast emptiness was suddenly filled, and she was grateful to the point of tears.
But before she could get lost in emotions, her stomach reminded her of another problem.
"I'm hungry," she said. Clearly, during her time bedridden, she'd only had IV fluids and not a single bite to eat.
Song Jin Zhu burst out laughing, but seeing Gu An'an's serious expression, she quickly tore off a piece of the flatbread and held it up to her lips. "Here."
Gu An'an gave her a deadpan look. "Hey, can I even eat this right now?" Shouldn't she be having porridge or something? She looked so weak! What kind of friend does this?
"Wow, picky much? You're on a drip and still talking about being hungry?"
Gu An'an realized Jin Zhu had no intention of getting her actual food. She tried to sit up but instantly regretted it.
The bruised ribs hurt worse than she'd imagined. A sharp, stabbing pain made her suck in a breath. "Ugh..."
Jin Zhu practically leapt to her side, shouting, "Don't move!" Her hair flew up with her sudden motion, hands outstretched in alarm.
Gu An'an furrowed her brows and looked at her plaintively. "Rely on the mountains, they'll crumble. Rely on people, they'll run. Best to rely on yourself."
"Rely on Xiao Zhu! Rely on Xiao Zhu!" Jin Zhu patted her chest frantically, clearly panicked that Gu An'an might move again and hurt herself. She stammered, "W-w-what do you want to eat? I'll go get it!"
"Porridge... I want porridge."
"Got it. Porridge. I'm going."
Just then, an elderly voice called out from behind the privacy curtain next to the bed.
"Young lady, could you get an old man a bowl of porridge too?"
Jin Zhu paused, glanced at Gu An'an, confused, and mouthed silently: Is he talking to us?
Gu An'an gave a tiny shrug—anything bigger would hurt.
The voice from next door continued, as if hearing their exchange. "I'm old and sick, with no one to look after me. My only son... he's missing..." The voice trailed off into quiet sobs.
Jin Zhu cleared her throat and asked awkwardly, "Sir, um... what kind of porridge do you like?"
"Anything... sob sob... No one cares what I like to eat... I'm just a useless old man..."
Jin Zhu gave Gu An'an a helpless look. Comforting people was usually An'an's job—she had no idea how to deal with this.
Gu An'an nodded, silently telling her not to worry. She spoke up gently, "Don't say that, sir. It's fate that brought us together. If we can help, we will. Please don't be so upset."
"Sob sob... My missing son... he was just like you two, kind and thoughtful..."
Jin Zhu sighed. An'an was right. If fate had brought them here, maybe they should hear the old man out.
"Do you only have one son, sir?"
"Yes... just the one..."
"When did he go missing?"
"When did he go missing?" The old man fell into deep thought, then replied, "A long, long time ago... Feels like it's been billions of years."
"How old was he then?"
"I can't say for sure. But probably around your age."
The two exchanged glances. If he was already an adult, could he really be considered "missing"?
"You must miss him dearly."
"How could I not?"
"Did you argue before he left?"
"Maybe..." The old man sighed. "He was stubborn. Saw danger and ran right toward it."
"What do you mean?"
"He fell for a girl. Fell hard. I told him she wasn't right for him, that she'd bring him ruin. He didn't believe me. Something happened between them, and he blamed me. Said it was because I didn't bless their union. Imagine, turning your back on your father over a girl. Isn't that... a bit unfilial?"
Gu An'an was about to respond when Jin Zhu jumped in, "With all due respect, sir, your son was marrying her, not you. Why meddle so much? What was wrong with the girl? Was she cruel or abusive? Saying she's 'not suitable' and breaking them up sounds like you were asking for it. Your son ran away. That's not 'missing'."
That was Jin Zhu for you—blunt, cold, and fiercely loyal only to Gu An'an. Everyone else? If they rubbed her the wrong way, she didn't care about their feelings and would cut straight to the point.
Gu An'an, by contrast, was calm and graceful—always thoughtful and poised, even when upset. People praised her as a gentle, understanding lady. Only in front of Jin Zhu did she become unreasonable, bratty, and dramatic.
"I'm really not lying! I found that girl later and even gave them my blessing. But she said my son wasn't with her. She couldn't reach him either. Isn't that truly 'missing'?"
Jin Zhu wasn't interested in continuing. To her, the old man had nagged his son right out the door.
Gu An'an still tried to be helpful. "Did you go to the police? Ask for help?"
"They won't help me."
"Sir, maybe it's time to let him go," Jin Zhu muttered irritably. She was losing patience—she still needed to get that porridge.
"I know I was wrong... I just want him to come back."
"To what? So you can control him again?"
"No, no!" The old man was panicking now. "I... I have something important to give him."
"What kind of thing?"
"A secret... about our family." His tone turned mysterious. He wouldn't say more.
"...I see." Jin Zhu clearly wasn't interested. She looked down and rubbed Gu An'an's cold hand, trying to warm it. Poor An'an was freezing—she must be starving.
A long silence fell. Just as Jin Zhu was about to get up and leave, the old man spoke again.
"No one else wants to help me. But if you two could... would you?"
"...Huh?"
Jin Zhu and Gu An'an exchanged another uneasy glance. What kind of question was that?
"Depends on the situation," An'an replied.
"You'll definitely be able to help."
An'an hesitated. "Well... if it's something within our ability... I suppose we would?"
"But we don't even know you," Jin Zhu said plainly. "How could we help?"
"You really don't know me?" The old man's voice grew clearer as he pulled back the curtain.
Jin Zhu frowned, about to scold him for letting in the draft—but the moment she saw his face, her jaw dropped.
"You're...!"
Gu An'an turned too, curious who could shock Jin Zhu like that. The moment she saw the old man's face, she gasped as well.
"You...!"
The old man gave a faint smile. "Seems you two still remember me."
Song Jingzhu blinked, as if she couldn't believe what she was seeing, and stammered, "Am I dreaming?"
Gu An'an, on the other hand, seemed to have fallen into a distant memory. She murmured, "I've seen you before. I've seen you... but where?"
"Little Jingzhu, did your swimming get any better later on?"
"Ah!" Song Jingzhu cried out again, as if a switch had been flipped. "It really is you! Old Man Luo!"
"Who? Who is he? Xiao Zhu, who is he?" An'an, ignoring the pain from her injuries, tugged on Jingzhu's hand and asked urgently. She had seen this old man before—she was certain of it—but where? Where exactly had they met? She knew it was somewhere important, and they'd had a deeply significant conversation then. Damn it, why couldn't she remember?
"Huaian, you'll remember soon," said Old Man Luo, his smile unfathomable.
What did he just say? Huaian? Like the city in Jiangsu Province? Gu An'an was thoroughly confused, her thoughts spinning wildly, unable to make sense of anything.
"An'an, do you remember when I nearly drowned in the swimming pool when we were kids?"
Of course she remembered. Back then, when she saw little Jingzhu sinking, she had leapt into the deep end without a second thought, pulling her up with all her strength. They were only six at the time. That was how their bond began, and they'd been inseparable ever since.
"At that time, I told you something," Jingzhu continued. "Only those who have faced near-death, and received permission from the Gatekeeper, can enter the flow of time and return to a time and space where their soul once lived."
Gu An'an closed her eyes, thinking back. Jingzhu had said something strange back then—things she hadn't understood at all.
Suddenly, Jingzhu clapped her hands together and shouted, "Old Man Luo! Don't tell me… your son ended up in the past too?!"
The old man—Luo—nodded with satisfaction.
Gu An'an couldn't understand how Jingzhu, who had been so impatient just moments ago, had suddenly become so excited, as if she'd been waiting for this moment for a long, long time.
Jingzhu slapped her forehead like she'd had an epiphany. "Wait, could it be that An'an and I once existed in the same timeline as your son—that's why you're asking us to help find him?"
"Clever girl," said Old Man Luo, smiling.
Gu An'an coughed, and Jingzhu immediately turned to her with a beaming face. "An'an, shall we go on an adventure?"
"An adventure?"
Jingzhu nodded enthusiastically. "An adventure!" She pointed to the old man. "This is Old Man Luo—the Gatekeeper of the flow of time. He can send us back to our past lives."
"Our past lives?"
"Yes! Back to our past lives. Did you know? You and I knew each other even back then!"
That, Gu An'an could believe. She and Jingzhu shared too many unexplainable connections—like their mutual love of puns, or the spontaneous high-five gestures they'd never actually rehearsed, or knowing, from a single glance, whom the other disliked. It often made An'an wonder if they hadn't known each other for decades before they even met.
"What are we going back for?"
"To find someone! Old Man Luo said his son is missing—so we'll go find him in that time."
"What?" This was too absurd. Past lives? Finding someone? Time flow? Give me a break. "That time"? Time travel was something out of TV dramas, not real life!
Gu An'an instinctively wanted to refuse, but just as she opened her mouth, Old Man Luo spoke first: "Thank you for agreeing to help me."
"Me? Agree?"
"Yes. You said that as long as it was within your ability, you would help."
"And this is considered within my ability?" An'an dropped all pretense of politeness, her face turning serious. "Old man, I respect your age, but conning people is still a sin. Don't say another word."
"No! An'an, he's not lying!" Jingzhu looked anxious. An'an couldn't understand why Jingzhu believed this old man so much. The cold detachment Jingzhu usually had around strangers was completely gone—only eagerness remained in her voice. An'an was about to ask how her attitude had changed so drastically when Jingzhu spoke again:
"Didn't you see him while you were unconscious after the accident?"
"No. I didn't." An'an shook her head firmly. She turned to Old Man Luo. "Sir, we were just trying to comfort you. We never said anything about agreeing."
Old Man Luo smiled. "Verbal consent is considered legally binding. The contracting parties are obligated to fulfill their promises."
"No, that's not how it works. That was a leading statement. I don't agree." An'an frowned, bracing for the next move. He'd probably ask them for money—or maybe he was just a lunatic. There's no way something as ridiculous as 'returning to past lives' could be real.
Old Man Luo ignored her and began chanting something that sounded like a spell. It resembled Sanskrit, or perhaps some older language. Sparks scattered, light flickered, and the fluorescent lights popped and cracked.
The surrounding space twisted at an impossibly rapid rate, echoing the rhythm of his chant.
Gu An'an felt the world spin violently. Terrified, she tried to speak—but no sound came out. The air around her was vanishing, and sound couldn't travel. Her mouth opened wide, but no scream emerged.
Damn it! They'd run into some real, twisted sorcerer!
Then she began to float. Panicked, she turned to the side—and saw Jingzhu rising into the air as well.
The space around them became surreal, like a field pulsing with energy. Vibrations filled the air, and their bodies—along with the bizarre sorcerer Old Man Luo—began to dissolve into energy, merging with this flickering field of light and density.
She felt herself becoming light, like she truly belonged here. And suddenly, a thought struck her: If what they said was true, then… this must be her soul.
So this was what a soul felt like—so free?
As Gu An'an became lost in the wonder of this weightless experience, something gently grasped her hand. Yes—somehow, even her soul-hand could feel it. She turned. Ah—it was Jingzhu.
Jingzhu wore the same blissful expression, smiling with a radiant glow. Even though she made no sound, her thoughts came through clearly:"What a perfect feeling… I wish we could stay here forever."
Just as An'an was about to send back a similar thought, a powerful, commanding voice echoed beside them:"You cannot remain here. Please honor your promise. Go to there and find my son."
They both sighed at the same time, shaking their heads. The sensation of the soul was too incredible—anyone who had felt it wouldn't want to return to the physical world.
Old Man Luo—or rather, his soul—suddenly appeared before them. A strong, luminous mass of energy, brimming with stories and wisdom. His voice boomed directly into their very cores:
"Fulfill your promise. Once you find my son and convince him to return, I will bring you back here—and reward you with the greatest gift a Gatekeeper can give."
Before they could say no, a powerful suction force surged through the field, like a black hole devouring everything: the twisting waves, the indescribable lights, the dense energy—and their souls.
As darkness engulfed them, Gu An'an heard Old Man Luo's final words:
"Thank you. And by the way—I'm not going to hell."