Autumn had arrived, and the morning air carried a slight chill. Jiang Yi threw on a thin military-green jacket over her clothes before driving toward the cemetery in another district.
On the way, she passed by a flower shop and pulled over to buy a bouquet of fragrant lilies.
Placing the flowers on the passenger seat, she continued driving along the highway leading to the suburban cemetery. The scenery outside the window blurred past as the sun peeked through thick clouds, soon replacing the gloomy sky with brilliant sunshine—a perfect crisp autumn day.
Watching the brightening sky outside, Jiang Yi glanced at the lilies basking in sunlight beside her. A memory surfaced in her mind:
It must have been Mother’s Day one year when she’d clung to her mother’s leg asking, “Mom, what’s your favorite flower?”
Her mother had simply smiled without answering. Jiang Yi had pestered her, shaking her leg and pleading in a soft voice, “Please, tell me, tell me~”
Her mother finally stroked her head with a laugh. “Let me think… probably fragrant lilies.”
That afternoon, Jiang Yi took the money she’d saved in her pencil case and secretly went to buy a small bouquet of lilies.
Even after all these years, Jiang Yi still remembered her mother’s expression upon receiving those flowers—a mix of nostalgia and melancholy.
Now looking back, Jiang Yi finally understood why her mother had worn that expression.
Because Jiang Qionghua’s pheromones smelled exactly like fragrant lilies. Her mother… had loved Jiang Qionghua.
During her mother’s hospitalization, Jiang Yi would often buy a single, slightly imperfect lily from the florist, arranging it creatively in a vase each day. Back then, she couldn’t yet detect Jiang Qionghua’s pheromones. If she had, she probably would have hated Jiang Qionghua even more.
Her mother was so wonderful—how could Jiang Qionghua not love her? Not only did she not love her, she might have even considered her a burden.
This seemed to be human nature—when someone you care about isn’t treated well by another, you’d feel indignant and even grow to dislike that person who neglected your loved one.
Jiang Yi had been exactly like this, which was why she’d so openly hated Jiang Qionghua as a teenager.
Now thinking back, perhaps her mother wouldn’t have wanted her to act that way. Maybe from the moment her mother said, “I won’t let Xiao Yi grow up without a mother,” she’d already decided to seek out Jiang Qionghua and entrust Jiang Yi to her.
At this thought, Jiang Yi’s vision blurred. She wiped away her tears and continued driving toward the cemetery.
When the car stopped in the parking lot, Jiang Yi stepped out holding the bouquet of lilies and made her way to her mother’s grave based on memory.
Passing row after row of tombstones in a daze, she finally found the one marking her mother’s resting place. When she stood before it and saw the inscription “Beloved Mother Jiang Wenying,” tears immediately streamed down her face.
In that instant, she hazily recalled the moment of her birth.
In a narrow passage, someone had pulled her out—just like how they’d dragged her broken body from beneath the car wheels. It didn’t hurt; there was even a sense of relief.
Through the haze, she felt someone lift her up. What reached her ears wasn’t shouts of “Perform CPR!” or “Call an ambulance!” nor panicked, chaotic crying, but rather a bright, cheerful voice: “It’s a girl! So fair and pretty!”
“Look, isn’t she beautiful!”
The owner of this voice passed her to a woman. Though her newborn eyes couldn’t yet focus, she could feel the woman cradling her, emanating a gentle, comforting presence.
The woman reached out with trembling fingers to stroke her cheek, saying weakly, “So fair… just like that person…”
Someone asked, “Have you decided on a name?”
The woman nodded. “Yes. Jiang Yi. Yi as in ‘lost carriage’ (车失轶).”
The doctor praised, “Yi for outstanding talent (轶伦轶才)—she’ll surely grow up remarkable.”
Her mother caressed her face with a soft laugh. “She will be.”
In that moment, Jiang Yi understood—her eighteen-year-old self had died, and she’d been reborn with memories of her past life.
She had lived again.
Realizing this, she couldn’t help but wail loudly.
Her cries were so vigorous they startled the doctor, who quickly cradled her, soothing her while remarking, “This child has such vitality—the loudest newborn cries I’ve ever heard. She’ll probably grow up very lively.”
She heard her mother respond, voice tired but happy: “Lively is good. Children should be lively.”
Perhaps because of this, she’d been energetic ever since, becoming her mother’s little joy.
Because she knew—she’d already lost her parents from her previous life; she couldn’t lose this mother too.
With these memories, everything became clear to Jiang Yi. The reason she existed in this world, why Jiang Sixian had felt familiar at first sight, why this world never felt foreign—it all made sense now.
She hadn’t crossed over at eighteen—she had always been Jiang Yi.
She was her mother’s Jiang Yi, Jiang Wenying’s Jiang Yi.
Her legs gave way as she collapsed to her knees before the tombstone, clutching the flowers. Through tear-blurred vision, she gazed at the gentle, smiling face in the photo, weeping uncontrollably.
Her lips parted, tasting her own tears as she choked out, “I’m sorry, Mom…”
“I actually forgot you.”
Still holding the flowers, Jiang Yi crawled forward on her knees to touch her mother’s photo, breaking down completely.
She didn’t know how long she cried before finally standing to place the bouquet beside the tombstone.
Remembering her mother’s death again brought fresh pain. Hugging her knees, Jiang Yi sat before the tombstone and spoke softly to the photo: “I’m sorry, Mom. I didn’t mean to forget you, or to stay away for so long…”
In this world, her mother had been her only anchor. Even facing just a tombstone now, Jiang Yi felt like she was a child again, confiding in her mother.
Sniffling, she continued, “After the college entrance exams, something happened… I lost my memory. That’s why I forgot you. I’m sorry…”
“Recently, I met someone familiar and saw your photo… that helped me remember a little. Not everything yet, but I remember you now…”
“Six years without visiting… you must have missed me so much, been so worried, right?”
Thinking of how her mother had let go of her hand when dying, fresh tears fell. Jiang Yi wiped them away, voice thick: “It’s been six years… I’m almost twenty-four now, a proper adult… Mom, you don’t need to worry about me being bullied anymore. I’m doing well.”
Composing herself slightly, she began rambling: “But I didn’t become a police officer. You always said it was too dangerous. By graduation I still wanted to take the exam, but the opportunity never came. I guess that accidentally aligned with your wishes.”
“Losing my memory was an accident, but I was lucky—even without memories, a kind grandmother took me in…”
Though that grandmother had essentially confined her for two years, she’d genuinely cared for Jiang Yi. She couldn’t bring herself to resent the mentally ill old woman.
Jiang Yi wiped her nose and went on: “Around nineteen, I enlisted…”
“I don’t remember if I told you—I presented as an Alpha. Though I think I’ve gotten uglier since, at least you don’t need to worry about me being bullied.”
“Army life was good.”
“The training intensity was manageable…” (Actually brutal)
“The food was great…” (Endless meat dishes)
“Every day was just training or helping with local infrastructure projects…” (Only the first two years—later she was selected for special forces battling drug cartels at the border, living through gunfights and wilderness survival)
“My squadmates treated me well. One even promised we’d raise geese together after discharge…” (She died right before discharge, right before Jiang Yi’s eyes)
“Another helped me find work after discharge. Thanks to her, I met familiar people and remembered you…”
Here, Jiang Yi wiped more tears away. “I’m an adult now, independent from the Jiang family. Mom… it’s a shame Jiang Qionghua and I never bonded as mother and daughter. I prefer being just your child.”
“But don’t worry—I’m doing well now. I have a decent job, some savings. In a couple years I can buy a home and settle down.”
“Mom, I owe someone a big favor and need money now, so my job isn’t completely stable yet. But in a few years… I want to start a goose farm, then open a small restaurant like you once mentioned. What do you think?”
She chattered on and on, sharing everything she’d experienced, was doing, and dreamed of doing.
From morning until dusk she talked, only rising when hunger finally overcame her.
Leaning down, she smiled at her mother’s photo. “Mom, I’ve missed you so much. But it’s getting late—I should head back now. Otherwise… someone might worry.”
“Next time… next time I’ll visit sooner. You won’t have to wait so long again.”
After saying goodbye, she drove away from the cemetery. On the road home, she alternated between grieving her mother’s early death and marveling at finally confirming her origins.
She was Jiang Yi—always had been. The person Jiang Sixian loved wasn’t some unrelated stranger—it was her.
Overjoyed yet nervous, Jiang Yi nearly sped straight to Jiang Sixian.
But remembering everything that had happened between them since reuniting—her words, actions, and the tears in Jiang Sixian’s eyes that day—her excitement wavered.
If she told Jiang Sixian now that she was indeed Jiang Yi, Sixian would surely believe her. But would that automatically lead to a happy ending?
Jiang Yi wasn’t sure. Even knowing Jiang Sixian had loved her younger self, she couldn’t guarantee Sixian would still love who she’d become.
Did Jiang Sixian love a phantom? Or had she fallen for Jiang Yi all over again? There was no way to tell.
Calming down, Jiang Yi examined her own feelings. The answer was crystal clear—she loved Jiang Sixian and wanted to pursue her.
Given their current non-relationship status, Jiang Sixian deserved something more formal.
Though she hadn’t fully recovered her teenage memories to understand why she’d avoided Jiang Sixian back then, the present Jiang Yi knew she needed to show proper sincerity if they were to be together.
She needed to give Jiang Sixian a proper confession.
And she owed Jiang Sixian an apology for her behavior.
These chaotic thoughts filled her mind as she drove through downtown, passing a shopping mall with claw machines on the first floor.
Suddenly, Jiang Yi remembered the giant panda plush she’d seen upon returning to the Jiang residence—the one saturated with Jiang Sixian’s scent.
She vaguely sensed Jiang Sixian must really like such stuffed animals, probably sleeping with them often.
After some thought, Jiang Yi parked and entered the mall.
By 10 PM, she returned home carrying a large pink rabbit.
When she opened the door, Jiang Sixian happened to be home—wearing a thin purple nightgown while conducting a phone conference on the sofa. Spotting the giant rabbit in Jiang Yi’s arms, her eyes lit up with surprise.
Gazing at the plush, she asked, “You’re back so late? Was your comrade’s situation complicated?”
Jiang Yi closed the door behind her, scratching her cheek awkwardly as she approached with the rabbit. “Not too bad, just had to babysit.”
Her squad leader did have a five-or-six-year-old daughter—quite cute actually. Using this as cover, Jiang Yi explained: “Her mom had some issues, so I looked after the kid.”
“Oh, and today I took her to the mall to play the claw machines. We won a bunch, and she gave me this one.”
“I thought this rabbit kind of looks like you, so I brought it back.”
Jiang Yi’s ears burned at her own lies. Covering one hot ear with a hand, she extended the rabbit toward Jiang Sixian. “Want it?”
Jiang Sixian’s heartbeat raced at the sight. Biting her lip, she stared at the rabbit without speaking.
She knew Jiang Yi hadn’t actually visited any comrade today—she’d gone to the cemetery, skipped meals, and spent two hours at the mall.
Jiang Sixian had assumed she went to eat, never imagining she’d been playing claw machines.
How much had she remembered? Everything? Or just fragments?
Unsure, Jiang Sixian felt tears threatening again.
Seeing those moist eyes silently watching her, Jiang Yi grew nervous. Gone was her previous sarcastic demeanor—now she looked as anxious as when she’d once sneaked that panda into Jiang Sixian’s room.
This nervousness made her voice tremble. Hesitantly, she asked, “Don’t like it? Then I’ll just—”
Jiang Sixian quickly reached out to accept the rabbit, voice hoarse. “I want it.”
Cradling the plush, she looked up at Jiang Yi with eyes so deep and tender they could drown her. “Jiang Yi,” she whispered, “can you hold me?”
Flustered, Jiang Yi stepped closer and awkwardly embraced her over the rabbit.
The hug was comically hindered by the giant plush between them. Sensing Jiang Yi’s conflicted emotions, Jiang Sixian suddenly giggled, burying her face in the rabbit.
“What’s so funny?” Jiang Yi asked, embarrassed.
Jiang Sixian didn’t answer, letting her tears soak into this peace offering from Jiang Yi.
If you’d like to read ahead and support me, you can request extra chapters or get the full novel as an EPUB.
