Sharing Dreams with My Bestie's Cousin

If it weren’t for the prominent black and white photo at the Mourning Hall, Wen Zhi would hardly believe her own eyes, the beautiful woman was already dead...

"Xiangying..."

"My daughter..."

"Shang Jizhou, I want you dead!"

During the sombre memorial service, a sudden dispute erupted, an elderly man, overwhelmed by emotion, suddenly lifted his cane and furiously struck Shang Jizhou with it.

Shang Jizhou did not dodge; he stood there and took the blow squarely.

The cane hit Shang Jizhou’s forehead, not drawing blood, but visibly swelling at the temple.

"Grandfather, please calm down, I know you grieved over the loss of your daughter, but you can’t place all the blame on Jizhou alone."

"Yes, Grandfather, Jizhou was out of town, and Xiangying passed away suddenly; what could Jizhou have done?"

The grandfather, emotionally agitated, shakily pointed at Shang Jizhou: "Had you not neglected the companionship of Xiangying, how could she have fallen into such severe depression? What did you promise me on the day I gave my daughter to you?"

Shang Jizhou, who had been silent for a long while, suddenly lifted his head and said word by word, "I will always remember the day I married Xiangying, I promised you and mother I would treat Xiangying well for my whole life."

"Is this what you call ’for your whole life’?" the grandfather burst out, angry and nearly breathless after uttering these words.

"I’m sorry." Shang Jizhou had nothing more to say than this apology.

The crowd was worried about the grandfather’s health and tried to calm him with trepidation.

Unexpectedly at that moment, the grandfather suddenly asked, "Tell me, when did you two divorce?"

These words made everyone look over.

Because before they came to attend the memorial service, no one knew that Han Xiangying had already divorced Shang Jizhou.

They had once married pompously, their lavish wedding making waves throughout Bai City. Now that they had quietly divorced in secret, no one had any knowledge of it.

Even the grandfather had only just found out.

Seeing that the cat was out of the bag, Shang Jizhou knew there was no point in hiding it any longer and answered truthfully, "It’s been four years."

At this revelation, there was a murmur of dismay.

Everyone thought at most they had been separated for a few months; they had not expected it to have been as long as four years!

"Four years, four years..." The grandfather, hearing it had been four years, seemed somewhat disoriented.

Shang Jizhou did not defend himself, but the sorrow evident in his expression was hard to bear looking at.

Wen Zhi stood quietly among the crowd, observing the scene.

She knew this dream was a shift through time; every time she was present, it was a dream of several years later.

Four years ago... That would have been right after Han Xiangying was violated by Shang Mingshu, while at the same time Chong Wanyin had gotten pregnant, Shang Jizhou had an affair.

The two had agreed to a secret divorce.

They had not made this public.

From then on, Han Xiangying and Shang Jizhou began living separately, and because they kept it from everyone, including close family and Shang Hexing, they still appeared together at official occasions, maintaining an illusion of a harmonious marriage.

During these four years, Shang Jizhou and Chong Wanyin had a son.

But Han Xiangying did not have an easy time during these four years; she fell ill around the time they divorced.

Warmth spread through Wen Zhi’s hand, she looked down to see it was her own tears.

Looking at the black and white portrait in the Mourning Hall, she felt a surge of pity. By this time, Shang Hexing should have already been a teenager, right? Then where was he?

Just as she was pondering, she heard a young girl’s naive question from behind—

"Daddy, why isn’t he crying?"

Wen Zhi stiffened, that familiar feeling returning.

She slowly turned around and saw two figures, one tall, one small.

It was a young man holding the hand of a little girl of only a few years old.

Wen Zhi noticed that the direction the little girl was looking when she spoke was somewhat blocked from her view, she couldn’t see the person on that side.

Compelled, Wen Zhi walked over.

The closer she got, the faster her heart beat.

Thump, thump, thump; she was very nervous.

"Daddy, why isn’t he crying?" the little girl again lifted her head and repeated the question she had not gotten an answer to.

When Wen Zhi saw the side profile of the little girl’s face, her breath hitched.

Why did the little girl’s eyes and brows look so much like her own?

Who was the little girl?

Before Wen Zhi could grasp the situation, she saw the man glance down and answer the little girl’s question, "Because he cannot cry."

The little girl still seemed not to understand.

Why can’t one cry after losing a mother?

The man let go of his daughter’s hand and walked forward, and within the shadowy figure, Wen Zhi also saw someone sitting on the ground.

Before she could see clearly, she saw the man’s tall figure suddenly crouch down, and at that moment the teenager in front of him was sitting on the ground, hugging his knees.