Wan Niang sent the maids out and hesitated before saying, "There's something I'm afraid might be presumptuous."
"What is it?"
"When I was in Anqing, there was a female doctor in the clinic where I stayed. Do you know her?"
The smile on Gu Lang's lips didn't fade, but when his eyes fixed on her, a chill ran down her back.
Gu Lang said gently, "Of course I don't know her. Why do you ask?"
"I had a dream during the day. I dreamed of her... she said you know her."
Wan Niang frowned. Recalling that scene in the dream, even she found it unbelievable.
"I know it's bizarre, but she..."
Wan Niang dared not speak further, afraid to touch some taboo. Her voice grew softer, and her head began to ache.
The young man beside her held her hand, comforting her, but deep down she still felt apprehensive.
Gu Lang said, "That clinic deals with life and death—it's heavy with yin energy. Maybe a ghost got to you."
"What else did she say?"
Wan Niang shook her head. "She didn't say anything else. But her face looked just like mine. As the old saying goes, 'Daytime thoughts become nighttime dreams.' If she's a ghost, then am I already dead?"
Having said that, she startled herself and tears began to fall.
She gripped Gu Lanyin's hand, feeling the warmth of a living person, yet still feeling unreal.
"Gu Lang, do you know who He Ping'an is?"
Wan Niang had heard the name from Bao Niang. Since her parents had chosen her to take the other's place in marriage, she must look very much like He Ping'an.
Hearing the familiar name, Gu Lanyin lowered his eyes in thought for a moment, then smiled.
He wiped away Wan Niang's tears and said somewhat heartlessly, "She ran away halfway. As a weak woman, she's probably dead. If she died early, you could burn some ghost money for her during Qingming."
Wan Niang couldn't help shooting him a glare. "If she's dead, it would make sense for her to haunt me as a ghost. But... how can you joke about the dead!"
"My fault. Let's assume she's not dead then."
Gu Lanyin looked at the red paper cutouts on the window and lowered his voice. The two sat on the couch. Wan Niang, not sleepy, took up some needlework.
Snowflakes hit the roof, rustling like rain.
Listening to the lonely sound, Gu Lanyin toyed with a pair of scissors. The sharp blades cut through folded red paper, twisting and turning, finally forming a beautiful pattern.
Wan Niang glanced at it and couldn't look away.
It looked so familiar, yet at that moment, she couldn't recall where she had seen it before.