Chapter 1: Let Him Become My Way Home

Ying Jing died. She died in the middle of a winter where the snow fell like goose feathers.

She had a premonition of it long ago.

Before leaving, she had arranged everything in advance.

And there was that one letter that had never been sent.

Yingshan Mountain had beautiful scenery, but it was located in a remote area, and few people traveled there.

On this day, a splash of red appeared on the stairs of the halfway path, moving forward slowly.

The woman’s hand, gripping a wooden staff, trembled slightly. A thin layer of sweat seeped out on her forehead, and beads of sweat slid down the side of her face.

She looked up at the stairs, still a hundred paces away.

She tugged at the corners of her lips.

She continued to climb upward, stubborn as ever.

The sound of her heartbeat grew louder and louder.

The young monk sweeping the floor saw her, dropped his broom, and trotted over to her side. He took hold of her sleeve and helped her to the main hall.

"The capital has been snowing heavily for days, and the mountain paths are covered in thick snow. Did you come alone?"

Ying Jing tilted her head to look at the young monk and smiled. "It’s fine. The snow is falling just right. In a few more days, the heavy snow will block the mountain roads, and it won't be easy to walk."

She walked forward a few steps alone, then, remembering something, turned back to look at the monk. "It’s been ten years. You’re even taller than me now." Although she was smiling, the warmth did not reach her eyes.

This reunion did not last long; Ying Jing met the abbot in the side hall.

Ying Jing walked straight to the front of the Buddha, knelt on both knees, and pressed her palms together devoutly.

Ten years ago, she had accidentally transmigrated from the real world into a novel after her death, becoming a supporting female character who would die if she didn't follow the plot. Over these ten years, in order to be the stumbling block between the male and female leads, she had courted death many times.

She had resisted the plot, yet she still couldn't escape her predetermined fate.

She had finally succeeded in bringing about her own death.

The Ying family was gone, her parents were gone, and her brother had been framed and thrown into prison because she had set herself against the male lead.

In the real world, Ying Jing had died in a plane crash.

She was an orphan; in a way, she had no ties to hold her back.

It was the Ying family that had given her warmth and all their care.

Unfortunately, she was a supporting character, forced to follow the plot.

Who would have thought that ten years would be the end of her life?

Ten years had worn down much of her temperament. She no longer possessed the bright, spoiled charm of her twenty-year-old self; a deep sense of sorrow was now pooled in her eyes.

Yet she was still beautiful, standing tall in the turbulent entertainment industry for ten years without falling. Time had not taken back her beauty as the years passed.

Even today, when people mentioned beauties, fans worldwide only bowed to Ying Jing’s beauty and acting skills.

Ying Jing touched the spot over her heart; it felt a little hot.

A ten-year secret was hidden there.

The abbot in the temple added more oil to the eternal lamp in the hall.

"Master, where do you think people go after they die?" To her, this world was no longer as simple as just a book.

Everyone around her was a flesh-and-blood, truly existing person.

"Wherever Miss Ying wishes to go, that is where your final destination shall be."

Is that really so?

She smiled.

Having experienced so much, Ying Jing still kept the cleanest corner of her heart, preserving the last shred of a beautiful fantasy.

"I want to start over. Without the constraints of the plot, with only a sincere heart, I could say those words—'I like you'—to him." As she spoke these words of love, she looked exactly like the young girl who had first felt her heart stir for him all those years ago.

Listening to the murmurs behind him, the Master walked out of the main hall, his gaze falling into the distance.

At this moment, a splash of black appeared on the stairs of the hillside, and the snow was falling even harder.

...

Ying Jing came out of the main hall and walked toward the inner courtyard; this was the only clean place not yet covered by snow. Looking up, the towering trees held up a small world of their own beneath them.

She sat on a bench under the tree.

Perhaps sensing the arrival of death, the snow stopped falling for a moment.

Ying Jing reached out her hand and caught a few falling snowflakes.

A brief sunset broke through the horizon, reflecting a crimson glow.

The warm sunlight shone down through the gaps in the treetops.

She reached out and caught the warmth.

There was no pain on her face; she was smiling.

Looking back on her short life, until her vision gradually blurred, she seemed to see a familiar figure appear at the end of the road.

The man came wrapped in wind and snow, yet he was incredibly warm.

He carefully pulled her into his embrace.

Unfortunately, she felt she could no longer hold onto him.

"Ying Jing." He called her name in a low, hoarse voice, stroking her hair again and again, unable to let go.

"Mm, I'm here." She responded to him. He was her ten-year dream, the love she had bitten her lip to keep from saying out loud.

In this life, she had let down too many people.

She gripped his hand tightly. "My brother, he is innocent. Please, save him."

The handsome man, his face full of exhaustion, stroked her cheek gently over and over, promising to fulfill all her requests.

That was good.

This was the only thing she could do.

No, there was one more very important thing.

"Wen Fucheng, have I ever told you that I like you very much?" From the very first book, she didn't know when those cold words had begun to have life, leaping into her life. "You don't not exist; you have always been there." Always in her heart. "If this is a dream, could you stay in my dream a little longer?"

She regretted it; she had regretted it for so many years.

Back then, a single "impossible" had sent him abroad for so many years.

Yet he had quietly guarded her from afar for all those years.

She knew he would always be watching her from afar, so she had fought with all her might to climb to the highest point of stardom.

She wanted him to know that even if they couldn't be together, Ying Jing was always standing in a place where he could see her at a glance.

He held her in his arms, kissing the woman's delicate brows and eyes over and over, telling her again and again that this was not a dream.

She knew that.

But she had to go find her dream.

If there is a next life, without the forced plot, the path she wants to take will surely lead to his side.

Unobstructed.

She was like a butterfly, thinking she wouldn't be trapped deep within the flowers, only to choose to die beneath them in the end.

Letting him become her final destination.

The world knew that the legendary actress of Huaguo, Ying Jing, loved Lu Zishu of the Lu family, chasing him for ten years without changing her heart, only to commit suicide at the age of thirty after watching Lu Zishu marry another.

From then on, a legend came to an end.

Everyone sighed with regret.

What a pity, what a pity.

To end up like this for the sake of love.

Later, it was heard that a high monk at a temple said

"That one! She didn't love Lu Zishu; she never loved him."

The words of a monk—not to be believed.

Three years later, the richest man in Huaguo, Wen Fucheng, abdicated in favor of his nephew.

He donated all his wealth to society.

He was forty-three when he went missing.

Mentioning him, the only person who could be called a legend alongside him was that late actress.

A year later, a new grave was added beside the lonely one.

One was inscribed: Beloved, Ying Jing.

The other was inscribed: Wen Fucheng.

Meeting Wen Fucheng in my youth ruined my life for ten years.

The twenty-year-old, charming girl rushed back home, pushing open one heavy door after another.

Before the words on her lips could be spoken, the man standing in front of the courtyard turned to look at her.

The afternoon sun spilled over him.

It was a warmth that pierced through time, and it also descended upon her heart.

She stared at him blankly.

Ying Jing always remembered that summer; even the wind that blew was sweet.

He said his name was Wen Fucheng.

She told all her love to the only person who knew her past.

As her life force withered away, all the past would also be buried in time.

Ding~

Rebirth countdown initiated.

Ten

...

Nine

...

Eight

...

...

(End of chapter)