She Died Once

Chapter 13: Mr. Fox

When Wen Han left Xishan Mansion, Sang Shuo Evening stood on the second-floor balcony. It wasn’t until Jiang Zemu came upstairs to drape a coat over her shoulders that she managed to regain her senses.

“Mr. Fox, he seems a bit familiar,” Sang Shuo Evening murmured, allowing herself to be enveloped in Jiang Zemu’s embrace as she stared at Wen Han’s retreating figure. “It feels like I’ve seen him before, but I can’t quite remember... It’s a strange feeling.”

She mumbled to herself, then suddenly looked up at Jiang Zemu. “Mr. Fox, do I know him?”

Sang Shuo Evening’s beauty was undeniable, especially her eyes—clear and deep, as if they could pull someone in and never let them go. Those eyes, full of shimmering water, seemed to hold an entire sky of stars, drawing anyone who dared to look into them and trapping them in their brilliance.

“The relationship between you and him... I’m not quite sure,” Jiang Zemu replied smoothly, not a hint of hesitation in his voice. He tightened his embrace around her, “Baby, if he were truly important to you, I don’t think you’d have forgotten him. After all, when you woke up in the hospital, the first thing you said was ‘Mr. Fox.’”

His tone was always soft, always patient with her, and Sang Shuo Evening had already accepted the truth of her past through his words. There was no room for doubt. As he had said, when she regained consciousness in the hospital, the first words out of her mouth had been “Mr. Fox.”

“That was probably just an illusion on my part,” she muttered, quickly letting go of the thought of Wen Han. Instead, she picked up a bell she had been playing with and shook it in front of Jiang Zemu’s eyes. “Mr. Fox, this is a bell I made myself. Would you like to have it?”

Jiang Zemu stood before the intricately carved windowsill, sunlight streaming through the colorful glass, casting a soft glow on his chiseled face. His eyes, deep and affectionate, looked at Sang Shuo Evening with tenderness.

The bell Sang Shuo Evening held sparkled with a delicate metallic luster, its body engraved with intricate patterns. The bell’s spike was woven with lavender silk threads, a crystal-clear bead adorning its end. Under the sunlight, it refracted a soft, colorful light. She raised her hand and offered it to Jiang Zemu, her eyes shining with a quiet anticipation, her lips curving into a gentle smile. “Do you like it, Mr. Fox?”

Jiang Zemu’s gaze softened as he took the bell into his hands, his slender fingers caressing its surface. A moment of surprise flickered in his eyes as he marveled, “You made this? It’s beautiful.” His voice, deep and melodic like a cello, resonated in the air, leaving a lingering warmth. He raised his eyes to meet hers, full of affection, and continued, “I’ll cherish it.”

Sang Shuo Evening watched as he carefully admired the bell she had crafted, a warmth blossoming in her heart. Despite the memory loss, there was a growing sense of peace when she was with him, like the warmth of the sun in the winter. But, deep within, an inexplicable uneasiness remained—a shadow of discomfort that often seemed to settle over her. Nighttime brought its own torment, with restless dreams that left her feeling lost in a fog, running desperately but unable to find an escape. She often awoke in a cold sweat, her heart racing, her mind overwhelmed with a sense of helplessness.

Jiang Zemu had noticed these signs. He instructed the caretakers to keep an even closer eye on her. The maids, always cheerful and attentive, prepared nourishing meals for her, cleaned the room meticulously, and even placed fresh flowers by her bedside, filling the room with a delicate fragrance. Jiang Zemu, too, frequently checked in on her, always gentle in his approach, knocking softly before entering, sitting by her side, holding her hand, and asking how she felt.

One stormy night, as howling winds tore through the air, rain lashed against the windows, and thunder rumbled like an ominous warning, Sang Shuo Evening was jolted awake by the violent sounds. She sat up in bed, trembling, clutching her shoulders as if trying to protect herself from an invisible danger. Her face was pale, drenched in cold sweat, her wide eyes filled with terror.

Jiang Zemu, passing by her room, immediately rushed in when he heard the commotion. He knocked softly, then entered to find her visibly distressed. Her shock and fear struck him deeply. He immediately noticed the tears streaming down her face, his heart aching for her.

“Don’t be afraid, I’m here,” he whispered, his voice calm but firm.

He wanted to step forward, to comfort her, but seeing her shrink back, he stopped. He turned to switch on the lamp, the soft glow instantly dispelling the darkness. Still trembling, Sang Shuo Evening’s tears flowed relentlessly, her fear uncontainable.

Jiang Zemu, his face full of concern, quickly moved to pick up the blanket that had fallen to the floor. He shook it out, covering her gently with it. The warmth of the thick blanket comforted her, and he pulled out a handkerchief, embroidered with his initials, to carefully wipe away the tears from her face. His movements were tender, and his expression was full of compassion.

“Don’t worry. I’m here,” he repeated softly, his hand caressing her cheek, wiping away the last of her tears.

Sang Shuo Evening, still shaken, reached out and grasped Jiang Zemu’s wrist. Her fingers tightened around him as she murmured timidly, “I’m afraid of the thunder.”

He nodded, understanding. Quickly, he closed the window to block out the deafening roar of the storm, then grabbed the remote control and turned on the television, increasing the volume until the sound of the storm was drowned out by the noise of the screen.

“Is that better?” he asked, his voice gentle.

Sang Shuo Evening nodded, her trembling slowly subsiding. She glanced up at Jiang Zemu, a wave of emotion sweeping through her. Suddenly, she reached up and embraced him tightly, burying her face in his chest. “Mr. Fox, thank you.”

Jiang Zemu was caught off guard by her sudden embrace. His body stiffened for a moment, but then he relaxed, returning her hug with equal tenderness. “Silly girl, no need to thank me. I’m here to protect you.”

As they held each other, Sang Shuo Evening’s mind drifted. Despite the perfect care Jiang Zemu showed her, a question lingered in her heart. Why did she sometimes feel a sense of sadness and doubt, despite everything he did for her? Could it be that there was something about Mr. Fox she didn’t understand yet? She wondered, perhaps there were things he was hiding—things he kept from her to shield her from the painful past. He often praised her for her intelligence, but what was the true nature of these hidden truths?

She made a silent vow to herself that, one day, she would find out.

Jiang Zemu, watching her thoughtful eyes, sighed softly. He knew she was lost in thought again, pondering things he couldn’t yet explain. As he turned to leave, he whispered to the servant waiting outside the door, “Bring some warm milk for her.”

Moments later, the servant entered with a delicate bone china cup of steaming milk, adorned with a light floral pattern. Jiang Zemu took the cup, gently stirring it before lifting a spoonful to Sang Shuo Evening’s lips. “Drink some milk, it will make you feel better.”

Sang Shuo Evening looked at him, her eyes steady and resolute. “Mr. Fox, you’ve been so kind to me. I haven’t forgotten it, but there’s one thing I need you to promise me.”

Jiang Zemu smiled, setting the milk on a side table decorated with fresh roses. “Alright, alright. Late Night is getting more and more assertive these days, making me follow your lead.” He winked playfully before the servant respectfully withdrew, leaving them in the quiet warmth of the room.