Rong Qian had traveled through time again—this time to 1968, to America, where a 12-year-old Shen Yi resided.
It was disorienting enough to traverse time, but crossing borders? That was next-level madness.
Sitting on the floor with her arms crossed, Rong Qian mulled over her predicament. Based on her prior experience, the only way to return was to recreate the photograph that had brought her here.
Shen Shuhuai had told her the piano in the photo was from Shen Yi's room. Rong Qian's eyes darted to the grand piano in the corner. Yes, it's the same piano.
All she had to do was pose exactly like in the photograph. Once the butler, Fu, took the picture, she'd be back where she belonged.
Simple. Or so she thought.
"Little brother," she asked the boy, "do you know someone named Butler Fu?"
He didn't respond, just stared at her coldly.
Adopting the tone of a kindergarten teacher coaxing a child, she continued, "Don't be afraid. I'm not a bad person. Can you tell me if you know a butler named Fu?"
"Do you think I'm three years old?" the boy finally spoke, his tone dripping with disdain.
Rong Qian was taken aback. His indifferent expression and scornful tone made it hard to reconcile this high-strung child with the gentle and elegant man she had met before.
Who would have guessed that the future Shen Yi, so poised and gracious, had been such a cold and wary child?
"When did you sneak into my wardrobe? Did my father send you to spy on me?" the boy demanded.
The accusation stunned Rong Qian. Spy on him? What kind of 12-year-old talked like this? Clearly, this was no ordinary child.
Recognizing his intelligence and caution, Rong Qian decided to spin a tale.
"Actually," she began, adopting a mysterious tone as she stood up and crossed her arms, "I'm a… time traveler!"
The boy's expression didn't change.
Rong Qian froze. Wait, did people even know about time travel in 1968? Were there any movies on the topic back then?
"Felita!" the boy suddenly shouted.
Panicked, Rong Qian lunged forward to cover his mouth. "Don't call anyone! Give me five minutes, and I'll prove it to you!
Five minutes later.
Rong Qian, her throat parched from talking, downed a glass of water in one gulp. "So, now do you understand what time travel is?"
The boy remained silent, studying her intently.
Her attire and demeanor were strange, even for a Chinese person, and her sudden appearance in his locked room only deepened the mystery.
Though her story seemed preposterous, the evidence—her inexplicable presence—was hard to ignore.
But the young Shen Yi, already sharp beyond his years, showed no sign of belief.
"You don't understand? Let me explain it again," Rong Qian offered, ready to dive into her convoluted explanation once more.
"What's your name?" he interrupted.
Caught off guard, she replied, "Rong Qian. Rong as in 'easy,' Qian as in 'shallow.'"
"And you know my name?"
"Of course I do. You're Shen Yi," she answered confidently.
His brow furrowed. "How do you know my name?"
Rong Qian had anticipated this question. "Because I was sent to protect you!"
He hesitated. "Protect me?"
"That's right," she said, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "I can't leave this room or let anyone find me. Can you help me stay hidden?"
"Why are you protecting me?" His sharp gaze didn't waver, unwilling to accept her words at face value.
Rong Qian thought for a moment before replying, "Because the future you entrusted me with this task."
His eyes flickered with something unreadable—perhaps curiosity or doubt—as he regarded her with a mix of wariness and intrigue.
After much persuasion, Shen Yi reluctantly agreed to keep her presence a secret. However, there was a hitch: Butler Fu was away on an extended trip, with no clear return date.
For the time being, Rong Qian had no choice but to "wait."
Meals were delivered to Shen Yi's room by a housemaid named Felita. Whenever someone entered, Rong Qian hid in the wardrobe. Once they left, she re-emerged to share the food.
At night, she slept on the sofa, though unease about being discovered left her restless.
Two days passed.
Rong Qian was growing increasingly frustrated. The monotony was unbearable.
Shen Yi ignored her most of the time, spending his days practicing piano and violin, studying, reading, writing calligraphy, or playing chess. He never seemed to rest.
Whenever his tutors arrived, Rong Qian would spend hours hiding in the wardrobe.
He never left the room except to bathe, and his only visitor was Felita, who brought his meals.
Adding to her misery was her own discomfort. She hadn't showered in three days, and her clothes were starting to feel grimy. What she had hoped would be a brief stay was dragging on endlessly.
Late one night, unable to sleep, Rong Qian sat up and looked over at the boy sleeping peacefully on the bed.
She got up and nudged him awake.
Shen Yi opened his eyes, immediately alert.
"I want to shower," she whispered.
Checking the time—midnight—he nodded. The servants would all be asleep by now. Taking a candlestick, he led her to the bathroom.
For the first time, Rong Qian stepped out of his room and was awestruck.
This wasn't just a mansion—it was a castle.
The intricate corridors and grand architecture made her feel as though she had stepped into a movie. Shen Yi, carrying the candle, added to the surreal atmosphere.
The bathroom was enormous, and Rong Qian carefully ran the bathwater, afraid to make too much noise. Sinking into the tub, she sighed in relief. Finally.
Outside, Shen Yi squatted by the door, listening to her hum a tune.
She didn't linger long, emerging quickly in a bathrobe. On the way back, Shen Yi suddenly grabbed her arm and pulled her into a corner.
"What is it?" she whispered.
He gestured toward a nearby balcony. Rong Qian followed his gaze and saw a woman in a white nightgown standing there, gazing into the distance. Moonlight spilled through the window, casting an ethereal glow on her figure.
Even without seeing her face, it was clear she was breathtakingly beautiful.
When the woman turned, Rong Qian caught a glimpse of her face—cold, expressionless, almost lifeless.
She glanced down at Shen Yi and was startled to see an unfamiliar emotion in his eyes: sorrow.
It was the first time she had seen him look so vulnerable.
"Who is she?" Rong Qian wondered aloud, but Shen Yi said nothing, his gaze fixed on the woman as if she were a ghost from his past.