Xiaoxiao stared at the photo, her heart racing. It’s just a dream, she told herself fiercely, only a dream. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t wake up.

She could even feel the icy, heavy rain pounding against her skin—each drop a dull ache. The sensation was so vivid it made her doubt: was this really just a dream?

Through the drumming rain, she heard chaotic voices. Instinctively, she ducked into a thicket nearby.

A group of men ran past, speaking a language she couldn’t understand. One of them arrogantly used a knife to flick a discarded backpack off the ground. They fired several shots over the edge of the cliff, laughing triumphantly before moving on.

When they were gone, Xiaoxiao crept toward the cliff and peered down. It looked deep and treacherous. As she hesitated, wondering whether to climb down, she suddenly lost her balance—and fell.

She landed softly among lush, blood-stained plants. Moving her arms and legs, she felt no pain. Then she heard it: a faint sound not far away.

She followed the noise until she saw him.

Zhou Huai'an.

His hair was matted, his beard overgrown. He looked like a wild man, his clothes in tatters. But she recognized him instantly.

A fresh scar ran from the corner of his eyebrow all the way to his ear, the skin still raw and bleeding.

Ignoring his own injury, he was dragging an unconscious Lin Zihao toward a cave. Several other wounded men followed.

Xiaoxiao’s heart ached. She rushed to hug him, but like in all her dreams, her arms passed right through him.

Tears welled in her eyes. She forced herself to calm down and assess the situation. They were hurt. They needed medicine. Treatment.

She followed them into the cave and watched as Huān carefully removed Zihao’s shirt. The wound on his chest was already inflamed.

Huān unscrewed a bullet cartridge, preparing to pour gunpowder onto the injury—a desperate attempt to sterilize and stop the bleeding.

“No!” Xiaoxiao cried out. “It’s a through-and-through wound—this won’t work! He needs surgery, or it’ll get infected!”

But he couldn’t hear her. His face was a mask of grim determination as he tended to Zihao.

Frustrated, Xiaoxiao paced back and forth. Then she remembered an herb—yellow burweed—known for stopping bleeding, reducing inflammation, and relieving pain.

She hurried back into the forest, searching until she found it. Reaching out, she was stunned when her fingers actually closed around the plants. She could touch them. She could pull them out.

Elated, she gathered a large bundle and carried it back to the cave. She left the herbs at the entrance, then went back inside. She tried again to touch Huān, but her hand still passed through him.

Heart sinking, she gently traced the outline of his wound in the air. “If you come back ugly, I might not want you anymore,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “And if you don’t come home… I’ll let Qianqian and Xuanxuan call someone else Daddy.”

“Zhou Huai'an… you have to come back. Remember to come home.”

Tears spilled down her cheeks as she spoke.

Suddenly, everything went black. A heavy weight pressed on her chest, making it hard to breathe.

Xiaoxiao jolted awake.

Little An’an was sound asleep on her chest.

She took a deep breath, carefully moved the baby aside, and tucked her in. Then she walked to the window. Dawn was breaking.

Her head throbbed, her nose was stuffy, and her skin felt warm. Had that incredibly real dream actually given her a cold?

She rubbed her eyes. She knew what she saw was real. Zhou Huai'an and Lin Zihao were injured. They were in trouble.

Would they find the herbs she left? Would they use them?

Thinking of Huān’s wild appearance and the wound on his face, her eyes welled up again. She climbed back into bed, closed her eyes, and tried to dream of them again—to go back.

But sleep wouldn’t come. Only tears.

At breakfast, Li Yunlan noticed Xiaoxiao’s red eyes and stuffy nose. “The air turned chilly last night—did you leave the window open?” she asked, calling for the housekeeper to bring a bowl of ginger tea.

“I’m not sure,” Xiaoxiao mumbled. “I woke up with a headache. Probably caught a cold.”

Yunlan brought out a bottle of aspirin and gave her one. “Take this. An’an will sleep with me tonight.”

Xiaoxiao nodded. She didn’t want to risk getting the babies sick. Still, it was strange—getting sick from a dream.

After breakfast, as Xiaoxiao and Zhou Xiaoling were leaving, Yunlan handed Xiaoxiao a lunchbox containing two baked buns, two tea eggs, and another aspirin for later.

Just as they were cycling through the gate, they ran into Luo Anran on her way to work.

Anran nodded politely at Xiaoxiao, then smiled at Xiaoling. “On your way to school? I made some of those sugar cakes you like. I brought a few for you to have at lunch.”

She parked her bike and placed a container right into Xiaoling’s bicycle basket.

Xiaoling waved her hands. “Oh, no, please—I’ll eat in the cafeteria. You really shouldn’t have.”

Anran looked hurt. “Xiaoling, I hope you didn’t misunderstand me yesterday. I’m not… hoping for anything with your brother. I know how things are now. I just… miss our friendship. When I was with Geng Aiguo, it was hard to stay close.”

“Now that I’m on my own, I’d really like us to be like sisters again.”

Xiaoling couldn’t bring herself to refuse. “I didn’t overthink it,” she said quickly. “You’ve always been like a sister to me.”

Anran’s eyes glistened. “I’m glad. Well, I won’t keep you. Have a good day.” With a wave, she rode away.

Xiaoxiao watched her go, her heart heavy with pity.

Xiaoling sighed. “I feel like such a hypocrite. I keep thinking she’s only being nice because of my brother. It’s not that I care that she’s divorced… I just hate that she was with him.”

Xiaoxiao smiled gently. “You’re not hypocritical. You’re protective. It’s only natural.”

Just as Xiaoling was about to pedal away, she froze. A jeep had pulled over just ahead.

Zhou Xiaocheng stepped out, luggage in hand.