Waking Up Five Years Later on the Wedding Night - Chapter 5

Is Yan Zhi’an truly dead or alive?

The reactions of the Yan family left Yan Zhining unable to fathom the truth. If he were alive, why hadn’t he returned? And if he were dead, why were they all lying? Yan Zhining held her breath, looking steadily at her younger sister, “My brother, Yan Zhi’an.”

At the mention of his name, the color drained instantly from Yan Zhihui’s pretty face. On the other hand, Huo Mingshu, sitting to the side, smiled calmly and turned to look at the spring scenery outside the window.

The garden was brimming with the vitality of spring, a stark contrast to the coldness of the previous season, adding a touch of liveliness to the courtyard.

“You’re lying, my brother is long dead.” Yan Zhihui stared at the other person’s delicate face, her hands clenched tight, “Sister-in-law, don’t look for my brother, he died long ago, don’t be deceived.”

Huo Mingshu sat upright to the side. Dragged into this, he faced the dispute between the two sisters calmly, “I am the one who performed the wedding ceremony with you.”

The moment he finished the sentence, the bells did not ring. Yan Zhining’s brows relaxed, and her peach-blossom eyes narrowed slightly, “Xiao Hui, did you hear that?”

“…” Yan Zhihui froze in place. The person who had gone through the ceremony… that meant the person before her was indeed Yan Zhining.

Yan Zhining had returned. Startled, Yan Zhihui took a step back and turned to leave. Inside the room, the two looked at each other. Huo Mingshu’s expression remained unchanged, “Sit back down.”

“Okay.” Yan Zhining glanced at him. Her sister-in-law’s face was as beautiful as a painting, sitting on the couch with graceful restraint.

After she sluggishly sat back down, Yan Zhining no longer felt the joy she had moments before. She knew her parents didn’t like her, especially since she had fallen into a coma after drinking the sobering soup her mother fed her on their wedding night. She suspected her mother wanted her dead, but she had no proof.

She lowered her eyelashes, casting shallow shadows on her fair cheeks. Her peach-blossom eyes, which had squinted slightly while facing Yan Zhihui, were now wide open, filled with an unconscious reliance as she secretly peeked at Huo Mingshu’s expression.

Seeing Huo Mingshu sitting calmly with a placid expression, she bit her lip, her fingers unconsciously tugging at her sleeves, creating tiny creases in the delicate silk.

“I think…” Her voice was soft and gentle, tentative and tinged with an imperceptible sense of grievance, like a cat cautiously extending its paw, afraid of being rejected, “That night I drank the sobering soup my mother gave me, and I don’t remember anything after that.”

Huo Mingshu looked up abruptly, “She fed you sobering soup?”

“Yes,” Yan Zhining nodded, her eyes clear, “I think it’s strange.”

Huo Mingshu took a deep breath. It wasn’t strange at all; it was clearly premeditated. There had been a sudden fire that night, and while the maids were fine, Yan Zhining alone had died. He didn’t have memories of the past five years—how had she managed to survive?

However, Huo Mingshu said, “You were drunk, you disappeared, then the attic caught fire, burned all night, and you were dead.”

“I died?” Yan Zhining murmured. How could she have died? She asked with uncertainty, “Would one fall into an unconscious state after drinking sobering soup?”

“Usually, one should feel more sober after drinking such soup,” Huo Mingshu didn’t have a definitive answer, but he contemplated, “Why don’t we test it?”

Perhaps their bodies reacted differently. If they tried it again, they might find the answer.

Yan Zhining frowned, her small face flushed, her eyes reflecting Huo Mingshu’s cold, refined features, “Th-then let’s try. But, I think my mother really wants me dead.”

“No need, I will shield you from her,” Huo Mingshu waved his hand, uninterested in seeing anyone from the Yan family.

Their intentions aligned. Seeing that the hour was getting late, Huo Mingshu ordered someone to prepare dinner. Yan Zhining sat to the side, dazed, her mind retracing the events of her wedding night, which seemed to be steeped in trickery.

She guessed that her brother had gone missing, but the Marchioness refused to give up on her sister-in-law, who had already begun a promising career. To consolidate the power of the Marquis’s residence, they had used a “substitute” to marry her off to the sister-in-law. Once she entered the family, she would be bound to the Marquis’s estate—her life, her death, and her influence would all belong to them. If she died on her wedding night, her sister-in-law would become a widow, and all traces of the substitute marriage and the deception would vanish.

Yan Zhining smiled coldly. Her grandmother was right; her father was selfish and utterly heartless. For the sake of power and money, he would even go as far as killing his own daughter.

The room fell into silence, save for the sound of page-turning. Yan Zhining suppressed the anger in her heart and opened her eyes to look at her sister-in-law, asking, “Left Chancellor, why haven’t you remarried? You are still pure.”

“Remarry for what?” Huo Mingshu’s tone was calm, “Why should I marry anyone?”

The marriage to the Yan family had been arranged by the Huo family. He had been away for many years, and the Yan family had been waiting. He had wanted to call off the engagement, but the Huo family refused, and Yan Zhi’an had waited for years. If he had called it off after getting promoted, he would have been criticized and it might have even tarnished the Huo family’s reputation.

He looked up at the young girl across from him, “Actually, Yan Zhi’an is quite a good man.”

Clang, clang, clang. Three times the bells rang. Yan Zhining hadn’t reacted to the sound before she realized her sister-in-law was lying again.

Yan Zhining’s eyes trembled. Her sister-in-law thought Yan Zhi’an was a bad man! Since she felt that way, why would she be willing to marry into the family?

All these people were incredibly hypocritical! Yan Zhining bit her lip, a look of worry appearing on her porcelain-white face. Fortunately, she had gained an ability; otherwise, she would have been led around in circles by these people. Her grandmother was right—the capital was a place where people lived by lies!

Dinner was served. Since it was the Shangsi Festival, some flower-petal pastries were prepared. Yan Zhining’s eyes lit up. She picked up a piece and took a bite; it tasted of sweet, floral fragrance.

“This is delicious,” she praised, then handed a piece to Huo Mingshu, “I’ve loved eating these since I was a child.”

Huo Mingshu shook his head, “You enjoy them.” The Yan Zhining before him was not yet seventeen, her thoughts pure, showing she had been well-raised in Jiangnan. Her eyes, in particular, were clean and clear.

Yan Zhining’s outstretched hand froze in mid-air, a few crumbs from the pastry falling from her fingertips. She blinked, looking at Huo Mingshu’s profile as he calmly refused. Not only was she not discouraged, but a faint, gentle light sparkled in the depths of her eyes.

A maid brought wine. Huo Mingshu poured a cup for her. She took it naturally and took a sip; the taste was spicy, and she remarked, “This wine is so spicy.”

It was strong liquor; three cups would be enough to make one drunk.

After a few sips, Yan Zhining felt warm all over, and her courage seemed to have grown with the warmth. She set down her wine cup, her gaze falling on the slender hands of Huo Mingshu as he held a scroll.

Those fingers were long and fair, clearly articulated, exuding a sense of cold distance and strength. The soft sensation from when she had bitten the pastry still lingered on her fingertips. She bit her lip and had another cup.

“Left Chancellor,” she called out softly, her voice even softer than before, laced with the tipsiness of the wine and a sense of dependency, “Your hands… are beautiful.”

The remark was a bit out of line, even sounding like a lecher. Huo Mingshu glanced at her with cold eyes.

Huo Mingshu watched her quietly, observing the undisguised adoration and closeness in those clear eyes. Her gaze was too clean, too direct, and completely different from the calculating, awe-struck, or envious stares he was used to in the capital. It was like a spring of pure, untainted water, utterly incompatible with the muddy waters of the capital.

“Go prepare some sobering soup,” Huo Mingshu ordered the maid, then glanced at Yan Zhining.

Yan Zhining rested her chin on her hand, grabbing another flower pastry to eat, and asked casually, “Did you know I liked eating these?”

Huo Mingshu lowered his head, “The maid prepared them.”

He didn’t speak much, but every word was a lie. Because the bell sounds rang again, the tipsy Yan Zhining began to press the point, “You’re lying to me. You prepared them.”

The statement made Huo Mingshu notice something amiss, “How did you know that?”

Hearing his softened tone, Yan Zhining felt a little smug, “You lied, so I knew. You just asked if it was good, but it actually wasn’t, right?”

Huo Mingshu had met countless people, from fools to old foxes, but she was the only one who could see through his thoughts.

Yan Zhining stared at him intensely, gently taking his hand, “If you think it’s not good, I can write a letter of separation.” I can write the letter of separation for my brother and set you free.

Unexpectedly, Huo Mingshu took a sip of his wine and said, “Since you’ve returned, there is no need to separate.” Someone had to marry him, and Yan Zhining was not a bad choice! She held the lifeline of the Yan family; to him, she was a decent wife. They would each take what they needed.

Yan Zhining blinked. Her mind was a bit muddled from the alcohol, and she didn’t fully grasp the meaning of his words for a moment. But she followed his lead, took another sip of wine, and narrowed her eyes happily.

She laughed, “That’s good too. I like you.”

Hearing this, Huo Mingshu looked up in surprise. Before he could think further, the maid brought the sobering soup, interrupting what he was about to say.

The maid placed the soup in front of Yan Zhining and stepped back. Yan Zhining looked at the soup, pursed her lips, and picked it up to drink. Suddenly, a hand gripped her wrist.

Yan Zhining looked dazedly at the fair hand on her wrist and blinked, “Sister-in-law?”

“Hm?” Huo Mingshu smiled. It was true what they said: words spoken under the influence are true, and she had even changed how she addressed him.

Huo Mingshu had no heart for romance, so he pressed the earlier question, “How did you know I was lying?” He could not tolerate others prying into his thoughts. Therefore, he had to get to the bottom of it.

The smile on Huo Mingshu’s lips melted like thin ice, his eyes holding nothing but a cold, scrutinizing gaze. His knuckles were cool, his grip firm, and the sense of distance that clung to him like moonlight completely cut off that earlier warmth.

Yan Zhining was stunned. Her attention was fixed on his slightly pursed lips. For a fleeting moment, something flashed in her mind, but it vanished before she could catch it.

“You lied, and I can hear the sound of the bells,” she explained nervously, instinctively leaning toward Huo Mingshu, wanting to get closer to his lips.

Just as she was about to lean in, Huo Mingshu picked up the sobering soup and fed it to her, “Drink up.”

The soft corner of his mouth was replaced by the bitter medicine. Yan Zhining drank it while frowning.

“Are you going to sleep?” Huo Mingshu set down the bowl and looked at her coldly. The Yan Zhining before him was unusual.

Yan Zhining rested her chin on her hand, her eyelashes trembling like butterfly wings covered in dew. She shook her head gently, her hair slightly disheveled, possessing the softness and fragility of early spring peach blossoms. She muttered under her breath, “I don’t want to sleep.”

Huo Mingshu nodded and pushed open the window paper, “Yan Zhining, where did your brother go?”

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