Zheng Qian was utterly exhausted. Her strength had drained away, and since she had the habit of taking a nap after lunch, the gentle rocking of the carriage soon lulled her to sleep.
She had a short dream.
Or rather, it wasn't a dream—it was fragments of her past life.
The first time she was assigned to a frontline base, she met the general—her future boss.
At their first meeting, he was tall and handsome, ageless in appearance, with a stern, upright aura that made Zheng Qian instinctively wary.
"Tch, they assigned me a woman," were the first words he said.
Zheng Qian: "…"
A well-dressed, misogynistic jerk.
"You've got Eastern Old Earth ancestry too? Not bad-looking," he added. "Why stick a mark on your forehead—trying to win a beauty contest? Take it off."
Zheng Qian: "…"
Her first impression was terrible. Later, it proved accurate—he was indeed insufferable, with a personality too awful to fully describe.
Yet whenever the Health Bureau gave Zheng Qian trouble, he would step in to resolve it—because she was his subordinate.
In the spacefaring era, lifespans differed greatly from ancient Earth. People lived around 150 years on average, with extended youth and prime years.
Anyone under fifty looked about twenty by old Earth standards.
Zheng Qian worked with him for twelve years. She benefited from him often, and was also frequently infuriated by him. To his face, she called him a jerk; behind his back, she respectfully called him "boss."
He deserved to be the boss—though he was still a jerk.
Before the incident, it was just before the New Year. They had agreed that once their patrol mission ended, they would return to the capital planet and celebrate at the most famous bar—his treat.
But they never made it back.
They were blown apart in space, becoming fragments of the universe itself.
When Zheng Qian woke, she realized she was lying in Zheng Chi's arms.
She froze for a moment.
He handed her a handkerchief.
She looked puzzled. "What for?"
"Wipe your tears," Zheng Chi said. "Did you have a nightmare? You were crying badly."
Zheng Qian: "…"
She touched her face and found tear tracks still there.
Strange—when awake, she rarely cried over death. Yet in dreams, tears came uncontrollably.
"I suddenly dreamed of someone," she said. "I couldn't save him."
Zheng Chi asked,
"You… really are a disciple of the Ghost Doctor?"
Zheng Qian wanted to say she came from the future, but that would sound even more shocking.
Since such rumors already existed, and she needed a reasonable explanation for her medical skills, she simply nodded.
"I suppose you could say that."
Zheng Chi's gaze deepened, thoughtful and probing.
She looked away.
Then she noticed Zheng Run beside her, watching her with excitement.
"Big sister, you're incredible! You truly brought someone back to life. Everyone was terrified—it's unbelievable!" he said.
Zheng Qian smiled faintly. "It's nothing."
Still, her reputation as a physician would surely spread.
If someone in the palace needed emergency treatment, would they summon her?
If she succeeded, would the emperor grant her the title of a noble lady?
After today, that dream felt a little closer.
Once she became a noble lady, she planned to open a clinic—not for money, but to treat illnesses beyond this era's medicine. Cases like Wen Zhao's, like Zheng Run's.
Thinking of this, she felt her strength returning.
Meanwhile, Wen Zhao had been settled into a room at the estate.
Hot water was brought in, and he soaked in a bath.
Following Zheng Qian's instructions, Physician Qian prescribed medicine to clear his lungs.
Wen Zhao refused to let anyone disturb him.
Sitting in the tub, he closed his eyes, trying to process everything.
He felt as if he had truly died once.
At the time, he had looked down from above, not realizing he was dead—just drifting, watching his mother's collapse, his sister's cries…
And Zheng Yutan.
Yes, he had seen her too.
He had gone closer, intending to greet her—only to see a cold, vicious smile on her face.
He had never seen her like that before.
That version of Zheng Yutan wasn't beautiful at all—she was like a vividly colored venomous snake, sending chills down his spine.
Instinctively, he drifted away.
Then, drawn by cries, he returned to see his mother, his sister, himself—and Zheng Qian.
Yes, he saw Zheng Qian.
He realized he had never truly looked at her before. Even now, he could only see the back of her head.
She was frantically pressing his chest, kissing him.
He felt embarrassed—so many people were watching. What was she doing?
He tried to push her away, but his hand passed through her body, turning transparent.
No one could see him. No one could hear him.
Slowly, he realized—his body lay on the ground, while he floated above.
His soul had separated.
He was dead.
The thought terrified him.
No longer curious, no longer playful, he desperately tried to return to his body.
He kept diving down—only to drift back up.
Again and again, he failed.
He wanted to scream, but no sound came.
Zheng Qian kept pressing his chest.
She was trying to save him.
He didn't understand why—but he knew she was.
She was so desperate, as if she would never stop until he lived again.
Everyone else was afraid—only she wasn't. Even his mother had been moved.
Still drifting, he thought sadly:
I'm about to die… and I never even truly looked at her.
She must love me deeply to do this.
I've wronged her…
He felt regret.
Then, suddenly, a powerful force pulled him downward.
Thinking he was being dragged into hell, he screamed—
And this time, sound came out.
He fell back into his body.
Were those experiences real—or just a dream during unconsciousness?
Wen Zhao shivered.
"Are there really ghosts in this world… we just can't see them?"
He frightened himself badly.
"It must've been a dream. Definitely a dream."
Later, everyone told him he had been saved by Zheng Qian—and their descriptions matched what he had "dreamed."
Still, he refused to believe his soul had left his body.
It had to be a dream.
"I've never seen such a kind-hearted girl," Madam Wen said, sitting by his bedside, choking with tears. "We must treat her well. My son, she saved your life."
Yes—she saved him.
Compared to Zheng Yutan's twisted expression, the Zheng Qian he saw in that state had seemed to radiate a gentle light.
She must be a truly kind person.
"Has Qian'er left?" he asked.
"She was too exhausted and returned home. When you recover, thank her properly," Madam Wen replied.
He nodded.
After drinking his medicine and enduring such an ordeal, fatigue overtook him, and he soon fell asleep.