42. Resonance

Chen Shuoyin woke up with a splitting headache. The stark white hospital room reflected the light, leaving her to rely on her hearing to compensate for her blurred vision.

The large television in the center of the room broadcasted:
“Recently, a villa in Yunshan Resort exploded due to a gas leak during a variety show shoot, resulting in twelve deaths and one injury. Among them, renowned actor Pei Yu tragically lost his life. For more details, let’s go to the live report…”

The female broadcaster’s voice was abruptly cut off.

“You’re awake?”

“Zhou Qi?” Chen Shuoyin groped at the bedsheets, searching for the source of the voice.

“The doctor said your vision might be damaged. You’ll need some time to observe before considering surgery,” Zhou Qi’s voice was more distant than usual. “I’ll visit from time to time. If you need anything, tell the nurse to call me. After all, this was Pei-ge’s only last wish.”

“What do you mean?” Chen Shuoyin’s heart trembled at the mention of his name.

“The night before the accident, he wrote his will.” Zhou Qi spoke as if it were a trivial matter. “He mentioned that you once dreamt of his death. Though absurd, he believed it would happen one day, so he entrusted his affairs to me in advance.”

“I just didn’t expect it to happen so soon.”

Chen Shuoyin thought she heard the sound of a man crying, but it wasn’t clear.

“Are you crying?”

“Reporter Chen, I’m not you. I can’t be that cold and indifferent.” Zhou Qi’s voice suddenly sharpened. “Even in his final moments, he was asking about you—whether you still hated him!”

Those weren’t Pei Yu’s exact words, but at this point, with him gone, Zhou Qi had no interest in correcting the details. The meaning was close enough—he just needed to say it.

“Then pass this on for me.” Chen Shuoyin didn’t react to his anger. Her pale lips parted slightly. “Tell him… Pei Yu, I don’t hate you.”

—Shua—

A sudden coldness washed over her face. She reached out and felt icy water trickling down. Her breath quickened as her vision gradually cleared. Water soaked into her collar, the wet fabric clinging to her skin. She shivered.

“Yinyin, are you stupid? Why didn’t you dodge?” Liu Yiran hurried over, anxiously wiping her with a towel. “Your hair is soaked.”

Chen Shuoyin stared blankly at her familiar face, eyes welling up. She grabbed her arm in a daze.

“Sorry, that was an accident,” a man’s careless voice came from the side, though his tone didn’t match his apologetic words.

The beach was bathed in the glow of the setting sun. In the distance, children ran and played, while nearby, filming equipment and crew members filled the space. Strangers in sun-protective clothing and bright outfits walked around, kicking up sand.

Among them, the figure furthest away moved the fastest. He dropped the volleyball in his hand and dashed toward her, his shadow flickering in the golden light. He shoved the man who splashed her aside. The sound of someone hitting the sand with a painful grunt followed. Only then did he catch his breath and turn to her.

“Are you okay?”

Chen Shuoyin stared at his unharmed face, his unscarred skin. The loose tank top made him look fresh and full of life.

Pei Yu?

Was this a dream, or…?

How was he alive again?

The surrounding crowd felt like an impenetrable wall. If they got any closer, the calm she was forcing herself to maintain would shatter. She glanced at the cameras and took a step back from Pei Yu. “Can I take a break for a bit?”

A flicker of pain crossed Pei Yu’s eyes at her retreat.

Someone else answered for him. “Sure, go ahead. We’ll keep playing for a while.”

Liu Yiran also decided not to continue playing. “I’ll go with her.”

Chen Shuoyin let Liu Yiran lead her away toward the shaded resting area. A burning gaze followed her back, but she didn’t dare turn around.

Liu Yiran handed her a cup of juice. “We were just here for a brief appearance, and now you’ve been chosen as a replacement. Those people rejecting outsiders were way too obvious.”

Chen Shuoyin gave her a questioning look.

Already used to her frequent mental absences, Liu Yiran explained, “A week ago, Pei Yu had an outdoor variety show scheduled for filming in Haishi. It’s a collaboration with our network, so we were sent here to learn. We happened to be on the same flight as them. Guess what? During the flight, the director got word that an actor couldn’t make it. Finding a replacement last-minute was impossible. The director noticed you and begged you to join. I thought you’d refuse, but you agreed right away.”

“You said it was to earn favor, but this show is meant to promote Pei Yu’s drama. You didn’t want to make things difficult for him, right?” Liu Yiran rested her chin in her palm. “A month ago, you were still talking about ruining your marriage. Now, you’re being so considerate. Be honest—did he win you over in bed?”

Chen Shuoyin choked on her orange juice, coughing violently as if she’d cough out a lung.

She squinted. “So, I’ve been married to him for two months now?”

“I swear, I’m like a walking calendar for you two. Without me, how would you even remember your anniversary?” Liu Yiran sighed.

The blue hour set in, and the sound of crashing waves grew louder.

The wind was strong enough to topple sun umbrellas. The production team was packing up, preparing to leave. Amid the fading laughter, Pei Yu’s voice might have been mixed in.

Chen Shuoyin pulled her shawl tighter and shivered. “Yiran, I’m heading back to change.”

“Alright, you’re not waiting for him?” Liu Yiran returned her phone. “Our hotel is right next to theirs. You two have been staying together these days.”

With too much to process, she preferred not to see him. “No need.”

She rushed back to the hotel, took a quick shower, and changed into her pajamas. Sitting cross-legged on the carpet, she opened her notebook and started writing.

Pei Yu’s First Death: September 13, 2017
First time traveling three years forward: April 1, 2020
Returning to the past: September 3, 2017
Pei Yu’s Second Death: September 24, 2017
Second time traveling three years forward: June 2, 2020

There was no discernible pattern.

She bit her pen, trying to organize the information more thoroughly.

The first time, she stayed in the future for twenty-eight days.

The second time, she stayed in the past for twenty-one days.

Both times she traveled to the future, it was triggered by Pei Yu’s death.

But what triggered her return to the past?

She scratched her head. The future was a fixed result. If he always died in the past, how was he alive in the future?

Or rather, if he died in the future, yet lived in the past, that would make sense.

Unless… he never actually died?

No, that wasn’t right.

The first time, she saw his corpse with her own eyes. The second time, she heard Zhou Qi confirm it. Both pointed to the same conclusion—he was dead.

She pondered for a long time without finding a reasonable answer, completely engrossed in mapping out the timeline. She was so absorbed that she didn’t hear the keycard beep as the door unlocked behind her.

“What are you doing?”

A broad chest pressed against her back. A steady arm wrapped around her waist. His tousled hair tickled her nape.

—Pei Yu.