Chapter Fifty-Eight: Resurrection After Seven Days

As I wept in sorrow, I sensed something beside me stir, and when I looked down, a miracle occurred—the hand touched by my tears was writhing, yes, actually moving. What was happening? Could it be that the Blood Linglong hadn't worked, and instead, my tears held the power? Staring at that pale hand, my heart threatened to leap out of my chest. In a rush, I tried to shed more tears, hoping they might fall onto her face, her body—perhaps then she would fully return to life.

Yet, to my frustration, I could not cry anymore. The overwhelming sadness from moments ago vanished abruptly. What now? What could I do? Watching her fair, tender fingers tremble lightly, I was convinced my tears were responsible. I hastily wiped the remaining droplets from my face and smeared them onto Wang Ying's cheeks.

As my hand neared her face, her long lashes quivered, then her eyes suddenly opened. Her abrupt awakening startled me.

Ecstatic, I realized it wasn't my tears, but the Blood Linglong at work. Observing Wang Ying's reactions, I felt as though I were dreaming.

"Wang Ying, Wang Ying, my dear, are you awake?" I leaned in closer. For the first time, she appeared so delicate and enchanting—I yearned to kiss her.

But her gaze was not friendly; it felt unfamiliar.

"Who are you? Where am I?"

Indeed, Wang Ying spoke, yet her voice held none of the warmth she once had for me—it was as if we were strangers. What was happening?

"I'm—I'm your husband! I'm Da Chuan," I replied cautiously.

"Nonsense, that's impossible," Wang Ying eyed me skeptically, her look entirely foreign—undeniably the gaze of a stranger, and her words were blunt.

Shifting my posture, I felt a surge of indescribable sadness. How could this be? Had she come back to life only to forget me? Her soul once remembered me!

As I floundered, Wang Ying suddenly sat up with an exclamation, restored in full.

"Wang Ying, how do you feel?" I asked, a mix of joy and anxiety, uncertain of her state—was this resurrection or soul reunification?

"Who are you really? Where is this place?" Wang Ying, as if just awakened, touched her hair. I hurriedly handed her the comb at the bedside. She took it, and as she combed her hair, asked, "What did you say? My name is Wang Ying?"

How could this be? Does resurrection erase all memory? It seemed so, but perhaps that was a blessing. For someone with only seven days, the burdens of the past are best forgotten. Remembering brings trouble; forgetting brings peace.

"Yes, your name is Wang Ying, and I am Wang Da Chuan. We are husband and wife." For reasons unknown, sadness welled in me again. Her forgetting me was not frightening, but if she forgot her past, how could she visit her grandparents?

"Married? You say you're my husband and I'm your wife?" Wang Ying stared at me, confusion written across her face.

I nodded. "Yes, we are a couple. This is our home." I glanced around at the modest, clean room.

Wang Ying stood and walked a few steps. She now seemed so different—innocent, a little silly, exquisitely beautiful with a hint of enchantment. Unable to resist, I stepped forward and embraced her from behind.

As I wrapped my arms around her, I trembled—her body was warm and soft, truly that of a living woman. Holding her, I forgot everything, my fingers tracing her slender waist, tears suddenly flooding my eyes.

We were husband and wife, but Wang Ying didn't know about those seven days. If she did, what would happen? Most importantly, I didn't want her to leave now. I realized I loved the ghost of Wang Ying, but I loved the living Wang Ying even more.

"Da Chuan, what's wrong? A grown man crying—aren't you afraid of being laughed at?" Wang Ying turned, seeing my tears, her expression softened. Her slender fingers gently wiped my tears away.

Her gentle, caring manner only deepened my sorrow. Why did Blood Linglong exist, but not one that could restore life forever? If such a thing existed, I would trade my life for it.

"My dear, I'm fine—just suddenly overwhelmed," I said, holding her, sweetly yet painfully.

"Da Chuan, don’t hold me so tightly. Come, sit and talk with me," Wang Ying freed herself from my arms and pulled me to sit on the sofa.

"Of course, I'll talk about anything you want," I replied, gazing at her exquisite beauty, full of happiness. I resolved to spend these seven days doing nothing but staying by her side—not even sleeping.

"Tell me honestly—what really happened?" Wang Ying fixed her clear, almond-shaped eyes on me, delicate yet tinged with annoyance, alluring even in her displeasure. Honestly, she never had this look when her soul was in the corpse.

"Nothing happened. You just slept and woke up," I forced myself to suppress the ache inside and began to weave a tale.

Wang Ying frowned. "Really? I feel like I had a dream—a terrifying one where many things happened, all hazy and indistinct. It seemed I died, was carried out of the morgue, then married in a ghost wedding. Afterwards, I married someone named Wang Da Chuan…" Wang Ying bit her nail, murmuring as if recalling a dream.

"Don't overthink it—it was only a dream. Reality is that we are truly a couple, and our relationship is good." I didn't want her to remember those unhappy times. Since she had forgotten, let it be. Let us enjoy these seven days, and deal with everything else later.

"Are we really a couple? When did we marry? Why can't I remember?" Wang Ying supported her chin, clearly doubting my words.

"My dear, would I lie to you? You must be hungry after waking up—let me cook for you." I was not skilled at lying; making up stories made me blush, so I opted to avoid the topic. When her soul inhabited the body, she cared for me; now that she was revived, even for a short time, I would care for her.

"Alright, go cook. I am a bit hungry. I'll go freshen up," Wang Ying smiled, carrying my toothbrush cup out.

I went to the kitchen and found little to cook. I decided to make her a bowl of noodle soup with shredded meat—she had been stiff for days, and now revived, so she shouldn’t eat anything too hard.

Before the water boiled, Wang Ying appeared at the kitchen door, her eyes stern as she looked at me. "Wang Da Chuan, tell me the truth—who are you really?"

Seeing her commanding look, I panicked and stood up nervously. "My dear, I'm Da Chuan, your husband."

"Then tell me—how long have we been married?" Wang Ying's eyes roamed over me, as if trying to see through me.

I had no choice but to lie and invent a story. "My dear, we've been married about half a year. We held our wedding just after the New Year, around the eighteenth day of the first month—yes, the eighteenth."

Lying and making up stories was exhausting.

"Liar. You’re definitely lying. Saying we’re married—obviously nonsense. You’re deceiving me. Who are you really? Who am I?"

Wang Ying’s face flushed, her chest rising and falling, visibly angry.

"I'm not lying. You are my wife, we've been married for half a year. I have witnesses—Uncle Wei was our witness." I feared Wang Ying would ask for a marriage certificate, so I rushed through the explanation, bringing up Wei Qi. I trusted Wei Qi would help me keep up the act.

"No need to find anyone—I know we’re not a couple. You’re not my husband, and I’m not your wife," Wang Ying stood there, furious.

"My dear, I really am your husband, and you are truly my wife. Why else would we live together? What's wrong? Did a nap make you forget me?" I was at a loss, but I had to make her accept this reality. If I explained too much, she would only become more distressed. I wanted her to spend these seven days in happiness.

"It can't be. Because…because I just went to the bathroom and…I discovered I am still a virgin. Have you ever seen a married woman of half a year who is still a virgin?!"

"Ah!" I was stunned—I had completely forgotten about that. For a girl, to be revived after all this, why check such a thing?