Hua Jing had wandered into dreamland.
Not the deep, dark kind filled with memories and regrets. No. This was the gentle kind—the soft, glowing kind. The kind of dream you slipped into with the sun still warm on your skin.
She had found the perfect spot. A tiny shaded terrace at the edge of a sprawling field of flowers. She didn't know how long she'd been walking. Not even how far she'd gone.
But now, here she was.
The very first sunset she was seeing in this world—after waking up.
The golden light poured over her skin like honey. She stretched her arms and tilted her head up. The sky was painted in shades of pink, orange, and violet. And the air—it didn't smell like antiseptic and metal and machines. It smelled like blooming petals and something sweet she couldn't name.
She smiled. A real, careless smile. The kind she hadn't made in ages.
