For Fu Jingrong, the memory of that other world still lingered with a strange clarity — not in the form of images or full recollections at first, but in emotions.
When he had transmigrated there, he hadn't known who he was for the longest time. Unlike Hua Jing, who had awakened with full awareness of her true identity, he had been thrust into Zhao Yan's body with a fog clouding his mind.
His consciousness existed there, fully present yet not in control, and so he had lived those early days almost as an observer — a silent passenger inside another man's skin.
But even without understanding everything, there were things he could not ignore. He could feel Zhao Yan's emotions — sharp, visceral, undeniable. Every shift of the other man's heart echoed inside him.
The first time he had seen Hua Jing in that world, after the carriage accident that had shaken the capital, something had stirred.
