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CHAPTER 5 - CLIFFSIDE THRILLS
Yun Qingqiao gradually regained consciousness, the dreamscape dissolving into nothingness. Her body ached, especially her head. Opening her eyes, she noticed the snow around her had lessened considerably. Could it be that she'd been rescued after the avalanche? No, she was sure she had died beneath the cascade of snow.
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If she was dead, why was she dreaming? And why was the little girl in the dream also called Qiao'er? She looked down at her body and gasped—she was dressed as a little girl from ancient times. Peering outside the carriage, she realized she was in an even worse predicament: her carriage was suspended between two twisted trees growing on the edge of a cliff.
Just as Yun Qingqiao began to wonder if she was still dreaming, the carriage jolted, sending some snow tumbling down the cliff. This felt even more terrifying than her previous dreams as if she was experiencing it all in real life. Petrified, she huddled in the carriage, afraid to move a muscle, worried that any motion could send her to death. Could her terrifying experience with the avalanche be inducing these horrifying dreams?
Desperate to wake up, she pinched her thigh hard.
Ouch! It was painfully real. She was sure she had died under that avalanche.
What on earth was happening? Racing through the possibilities, Yun Qingqiao arrived at a shocking conclusion—she had time-traveled!
This unbelievable event had occurred to her. To make matters worse, she had been transported onto a decrepit carriage dangling off a cliff. Was she destined to die again after time-traveling?
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Suddenly, she heard a middle-aged man's voice from above, exclaiming joyfully: "The young miss's carriage is right there, Uncle, look!"
Upon awakening again, she found herself in an opulent, ancient-style room. Lying on an intricately carved bed, enveloped by sumptuous fabrics, the scene was real, unlike the haziness of dreams. With every movement, a faint fragrance wafted through the warm room, adding to the surreal experience. As her headache returned, so did fragmented memories of living as a person from ancient times.
Her memories—though jumbled—gradually meshed with her prior dreams. Her mother had suffered a miscarriage and, emotionally unstable, had frequent rows with her father. In modern terms, it sounded like post-miscarriage depression. Her mother had sent her brother to their uncle's military camp for safety, while she—the original owner of this young body—was sent to her maternal grandparents' house in Chuzhou.
All those dreams were the lived experiences of this young girl's body she now occupied. Poor thing, her childhood had been miserable, with an unloving grandmother and unsympathetic sisters.
Examining her tiny palms, Yun Qingqiao accepted the reality: she had become the young girl from her dreams, a child of about five with incomplete memories.
At this point, nothing else mattered. What mattered was that she, Yun Qingqiao, was still alive. She had time-traveled and now inhabited the body of a young girl. Finally, she accepted this astonishing reality.
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