On the seventh morning after the alignment of the seven stars, I woke up to find my phone displaying April 24th. The peony on the bedside table had already withered, but the gold powder on its petals was still glittering—which meant only seven minutes had passed in the heavenly realm.
"Brother Huan..." Peony's voice came from the kitchen, carrying a gentleness not heard in three hundred years. When I rushed over, she was staring blankly at a scorched fried egg, and beneath her white shirt, the golden floral mark at her collarbone had faintly re-emerged.
"Remembered?" I wrapped my arms around her from behind. The scent of disinfectant was gone, replaced by the familiar fragrance of a hundred flowers.
Chapter 202