William Foster's consciousness drifted aimlessly in the darkness. He didn't know how much time had passed before he finally came to a stop. A faint flame burned in the darkness, warming his soul and gradually restoring a sliver of his awareness.

  “Mr. Harris, how is my son?”

  An anxious voice echoed in the darkness, seeming both near and far.

  “Whose voice is that? Why does it feel so familiar, so full of longing?”

  William Foster thought in a daze. Before he could find the answer, he heard another elderly voice in the darkness. That voice carried humility and respect as it replied, “Madam, the young lord suffered a blow to the head and lost consciousness. He just needs some rest, and he’ll be fine.”

  “What is going on? Wasn’t I supposed to be dead?” William Foster's consciousness floated in the darkness, his thoughts hazy and confused.

  “Good, as long as he’s all right. Mr. Harris, thank you for your trouble. Robert Clark, go to the accounts room and get some money for Mr. Harris.” The voice spoke again.

  Footsteps sounded in the darkness, gradually fading away until all was silent. The flame continued to burn in the darkness, constantly warming William Foster, making his consciousness ever clearer and stronger.

  Familiar voices, familiar conversations, a powerful surge of emotion filled his chest.

  “Who are they? Why do they feel so familiar?”

  A sharp pain and boundless longing ignited within his soul. Suddenly, William Foster felt an overwhelming urge to see the owner of that voice. He wanted to leap up, to open his eyes.

  As if sensing his intense desire, the warm flame in the darkness suddenly exploded, and a doorway appeared in the blackness, filled with endless light.

  William Foster's consciousness rushed into that light, and in the next moment, William Foster finally opened his eyes...

  In the gentle light, a beautiful woman appeared before William Foster. She sat at the bedside, her brows slightly furrowed, looking at him with worry and self-blame. The woman appeared to be in her thirties or forties, with a jade hairpin in her hair. Tiny teardrops still clung to her long eyelashes, as if she had just been crying.

  “Mother...”

  William Foster stared blankly at the beautiful woman, almost murmuring the word as if in a dream. An overwhelming longing erupted within him, and William Foster wanted to rush forward and embrace her. But he was afraid—afraid that this was just a dream, afraid that the moment he held her, she would vanish like a bubble.

  “Yun'er, you’re finally awake...”

  Hearing his call, the woman finally came to her senses. Her long, willow-shaped brows finally relaxed, and her face showed an expression of joy mixed with tears.

  “Mother, is it really you?”

  William Foster opened his eyes wide, looking at his mother in disbelief. She looked much younger than he remembered.

  “My child, it’s me, it’s your mother...”

  William Foster's reaction fell into the woman's eyes, and her relaxed brows furrowed again. As if she had thought of something, a worried look appeared on her face once more, and she pulled William Foster into her arms.

  The familiar warmth, the familiar scent—William Foster finally believed that everything before him was not a hallucination born of longing. Suddenly, he sat up from the bed and hugged his mother tightly with both arms.

  At that moment, William Foster saw his own arm—very pale, but much thinner than he remembered.

  “Mother, mother...”

  William Foster rested his head on his mother's shoulder, murmuring over and over again. Everything familiar before his eyes made him want to cry.

  “Yun'er, what’s wrong?”

  The woman paused for a moment and spoke softly. She could sense the unusual emotion in William Foster. Her soft, fair hand gently patted William Foster's back, comforting him.

  This child had always been stubborn since he was young. After all this time, it was the first time Mrs. Clark had seen William Foster show such strong emotion.

  Frowning slightly and pondering for a moment, Mrs. Clark seemed to understand something. She gently patted William Foster's back and said softly, “All right, Yun'er. From now on, I won’t force you to go to the palace with the sons of the Marquis of Pingding and the Marquis of Zhenguo.”

  The real sensation, the real smell, the real sight—everything reminded William Foster that what he was experiencing was not a hallucination at the moment of death.

  Only after losing something does one realize how precious it truly is!

  William Foster said nothing, only hugged his mother Mrs. Clark tightly. The happiness of regaining what was lost overwhelmed his heart, and at last, his tears burst forth like a flood. Along with the tears flowed memories long buried in the past, filled with pain and guilt.

  ……

  The Great Zhou dynasty has stood for over sixteen hundred years. After the war-torn, dynasty-changing medieval era of the Central Divine Continent, it finally ushered in a long period of peaceful development.