Chapter 12: Stirring Senses

Chapter 12: Stirring Perception

The teahouse owner was a plump Chinese man in his fifties, dressed in a traditional Tang suit, dozing off behind the counter. In his left hand, he held a well-preserved copy of the I Ching, its pages slightly yellowed from frequent use. On the counter lay an open folding fan, its surface painted with the “Three Friends of Winter.” Beside it sat an old-fashioned Chinese tea jar with a lid; between the jar and its cover was a crescent-shaped blackened and yellowed mark.

Zhou Zhihan shook his head. Every true tea lover’s cup bore such lip marks, and most had the habit of spitting tea leaves into their cups.

The teahouse was silent, devoid of any waitstaff calls, exuding an elegant atmosphere tinged with faint sandalwood fragrance.

All the attendants were Chinese. Several recognized Zhou Zhihan and greeted him with nods and smiles. One beautiful girl with short hair pointed upstairs with a smile, her eyes conveying much more.

Zhou Zhihan returned her smile faintly and ascended the stairs.

The experience felt like stepping into a time machine, like an aged sepia photograph evoking a fleeting sense of déjà vu.

This was the essence of China!

The teahouse was clean and understated.

Every element of its construction and decoration was imbued with Chinese culture. On each room’s door hung the large “Fu” characters pasted during the Spring Festival—some upright, some inverted.

At the stairwell stood a washbasin.

Zhou Zhihan washed his hands, glanced at his reflection in the mirror, and raised an approving brow. As he turned away, his peripheral vision caught someone watching him in the mirror.

That presence was so potent.

It was his predecessor.

More precisely, the lingering consciousness of his predecessor appeared in the mirror, causing the glass to shimmer with a mottled distortion.

If he weren’t a traveler across time and space, Zhou Zhihan would have leapt up in fright at the sight.

As he turned around, the figure in the mirror spoke.

“Please love her well for me.”

The apparition flickered like static on an old black-and-white television, appearing as if it might dissipate at any moment.

The scene was ethereal beyond description.

Zhou Zhihan nodded toward the figure silently: “I am Zhou Zhihan, and Zhou Zhihan is me.”

The figure nodded in return before beginning to dissolve into mist.

At that moment, as Zhou Zhihan turned away, an indescribable substance seemed to drift from his body—like his breath, or the soft whisper of the wind.

Is this the traveler’s experience?

“Love her well?”

“Her?”

Was the predecessor bringing me here to meet her, to pass on his feelings?

This…

I have usurped someone else’s body and now am taking over their beloved. Isn’t this a bit much?

What does she look like?

Zhou Zhihan searched the predecessor’s memories but found nothing.

Even now, the predecessor was still protecting her.

He glanced at his watch: 11:06.

Pushing open the door to the “Bamboo Fragrance Studio” private room, a beautiful Eastern woman rested her cheek on her hand, eyes like crescent moons, smiling warmly as if she had heard his footsteps.

“Ning Yu!”

In an instant, Zhou Zhihan sensed the predecessor’s consciousness fully awaken. At this moment, a surge of love blossomed within him, his eyes softened with tenderness.

This was the predecessor’s love for this woman—a love lingering in his fractured mind, never having left.

Only as he opened the door did Zhou Zhihan grasp the predecessor’s careful intent.

Previously, the predecessor had deliberately concealed this woman’s presence in the memories, fearing that if Zhou Zhihan knew it was a date, he might not have come.

Or rather, the predecessor had always been protecting her.

Clearly, the predecessor loved her deeply and thought of her constantly.

Zhou Zhihan could feel the predecessor’s fervent passion and profound love.

At that moment, he also understood why the predecessor had made no progress at West Point over the past two and a half months.

Because he was trapped by love.

I have taken over this body—must I also take over his lover?

Though it seems natural and unavoidable,

I find it a bit strange to face a woman both unfamiliar and yet deeply beloved.

“Zhihan!” The woman rose, her long black hair flowing, dressed in a yellow gown, tall and graceful. Her dark eyes were pure and sincere, and Zhou Zhihan could feel the love radiating from her.

Such love was natural and heartfelt.

“Ning Yu!” Zhou Zhihan removed his scarf and walked toward her casually. “There’s been some business at the academy lately; I haven’t been able to come see you.”

Ning Yu took his scarf, hanging it with her own, and poured him tea. “You haven’t come to see me for half a month. I thought you weren’t coming today either. I was about to leave.”

Her tone carried a hint of playful grievance, her lovely cheeks flush with a gentle blush, making her even more enchanting.

Zhou Zhihan accepted the tea naturally and took a sip. “Recently, the graduates are holding mock competitions. We underclassmen need to observe and learn, so…”

His expression darkened slightly. “Besides, my physical fitness scores haven’t met the standards. Lieutenant Jonas Hansen has been pushing me hard these days; he’s worn me out.

Tomorrow’s a day off, and the instructor went home this afternoon, so I finally have time to see you.”

Zhou Zhihan wove half-truths with well-intentioned lies effortlessly, without a hint of embarrassment.

“No! You just don’t miss me at all!” Ning Yu rolled her eyes adorably. Her gaze was naturally pure, her tone filled with the playful love and quarrels typical of couples. Yet, with two pristine fingers, she pinched a piece of pastry and offered it to Zhou Zhihan.

Her eye-roll and the offered treat immediately immersed Zhou Zhihan in the role of a lover.

Before crossing over, Zhou Zhihan had the flirtatious but shy nature common to young men of the 2020s. Yet he was just a top student and a lonely soul, never having even held a girl’s hand alone, let alone shared such private moments with a woman.

Ning Yu exuded a gentle feminine fragrance, both coquettish and understanding.

She was a Chinese American working at an import-export company, from a well-off family. Her parents were retired and lived in Los Angeles, while she had a home in New York.

As Zhou Zhihan reached for the pastry, his fingertips briefly touched hers, and countless fleeting images flashed in his mind.

He was caught off guard.

What was happening?

Could this be the “stirring perception” ability the system had mentioned?

“What’s wrong, Zhihan?” Ning Yu saw his dazed expression and quickly helped him sit, concern in her voice.

“Ning Yu!” To cover his sudden lapse, Zhou Zhihan gripped her hand seriously. “What I just said was to comfort you. Actually… I might have to return to China. I may never again taste the treats you give me!”

“Why?”

Ning Yu’s urgency surged. She withdrew her hand from his palm only to grasp his hand again, clutching tightly, as if afraid he would vanish. “Why?”

“Because my physical fitness scores don’t meet the academy’s basic requirements. So, the school has decided to expel me and send me back home.”

In that instant, Zhou Zhihan felt Ning Yu’s grip tighten, her nails almost digging into his flesh.

After a long moment, Ning Yu lifted her head. Her flawless cheeks were gently flushed; tears welled in her eyes like rain on a pear tree, yet her expression was resolute, as if she had made a weighty decision. “Zhihan, tonight… can you come to my place? I have something important to tell you.”

Watching Ning Yu drive away through the window, Zhou Zhihan sipped his tea and nibbled on the pastry, then opened the system and fell into deep thought.

From her subtle glances and gestures just now, Zhou Zhihan was certain that although the predecessor loved her deeply, they had never reached the most intimate contact.

Yet, except for that, all other forms of closeness had been shared.

Predecessor, oh predecessor!

Two and a half months, and you never won over your beloved woman. You’re too weak.

Tonight, I’ll end your two-and-a-half-month longing.

When the time comes, you’ll have to thank me properly.

(End of Chapter)