American female writer dreams back to ancient Tang Dynasty China.

Chapter One: Dreaming into the Ancient Tang Dynasty of China

In this noisy New York cafe, the roar of the automatic coffee machines sounded like the growl of some mechanical beast, their rhythmic vibrations and bellows forming a part of the city's unique melody in the ears of the people. To me, though, these sounds were full of portent, a sort of proverb warning of the unchecked dangers and crises metaphorical of all modern life.

Under Manhattan's blue sky, the countless gleaming glass facades of skyscrapers reflected a pulsating vitality and an invisible, pervasive pressure. During rush hour, the footsteps of Wall Street, interspersed with the occasional sirens of police and fire engines, spoke volumes of the ubiquitous anxiety of our times.

In the kitchen, the low humming of the refrigerator, the intermittent swishing of the dishwasher, and the sporadic beeping of the microwave formed a background movement of the comfortable life, providing a discordant rhythm to the bustling metropolitan existence.

"Do you need anything?" The waiter's voice woke me from my reverie, "We have a homemade fresh superfood salad that's perfect for recharging your night."

This suggestion brought a hint of surprise; healthy light eateries were not common in a place accustomed to fast food and quick bites. Though slightly complicated, I agreed, curious about this attempt to find balance amidst the hectic pace.

Although my life in Los Angeles has been three months now, this city still retains a certain mystery in my eyes. My residence, situated below the Hollywood Hills, carries the faint sounds of surrounding music and laughter, yet what I know consists solely of my modest study and the screenplay I'm writing. It's a story about breaking barriers and the pursuit of freedom, eerily similar to my current life.

But tonight, I felt weary, as if even the words were protesting, refusing to flow from my pen. This feeling prompted a sigh - whether in New York, Los Angeles, or San Francisco, the loneliness wrought by creation was the same.

Small sips from the fizzy drink in front of me helped shake off the heaviness. The vibrant salad placed before me contrasted with pen and keyboard, composing another harmonious movement, and I thought, perhaps by tomorrow morning, I would regain my passion for writing. For now, I sought only a bit of solace in this rapidly changing world.

After dinner, as I drove through New York's streets, the city's night lights shone bright, but my mind was fixed on the warmth of home. Entering my bachelor apartment, the day's fatigue rushed over me. The simple furniture, a cluster of disheveled documents, and that ever-neglected television set.

The moment I approached the sofa and opened my laptop, the day's weariness surged like a tide. So, sitting on the sofa, I supported my head and decided to rest for a moment.

Gradually, unaware that the laptop was still booting up, the room fell silent, punctuated only by sporadic car noises from the street and the distant clamor of nightlife. As my breathing evened out, I unwittingly drifted off to sleep right there on the couch.

I awoke from a swirl of disorientation to find myself sitting in a cumbersome wooden wagon, the sound of horse hooves and the rumble of wheels on ancient pathways filling my ears. In that moment, I could not distinguish between reality and illusion; myself, a person accustomed to the high-rise landscape of modern New York, had somehow traversed time and space to find myself amidst the splendid natural backdrop of an ancient world.

The mountains before me resembled sudden giants, wreathed in clouds and mist, their verdant expanse blocking out the skies, making all other peaks seem insignificant. The fresh air carried a fragrance of grass, a stark contrast to Manhattan's noisy bustle. All around were the rolling hills, like a captivating ink painting, invoking a sense of nature long missed.

Crossing a narrow bridge, over gentle flowing waters, the sound of the stream met the rhythm of my heartbeat. In this age-old current of time, I became an accidental traveler, with the boundaries of time and space blurred at this moment. I thought of my work desk occupied by a black screen, the endless emails, and the neon lights of New York night that never extinguished. Yet now, all of that seemed far away, as if happening on a distant planet.

 Passing through a forest path, melodious sounds of flutes and string music seemed to carry from afar. The clip-clop of horse hooves echoed in the valleys. Although the carriage jostled along, I felt an unprecedented sense of calm and leisure. This was a lifestyle I had never known; slow yet dignified, every moment brimming with ceremonial importance.

At dusk, we arrived at a small town. The townspeople were dressed lavishly, their faces beaming with smiles, their eyes twinkling with innocence and curiosity. Interacting with them, I felt the timeless consistency of human emotions; precious and unchanged, regardless of the era.

As night fell, I lay in an opulent residence, listening to a nocturne so unlike the city's. Contemplating my whereabouts, all I felt was an intense longing for an unknown journey and reflections on modern life. When dawn broke into my room, I knew, regardless of the mark I'd leave in history, this incredible journey through time would bring a new understanding of life.

Me, an American from the modern age who had intrusively stumbled into the ancient, looked around at my semi-real, semi-fantastical surroundings in awe. Suddenly, a clear and resonant greeting interrupted my reverie. The door curtain was gently lifted, and a young girl in a light blue dress stepped in.

She appeared to be around thirteen or fourteen, her attire not lavish but neat and revealing an air of different charm. The belt cinched lightly at her waist, endowing her with a rare ease and fluidity. Recalling the journey I had made through time, everything before me now seemed incredibly precious—all fresh and magnificent.

She asked in a gentle manner, "Miss, upon waking in the morning, would you like arrangements for washing up and dining?" There was a hint of shyness in her tone, but her eyes sparkled uniquely. Without the embellishments of rouge or powder, her natural beauty was evident, and her smile, imbued with purity, engendered an immediate warmth.

I, the traveler from the 21st century, tried to conceal the perplexion of an outsider, observing her simple yet slightly delicate dress. Her hair was carefully braided, adorned with plain ribbons, vastly different from the modern styles I was accustomed to.

As I looked at her, I knew that this was a fusion of history and reality I could not traverse, yet on this journey, I might experience a lifestyle aesthetic so different from the world as I knew it. After agreeing to dine, she smiled, intending to leave the room but I called out, asking her name and some questions about the current reality.

It turned out that my maid, named Mei Hua, had been my companion since childhood. Though only thirteen, Mei Hua had always shown a maturity and wit beyond her years. I was in Chang'an, in the ancient Chinese Tang Dynasty. I also learned that I had a father, a mother, and a sister; my family was the Wu family. My father, although not famous, held an important position as a regional military governor, managing the northwestern frontier. His name was Wu Shi, which seemed like an unresolved riddle, complex enough to make my modern knowledge feel insignificant. I had read about the Tang Dynasty's history in the library. It seemed Wu Shi's life was like an emotional epic, from a merchant's son to a great contributor of the Tang Dynasty, trusted by Emperor Li Yuan and becoming a significant regional official. In my modern life, his name had never appeared in history books. No wonder when I read those books and heard the stories, his name stirred countless ripples in my heart. His experiences were as complex as they were glorious, containing the ups and downs of this prosperous Tang era. His image: the merchant who traded timber in Hedong and Taiyuan, the warrior who fluctuated in war and ambition, the official in the annals of the Tang Dynasty who embodied strength and trust. He stood, asking no questions of east and west, a plump and vivid figure amidst the tides of the ancient Tang Dynasty.

I sat up, gazing into the distant pavilions and towers, filled with longing. I suddenly realized I was no longer the American rushing with a laptop but had become a young lady of a noble family in the Tang Dynasty. Wanting to rise from bed, I found my body feeble, every movement arduous. Mei Hua informed me that since childhood, I had been a frail young lady who never laughed heartily, my cheeks puffy from constant bed rest, even my smile laden with uncertainty and chaos. At nine, I had battled illness and nearly became an inhabitant of the underworld. I tried to recall, but my memory was blank, as if the page had never existed. I, a modern person who distrusted religions yet feared the supernatural, now carried a past body, filled with hesitation and fear. Deep inside, I was an invader, a foreigner manipulating the young flesh of the past.

After some time to recuperate, I finally could walk freely and healthily. In this town, I assumed a fictional identity—a suddenly enlightened young lady of a noble family, with infinite curiosity about this glorious era and hidden worries about my future fate. Initially, the transition left me full of confusion. It's been over a year since I awoke to this identity. The original owner of this body seemed to have led an insignificant life, clearly a privileged lady. A chance encounter in a dream, like a mystic panacea, cured physical defects and doubled wisdom.

Over the year in this town, I gradually integrated into the life of the era. Apart from the faithful Mei Hua, I was accompanied daily by my renowned father. At first sight, he seemed stern, but he was thoughtful and well-educated, benefiting me greatly in knowledge and strategy. His erudition and open-mindedness earned my endless admiration; playing chess with my father among the day's busyness brought our father-daughter relationship to new heights.

Time marched on, and I learned the zither, chess, calligraphy, and painting, ritual and music, how to find my place in this ancient society. Every night, I would stand in the courtyard gazing at the stars, silently wondering if one day I could travel back to my own world.

And whenever I felt lost and desperate, it was Mei Hua's gaze, a little care that gently calmed the waves in my heart. Perhaps this episode in the long scroll of history, an adventure unfathomable to my imagination, offered my wandering soul an unexpected transformation and growth.

Time-traveling to the zenith of civilization, I, a modern American woman writer, unwittingly found myself in the Tang Dynasty, becoming a lady clad in luxurious attire and part of a new family both familiar and strange. After battling illness and weakness, I was reborn, overwhelmed with emotions, and within a year, I relearned to walk—more importantly, I learned to survive.

The servants and maids of my household naturally had no clue about the origins of my arrival in this time. I stopped seeking scientific explanations, instead contemplating ancient wisdom: omens, signs, and fate. Often, under the midnight stars, I'd ponder whether my coming was tied to some unfinished destiny with the universe and whether my return journey also demanded compliance with a certain fate.

To adapt to ancient life and nurture the slim hope of returning to my era, I embraced the wellness practices of old—running, calisthenics, and yoga—to strengthen my physique. Day by day, my body grew stronger, and my resolve solidified. I turned down my mother's nourishing concoctions in favor of lighter fare and fresh fruits and vegetables. After the gauntness of illness, my health gradually radiated once more, and my spirit and body were both purified.

As my seventeenth birthday approached, my demeanor and outlook became brighter and more vivacious, filled with curiosity and a yearning to explore the unknown. My sister took to my peculiar yet effective exercise routines with keen interest, though the strict customs of the time meant she could only quietly support me from the sidelines. Such scenes granted me a sense of familial warmth that transcended the barriers of time.

Everything was serenely beautiful until I met Li Hao, and then, my whole world began to change.