Yu Lingxin had just turned sixteen, yet he was already remarkably tall and straight—a full half-head taller than his peers. His frame was well-built, his stature long and lean, with broad, straight shoulders and elegant, slender neck and fingers. Because he was thin, his waist was narrow as a girdle. He always wore a robe of pure white—the fabric not particularly costly, but clean and neat. Among a crowd, he stood out like a crane among chickens.
His lashes drooped low, casting shadows on his pale, moonlit face, giving him a certain morbid, broken beauty.
In the past, Jiang Nong would have stepped forward without hesitation. But now, this white-clad figure in the distance was gradually merging with the brutal man from her memories. Instinctively, she tightened her grip on the umbrella handle.
Among the five kingdoms, Tan was the weakest—its ruler tyrannical at home and feeble abroad. Yu Lingxin, quiet and withdrawn by nature, had naturally become the target of mockery and torment for countless princes and noble scions.
Their fists and feet rained down on him; the hard jade of their thumb rings split open his forehead. Yet Yu Lingxin did not beg for mercy, nor did he so much as let out a single cry of pain.
Wen Zuhuan laughed mockingly, tearing apart, petal by petal, the lotus lantern Yu Lingxin had made for Jiang Nong—right before his eyes.
At this, Yu Lingxin finally struggled fiercely. That only made them laugh all the more, delighting in his desperation as they pinned him to the ground and held him fast.
Wen Zuhuan flung the shredded lantern fragments into Yu Lingxin’s face, then ordered his lackeys to shove him into the lake.
The calm water erupted with a great splash. Layers of icy ripples spread outward, snapping the withered lotus stems. The group howled with laughter, then turned and walked away, utterly indifferent to Yu Lingxin’s fate in the lake.
Only after their footsteps had faded, leaving only the sound of rain hissing through the silent night, did Jiang Nong move her numbed, crouching body. She stood, opened her umbrella, and slowly walked toward the spot where Yu Lingxin had been pushed in.
Yu Lingxin couldn’t swim. His head was already injured. He would lose half his life, if not all of it—no wonder he had been bedridden for over half a month in her previous life before he could barely walk again.
Still, it was only half a life lost…
Just as now—Jiang Nong stood at the shore and saw that Yu Lingxin had managed to cling to a rock at the edge. He was drenched through, his black hair plastered to his pale cheeks. Blood from the wound on his forehead was washed down by the rain, winding in thin streams—like a pitiful stray dog.
That stray dog, upon seeing Jiang Nong, seemed to spot its owner—the dimness in his expression brightened.
The water shimmered with fragmented light; the view was not dark, and Yu Lingxin’s violet eye glistened wetly before her.
If Yu Lingxin were a cat or a pup, his mismatched eyes—one black, one violet—would have been novel and charming. But he was a human. At his birth, a once-in-a-century snow disaster had struck Tan. An early blizzard had raged for seven straight days, throwing the entire kingdom into chaos, and naturally he became the harbinger of doom.
As he grew older, the defect of his heterochromatic eyes—congenitally poor vision—gradually became apparent. The king of Tan came to see him as divine punishment incarnate, and his loathing only deepened.
Jiang Nong felt that in her past life, she had been blind—repeatedly saving a wolf, only for him to turn around and tear her to shreds.
Even if she had abandoned Yu Lingxin, she had also extended her hand to him many times—enough to offset her betrayal. Besides, their youthful affections had never run deep—was it really worth him nursing his hatred for all those years?
Jiang Nong closed her umbrella, crouched down, and held it out to him.
Yu Lingxin quickly shook his head at her, then dropped his gaze even faster, hiding his eyes: “Don’t pull me—I’m heavy, and it’s still raining…”
Before he could finish, Jiang Nong thrust the umbrella toward him with force—and shoved him back into the water, pressing the umbrella down hard over his head to keep him from climbing up again.
In just a few breaths, Yu Lingxin went still. Jiang Nong felt the struggling beneath the umbrella vanish entirely. Likely, with his injuries and exhausted strength, he could no longer fight—he had drowned in the lake.
Silence reigned. A ringing filled Jiang Nong’s ears as she collapsed onto the bank, drained.
She closed her eyes. All she could see was the shocked, wounded look in Yu Lingxin’s gaze as he was pushed under.
This was the first time she had killed someone. She had killed Yu Lingxin…
The future would never come to pass now—but at this moment, she didn’t know whether she felt more relief or terror.
She couldn’t stay here long…
Jiang Nong dared not think further. She squeezed her eyes shut, dug her nails into her palm, and fled in a stumbling rush.
…A long while passed.
Ripples spread faintly across the still lake. A pair of mismatched eyes gazed fixedly at her retreating figure—until it disappeared beyond the bamboo grove.
Why? Why do you want me dead? What did I do wrong?
…
Rong Mian had been kicking pebbles idly. When she saw Jiang Nong emerge, pale as death, she hurried forward to support her, using her sleeve to wipe the rain from her hair. “Your Highness, what’s wrong? You look terrible—did you not see him?”
Jiang Nong shook her head and took her hand: “No. It was windy by the lake, and I’m feeling unwell.”
Rong Mian was strong, and she promptly puffed out her chest and helped her mistress back inside.
The rain drizzled on through the night, and Jiang Nong did not sleep a wink. She listened to the sound of rain all night, her heart pounding as if it would leap from her chest. Only at daybreak did drowsiness finally begin to creep over her.
She had barely closed her eyes when the soft clatter of wooden clogs passed by outside the window, followed by the faint creak of the chamber door. Her drowsiness vanished in an instant. She parted the curtains and saw—it was Rong Mian.
Seeing her mistress awake, Rong Mian rushed over, unable to contain herself: “Your Highness—something huge happened last night!”
Jiang Nong instinctively gripped the corner of her quilt and propped up her head, waiting for Rong Mian to tell her about Yu Lingxin’s drowning.
“Last night, Yu Lingxin was pushed into the lotus pond…”
Rong Mian paused at the crucial moment, making Jiang Nong’s brow twitch in response.
“This morning, he identified the culprit—it was Wen Zuhuan, the grandson of the Marquis of Huaiyin, acting together with his cronies…”
Jiang Nong’s eyelids twitched as well, her nails digging into her palm: “He’s not dead?”
“Lucky as can be—he crawled out of the pond himself, sopping wet, looking like a water ghost, they say. The evidence was solid, and Wen Zuhuan couldn’t deny it. But His Majesty let them off lightly—just ordered them to copy scriptures as penance.”
She had pushed him down with her own hands. Jiang Nong had been certain he would die—how had he survived?
Yu Lingxin really did have some uncanny luck. Otherwise, in her previous life, he would never have fought his way through so many able-bodied royal heirs to ascend the throne of Tan.
If Wen Zuhuan had been bullying and tormenting him, then what she had done last night was an outright attempt on his life—and yet Yu Lingxin hadn’t named her.
That Yu Lingxin was still alive somehow lightened the weight on Jiang Nong’s heart—yet at the same time, it left her so suffocated she nearly vomited blood.
Heaven was unjust, to let such a brutal beast live to plague the world.
But could she bring herself to kill again? She wasn’t sure she had the ruthlessness…
Yet when she thought of the future—of countless lives lost—she felt she could perhaps steel herself once more.
Not that Jiang Nong harbored any grand ambition to save all under heaven.
Since childhood, she had always watched people—a maid, a eunuch—just quietly observing them, never speaking, never interrupting. She watched them cry when sad, laugh when happy; she watched them clasp hands with their families at Nianci Gate every fifteenth day; she watched them sigh as they swept and cleaned, or walk with lighter steps on the days they received their monthly allowance…
So Jiang Nong had known from a very young age that even the lowliest eunuch had joys and sorrows, and even the most ordinary, pebble-like palace maid had loved ones who cherished her.
When Jiang Nong saw someone smile, she would wonder why—was the food good today? Had she been praised by a senior official? Or had the flowers bloomed beautifully?
The moment she pondered, she would rejoice in their joy and grieve in their grief.
When tens of thousands of people were displaced by war, torn from their families, Jiang Nong would imagine those who had died.
Perhaps a moment earlier, she had been smiling as she braided red thread into her hair. Perhaps she had dimples. Perhaps her mother had just gently caressed her cheek.
And then they were all dead…
In her previous life, Jiang Nong had been bedridden for a long time due to poison—too much idle time to think of all those who had died, in so many different ways.
If Yu Lingxin had died before becoming a tyrant, none of those people would have had to die. She wouldn’t have died either. Everyone would have lived well.
Still, this matter required careful planning—the right moment would have to be found.
Jiang Nong had gotten caught in the rain last night and hadn’t slept a wink. Her nerves were frayed, and by the hour of Chen, she was burning with fever once again.
Her mother, Lady Song, held a low rank, and the imperial physicians were snobbish—they delayed for a long time before coming to examine her. They wrote out a prescription and instructed her to rest well and not dwell too much on worries.
Rong Mian sent someone with the physician’s consultation records to the academy to request another three days of leave for Jiang Nong. She now harbored a deep grudge against Yu Lingxin—if Her Highness hadn’t gone to the lotus pond last night on his account, how could she have caught a chill?
No wonder everyone called him a calamity! Just getting near him brought bad luck!
Jiang Nong, however, quietly felt grateful. This illness had come at just the right time—it allowed her to dodge the monthly examination.
After ten years, she had forgotten most of what she’d learned in her youth. She would need time to pick it all up again.
Up to this point, the Xi Kingdom had produced thirteen princes and fourteen princesses. After accounting for those sent as hostages to other states, those married off, those who died young, and the still too young, there were now six princes and four princesses studying at the academy.
Add to that their attendants, hostages from other states, and various noble scions and ladies—a noisy crowd of over thirty.
Every ten days, there was an examination. The rankings and results were all submitted to the throne for the emperor’s personal annotation. Their monthly allowances and treatment were closely tied to each examination’s outcome.
Naturally, everyone went all out to compete for first place.
The princes vied for the position of heir apparent; the princesses fought for their father’s favor, for a chance to avoid being married off to distant lands, and for a comfortable, prosperous future.
In her previous life, Jiang Nong had naturally believed the same. She thought that if she excelled enough, she would win her father’s regard and gain some say in her own marriage. Looking back now, that seemed rather delusional.
Rong Mian saw her silence and assumed Jiang Nong was upset over the missed opportunity. She popped a piece of apple into her mouth and said, “Don’t be sad, Your Highness—it’s just one little mid-month exam. Just wait! ‘Thirty years east of the river, thirty years west of the river!’ Sooner or later, we’ll take first place!”
Jiang Nong’s cheeks were stuffed full of apple, bulging round. She shook her head vaguely.
Rong Mian took that as agreement and nodded with righteous indignation: “Right! Nothing to fear!”
That wasn’t what she meant.
Jiang Nong finally managed to swallow the apple and tried to say something, but Rong Mian had already stuffed another piece into her mouth. The remaining apple chunks were lined up, eagerly awaiting their turn.
“Eat more apple, Your Highness—it won’t make you gain weight!”
Jiang Nong covered her face and chewed, silent for a long while. Only silence remained.
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