Chapter 35: The Young Lady's Memories of Death

When she first regressed, Yang Luo dreamed frequently.

Most often, she dreamed of the moment before her death.

Lately, perhaps because she was gradually adapting to her new life, her dreams had lessened, and upon waking, she could not quite remember what she had dreamt.

At this very moment, in the bright light of day, standing in the hall of the Imperial Academy and watching Miss Jiang talking with a group of women not far away, she drifted into a dream once more.

Yang Luo reached up to press her neck, as if feeling the slit wound again.

She lowered her head and saw the blood spreading beneath her.

A cut on the neck could actually bleed so much.

It felt as though all the blood in her entire body was flowing out.

Once the blood ran dry, she would die, wouldn't she?

Why was she dying?

It was supposed to be her wedding day, a day of great joy.

How did her neck get cut?

A young girl stood before her, holding a knife. Blood dripped from the blade, staining her dress.

This was Jiang Meng, the younger sister of Jiang Rui, the deceased wife of her husband, Zhu Yunxiao.

Jiang Rui was the daughter of General Liwei and had died of illness one year after marrying Zhu Yunxiao.

After Zhu Yunxiao observed a year of mourning, someone proposed a match from the House of Duke Ding'an, and she married him as his second wife.

Today was her wedding day.

The Zhu family had sent invitations to the Jiang manor as well. Madam Jiang did not attend, but her youngest daughter, Jiang Meng, had come.

Jiang Meng's arrival had made the Zhu family very happy, and Yang Luo was also very happy, wishing to form a friendship with her.

She never expected that once everyone had withdrawn from the bridal chamber, Jiang Meng would suddenly appear and, without a word, slit her throat with a knife.

Why?

"It is for my sister, of course!"

The girl's piercing scream echoed in her ears.

"You drove my sister to her death, so I will kill you!"

What nonsense was she talking? Yang Luo was bewildered; Jiang Rui had died of illness.

"...Died of illness! If you hadn't set your sights on my brother-in-law, how could my sister have been driven to death by illness?"

Heavens, how could she have set her sights on Zhu Yunxiao? It was Zhu Yunxiao who had come to ask for her hand.

She had never even met Jiang Rui, let alone, as an orphan living in the Duke of Ding'an's manor, how could she have the ability to kill her?

Unfortunately, Jiang Meng did not have time to say more. Zhu Yunxiao rushed in, snatched the knife from Jiang Meng, and plunged it into Jiang Meng's heart.

Yang Luo seemed to hear Jiang Meng's scream again.

The scream was brief.

The person who had been stabbed in the heart died even faster—so fast that Jiang Meng only managed to spit out one last sentence through the blood.

"...She drove my sister to death. You won't avenge her, but instead, you want to kill me... is it because she is a Princess?"

Yang Luo pressed her neck, breathing heavily.

When she had first regressed, she recalled this sentence and wondered if her consciousness had been blurred before death, causing her to mishear.

What Jiang Meng had actually said was, "Is it because she is a Princess?", which was a question, a mockery, and an expression of rage, not an affirmation.

But...

After her throat was slit, she had died very slowly. Lying on the ground, struggling, she saw Zhu Yunxiao walk out to speak to someone.

He said, "This way, we can give an account to the Palace."

Give an account to the Palace.

Why did he need to give an account to the Palace?

Why would the Palace care about the life or death of an orphan like her?

She had struggled to crawl toward them, and just as she reached the doorway, she saw the person standing by the door was her uncle, the Duke of Ding'an.

Her uncle looked down at her blood-soaked body with a cold, motionless expression.

The scene was so terrifying that the last breath of life in Yang Luo was snuffed out by fear.

That was how she died.

When she woke up again, she had returned to the age of fourteen.

When she was lucid, she didn't even dare to recall that scene of death; it was too painful, too terrifying, too bizarre.

Yang Luo felt somewhat breathless. Her hand slid down from her neck and, through her clothing, pressed against the pendant hanging there.

It was a jade medallion.

She had worn it since birth.

Her mother had told her never to take it off.

"The Princesses are coming!"

Qin Ying nudged her arm from the side.

Yang Luo snapped back to reality, her eyes looking at Qin Ying with a daze.

"What are you thinking about that you've gone blank?" Qin Ying said with a laugh, nudging her again. "Quick, come and pay your respects to the Princesses."

The Princesses.

Yang Luo looked outside. The women in the room had all arrived; more than forty girls created a bustling scene. As the palace matrons entered, the crowd of women instantly parted, forming two rows. The entrance cleared, and four girls of varying ages, dressed magnificently and surrounded by eunuchs and palace maids, walked in slowly.

Before Yang Luo could clearly see the faces of the Princesses, the women in the room knelt in salutation.

Yang Luo lowered her head and followed suit.

"Welcome, Princess Pingcheng—"

"Welcome, Princess Wuyang—"

"Welcome, Princess Nangong—"

"Welcome, Princess Shengping—"

...

...

Once the young ladies participating in the selection had all entered, the area outside the academy became quiet.

Because the academy had previously been a royal villa, no settlements were allowed nearby, and there were no streets or teahouses. After seeing them off, the elders of the families departed, leaving servants and carriages waiting outside.

Mo Zheng crouched in the shadow cast by the carriages, plucking at the weeds on the ground to play with them, occasionally glancing around the academy.

The Imperial Academy was strictly managed. Students studying inside were not allowed to come and go at will; there were instructors on duty daily, and now, with the arrival of the Princesses, there were also Imperial Guards.

The security was tight, and students were rarely seen moving about, though it wasn't impossible.

As Mo Zheng turned her gaze toward the Imperial City again, she saw someone approaching on a donkey.

It was a young man in his early twenties wearing cyan robes.

The donkey was small and thin; the young man was tall, his legs nearly touching the ground. He had a light gait and refined features, reading a scroll in his hand.

The donkey required no command; it trotted straight to the fodder trough where the carriages were parked.

Simultaneously, the young man on the donkey's back hopped down lightly, his eyes still on his book, walking toward the academy gates with practiced ease.

As he passed Mo Zheng, she stood up from the shadow of the carriages and followed him.

Unaware, the young man continued walking forward while reading.

The Imperial Guards in front of the academy looked at him, about to shout a command to stop, but the academy instructor beside them spoke first.

"This is Master Ling, Ling Yu," the instructor explained. "The third disciple of Chancellor Wang, and a newly appointed Doctor of the Five Classics last year."

Since he was a Doctor of the Five Classics, the guards stopped questioning and turned their gaze to the slender youth in cyan behind the official.

Ling Yu, who was still reading, suddenly tossed the book bag slung over his shoulder to the youth.

"Distribute these classics to the students in the C-dormitory. Tell them I will be testing them the day after tomorrow," he said.

Mo Zheng caught it steadily and replied, "Yes."

So he was Ling Yu's page; the guards withdrew their gaze.

So he was a laborer from a bookstore; the instructors withdrew their gaze and said to Ling Yu with a smile, "If you are the one conducting the exam personally, those students won't sleep well tonight or tomorrow night."

Ling Yu's gaze remained on his book as he said, "The world is at peace, which is the perfect time for studying. Wouldn't sleeping be a waste?"

Having said that, he instructed the youth behind him again.

"Get them extra candles."

The youth replied, "Yes."

The instructors did not ask further. Ling Yu was a famous bookworm; he refused to put down his books even while walking or eating. If it weren't for the Chancellor watching him and threatening that his eyes would go blind from reading at night, he likely wouldn't have bothered to sleep at all.

Ling Yu said no more and headed into the academy, eyes fixed on his book, with Mo Zheng following behind carrying the book bag.

The largest building in the academy was the Study Hall. The other two were the living quarters for instructors and students, and a place for research. Further up the mountain sat the Library Pavilion.

As Ling Yu stepped into the wind-and-rain corridor leading to the Library Pavilion, he stopped. His eyes finally moved away from the book, and he turned to look at the youth behind him.

Mo Zheng also stopped, looking into Ling Yu's eyes. The young man's eyes were as bright and lively as a fish.

"Senior Brother Ling, it has been many years, yet your eyes are still as beautiful as ever," she said with a smile.

Ling Yu's gaze shifted, sweeping over the youth. "You should say, 'Senior Brother, it has been many years, and your eyes have become even more beautiful.'"

Mo Zheng laughed heartily and bowed.

Ling Yu held his scroll and returned the bow.