The autumn wind, carrying a drizzle, blew open the flowered window, rolling a few slightly yellow bamboo leaves onto the huanghuali wood desk.
Fine, cool rain fell onto Jun Huailang’s face, and he slowly woke up.
Before his eyes was, unmistakably, the place he had been most familiar with for more than twenty years.
The carved wooden window in front of him was open, facing the lotus pond in his courtyard. Dozens of slender bamboo stalks stood beside the window, neither too sparse nor too dense, naturally forming a beautiful scene of their own.
He was sitting at the desk, resting his arm as he dozed.
There were many stacks of books on the desk. An opened copy of the Book of Documents lay before him. The Ru kiln brush washer at the corner of the desk had been acquired by his father in Huzhou several years ago.
An ancient qin stood beside the desk, one he had used since childhood. Beneath the window was a couch with a jade chessboard set upon it, along with the unfinished game he had been unable to solve.
It was the study he had used for more than twenty years.
Familiar and peaceful.
Yet somehow, it carried an unreal feeling.
Jun Huailang sat there in a daze for a moment.
The room was completely silent, with only the rustling sound of rain striking the withered lotus outside.
Wasn’t I… dead?
His parents’ deaths.
His second younger brother dying in battle defending the city.
The destruction of the Jun family.
The cold rain and executioner’s blade at Xuanwu Gate.
His sister’s humiliation…
In this tranquil silence, it was as though none of those things had ever happened.
He could not help lowering his head and looking at his hands.
They were a pair of slender yet immature hands, with fair skin and delicate joints. They looked like the hands of someone no more than ten years old.
And in his hand was a crumpled piece of paper.
Jun Huailang’s pupils contracted sharply.
He hurriedly unfolded the paper.
It was a corner of a book page.
The characters on it were strange. They were clearly Chinese characters, yet many strokes were missing.
The paper had obviously been tightly crushed unconsciously, and it was still damp and cold from the rain.
Written upon it were:
Xue Yan’s lips curled into a cold arc as he reached out and seized her chin…
Jun Huailang’s gaze sharpened.
It was not a dream.
Everything he remembered had truly happened.
He simply did not know whether he was now in the Underworld, or…
Just then, someone pushed open the door and entered.
Jun Huailang’s fingers moved, and he hid the piece of paper back into his palm.
He looked up.
A young boy of fourteen or fifteen, dressed in a short tunic, came in with a grin.
“First Young Master, I brought the Hui ink you asked for!”
“…Fuyi?”
Jun Huailang froze.
Fuyi was his pageboy, only one year younger than him. He had grown up alongside Jun Huailang since childhood.
On the day Yongning Marquis’s residence was confiscated and Jun Huailang was arrested, Fuyi had been killed by the Imperial Guards in the residence while trying to protect him.
How was it that Fuyi was still alive now?
And still looked like a young boy?
Fuyi did not notice the shock and confusion in his eyes at all.
He carried the piece of Hui ink to the desk and skillfully began grinding it.
“The ink in the courtyard was used up, so this servant specifically went to the master’s study to get some for you. It’s a little different from what you usually use. I don’t know whether you’ll be accustomed to it…”
A flash of light passed through Jun Huailang’s mind.
When he had finished reading that book, several immortals had come into the void and taken him away.
From what those immortals had said, he must have gone to a place he should not have gone to by some strange coincidence.
And before his consciousness disappeared, he had vaguely heard one of the immortals say that they had summoned his soul in the wrong place.
Could it be… that my allotted lifespan had already ended, and I was supposed to go to the Underworld to be reincarnated, but instead I was mistakenly sent back to several years ago?
Jun Huailang looked at the hand holding that torn corner of the page, becoming increasingly certain of his guess.
So everything had not happened yet.
He was still young.
His parents were alive.
And his sister had not yet…
At this thought, his gaze turned cold.
Xue Yan.
That beast was still only a little beast at this point.
Fortunately, several immortals had taken pity on him and given him a chance to settle his old debts and take revenge on his enemy.
Thinking of this, Jun Huailang tightened his fingers, gripping the torn page tightly.
Beside the desk, Fuyi remained completely unaware.
He was talkative. Even while grinding the ink, his mouth never stopped.
“This servant just ran into Qingci from Miss’s room! Qingci said the bird Miss was raising was bitten to death by a stray cat, and she cried for ages! Qingci is worried too. She’s supposed to go to the palace tonight for the Mid-Autumn banquet. What will they do if Miss’s eyes are swollen?”
A bird.
Jun Huailang paused.
He immediately matched it with the time in his previous life.
In his previous life, Jun Linghuan had raised a little yellow bird.
She had kept it for more than a year and treasured it dearly.
That very year, the bird was bitten to death by a stray cat.
Jun Linghuan had been heartbroken, and Jun Huailang himself had spent a long time comforting her.
After that, Jun Linghuan never raised another little bird.
If he remembered correctly, this year was the eighteenth year of Qingping.
He was exactly sixteen years old.
On this very day in his previous life, he had fallen asleep beside the window after being exposed to the cold wind, developed a high fever, and consequently had not attended this palace banquet.
Jun Huailang’s gaze darkened.
He remembered that in the book, Xue Yan had once given Jun Linghuan a bird.
The bird had been locked inside a golden cage encrusted with jewels, with a golden chain attached to its foot.
Jun Linghuan had refused it repeatedly, angering Xue Yan.
That beast, with his inexplicable perverse obsession, had actually had an identical chain made and forcibly locked it around Jun Linghuan’s ankle.
At the thought of this, Jun Huailang’s teeth began to itch with anger.
Jun Linghuan had hardly ever entered the palace.
Jun Huailang did not even know when she had formed a grudge with that beast.
In this life, he would watch over his sister properly.
He absolutely would not allow anything to go wrong again.
Thinking this, Jun Huailang put away the torn page and looked up at Fuyi.
“You don’t need to grind it anymore. How long until it’s time to enter the palace? Get everything ready first. I’m going to see Linghuan.”
Fuyi acknowledged him and hurried off to have the maids make preparations.
Jun Huailang sat alone at the desk, gradually digesting what had happened and organizing his thoughts.
The Jun family was a centuries-old clan, the foremost aristocratic family in the Emperor’s presence.
There were more palace banquets, large and small, throughout the year than anyone could count.
Thus, the maids and servants in Jun Huailang’s courtyard were extremely practiced.
Before long, they had prepared the clothing and accessories he would wear to the palace.
Autumn in Chang’an grew cold early.
With two maids attending him, Jun Huailang changed into a water-green robe of dark-patterned Shu brocade, added a dark-blue cloak, and fastened a cape around himself.
He stood before the bronze mirror and glanced inside.
The young man in the mirror had his black hair tied up. His body was still slender, and he had yet to begin growing into his height.
His appearance was youthful and immature, almost unfamiliar.
Once again, an unreal feeling surged through Jun Huailang’s heart.
Like Zhuangzi, unable to distinguish dream from reality.
The maid beside him even said with a smile, “First Young Master is so handsome. Although we servants see you every day, we still can’t help losing our heads whenever we look at you!”
The maids and servants around them all laughed softly.
She was not exaggerating.
The Jun family’s First Young Master was famous throughout Chang’an for his good looks.
His face was as beautiful as jade, his brows and eyes open and graceful like a painting.
His pair of peach-blossom eyes should have made him appear romantic and affectionate, yet his noble and unrestrained bearing instead gave them an unusually cool quality.
His elegant demeanor and exquisite appearance were perfectly harmonious.
At this moment, however, he had been reborn.
The childishness in his eyes was long gone.
His gaze was calm and cool.
Standing there with extraordinary poise, he looked like an exiled immortal who could not be profaned.
Jun Huailang, however, had long been accustomed to his own appearance.
He glanced at the bronze mirror and smiled indifferently.
“It’s merely a shell. Nothing more than an external thing.”
What mattered more was the soul beneath that shell, which had lived through this journey once again.
——
Jun Huailang did not delay and went straight to Jun Linghuan’s courtyard.
The courtyard was small and exquisite, filled with flowering trees that bloomed throughout the four seasons.
Small bells hung from the eaves of her main room.
Whenever the wind blew, they gave off delicate, tinkling sounds.
Fuyi held an umbrella over Jun Huailang as he followed him all the way into Jun Linghuan’s room.
When the maid guarding the door saw him, she immediately smiled and called inside:
“Miss, First Young Master is here!”
The maids inside brightened at the sight of him and invited Jun Huailang in.
He entered and saw Jun Linghuan sitting before the dressing table, surrounded by several maids.
She was a little girl as delicate as a carved jade doll, her eyes red as she quietly suppressed her sobs.
At a glance, it was obvious she was still heartbroken.
Although she had been doted upon by her entire family like the center of the universe since childhood, she was a very well-behaved child.
Even when she could not help crying, she did not make a fuss, obediently allowing the maid to comb her hair.
When she heard that Jun Huailang had arrived, the little girl’s eyes finally brightened slightly.
She raised her head and looked at him with red-rimmed eyes like a frightened little deer.
“Big Brother, you’re here?”
Her soft, sweet voice still carried traces of tears.
This was Jun Linghuan eight years ago.
With only one glance, Jun Huailang’s heart melted.
How could such a lovable little girl possibly be harmed by that beast Xue Yan?
Nearby, the maid combing Jun Linghuan’s hair adjusted the floral hairpin for her, then stopped and said with a smile:
“First Young Master finally came. Whenever Miss cries, there’s nothing we can do. We still have to rely on you.”
Seeing that her hair was finished, Jun Linghuan jumped down from her chair and ran toward Jun Huailang with little pattering footsteps.
Jun Huailang bent down and picked her up.
Thank goodness.
He thought.
Nothing has happened yet.
My sister has not yet fallen into the hands of that beast.
Jun Linghuan wrapped her arms around Jun Huailang’s neck and quietly complained:
“Brother, my little bird was bitten to death by a cat.”
Jun Huailang stroked her back and gently comforted her.
“Brother knows. The little bird flew back to heaven. Later, Brother will find you another little animal and let it keep you company in the little bird’s place, all right?”
His voice was clear and cool like a mountain spring.
It was already pleasant to listen to, and now that he had softened his tone, it made people unable to help wanting to lose themselves in it.
Jun Linghuan raised the back of her hand and wiped her eyes, obediently nodding.
“I want one that a cat can’t bite to death,” she added.
Jun Huailang smiled and nodded.
Then he asked whether she had eaten.
The palace banquet would involve complicated formalities, and she might have to go hungry for quite some time.
Jun Linghuan obediently went to eat.
She even generously stuffed Jun Huailang with the osmanthus cakes she had saved at noon because she had been reluctant to eat them herself.
Jun Huailang looked at the little girl gazing at him expectantly, waiting for him to taste her favorite pastry.
His heart tightened again.
In my previous life… how could I have let her suffer like that?
Jun Linghuan leaned forward in front of him.
Seeing that he was holding the pastry but had yet to eat it, she even forgot about her sadness for a moment.
“Brother, why aren’t you eating?” she asked.
Only then did Jun Huailang return to his senses.
He paused, then smiled reassuringly at Jun Linghuan.
He raised his hand and gently stroked the top of her soft hair.
His clear and gentle voice carried a firmness and seriousness that others could not detect.
“Brother will definitely protect you,” he said.
I absolutely will not let that bastard Xue Yan have even the slightest chance to succeed again.