Chapter 2, It is better to return.

Ping An tucked the quilt in for him, and just as he was about to get up, he was grabbed by a pair of small hands

This commotion, however, gave him some strength, allowing him to barely open his eyes

When Ping An speaks, there is always a hint of nasal tone. He was extremely fond of crying as a child, resembling a little round face that always carried a sense of grievance. However, in this year, when he was forced to support the Nanning Wangfu alongside himself, it seemed as if he had grown into a young man overnight. After the seventh day of mourning for the old prince, Jing Qi was taken to the palace by the emperor for care, and the old steward was also aging. Almost all the affairs, big and small, inside and outside the Wangfu, were managed by Ping An alone.

The young man suddenly sniffed and lowered his head to say: "Master, the old prince has already passed away. If anything were to happen to you, who could we rely on?"

At that moment, a cool hand rested on his forehead, which felt extremely comfortable. Then he heard a voice tinged with anger say, "The person is burned like this, how are you serving them? Why don't you go call the physician?"

The old prince, whose name is Lian Yu and courtesy name Mingzhe, is also quite muddled. His own straightforward nature has followed that dead old man, with large eyes that serve no purpose, clearly distinguishing between black and white, yet failing to see what should be seen, while insisting on seeing what should not be seen.

Ping An saw him in a daze and thought he was confused due to illness, frightened. He shook him gently and said: "My lord, please do not scare people. What is happening? Why hasn't the imperial physician arrived yet? Imperial physician—"

Jing Qi immediately felt that it would be better to turn himself into ashes instead

The old man, who appeared to be lethargically indifferent to life all day long, finally fulfilled his wish to depart at the age of ten, leaving the ten-year-old child and the desolate, lonely royal residence behind in this world

After a short while, the imperial physician arrived, took the pulse, conducted a thorough examination from head to toe, recited a series of medical principles to demonstrate his reliability, and uttered a bunch of nonsensical phrases about "fortunate individuals have divine protection," essentially conveying that there was nothing seriously wrong with the person, and that with proper care, everything would be fine

Only to see the young prince of his family lying on his back on the bed, his eyes gently closed, softly saying: "Ping An, it's alright, I'm here for you"

He recalled the White Impermanence, and the novelty in his heart faded away.

Ping An's movements paused for a moment, and he turned his head to look at him with some confusion

The human heart is not made of stone; when it is covered in dust, a wash with clean water will restore it to its original purity

In the legends passed down through the ages, there is the figure of King Jing Beiyuan of Nanning, who bore a thousand faces. Jing Beiyuan, who once lived his entire life for a single person, at the age of thirty-two, was buried in despair by that very person.

Jing Qi felt a wave of darkness enveloping her, as if everything was clear yet shrouded in a veil, indistinct and hard to discern. She felt weary, as if she could fall asleep at any moment.

The lights dimmed, and all was silent.

By this time, Ping An was almost fourteen, having grown taller, yet still possessing a round, doll-like face, with a chubby nose and plump eyes, exuding a simple and honest demeanor. This child seemed to be inherently lacking in coordination; although he had long arms and legs, they never seemed to work in harmony, and he had never displayed any cleverness throughout his life

Jing Qi finally saw the face of the young man, and for a moment, he was completely stunned

Jing Qi allowed Ping An to fuss over him clumsily while he lay down, secretly sighing to himself. No wonder this soul-capturing adult appeared so cold and was reluctant to speak much; it turned out he was somewhat simple-minded.

Reincarnating seven times was enough for him to understand many things, such as Helian Yi, such as peace, and such as this grand yet desolate Nanning Wangfu.

He finally remembered his name, Jing Beiyuan

From time to time, people walked back and forth around him, their voices fluctuating between near and far. Some even pried open his mouth and poured medicinal soup into it, though he had no idea which fool was responsible for this. They stuffed it in like they were feeding a horse, and as his sense of taste suddenly returned, the bitterness surged to the top of his head. In a moment of carelessness, the medicinal soup rolled down his throat and choked him, leading to another chaotic bout of coughing

In a lifetime, one can only focus on one person, while the rest are of no concern, even if it leads to heartache

Ping An noticed him lost in thought and assumed that he was still recovering from a serious illness and lacked energy. He then spoke softly: "My lord, if you cannot sleep well with the lights on, there is no need to fear the dark. I will be just outside; if you need anything, just call for me to get up."

He could not understand for many years, yet at the moment he just opened his eyes, he suddenly understood.

I have such great ability, can I bring a dead pig back to life

Jing Qidiandian nodded, staring blankly at the top of the tent. Just as Ping An was about to extinguish the light, he suddenly turned his head and said: "Not yet."

Ping An was taken aback, thinking that he was worried, and said: "My lord, rest assured, the arrangements for the prince's funeral are being personally handled by the emperor. The emperor even came to see you last night and instructed that you should take good care of yourself and not to worry about other matters."

This is peace

What kind of laughter is this for a child? Ping An was taken aback, thinking he had burned himself out, and reached out to feel Jing Qi's forehead: "My lord, is there something uncomfortable? Should I... call the imperial physician to take a look?"

Why was there such an obsession with Helian Yi at that time

He recalled the face of the white impermanence he had last seen, cold and expressionless, as if covered by a shell, making it difficult to discern. Yet the finger that pointed at his brow inexplicably brought him a sense of warmth

Jing Qi could only hoarsely utter a few words: "What time is it?" As he spoke, he was taken aback himself; although his voice was hoarse, it was not difficult to discern the tone of a prepubescent child, still carrying a hint of childishness. He lowered his head to look at his hands, which were small and thin, bearing a slight yellowish hue indicative of ailing health and insufficient vitality.

The world is vast, yet there is not a single place called home

Ping... ..." Jing Qizhang opened his mouth, but his throat felt dry and uncomfortable, making it impossible for him to utter a complete sentence. He thought that after hundreds of years, he had long forgotten everything, yet the moment he saw the young man, the faded memories surged back like a tide.

His vision was blurry, and after blinking hard a few times, it finally cleared up. He found himself being held in the arms of a young boy who was feeding him medicine. Upon seeing him cough and open his eyes, the boy hurriedly set down the medicine bowl, patted his back, and called out: "Quick, summon the imperial physician, the young prince has awakened"

Jing Qi shook his head, lowered his eyes to suppress his emotions, and allowed Ren Ping'an to help him lie down

He did not understand what the White Impermanence had done, but upon reflection, the last warmth given to him by the Soul Collector, along with those low murmurs, subtly carried a sense of resoluteness.

Ping An had all the idle people asked to leave and attended to him as he lay down comfortably

Ping An felt that the way he smiled gently at himself bore some resemblance to that of the old steward in his fifties. The steward's gaze fell upon him, somewhat absent-minded, as if he suddenly recalled many things, feeling a mix of helplessness and a hint of comfort.

Consciousness once again became hazy, unable to open the eyes, and it was unclear how much time had passed before there was a sensation in the body and limbs. It has been over sixty years since he last felt his body; upon suddenly awakening, he felt an overwhelming heaviness, and a sharp pain pierced through his mind.

Not knowing if it was due to sleeping too long, Jing Qi lay quietly on the bed, unable to fall asleep. With a bit of dim light filtering in from the window, she stared blankly at the bed curtains. In less than a moment, the sound of Ping An, that piglet of a child, snoring came from the outer room, and Jing Qi couldn't help but laugh.

Jing Qi smiled and turned over: "Rest early."

Jing Qi sat by the Three Lives Stone for sixty to seventy years. Such patience was naturally present, as he quietly allowed a group of people to carry out their routine tasks, administering medicine and going through the motions. By the time they were done, it was already late into the night

It is said that the Yellow Springs Road and the Ghost Gate are places of extreme yin. When the elderly pass away, they must prepare a cotton quilt for themselves. Jing Qi knows that the ghostly messengers passing through are as cold as ice, and one can feel the chill even from three feet away.

It turned out that ... was when he was ten years old, at the time when his father had just passed away

The level of stubbornness is strikingly similar to Jing Lianyu, while the standard of being foolish is equally aligned with Bai Wuchang.

Suddenly, she understood the meaning of the soul-stirring phrase "I will return you a head of black hair." Jing Qi did not know whether to cry or laugh at her own meddling.

Ping An was taken aback for a moment, and only then did he realize that he had been teased. His face turned red, and he stammered, "At least a servant is someone who can breathe..."

Having recognized this one, I paid no attention to others, whether they were friends or Peace. Listening to the calm snoring of Peace, Jing Qi suddenly felt that she was indeed the world's most ungrateful person. Was it true that all the suffering endured over several lifetimes was merely retribution?

However, Jing Qi thought that this foolish child was one of the few who had truly cared for her

In order for him to relive the life that was ignited by that fateful bond

Reversing time and space—though he does not fully understand, he is somewhat aware that the soul-reaping messenger must have paid a tremendous price, was it to compensate him

He pondered in a daze, what is the necessity of this

Jing Qi exerted herself to prop herself up from the bed with her slender arms resembling straw, leaning to one side, gazing at the room with an almost greedy look, observing the tranquility.

Jing Qi struggled to raise his hand, feeling as if his body was several hundred times heavier than when he was a wandering spirit. He then pressed down on Ping An's trembling hand, unable to speak, merely half-closing his eyes and gently shaking his head. Ping An finally showed some perceptiveness, hurriedly getting up to pour a glass of water, carefully serving it to him to drink.

Jing Qi casually asked, "You just said I have been in a deep sleep for two days, so the seventh day after my father's passing is tomorrow, right?"

Jing Qi, however, looked at him and smiled quietly, her brows and eyes relaxing. Her eyes curved first, and then her lips slowly lifted. It seemed as if there was a glimmer of light in her eyes, but upon closer inspection, it vanished.

His voice was very soft and light, with a glutinous quality, spoken in a childlike tone, almost like a whine. However, looking at his expression, Ping An couldn't help but feel a pang in his nose.

It is unclear how long he had been lost in disordered thoughts, but Jing Qi finally dozed off again in a daze. He would sleep for a while, then wake up again, feeling uncomfortable once more, as if he were being roasted on a stove, with sourness seeping from the bones. He knew that the fever had returned, but he was aware that if he could endure this night, he would soon recover. Too lazy to call for Ping An, he curled himself deeper into the quilt, enduring the heat and sweating.

Having just coughed, he was again patted roughly by this young man. Jing Qi thought resentfully, is this little brat sent by his enemies to torment him

At the age of six, he was bought by his father and has been with him for life, from birth to death. The boy's eyes were red, and at this moment, he was merely thirteen or fourteen years old, still a half-grown child, suppressing his tears, with a layer of darkness floating in his gaze, and his clothes seemed to have grown a size larger.

Jing Qi looked at the young man and thought to himself that it was actually Ping An who had devoted his entire life to the Wang family, which had supported this sparsely populated household. It was so difficult, yet in the end, he allowed himself to be defeated so gracefully.

Jing Qi's gaze once again fell upon his own hands. Although his body felt extremely weak and heavy, there was a hint of novelty in the sensation. After traversing so many cycles, he unexpectedly returned to the starting point, truly... It evokes a myriad of emotions.

It is said that the old prince is infatuated; ever since the princess left, he has seemed to lose his soul. Nevertheless, the emperor, showing compassion for his brother of a different surname, has brought the heir, Jing Beiyuan, into the palace to be raised alongside the princes

It has been two days since you fainted in the mourning hall, my lord, and no matter how we call you, we cannot wake you up. " Ping An pressed her lips together, lowering her head to secretly wipe away the tears that had flowed from the corners of her eyes. " The princess left us too soon, and the old prince... the old prince was too heartless to leave just like that. You are now the backbone of our family; if anything were to happen, I would rather go with you.

Once again, can what has happened be wiped away like the dust on the table with a rag?

Apart from Helian Yi, three hundred years ago, he always felt that Helian Yi was his only thought in this world, like a lifeline for a drowning person, something he had to hold onto—living like this, and following in death.

In the haze, a crisp sound echoed, as if someone had broken something. Jing Qi's muddled consciousness was startled awake; he lazily kept his eyes closed, knowing that this foolish child Ping An could not pass a day without breaking something.