Chapter 2
Six years ago.
The bone-chilling, heart-wrenching pain in his abdomen gradually faded. In the long darkness, it felt like he had been walking all along, following a light that was always visible but forever out of reach. He walked through a lifetime until voices reached his ears and the daylight brightened.
“Young master! Young master! You’re going to be late for morning class, wake up!”
Opening his eyes, an enlarged face appeared right in front of him. Startled, he quickly pushed the person away and sat up.
Not understanding the situation, he looked around at the surroundings — both unfamiliar and familiar — and stood there dumbfounded, unsure how to react.
“Young master?” The attendant waved his hand in front of his eyes and called out again, puzzled by his intense reaction.
His gaze followed the call and focused on the person before him. When he recognized the face, his entire body stiffened as if struck by lightning.
The person in front of him had a delicate face, a rabbit-like face with small eyes, two prominent front teeth, and a clever expression. If not Fu’an, then who else?
He cautiously whispered in a hoarse voice, “Fu’an?”
“It’s me, young master.” Fu’an didn’t understand why his young master looked as if he’d been struck by lightning, hadn’t they seen each other day and night?
“I’ll tidy your writing box first, you should get up and wash.”
With that, Fu’an turned and opened the writing box, busy organizing brushes, ink, paper, inkstone, and books.
Watching Fu’an’s busy back, this long-separated, familiar, and carefully cared-for feeling made the “young master” unable to hold back tears.
Fu’an was a born servant who grew up with him and married into the Eastern Palace with him. In the midst of the palace’s deep intrigues and power struggles, Fu’an was the only person who stayed with him from beginning to end. Eventually, because of the Eastern Palace’s witchcraft disaster, Fu’an took the blame to protect him and was imprisoned in the imperial prison.
After that, there was no news.
The imperial prison was a living hell where prisoners were often flayed alive, chances of survival were slim.
Not long after, he was sent to the cold palace. After many upheavals, he finally left the palace. Although he searched for Fu’an afterward, there was never any result. The two of them never met again until death.
Is this the underworld, the place where master and servant separated for many years can meet again?
If the underworld is like this, then he would not be afraid.
Before him, Fu’an was dressed as a young attendant, looking like a simple and innocent boy—completely different from the scheming, deep-minded man he had become after entering the palace.
Fu’an finished tidying the young master’s writing box, then turned around and was startled. He hurried back to his side and said, “Young master, why are you crying? Are you feeling unwell? If you’re not feeling well, I’ll ask Master Wang for leave, and we won’t attend class today.”
He sat dumbfounded on the bed, sobbing, “Class? What class? Even the underworld has classes?”
Too cruel!
Fu’an was stunned. “What underworld? Young master, did you have a nightmare?”
Suddenly, he hugged Fu’an tightly, tears streaming down his face. “Yes, I had a nightmare—a very long, long nightmare. But now I’ve woken up. Fu’an, I never thought I’d see you again. It’s really wonderful!”
Fu’an was stiff all over from the sudden hug. Though their relationship was close, there were clear boundaries between master and servant, this was the first time the young master had acted so out of line, and he felt embarrassed. “Young master, since you’re not unwell, get up quickly and go to class.
This morning’s class is with Master Wang—the old stickler who won’t tolerate the slightest mistake. Even a tiny problem can get you reported to the Dean. If you don’t hurry up, and are late to class, you’ll really meet the Dean—the living devil!”
Sensing something was wrong, he wiped his tears and choked out, “What morning class? Master Wang—has he died too?”
“Pooh, pooh, pooh! Don’t talk about death so early in the morning, it’s bad luck! Nobody’s dead—everyone’s alive and well!”
Fu’an said this as he pushed open the window, startling several birds resting among the forsythia outside. The pale yellow branches trembled slightly, and a few strands of fresh fragrance drifted in through the window.
Now he was completely dumbfounded.
Outside the window were vermilion walls, golden tiles, carved beams and painted rafters, flying eaves, bird songs, and floral scents—an idyllic early spring scene.
No matter how foolish he was, he should know by now the underworld couldn’t look like this. He finally realized something was wrong.
But hadn’t he already died?
On his wedding night, in the palace of the Prince of Jin, a cup of poisoned wedding wine ended his life.
The path to the ¹Yellow Springs, the ²Naihe Bridge—what about the ³Yama’s court?
He glanced at the bronze mirror on the table. Because of his naturally red lips and white teeth, and outstanding looks, someone once praised him: “Eyebrows like distant mountains with dark clouds, eyes like nearby waters with mist.”
He was quite fond of his appearance and never lived without a mirror. He examined himself in the mirror.
No change—his face was still his own, though obviously less mature, still too young.
He asked Fu’an, “How old am I this year?”
Fu’an looked at him with caring eyes. “Sixteen! Young master, you’re not really still half asleep, are you?”
His mind went blank for a moment with a buzzing sound.
Sixteen, the National Academy!
When he realized it, he trembled with excitement. He suddenly pushed open the door and rushed out, ignoring Fu’an’s surprised calls behind him, running while looking around:
Familiar towering ancient cypresses, pavilions and towers, clear sounds of reading aloud.
Even the stone in the courtyard engraved with “Heaven rewards diligence” was exactly the same, in exactly the same place.
He ran all the way to the training grounds, where a few young scholars in short brown shirts were practicing mounted archery, sweating profusely and full of vitality.
He pinched his arm with a trembling hand.
It immediately hurt so much he gasped sharply.
Overwhelmed with joy, he jumped up happily. “It hurts, it’s not a dream! It’s real!”
He had actually returned to when he was sixteen—at sixteen, he was still the most powerful minister of Yan Kingdom, the legitimate son of Grand Tutor Qin Jian.
He was full of ambition and without hardships, his future was wide open with endless possibilities!
His body trembled uncontrollably. Suddenly, he covered his face and burst into tears, then quickly lifted his head and started laughing loudly.
People passing by gave him strange looks, thinking he had gone mad. But because of his status, no one dared to interfere.
Once his emotions settled, he silently vowed: In this life, he would never be a pawn for others to control. He would live for himself—freely, boldly, and brilliantly!
“Young master!” Fu’an came running up, panting heavily, his face full of worry. “Are you alright, young master? What’s wrong with you? Ever since you woke up this morning, you’ve been acting strange. I’m a timid person—don’t scare me like this!”
Seeing Fu’an’s worried face, he felt hopeful and cheerful. He patted Fu’an on the shoulder and said, “I’m fine, I’m just too happy.”
He grabbed Fu’an seriously. “Fu’an, I swear, this lifetime I will make sure you live a good life. We won’t have to live under anyone’s thumb anymore!”
Reborn into a new life, he would clearly distinguish loyalty from betrayal, and only treat those who were genuinely loyal to him well.
Fu’an scratched his head, confused and not understanding what the young master was talking about. Tilting his head, he asked, “Huh?”
Qin Yu patted his shoulder again and smiled, “It’s nothing. Let’s go back.”
When he returned to the lecture hall, the master’s class was already halfway through.
He hid behind a tree, quietly peeking into the hall. Behind him, Fu’an muttered anxiously, “Master Wang is an old-fashioned stickler. If you skip his class, young master, he’ll definitely hold a grudge.”
Qin Yu scoffed, “Am I afraid of him?”
In Yan Kingdom’s school system, children entered the community school at age eight. Sons of officials ranked sixth grade or above entered the National Academy at age fourteen or fifteen. The National Academy had three departments: Wenfeng (Literary Style), Wenya (Elegant Literature), and Wensong (Odes).
New students started in Wenfeng, and after a year, those who qualified passed the promotion exam to enter Wenya. After another year and passing exams there, they would move to Wensong. Graduates of Wensong could take the imperial exams.
Passing depended mainly on daily performance and results from monthly, yearly, and supervised exams.
In his previous life, he hated studying and knew nothing about it. Besides, he knew that at sixteen he would enter the palace as a close aide to the crown prince, so he never cared about exams. His grades were probably as bad as they could be.
Now reborn, if he still took the same path, then he deserved to die!
In this life, he was determined never to be trapped again—he wanted to keep studying!
But here was the problem: to advance smoothly in school, he needed to accumulate eight credits in one academic year. The time before had been completely wasted, so from now on he had to work hard and earn those credits.
He confidently believed that with his intelligence and talent, a little effort would be enough to achieve this.
Master Wang was a highly respected senior scholar at the National Academy, learned and admired. At this moment, he closed his eyes slightly, stroking his beard and nodding as if he was testing the students with questions, clearly satisfied with their answers.
The class was almost over. Would going in now be like seeking death?
Forget it—he’d think about the exams later. At his age, surely Master Wang’s mind wouldn’t be so petty as to hold a grudge against him.
Seeing him quietly retreat, Fu’an who was following asked, “Young master, where are you going?”
“Back to the dormitory first.”
But just as he took his first step toward the dormitory, a sudden spark flashed through his mind, and he froze on the spot.
The dormitory!
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¹Yellow Springs (黄泉) refers to the underworld or realm of the dead, where souls go after death. It’s similar to the concept of Hades in Greek mythology.
²Naihe Bridge (奈何桥) is the Bridge of Helplessness that souls must cross in the afterlife. It’s believed that before crossing, spirits drink a potion to forget their past lives so they can be reincarnated.
³Yama’s Court (阎王殿) is the judgment hall of King Yama, the ruler of the underworld. There, souls are judged for their deeds and assigned their next life or punishment accordingly.