Chapter 7: Old Matters Like Memories

Zhao Rucheng’s family was well-off. He had bought a house near the Dao Academy for himself, with more than ten servants attending to his daily needs, so he did not often stay in the dormitory. As for Du Yehu, once he touched alcohol, it was not something that could be settled in a short while.

So after Jiang Wang returned to the dormitory, he suddenly realized that the usually noisy room now contained only himself.

After closing the door, he instinctively glanced at the innermost bed on the left side of the dormitory.

On the bed lay clean bedding folded with unusual neatness. Its material was no different from that of everyone else in the dormitory. At this moment, there was no one on the bed, and there would never be anyone there again.

This was Fang Pengju’s bed. His family was wealthy, but he had never been fussy or petty. He ate and drank with everyone, never once being picky.

The bed opposite Fang Pengju’s was empty, piled with many pieces of luggage.

The beds on both sides were arranged from that point onward, three on each side.

The second bed on the left, right next to Fang Pengju’s, was the messiest in the dormitory. The bedding was casually heaped into a pile, scattered clothes serving merely as decoration. If one sniffed carefully, one could even smell the fragrance of wine. If one lowered one’s head and looked beneath the bed, one would see rows upon rows of neatly arranged wine jars. Compared to the environment its owner lived in, these wine jars were clearly being cared for very attentively.

The first bed on the left was beside the door, so it was Ling He’s bed—he was always the one responsible for opening and closing the door for everyone. There were a few inconspicuous patches on the bedding, but it had been washed very clean.

The first bed on the right belonged to Jiang Wang. His bedding was about the same as Ling He’s. Although he had not returned for a long time, the bed was still very tidy. Clearly, someone had cleaned it often. Perhaps it was Ling He, perhaps Zhao Rucheng… or perhaps even Fang Pengju.

The second bed on the right, next to Jiang Wang’s, belonged to Zhao Rucheng. His bed stood out from the entire dormitory. The quilt and sheets were all high-grade goods from Cloud Reverie Studio, and on the small dormitory bed, there was even a canopy embroidered with golden threads. Compared to Du Yehu’s bed across from it, it was simply heaven and earth apart.

Those unfamiliar with Zhao Rucheng would probably think he was difficult to get along with, but in truth, his living standards were simply too high. Even if he only occasionally stayed in the dormitory, he still wanted it to be as luxurious and comfortable as possible. He had once even spent lavishly to transform the entire dormitory into a top-class guest room—if Jiang Wang had not beaten him up for it.

From the time he entered the outer academy at fourteen until now, Jiang Wang had already spent three years in this dormitory. Every detail in the room was exceptionally familiar to him.

The things remained, but the people had changed, and all matters came to rest.

Jiang Wang was silent for a while, then took off his shoes and socks, removed his outer robe, and lay down on his own bed.

He was tired. Exhausted. But only at this moment could he finally sleep in peace.

Awake, one drifts among worldly affairs; in dreams, one waits for the sky to grow high.

The entire Maple Forest City was square and neatly planned. The city lord’s manor stood at the center, radiating authority in all directions. The east city belonged to the Dao Academy, while the wealthy and noble families lived in the west. The south city was mostly inhabited by commoners, while merchants and rich traders gathered mainly in the north.

Only after seeing Jiang Wang safely walk out of the academy master’s meditation room did Ling He leave the Dao Academy alone, carrying Fang Pengju’s corpse.

When Fang Pengju was alive, a hundred people answered his call, and he had many friends. When he died, everyone despised him.

His actions had been vile and malicious, so he deserved to be despised.

Ling He did not feel wronged on his behalf.

He only still felt some heartache.

He wrapped Fang Pengju’s body in his own outer robe. The robe was very old, but it had been washed very clean.

With his walking speed, going from the east of the city to the west was not far, and the road to the Fang family estate was also familiar. But Ling He walked very slowly, each step heavy.

He could not bear it.

He was the eldest. He should have taken good care of his four sworn younger brothers, but he had failed.

He still remembered the scene of the five of them becoming sworn brothers by the Green Willow River, and he remembered every brilliant smile on each brother’s face.

The Green Willow River was a tributary of the Qinghe River, flowing around Oxhead Mountain. The water in the river was very clear. It could reflect young faces and young hearts. That year, they rode with swords at their waists. That year, they raised cups and spoke together. Countless times they sparred in martial arts, and on countless nights they talked by candlelight.

They had agreed to enter the inner academy together, to ride swords through the blue firmament together, and to transcend mortality and enter sainthood together.

Those memories. Those… promises.

Ling He had never imagined that five people so like-minded and bound by such deep affection would one day turn against each other as brothers and face each other in life and death.

How could that be possible?

He thought.

He could not understand it. But carrying Fang Pengju’s cold corpse, he finally arrived before the Fang residence.

“What are you doing?”

The gatekeeper stopped him and asked.

The Fang residence was very tall—tall in the sense of standing high above others.

“Oh.”

Holding Fang Pengju’s corpse, Ling He lowered his head slightly in greeting.

“Fang Pengju has passed away. I have brought his body back so your household may bury him.”

If no one collected a corpse, the authorities would take it to the mass graveyard for unified disposal. That was the place evil heretics liked to visit the most, and even after death, it would be difficult to find peace.

But Ling He thought there was no need to say this. He was not someone who liked taking credit, nor did he think this was any kind of merit.

The gatekeeper’s expression changed, and he slammed the gate shut.

A voice came from behind the door.

“Take him away! The master said he is not allowed through the gate!”

“Brother.”

Ling He said sincerely, “Please inform your master once more. No matter what, Pengju was of the Fang bloodline. Perhaps they only spoke in anger for the moment. They will not truly ignore him.”

The gatekeeper seemed to hesitate for a moment.

“I’ll go ask again… Don’t take the chance to barge in!”

“Please be at ease, brother.”

Holding Fang Pengju’s corpse, Ling He stood firmly before the Fang residence gates, listening as the footsteps hurried away.

He lowered his head and spoke to Fang Pengju’s already cold face.

“Pengju, look at the bastard thing you did. Even after you died, no one will remember your good points anymore. Gods hate you, ghosts despise you.”

After a very long time, the gatekeeper’s voice sounded from behind the door again.

“The master says…”

He paused, then repeated the tone of the Fang residence’s master.

“He’s already dead. What are you carrying him back for?”

Ling He froze for a moment before saying awkwardly, “The Fang family is a respectable household. They should give Pengju a respectable burial.”

“The master said he already knows the cause of Fang Pengju’s death. A man so heartless and unjust is not of the Fang family’s blood!”

“But he is of the Fang family’s blood,” Ling He said.

“Leave!”

The gatekeeper threw a handful of knife coins through the crack in the gate.

“If you keep pestering us, we’ll report you to the authorities!”

The knife coins clattered all over the ground, very eye-catching. If used to simply bury a corpse, they were more than enough. The extra money was a tip.

This was the Fang family’s attitude.

Ling He fell silent.

He no longer tried to say anything.

He was very poor, and had been poor since childhood. He lacked money greatly. His only intact outer robe was wrapped around Fang Pengju’s corpse, and his inner clothes were covered with many patches. Standing before the magnificent Fang residence gates, he looked like a poor relative who had been turned away.

He carried Fang Pengju’s corpse and turned to leave.

From beginning to end, he did not glance at those knife coins once.

This was Ling He’s attitude.

The best way to face mockery is not to greet it, but to abandon it.

[End of Chapter]