After My Faked Death Failed, Can I Still Find a Happy Ending? - Chapter 5

Beyond the door lay a room furnished with immense luxury.

In the center stood a grand bed. Within the room, curtains as light as silk fluttered without a breeze. Amidst the flickering shadows of gilded candles, the rosewood canopy bed seemed to float upon a sea of clouds; its four pillars were carved with intertwining lotus patterns, and the mortise-and-tenon joints were inlaid with interlocking celadon jade rings.

On the bed, cushioned against soft, bright-yellow satin pillows, a gentle beauty lay in deep slumber. Her expression was tranquil, and the commotion outside had not stirred her.

On a nearby table sat several stones of various shapes, surrounded by carving knives of all sizes.

The room was suffused with the rich fragrance of tea, mingled with a pleasant incense that refreshed the spirit and seemed to soothe away every ounce of fatigue.

Ji Mian paused, her breath catching behind the veil of curtains.

Though she sensed no living soul in the room besides herself, the fluttering curtains seemed to whisper to her, over and over, that the woman was still alive.

While wary of the woman’s movements, Ji Mian’s attention was simultaneously drawn to the stone carving on the other side of the room.

The sculpture was not yet finished, yet a vague outline was already discernible. As Ji Mian gazed at the half-carved face, a scene she had never experienced flickered into her mind: a young girl, grinning wide, running forward to be pulled into a warm embrace.

The Black Kui at Ji Mian’s side grew restless, mirroring her master’s turbulent emotions. As Ji Mian’s muscles tensed, the blade prepared to strike.

Perhaps it was the intensity of this killing intent that finally drew a reaction from the woman on the bed.

The woman sat up, revealing a dark-blue Shu brocade top from beneath the quilt. Although the color was somewhat faded, the exquisite embroidery still betrayed the owner’s noble status.

Her brows were as delicate as distant mountains. Having slept for a long time, her movements were imbued with a languid grace.

As Ji Mian met the woman’s gaze, she discovered a pair of lead-gray eyes.

“Are we having a guest?”

The woman’s voice was soft and gentle. She moved slowly, step by step, toward the rosewood table. She lifted a kettle from the small stove, and as she moved, the scent of tea billowed through the air.

“Won’t you sit?”

Ji Mian obeyed and sat opposite her, confirming that the woman was indeed unable to see.

With this realization, Ji Mian dared to observe her more closely. The woman had wounds wrapped in cloth strips. Ji Mian’s sense of smell was keen; amidst the elegant incense and tea, she could occasionally detect the metallic tang of blood.

Such a potent scent implied heavy blood loss; anyone else would be dead or crippled. Why was this woman sitting here drinking tea, as calm as if nothing were amiss?

Just as she was lost in thought, the woman handed her a cup of tea, watching her with a smile as she drank.

“How is the taste?”

The tea was much like the woman herself—mellow and warm, carrying a refreshing coolness that felt like a fine spring rain, coaxing young shoots to sprout from the earth.

“It is delicious.”

The woman’s brows curved in a charming, graceful smile. Seeing her expression, Ji Mian felt an inexplicable sense of closeness bloom in her heart.

“I have few guests. Your aura is quite similar to a young girl I knew before.”

“Ah, it has been so long since anyone came here. How rude of me; I have not yet asked, young lady, why have you come to this place?”

Ji Mian could summon no defenses against the woman, so she spoke truthfully.

“There are strange phenomena in the village. I was ordered to investigate.”

Ji Mian did not need to guess who the person with a similar aura was.

The woman pondered for a moment.

“Is that so?”

“This stone carving…”

Ji Mian was truly curious and finally asked about the sculpture. The patterns were carved with such clarity; the woman’s hands were clearly skilled.

“A small hobby of mine. What is carved here is my daughter.”

The woman picked up the small stone gently, holding it in both hands with a reverent expression. Her slender fingers traced the lines bit by bit, moving along to the head and lingering for a long time on the girl’s eyes. Whether it was the memories stirring, the woman smiled slowly—a radiant smile, yet one tinged with a sorrow that seemed to seep into her very bones.

The woman before her was gentle, yet Ji Mian felt a distinct sense of madness about her. Fearing she might touch a sore spot, Ji Mian fell silent and stopped asking questions.

The woman looked in the direction of the sculpture, as if she could suddenly see it, and murmured to herself.

“A pity…”

“What is?”

“Nothing. Young lady, this place is dangerous. It is better to leave as soon as possible.”

“Would you like to come with me?”

Ji Mian hesitated, yet she felt a strange, inexplicable urge to follow the woman.

The woman seemed to guess her hesitation and smiled.

“Then, would you like to walk around here with me?”

She placed the carving back on the table, packed the small knives into a wooden box, and retrieved another stone sculpture from a drawer.

This was clearly a different one, sized perfectly to fit in her palm. The woman gripped the small stone, rubbing it with her thumb. As Ji Mian caught her expression and inadvertently glanced at the piece, she could just make out a beautiful woman holding a long, thin sword.

Before Ji Mian could get a better look, the woman put the carving away. She walked to the edge of the room and pressed a mechanism. The wall in front of them collapsed inward, revealing a library that looked like a secret chamber.

The bookshelves were made of sandalwood and carved with the totem of Canglu; even the covers of the books were marked with it.

“Who, exactly, are you?”

Ji Mian finally asked the question that had been bothering her for a long time.

The woman shook her head gently.

“Young lady, it is better not to ask.”

Ji Mian looked at the woman’s gentle features, but she didn’t look like the High Priests described in the books. She looked more like someone from the Canglu royal family.

Ji Mian flipped through a few volumes and realized the contents might be beneficial to Lin Qing.

“May I take some of these?”

“Naturally. It would be a waste if they weren’t taken.”

How could it be a waste? Ji Mian didn’t quite understand, but she accepted it readily and packed away several books that contained the most complete records.

The woman’s behavior was strange. It was as if she were indulging her; no matter what request Ji Mian made, the woman would respond with a gentle smile and generous agreement. At first, she had suggested they leave together, yet she acted unhurried, as if stalling for time—or perhaps waiting for something.

Ji Mian’s logic told her to be wary, but her heart told her this person could be trusted, that she would not harm her. So, she let down her guard and followed the woman deeper into the trap, step by step.

The woman led her to explore further into the underground palace. She moved through the mechanisms with practiced ease, but then paused for a long time before a hidden secret door.

If the woman hadn’t told her there was something here, Ji Mian would never have noticed it on her own.

The previous secret room had at least had a visible seam, or its mechanism had been in a fairly obvious spot.

This one was far more concealed, which confirmed the purpose of the mechanism itself: to hide, rather than to store.

Whatever was inside was likely…

Ji Mian stopped overthinking. Remembering the woman’s failing eyesight, she volunteered to examine the object.

A glowing jade was embedded in the door, but the pattern was chaotic and lacked any discernible logic. Ji Mian tentatively reached out to nudge it and managed to slide one of the small fragments a short distance.

She pressed on the fragment and realized that the surface beneath was not flat, but possessed various uneven gaps.

The principle was more like a key and a lock cylinder; if all the pins were triggered, the lock would open.

Ji Mian frowned, narrowing her eyes to carefully observe the patterns. She began to piece them together in her mind, and suddenly, the key became clear.

The pattern was that of the divine beast, the Qilin, often painted on gates as a guardian to symbolize auspiciousness.

With that thought, her movements seemed guided. Even though she wasn’t knowledgeable in this field, an identical image of a Qilin appeared in her mind.

Could it be that the heavens were helping her?

Ji Mian felt a surge of excitement. Sure enough, not long after, the pieces clicked into place. A golden light emerged, and the seamless stone door cracked open, slowly pulling back to reveal the room beyond.

Ji Mian was caught off guard as a foul stench surged out, filling her nostrils. She instinctively felt sick, but as she looked up, she saw the burlap sacks hanging from the ceiling.

This room was nothing like the others; it had no decorative value at all. In the center stood a massive bonfire with a makeshift device attached. As the wood burned, it powered the device to continuously feed more wood into the fire.

A ventilation pipe had been added below; it looked like a great deal of effort had been put into it.

Ji Mian held back her nausea, watching the green light burning within the flames. The smell of decay permeated every corner. The burlap sack hanging directly over the fire dripped a strange liquid, drop by drop, into the man-eating flames and not even a single spark flew out.

This was…

The Forbidden Art: The Yin-Yang Pact.

The woman beside her had a much stronger reaction. She bit her lower lip, and tears welled in her lusterless eyes. She struggled to keep quiet, biting her lip until it bled.

“It has come to this; will you still refuse to appear?”

The woman suddenly shouted at the empty air. Her throat choked with emotion, and her voice turned sharp. Her composure was gone, replaced by a deep, sorrowful ache, as if a great mountain had trapped her for years.

Unescapable, indelible, unbreakable.

“Your Highness!”

Ji Mian stared fixedly at the figure emerging from the shadows. The hunched frame, the hoarse, aged voice was this not Old Granny Wang?

The old woman wore a massive cloak. One could tell it was made of fine material, yet she had worn it for so long that its color had faded significantly. As she moved, the hem of her cloak lifted, and the embroidery caught the light, slamming into Ji Mian’s vision.

Ji Mian realized with a jolt…

That was the totem of Canglu.

She was the High Priest.