After Rescuing The Sickly White Moonlight - Chapter 22

Chapter 22

Lin Yu gently wiped the sweat from Zheng Qingyun’s forehead and asked, “What’s the rush? You’re covered in sweat from running.”

Zheng Qingyun didn’t speak. Li Su stepped forward to lead the two of them back. Shortly after, Liang Yi’an and Zheng Yanzhang returned one after the other. Zheng Yanzhang’s face was darker than the little black dog Zheng Zelan raised, while Liang Yi’an followed behind him, lips pressed tight in silence.

Seeing that it was getting late, Zheng Yanzhang led the group to bid Liang Yi’an farewell. Liang Yi’an instinctively moved to raise his hand, but it fell limply back to his side. Zheng Qingyun stole a few glances at his eldest brother before looking away, leaving Lin Yu watching the two of them in confusion.

Back in the carriage, Zheng Yanzhang let out occasional sighs. The three youngsters tucked their heads in, not daring to speak a word. Upon returning to the manor, Zheng Yanzhang—uncharacteristically—said very little to them before retreating to his own room.

Once the Double Ninth Festival passed, the weather grew colder by the day. Zheng Qingyun never mentioned what he had seen that day to anyone else, and so the relationship between Zheng Yanzhang and Liang Yi’an remained in an awkward, frozen state.

Zheng Mingtang hired someone to return to the south, bringing back saplings of “Cloud Mist Spring Snow” and several crates of tea leaves, most of which were presented to the Crown Prince. The Prince, in turn, gifted them to the Empress. Consequently, at a clan banquet, a new fine tea known as “Cloud Mist Spring Snow” made its debut.

Zheng Mingtang’s tea business was flourishing. She wanted to lease a plot of land in the suburbs of the capital to try planting tea trees, and Zheng Heng helped her search. Hearing that they were looking for land in the suburbs, Lin Yu suddenly remembered the empty house Suo Lou had rented there in his first life. At that time, Lin Yu had overturned every inch of that land and finally found some remains. After scouring medical texts, he had finally identified it in a Red Ying book documenting rare flora.

The plant was called the “Celestial Fairy Lotus.” It was rare and entirely poisonous. Symptoms of poisoning included headaches and sudden fainting; a small amount caused needle-like pain in the internal organs, while a large dose led to organ failure and heart damage—death followed within two breaths. Crucially, the victim showed no outward signs of foul play, appearing as though they had died of a sudden stroke.

Suo Lou had used the Celestial Fairy Lotus to commit many atrocities—killing Zheng Heng and poisoning Liang Jin. However, since his rebirth, Lin Yu had quietly scouted the area; the place was currently unbought and desolate. Lin Yu ordered his people to keep a close watch on that estate, but even after several years, Suo Lou had made no move. Lin Yu pondered it repeatedly but couldn’t make sense of it.

When the first snow fell on Pingjing, news of the Crown Prince’s betrothal arrived. The wedding was set for the following summer—a date an auspicious master had calculated to be rare and blessed.

Upon hearing the news, Zheng Qingyun specifically went to check on Zheng Yanzhang’s reaction. He found nothing; Zheng Yanzhang didn’t even look up, merely saying “I see” before continuing his calligraphy. Zheng Qingyun withdrew and closed the door. Lin Yu was waiting outside with an umbrella, and the two walked back together. The snow drifted heavily, their receding figures growing smaller as they left a trail of side-by-side footprints in the white expanse.

Inside, the charcoal brazier radiated heat. The moment they entered, the warmth enveloped them, coaxing out a light sweat. Guanyi came in from outside, rubbing his hands, followed by A’chengyu, who was rubbing his ears. Once the chill left his body, Guanyi walked further in. “Third Young Master, Master Lin, the kitchen made mutton soup tonight. How about a hot pot? With some warm wine, it’ll be the best way to heat the body.”

“Aren’t we eating in the front hall?” Lin Yu asked.

Guanyi shook his head. “The Master and the Eldest Young Master haven’t returned yet. The Madam said the roads are slippery with snow, so we won’t gather tonight.”

Zheng Qingyun noticed A’chengyu holding a pot of flowers. “What kind of flower is that?”

A’chengyu placed the pot in a warm spot. “It’s a China rose. The Cousin Miss bought several pots when she came back today. They look quite nice.”

Lin Yu looked at the budding petals—a beautiful pink tinged with white. One could tell they would be stunning once they bloomed.

Zheng Qingyun turned to Lin Yu. “Brother Xiao Yu, how about warming a jar of that chrysanthemum wine you brewed?”

In the autumn, Lin Yu had gathered golden chrysanthemums, mixed them with top-grade locust honey, stirred them with steamed broomcorn millet, and sealed them in a clay jar to ferment. Today was the perfect time to taste it.

“Sure,” Lin Yu agreed. “The four of us will have a lively time tonight.”

Zheng Qingyun smiled happily. He pulled Lin Yu outside to build a snowman. Lin Yu wrapped him in a thick cloak, put on his gloves and hat, and once certain he wouldn’t catch a cold, they went into the courtyard. Gradually, two snowmen leaning close to one another appeared on the ground.

The wind picked up, sending snowflakes dancing. Inside, the charcoal glowed red, the hot pot bubbled, and the wine was warming.

New-brewed wine with green dregs, a small stove of red clay. Snow is coming in the evening sky; won’t you have a cup with me? [1]

As the weather grew colder and the snow deeper, the New Year quietly arrived. Paper-cuts were pasted, spring couplets were written, and New Year goods were prepared. Everyone was incredibly busy. Zheng Zhili couldn’t return for the holiday, so Zheng Heng and Deng Yuan sent him a care package.

Zheng Zelan and Zheng Mingtang set up a small table to wrap dumplings together. Deng Yuan prepared copper coins, candies, and peanuts to hide inside for good luck. Yuan Xiu and the Old Lady had been brought to the capital to celebrate and watched happily as the girls smeared flour on each other’s faces. Outside, Zheng Yanzhang, Lin Yu, and Zheng Qingyun set off firecrackers while Zheng Heng stood by, grinning from ear to ear. A light snow began to fall again, glowing warm under the red lanterns.

After New Year’s Eve, the children lined up to pay their respects to their elders, receiving red envelopes filled with luck money. The registration for the County Exam was set for early February, so Zheng Qingyun only relaxed for a few days before being pressed by Lu An and Fang Wenqiu to write essays. Many parents hoping for their children’s success donated incense money to temples, while more powerful families distributed porridge and medicine to the poor in the suburbs to accumulate merit for their sons.

While Zheng Qingyun studied, Lin Yu was forced by Physician Chen to read medical texts. The physician had even “borrowed” the books Lin Han had left behind, telling Lin Yu he could have them back once he finished his studies.

Perhaps time passes quickly when one is reading; before Lin Yu realized it, the exam day had arrived. Deng Yuan prepared thick clothes and a small stove for Zheng Qingyun, and Zheng Mingtang sent a pair of knee pads she had embroidered with meticulous stitches. Though the winter wasn’t long, it was bitter.

Lin Yu dragged Physician Chen along to prepare various pills and supplements to prevent any emergencies in the exam hall. Zheng Heng even took a high-quality ginseng from the storehouse and tucked it into Zheng Qingyun’s luggage.

At the examination hall, the sky was overcast and a biting wind howled. Lin Yu watched as Zheng Qingyun passed the inspection and entered. He didn’t leave, staying right there to wait for him. After dawn, the sun broke through the dark clouds, offering a faint, much-needed warmth.

When the gates finally opened, a sea of people poured out. Lin Yu didn’t rush forward, waiting until the crowd thinned. Finally, Zheng Qingyun appeared at the back. Lin Yu hurried over to wrap him in a cloak warmed by the carriage stove, took his book box, and pressed a hand warmer into his grip.

Once in the carriage, Deng Yuan handed over hot ginger-date tea. Zheng Qingyun and Lin Yu each drank a cup to dispel the chill. After returning home, Fang Wenqiu and Lu An spoke with him briefly before letting him rest.

Lin Yu sat by the bed, tucking in the corners of the quilt. He stared at Zheng Qingyun’s maturing face, lost in thought. There were faint dark circles under the boy’s eyes from the exhaustion and lack of sleep. Even in his slumber, Zheng Qingyun seemed restless; he shifted slightly, and his hand moved to rest on Lin Yu’s. He gripped it twice before falling into a deep sleep.

Lin Yu brushed a stray hair from the boy’s face. Below Zheng Qingyun’s right eye was a tiny mole, faint enough to miss if one didn’t look closely. In the first life, Zheng Qingyun’s health was poor; he would cough until his eyes teared up, his lashes damp—the very image of a frail beauty. Yet that frailty hadn’t hindered his ruthlessness. Lin Yu had seen him at thirteen, steady-handed as he chopped off the hand of an assassin pursuing Zheng Zhili.

Blood had splattered, a few drops landing on Zheng Qingyun’s face, staining that very mole. The assassin’s tongue had been pulled out, leaving him unable to scream. A normal person would have shrieked at the sight, but Lin Yu had only stared, his heart aching for the face dirtied by blood. He had stepped forward to wipe it clean.

That face slowly overlapped with the one sleeping deeply before him now. It was slightly different. The current Zheng Qingyun was healthier, happier, and capable of fulfilling his long-held wishes. Lin Yu gently took his hand, not daring to squeeze too hard.

Qingyun, this time, I will surely help you rise like a phoenix. In this life, you shall live in peace and without worry.

On the day the results were posted, the crowd was so thick even an ant would have been crushed. Zheng Qingyun didn’t go; he sent A’chengyu to check and report back.

A’chengyu used his height and build to squeeze to the front. Seeing “Zheng Qingyun” at the top of the list, he couldn’t help but grin. He was about to head back with the good news when his height allowed him to spot a veiled man standing not far away.

The man’s lips moved slightly, and his gaze landed on A’chengyu. It was cold, yet unreadable.

A’chengyu left the crowd. The man signaled for him to follow and turned toward a tavern. A’chengyu took a deep breath and followed.

Inside the private room, the window was wide open. The excited shouts and wails of scholars below drifted in, quite intrusive. A’chengyu closed the door and growled at the man, “Are you mad? Showing your face at a time like this?”

The man removed his veil, revealing a face covered in scars. “If I didn’t come, I fear you’d have grown too used to this peaceful life. Have you forgotten our purpose?”

When he spoke, his lips barely moved; his face looked like a mask pinned onto his head. He shifted his eyes toward A’chengyu, his gaze piercing.

A’chengyu faltered, his body sinking to the floor. “I haven’t forgotten. I could never forget…”

The man walked to his side and patted his shoulder, his low, raspy voice echoing in A’chengyu’s ear: “Yu’er, never forget who it was that destroyed your father and mother!”

A’chengyu’s gaze grew vacant. The table and chairs before him vanished, replaced by a roaring inferno and charred buildings. Fire swallowed everything. The heat was eventually extinguished by heavy rain, and a young A’chengyu woke up to a scene of total devastation, weeping and calling out:

“Father! Mother!”

No one answered. He only found a broken waist-plate beneath the scorched ruins. And the charred remains of his parents.

That was when he had met Suo Lou.