My Partner Always Wants to Dig My Grave - Chapter 38

At Si Wan’s sharp rebuke, everyone froze mid-action, their eyes fixed on the sudden appearance of faint, glowing specks in the tomb chamber. Fear quickly seeped into the depths of their gazes.

The pale green glimmers gathered in clusters, densely packed like the most dazzling scene in the underworld, threatening to lure the mesmerized into an endless purgatory.

While their appearance was breathtaking, what remained was mostly heart-pounding terror.

Beautiful as they were, they were also deadly.

Sheng Zhen watched the phenomenon in the tomb, her red lips pressed together. A trace of nostalgia softened her eerie ghostly aura. After a long moment, she tilted her head toward Si Wan, offering a faint smile as she spoke earnestly, her warning meant for Si Wan alone.

“Though it’s beautiful and the memories are precious, touching them will cause your skin to fester.”

Hearing this, Si Wan latched onto a single keyword, her brow furrowing slightly as she murmured it under her breath.

“Memories?”

Sheng Zhen’s memories…

Si Wan lifted her gaze, her pupils reflecting the magnificent scene unfolding in the tomb. For a moment, her heart seemed to stop, and a flood of images surged through her mind, gradually overlapping with the sight before her.

The pale green glimmers floated mid-air, arranged in layers as if following some pattern, using the darkness as a canvas to paint a continuous picture.

Si Wan’s eyes flickered, fixed intently on the scene, unwilling to miss a single detail.

The bustling streets, the thousands of lanterns in the night sky carrying the wishes of the lively crowds below, the clamor of that time felt as if it were right before her eyes.

This was the Lantern Festival described in that letter.

At this point, Si Wan’s gaze instinctively searched the illusory crowd for that one figure, finally halting when it landed on the bridge.

The figure stood with its back to her, robes fluttering in the wind, gazing at something unseen.

Though it was merely a silhouette with indistinguishable features, Si Wan seemed to know instinctively that it was Sheng Zhen, the once vibrant and radiant Sheng Zhen.

As she watched, Si Wan unconsciously lifted her foot, wanting to walk to that figure’s side and see what she was looking at.

Just as her foot left the ground, her wrist was seized by two hands, one cold, one warm, and two hushed, urgent reprimands sounded in her ears.

“Have you lost your mind?!”

“Si Wan, are you crazy?!”

Si Wan turned her head, her eyes meeting Sheng Zhen’s first, her brows knitted in worry.

She opened her mouth but found herself at a loss for words.

Guan Yue waved a hand in front of Si Wan’s face, her expression grave. After a moment’s hesitation, she spoke.

“Are you under some kind of spell?”

Si Wan pushed Guan Yue’s hand away and sighed.

“No.”

Then, lowering her gaze, she spoke again, her words barely audible, as if talking to herself.

“It’s just… I wanted to go and see her.”

Hearing this, Sheng Zhen’s grip tightened slightly, a ripple of emotion stirring in the depths of her beautiful eyes.

“But Si Wan, it’s poisonous. I told you earlier.”

Even though Si Wan had wanted to rush to the side of her illusory past self, Sheng Zhen felt no joy in it. What she couldn’t bear was the thought of Si Wan’s death.

Memory insects, store memories, highly toxic.

For some reason, these words surfaced in her mind in her own voice, and her expression shifted.

Sensing Si Wan’s unusual reaction as if she had discovered something, Sheng Zhen, who was standing beside her, made no move to release her grip on Si Wan’s wrist. Instead, she tightened it even more.

A bright smile still graced Sheng Zhen’s pale face as she spoke softly, her voice seeming to brush against Si Wan’s ear. “Si Wan, memory insects are also called ‘longing.’ Though the seeds of longing are highly toxic, they represent the ultimate yearning of one person for another. You’re so clever, no matter how I try to hide it, I could never deceive you. I suppose you’ve already guessed what I did to myself. I’ve been dead for a thousand years. The past is beyond reach, so why dwell on it?”

Her gentle tone and measured words downplayed the suffering she had endured, while also urging Si Wan not to dwell on the details.

This was why, from the very beginning, when Sheng Zhen learned they were about to excavate her tomb, she had been so reluctant.

Hearing Sheng Zhen’s words, a ripple of emotion stirred in Si Wan’s eyes, a shadow of something indistinct flickering across them. The sight of the other’s seemingly indifferent expression in her peripheral vision inexplicably pierced her heart like needles.

How could these insects possibly hold Sheng Zhen’s memories?

Sheng Zhen’s body was likely long gone…

She had no idea in what wretched state the other now lay in this cold, lonely tomb, where only she remained.

Sheng Zhen had always been meticulous about her appearance, taking great care to adorn herself meticulously no matter the occasion.

In her mind’s eye, the bronze mirror reflected Sheng Zhen’s radiant features as she delicately applied a vibrant red floral design to her forehead. The warm sunlight streaming through the window bathed her face, adding a touch of delicate charm.

The moment Sheng Zhen turned her head, her eyes curved like crescent moons, clear and beautiful, her lips parting as she asked someone a question.

The image of that person from her memories overlapped with the Sheng Zhen before her now. Si Wan’s clenched fist at her side tightened slightly, as if she were suppressing something, keeping herself from losing composure.

“Yes, why dwell on it?” Si Wan murmured, repeating the other’s words, yet also questioning her in return.

At this moment, her heart ached not just at the thought of Sheng Zhen’s body being damaged, but with a profound sorrow for Sheng Zhen herself.

Building such a tomb must have required immense effort. Everything within it was meant to preserve, a thousand years later, the memories of herself and that person deep in her heart.

Hearing Si Wan’s retort, Sheng Zhen was taken aback, her grip on Si Wan’s hand gradually loosening.

From the moment she began constructing the tomb to the day she lay down in it, Sheng Zhen had never truly let go.

Suddenly, Guan Yue’s admiring voice broke through, interrupting Si Wan’s thoughts.

“I never thought ancient people could be so romantic.”

Si Wan’s gaze returned to the tomb chamber, and she shook her head slightly, her throat dry and uncomfortable as she spoke. “This is cruelty to her.”

This was no romance, it was a brutal act of facing death to seek life.

Guan Yue didn’t detect anything amiss and chuckled lightly. “The tomb’s owner has been rather cruel to us as well.”

As she spoke, her probing gaze settled on Si Wan, as if trying to discern something.

Si Wan did not respond to Guan Yue’s remark. Instead, Song Yan, standing nearby, spoke up with a note of surprise. “Professor, look, they’re in chaos.”

At her words, their attention returned to the tomb chamber. The glowing insects had, at some point, become a tangled mess, densely swarming and casting an eerie green light throughout the chamber, both bizarre and terrifying.

Rather than chaos, it was more like an unexpected disruption in the originally depicted Lantern Festival scene. Even that figure had vanished amid the turmoil.

“She’s in danger,” Si Wan murmured softly, her brow furrowed as her gaze anxiously searched for the now-vanished silhouette.

Guan Yue turned to Si Wan with a puzzled expression and asked, “Who’s in danger?”

Si Wan didn’t respond, instead biting her lower lip lightly, unaware of how pale her lips had become from tension.

Her eyes turned cold as she suppressed the earlier surge of emotion and addressed Song Yan. “Did you record everything from earlier?”

Song Yan, who had been documenting the scene on her phone from the start, nodded at Si Wan and replied, “It’s all recorded. I’ll send it to the two professors once we’re out.”

The dense clusters of light spots in the tomb chamber gradually dimmed until they disappeared entirely. Once they had faded, Sheng Zhen entered again and personally lit the candles inside.

The flickering candlelight illuminated the entire chamber, making the earlier events seem like an illusion.

The hidden door had been opened, revealing neatly arranged books inside.

Seeing this, the group grew excited and turned to Si Wan and Guan Yue with eager questions. “Professors, is it safe to go in now? Can we enter?”

Guan Yue glanced inside, pondered for a moment, and spoke with caution. “We can’t be certain there’s no lingering danger. To be safe, let’s wait until tomorrow and bring in equipment to inspect it.”

Though Sheng Zhen had already nodded in agreement, Si Wan couldn’t offer a definitive answer either, so she echoed Guan Yue’s suggestion. “Everyone has worked hard today. Let’s call it a day for now.”

Though reluctant to leave the ancient texts behind, they understood the risk of entering recklessly and had no choice but to depart with resignation.

Si Wan walked at the rear, and Guan Yue, fearing she might slip back unnoticed and lock herself in the tomb chamber again, stayed close by her side, unaware that she had inadvertently taken the spot of a certain female ghost.

Unable to nudge Guan Yue aside, Sheng Zhen let out a sulky huff and draped herself over Si Wan’s back, acting like a true resentful spirit.

Si Wan smiled faintly with a touch of helplessness but made no move to stop her.

Just then, as if recalling something, Si Wan turned to Guan Yue and asked, “What were you saying earlier about the specifications of this mausoleum?”

Guan Yue sighed and replied, “I was worried that if you knew, you wouldn’t focus on recovering properly. But given how things are now, I can’t keep it from you any longer.”

Pausing briefly, she continued with a grave tone, “In fact, the scale of this place resembles that of an emperor’s tomb. Although everything here seems unbelievable, as you’ve seen, the intricate mechanisms and designs are of the highest caliber.”

Upon hearing this, Si Wan fell into deep thought, failing to notice the unnatural shift in Sheng Zhen’s expression behind her.

Guan Yue sighed again and added, “We’re currently speculating whether the general might have staged a rebellion. Until we find his complete epitaph, we can’t draw any accurate conclusions.”

Si Wan nodded, her eyes lowered, lost in contemplation.

Sheng Zhen, resting her head on Si Wan’s shoulder, spoke in a muffled voice tinged with grievance, “Si Wan, I have never deceived you.”

Hearing this, Si Wan froze for a moment.

But then Si Wan reconsidered, Sheng Zhen had indeed never fully explained these matters, merely mentioning once that she was the eldest princess.

Everything was merely speculation based on the strange dreams she had been having lately.

At this, Si Wan began to ponder the authenticity of those dreams.

They exited the tomb through the cave opening, only to be met with chaos from above.

Hearing the disorderly sounds and screams, Si Wan’s expression turned cold. After exchanging a glance, she stepped ahead of Guan Yue, leading Sheng Zhen out of the tomb.

The moment Si Wan emerged, the sunlight seemed to be blocked by something, and sharp, piercing shrieks nearly deafened her ears.

She looked up and saw a wild horse, from who knows where, charging in, its hooves raised high, ready to trample her beneath them in the next instant.

…