Please, Don’t Die - Chapter 39

“To be precise, I wasn’t in any real danger.”

His name had been given to him personally by Ling Yu, yet after several attempts, the Ling Yu within the illusion seemed unaware of his full name.

The moment Ling Yu called out “Brother Ying,” Ying Qujie began to guard himself.

He had taken medicine to calm his mind and steady his spirit in advance, planning to discuss the matter with He Qingsheng the next day.

But by the next day, nothing unfolded as he had anticipated.

He didn’t even manage to step out of his home.

Every time he intended to leave, something would obstruct him.

Only when he obediently sat under the eaves, reciting texts and practicing calligraphy as the illusion desired, did time seem to resume its flow.

After slogging through ancient texts until his head spun and reciting them under Ling Yu’s supervision, the sky outside had long since darkened.

“Brother Ying, you’re still young, don’t go out at night,” Ling Yu said, her voice as gentle as water yet leaving no room for refusal. “Be good. Wait until tomorrow.”

When the morning sun rose again, Ying Qujie had to rise with the rooster’s crow to review his studies.

Ling Yu never outright stopped him from leaving. Occasionally, she would even enter his room with snacks, urging him to go out and play like a child should.

But after several tests, Ying Qujie realized that only after reciting his lessons under her supervision would the illusion permit him to step outside.

One peaceful day passed, then two, then three, then four…

Ying Qujie’s daily life fit perfectly into the role of the studious youngest son of a scholar’s family on East Street, diligent, hardworking, and persistent.

Then one day, as he lifted his head from the dense, incomprehensible texts, the red bracelet on his wrist accidentally knocked against the desk with a crisp ding. It was only then that he jolted awake as if from a deep dream, realizing he had unwittingly lived an entire month according to the illusion’s script.

During that time, He Qingsheng never came looking for him, and Yan Xingyi was nowhere to be seen.

Ying Qujie couldn’t gauge their situation outside, but since he wasn’t in immediate danger, he refrained from acting rashly.

The illusion tampered with his memory, dulling his learning ability. What he once memorized effortlessly now required repeated effort.

But Ying Qujie was stubborn to the core. If reciting once wasn’t enough, he’d do it ten times. If one draft of an essay wasn’t sufficient, he’d submit multiple versions from different angles.

Finally, by the end of the second month, Ying Qujie managed to step out at dawn as he had wished.

The small streets of Jimo Town bustled with people. He spotted Ling Yu, dressed as a scholar, writing letters for others, while the butcher couple strained their voices shouting, “Fresh pork, twenty coins a pound!”

The once-blurry street corners from when he first entered the illusion now bore clusters of vivid green bamboo.

Houses that had stood empty were now occupied, and even the peeling walls seemed neatly repaired, as if they had always been that way.

To save time, Ying Qujie deliberately avoided them, searching until he finally caught Prince Liang attempting to scale the academy’s outer wall to escape.

Prince Liang was in a worse state than him. Though Ying Qujie’s memories were muddled, he at least knew he didn’t belong in the illusion.

The Prince, however, had lost all memory of the outside world, fully embracing the role of the illusion’s little tyrant. He grabbed Yan Xingyi and tried to flee, claiming ignorance when asked about He Qingsheng.

Unable to reason with him, Ying Qujie turned to find Yan Xingyi himself. But the moment he stepped into the academy, his purpose slipped from his mind, and he ended up trudging home in frustration, restarting the cycle.

When faced with the ancient texts again, Ying Qujie impatiently twisted his bracelet, only for his fingers to recoil from a sudden burn. The realization struck him like lightning.

He tugged at the red bracelet, but no miracle occurred.

Fortunately, this method of preserving consciousness was etched into Ying Qujie’s subconscious.

The illusion deliberately intensified his dizziness and confusion, while Ling Yu brought back numerous ancient scrolls.

Ying Qujie’s study load multiplied several times over.

The sheer volume of information consumed his life, relentlessly compressing his mental space.

At his most agitated and disoriented, he would rely on the jade bracelet to clear his mind for a fleeting moment, catching a brief respite.

Just listening to Ying Qujie’s description, He Qingsheng eerily sensed a pressure akin to the gaokao or postgraduate entrance exams.

The idea of “no study, no reward” was downright hellish.

“This illusion came at the wrong time,” He Qingsheng sighed. “If it had appeared later, it would’ve been a top-tier cram school.”

Yan Xingyi nodded in solemn agreement. “Absolutely.”

“What happened next, Physician Ying?” He Qingsheng tilted her head, meeting Ying Qujie’s gaze.

It was an indescribable look, fleeting for just a second, but she still caught the flicker of something unusual.

Before she could scrutinize it further, Ying Qujie had already lowered his eyes.

“Later…”

Later, stacks of dry and abstruse texts piled up, sometimes making him lose track of time. Thankfully, tucked inside each book were sheets of paper filled with names he had written anchors to reality, reminders not to forget or despair.

He never called for He Qingsheng in moments of danger. Every time he tugged the red bracelet, it was out of… longing.

The word surfaced in his mind, carrying an unexpectedly tender weight.

Ying Qujie steadied himself and raised his hand slightly. “Thanks to the bracelet’s conspicuousness, bumping into it now and then kept me lucid longer. By the end of the first year, I made contact with the Imperial Preceptor.”

The first year’s end, now, it was the dawn of the fourth year.

The dilemmas Yan Xingyi faced grew increasingly complex, just as the texts Ying Qujie had to memorize became more obscure.

If the illusion’s purpose was to trap mortals, then Ying Qujie’s experience was like a frog slowly boiled in warm water, while Yan Xingyi endured the torment of a blunt knife sawing through flesh.

“What about Prince Liang?” He Qingsheng asked. “What did he do these three years?”

After discovering the random triggers of his choices, Yan Xingyi had deliberately avoided contact with Prince Liang and Ying Qujie, isolating himself to search for traces of He Qingsheng.

Tracking Prince Liang’s movements fell to Ying Qujie.

According to him, aside from losing all memories of the real world, Prince Liang showed no abnormalities.

Unbound by the illusion, he studied when he wished and played in the fields beyond the town when he pleased.

He roamed the mountains and rivers with the local children, catching fish and teasing birds, fully immersed in the life of Jimo Town.

Yan Xingyi had refused to integrate into the illusion, suffering relentless torment as a result.

Ying Qujie was half-integrated, enduring no small amount of mental strain.

Prince Liang, however, seemed to have forgotten everything, wholeheartedly embracing his role as the illusion’s child king.

Not a single hardship touched him.

But blending into the illusion wasn’t necessarily a good thing.

He Qingsheng’s brow furrowed slightly, a vague thought flashing through her mind.

Ying Qujie’s expression also twisted with unease.

Their eyes met, and in each other’s gaze, they saw the same bold conjecture.

Yan Xingyi had just steadied his emotions when two pairs of eyes locked onto him.

His hair stood on end. “Why are you both staring at me?”

He Qingsheng: “Imperial Preceptor, the key to breaking the illusion might lie with you.”

Ying Qujie nodded in agreement. “You, me, and Prince Liang, we’re all mortals. Prince Liang’s mind is muddled, his memories gone. I should’ve been the same, but thanks to Shengsheng’s intervention, I never fully merged with the illusion.”

Ying Qujie’s address had become extremely natural, earning a strange glance from He Qingsheng. Thinking she wanted to add an explanation, he paused his words.

Now didn’t seem the right time to ask about it, so He Qingsheng silently picked up the thread: “As the Imperial Preceptor of Great Su Dynasty, your definition in this illusion is different from Physician Ying and Prince Liang, both pure mortals.”

Yan Xingyi’s eyes widened, his expression dazed: “Are you saying the illusion recognizes me as a mortal Taoist or a cultivator? That’s why it preserved my memories and consciousness, forcing me to make those damned choices over and over?”

He Qingsheng looked at him sympathetically. Unsurprisingly, she had been trapped in an endless cycle, likely the illusion’s way of excluding Yan Xingyi’s external “artifacts” as aid, a restriction specifically targeting him.

The endless cycle trapped spirits but not malevolence. Whether a mortal Taoist or a cultivator, none would use evil artifacts as weapons.

The mastermind behind this hadn’t realized that, which also meant they weren’t omniscient about the events unfolding in the illusion.

This gave them significant room to maneuver.

Yan Xingyi struggled to accept it, his eyes brimming with tears as if lamenting to the heavens: “Seriously, what did a half-baked guy like me do to deserve this?”

He Qingsheng comforted him earnestly: “Imperial Preceptor, if you can comprehend barriers within the illusion, you’re hardly half-baked anymore.”

“Really?”

“Really.” He Qingsheng and Ying Qujie answered firmly, afraid the Imperial Preceptor might spiral into despair.

Outside, a noisy crowd rushed past, wails rising and falling along the way.

Yan Xingyi’s expression suddenly darkened: “Today’s conscription notice was dated the third year of Jianzhen.”

He Qingsheng, unfamiliar with mortal calendars, only asked in confusion: “What about the third year of Jianzhen?”

“The third year of Jianzhen in the previous dynasty marked the beginning of the chaotic era.”

…

The beginning of the chaotic era.

Taxes, conscription, war.

The third year of Jianzhen, Jimo Town was far from its later prosperity. The first time the village head brought the general here, Jimo’s young men vanished without a trace.

The second time, even children of twelve or thirteen had to don armor and march to war.

Prince Liang or Wu Shou, who to send away?

This was the choice Yan Xingyi had faced earlier.

He chose Wu Shou, sparing Prince Liang.

And Wu Shou, clawing his way through the military camp, rose to prominence atop a mountain of bones.

The massacre in Jimo Town was but a trivial footnote in his storied life.

Yan Xingyi knew of the future slaughter, knew the fate of the former dynasty’s general, Wu Shou, as recorded in history.

Countless times, he reminded himself this was an illusion, that he shouldn’t indulge in unnecessary pity, yet he couldn’t help recalling the earnest little turnips of Jimo Town who had followed him, eager to learn.

If emotions didn’t sway decisions, the difficulty of making choices would likely plummet.

Alas, complex and rich emotions are humanity’s unique gift.

Unavoidable.

“We must find Prince Liang and leave Jimo immediately,” Yan Xingyi said, his expression grave.

He Qingsheng matched his seriousness, staring intently at him: “Not just leave Jimo, leave the illusion.”

“Imperial Preceptor, don’t get pulled in.”

Yan Xingyi wavered for a moment before nodding solemnly.

Dispelling the barrier, he decided to split up to search for Prince Liang.

He Qingsheng followed Ying Qujie toward the outskirts of town, while Yan Xingyi stayed nearby to search alone.

Outside, the alleys were in disarray, scattered with ragged refugees.

Ying Qujie led He Qingsheng straight to the peach grove.

Since childhood, Prince Liang had loved to play in that place. Now, in the third month of the year, when his mood was low, the likelihood of him hiding there was extremely high.

Just as they rounded the corner, Ying Qujie ran too fast and nearly collided with someone.

He Qingsheng swayed violently, barely steadying herself when the sight of a stunning woman before her left her dazzled.

Her demeanor was poised yet sincere, her skin flawless, and her figure perfectly proportioned.

Ying Qujie’s grown-up features bore a fifty percent resemblance to the beautiful woman. Anyone who had seen them both would instantly recognize their blood relation at first glance.

“Is this your mother?” He Qingsheng whispered into Ying Qujie’s ear, her voice barely audible.

“Mm.” Ying Qujie didn’t bother lowering his voice. Instead, he held the small wooden puppet in his palm and presented it to Ling Yu. “Mother, this is my… friend.”

Ling Yu bent down, her strikingly beautiful face drawing near.

Dazed by her beauty, He Qingsheng felt an uncharacteristic flutter of shyness.

Reflected in Ling Yu’s limpid, autumn-like eyes was the figure of the small puppet. After studying it carefully, she smiled radiantly. “Hello, Ying’er’s friend.”

While He Qingsheng was still debating whether to return the greeting, Ying Qujie’s mood seemed to plummet instantly.

His movement was subtle, but it didn’t escape Ling Yu’s notice.

“Leaving so soon?” The woman’s voice was soft.

Ying Qujie stiffened slightly before responding with a muffled “Mm.”

A puppet speaking probably wouldn’t startle this woman. He Qingsheng boldly surmised and, having reached her conclusion, abruptly stood up and waved energetically at Ling Yu. “Hello! My name is He Qingsheng. I’m Ying Qujie’s friend.”

Both Ying Qujie and Ling Yu were momentarily stunned by her sudden outburst.

Ling Yu was the first to recover. Though surprised, she asked nothing, her bright eyes still warm and welcoming. “Alright, I’ll remember that, He Qingsheng.”

“Ying Qujie’s good friend.” She emphasized the word “good” heavily before affectionately ruffling Ying Qujie’s hair. “Go on, then.”

Ying Qujie took a few steps forward, then turned back to cast a deep glance at Ling Yu.

She remained standing in place, her gentle smile unchanged, yet it seemed to stiffen bit by bit.

“Ying’er, come home early.”

Ying Qujie averted his gaze and turned away decisively.

He Qingsheng patted him lightly and sighed. “Let’s go.”