Please, Don’t Die - Chapter 40

Walking along the main street of the town, the sparse crowd had vanished without a trace.

The surroundings were eerily silent, almost deathly still, with only Ying Qujie’s steady, rapid footsteps echoing clearly.

“This isn’t right,” He Qingsheng murmured.

Ying Qujie slowed his pace, equally aware of the strangeness around them. “When we reunited earlier, a new conscription notice had just been posted, but the town shouldn’t have emptied out this quickly.”

No sooner had he spoken than his shoulders relaxed, and the small wooden puppet floated high into the air, spun once, and landed back in his hand.

“The town is empty.”

Ying Qujie stopped and asked, “Are illusions composed of memories?”

“Yes,” He Qingsheng replied, then immediately realized something. “Illusions are formed from memories. When Lady Ling Yu passed away, you were too young to remember. Your mother shouldn’t appear here.”

“Prince Liang is younger than you, so his memories couldn’t possibly include your mother either.”

“That means the only one who has seen your mother is the master of this illusion.”

Ying Qujie fixed his gaze on He Qingsheng and asked suspiciously, “Why not suspect the Imperial Preceptor?”

He Qingsheng was about to explain when she suddenly froze.

Yan Xingyi had said he had crossed over about eight years ago. By then, the previous dynasty had already fallen decades earlier, the timelines didn’t match. Subconsciously, she had ruled Yan Xingyi out.

But she had never verified those eight years.

It was all just Yan Xingyi’s word.

Because of the harmless demeanor he displayed in daily life, she had unknowingly let her guard down.

A chill ran down He Qingsheng’s spine. “Yes, Yan Xingyi is also a suspect.”

Illusions, in their pursuit of realism, dig into the subconscious memories of those within them.

Prince Liang’s memories had blurred completely upon entering the illusion, and Ying Qujie’s memories were similarly affected.

But Yan Xingyi’s memories showed no abnormalities.

Both Prince Liang and Ying Qujie’s physical forms had changed, but Yan Xingyi’s had not.

Precisely because his hadn’t, the trio’s combined presence formed,

A child, and a demonic priest.

The three of them had gathered in the underground palace to investigate the case of missing children and had entered the illusion together.

An illusion formed from their memories would inevitably be tied to the sinister art of “fate exchange.”

“Not good, we need to find Yan Xingyi!”

The key to breaking the illusion lay with him, more precisely, in the “dilemmas” he had created.

Without hesitation, Ying Qujie turned back.

But as he did, he found his path blocked by a dense crowd.

The villagers of Jimo Town had appeared behind him like ghosts, utterly silent.

Their faces were sallow, cheekbones protruding, eyes gleaming with excitement. A dark, lifeless abyss of people stretched endlessly, clamoring to devour all the trapped souls within the illusion.

“Run!”

He Qingsheng grabbed Ying Qujie and sprinted away.

“Capture them for the sacrifice!”

“If he dies, we’ll be safe!”

“Don’t let them escape!”

“If he dies, we’ll have food!”

“If he dies, we’ll have peace!”

Sacrifice. Fate exchange.

One death to save many.

One life to secure the world’s safety.

He Qingsheng’s heart sank.

As if… such a thing were possible.

The inflammatory words acted like adrenaline for the desperate refugees behind them. The chase was swift, life and death hanging by a thread.

They couldn’t change the dynasty’s decrees or resist the military’s oppression, but capturing a child for sacrifice was the simplest solution.

Perhaps only after the sacrifice failed to deliver the promised results would a few reflect on their actions.

But for now, all they wanted was to catch Ying Qujie.

Behind them were the living townsfolk from the illusion. If He Qingsheng were to confront them, a battle of attrition would inevitably deplete much of her baleful energy.

The master of the illusion had yet to appear, and the conversion rate of baleful energy within the tomb was insufficient. Temporarily seizing Ying Qujie’s vitality would only destabilize her focus.

For now, the best strategy was to flee, discretion was the better part of valor.

The water nourished wood, spinning into motion. Black and crimson baleful energy coalesced into threads, two of which stretched out toward the crowd behind them.

Yan Xingyi and Prince Liang were together!

In that split second, He Qingsheng understood, Yan Xingyi’s final choice had not been between Prince Liang and Wu Shou, but between Prince Liang and Ying Qujie.

Unlike the people she had grown familiar with over three years in the illusion, this was a genuine choice between companions.

The threads continued to shift direction, tracking their source.

Yan Xingyi realized she was locking onto their position and began frantically moving, trying to obscure her trail.

If He Qingsheng wanted to find Yan Xingyi and Prince Liang, Ying Qujie would have to face the pursuing villagers head-on.

A child’s strides were far shorter than an adult’s.

Several times, someone nearly grabbed Ying Qujie by the hair, only for He Qingsheng to snap their hands away.

This couldn’t go on.

Gritting her teeth, He Qingsheng pulled out a spirit artifact filled with spiritual energy.

The quality of spiritual energy in this endless cycle was astonishingly high and now she had to waste it on these things.

Grumbling inwardly, she formed a seal.

The barrier flickered for barely a thousandth of a second before she immediately withdrew the artifact.

She had exploited the slightest gap in the distorted flow of time to minimize the backlash.

The recoil from the interrupted spell scorched her palm in flickering waves, and the residual pain from the transfer spell she had used earlier to heal Ying Qujie’s broken leg surged back all at once.

He Qingsheng sucked in a quiet breath, and the little wooden puppet in her hand trembled faintly.

Outside, there was no longer any trace of living beings. The entire town looked even more dilapidated and worn, every inch a ghost town.

Yan Qujie stood alone on the empty street, forgotten by time once again, along with He Qingsheng.

So this was what it felt like for the world to shift in less than a single breath.

The faint, crumpled resentment that had built up over Ying Qujie’s three years of confusion now dissipated like smoke.

The vanished pursuers, and that nearly imperceptible hiss of pain beside his shoulder.

He Qingsheng must have done something again.

Ying Qujie took the little wooden puppet and clenched it in his hand, a gesture of overwhelming possessiveness.

Without hesitation, he bit his fingertip and pressed the blood into the puppet’s heart.

Ever since escaping Old Madam Wu’s house, he had wanted to test whether this method would work.

Now was the perfect opportunity.

Without warning, a cool current of energy, mingled with the scent of blood, gently soothed the burning in He Qingsheng’s soul.

For a moment, her expression went blank before she abruptly pushed Ying Qujie’s hand away.

Her eyes met his, dark as ink, bright as stars.

Teasing words, scolding words, playful words, they all danced on the tip of her tongue before she swallowed them all.

He Qingsheng turned her face away, stopping the bleeding on his fingertip, then jerked her chin northward. Her tone was stiff. “We go that way.”

“Alright.” Ying Qujie withdrew his hand as if nothing had happened, cutting short the strange tension.

The path to finding Yan Xingyi and Prince Liang seemed both long and short, long enough for half the journey to pass in silence, yet so short that Ying Qujie only managed to ask one question.

“Can you still die?”

He Qingsheng shrugged. “I’m already dead.”

Ying Qujie: “Be serious.”

If she died again, wouldn’t her soul scatter to the wind?

After spending a long time under the watchful eyes of her master and senior sister, He Qingsheng’s sharp intuition told her that this was not something she should say, doing so would earn her a scolding.

A sudden flash of inspiration struck her, and she adopted a mysterious tone: “When a person dies, they become a ghost; when a ghost dies, they become a jian; when a jian dies, they become xi; when xi dies, they become yi; when yi dies, they become kui; when kui dies, they become xu; when xu dies, they become liang; and when liang dies, they vanish into nothingness.”

He Qingsheng hadn’t expected that, after a hundred years, she could still recall some absurd modern internet memes and that those very memes would help her bluff her way through.

Suppressing the urge to laugh at the nonsense swirling in her head “The Two Forms give birth to the Four Uncles, the Four Uncles give birth to the Eight Nephews” she maintained a solemn expression and turned to Ying Qujie:

“According to this logic, I should still have a few more deaths left.”

Her tone was earnest, her expression flawless.

Ying Qujie fell silent. He hadn’t studied much about ghosts and spirits, so he couldn’t verify her claims. Half-convinced, he muttered under his breath.

“Hmm? What did you say?” He Qingsheng leaned in. “Physician Ying, it’s rude to badmouth someone to their face.”

“I didn’t badmouth you.”

“Yes, you did.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

Ying Qujie, exasperated, grabbed the little wooden puppet’s mischievous hand. “Fine, I did.”

“No, you didn’t.”

Ying Qujie: “?”

Too bad, he wasn’t falling for reverse psychology.

…

They found Prince Liang tied up under a tree.

It was the perfect spot, only two people could enter at a time.

Yan Xingyi had been lying in wait up in the tree.

If a commoner approached, he’d drop down from the sky and knock them out.

If two came, he’d knock out both.

The tree even bore wild fruit, ensuring they could hold out until the townspeople sacrificed Ying Qujie.

After a month apart, Yan Xingyi was unshaven, straddling a branch with his legs spread wide like a bandit lord. He casually plucked a fruit, took a big bite without wiping it, exuding a wild, untamed air.

“Oh? So the Grand Imperial Preceptor of Great Su has abandoned the refined scholar’s fan and silk scarf for the bearded warrior aesthetic?”

The sudden, resentful ghostly voice startled Yan Xingyi so badly that a chunk of fruit lodged in his throat. Choking violently, he lost his balance and toppled backward off the branch.

He landed beside Prince Liang, coughing violently before spitting out a piece of fruit.

With tears still streaming from his coughing fit, Yan Xingyi immediately wailed at He Qingsheng, “Xiao He! Thank goodness! I knew you’d, you’d be fine!”

“Yep, we’re fine. But you’re in trouble now.” He Qingsheng grinned, patting his cheek before pointing at the hand he’d been using to signal Prince Liang.

Yan Xingyi’s expression changed. Just as he tried to stand, Ying Qujie swiftly struck his pressure point, immobilizing him.

At the same time, He Qingsheng pinned Prince Liang in place.

“Explain.” He Qingsheng crouched near the prince’s head but fixed her gaze on Yan Xingyi. “Your final choice.”

Yan Xingyi watched as dark-red ominous energy coiled around his neck. Instantly serious, he carefully chose his words.

“The illusion demanded I choose between His Highness and Physician Ying, to sacrifice one in exchange for sparing the town from slaughter.”

During his three years in the illusion, Yan Xingyi had faced many such choices. Deciding between ordinary people in the illusion was hard enough, let alone between Prince Liang and Ying Qujie, two real, living people.

One was his closest friend; the other, a near-stranger.

“Xiao He, I truly never meant to harm you.”

Yan Xingyi’s lips twisted, not quite a smile, more a helpless grimace.

“But between His Highness and Physician Ying, I chose Prince Liang. My conscience is clear.” He closed his eyes briefly, suppressing a smile as he addressed Ying Qujie: “I apologize. If Physician Ying resents me for this, I am willing to atone.”

“People inevitably draw lines between closeness and distance,” He Qingsheng remarked with understanding, the corners of his lips lifting slightly. “But you should know that’s not what I was asking about.”

“Master, what are you all talking about? I don’t understand,” Prince Liang interjected, his tone full of confusion as he struggled to sit up.

He Qingsheng promptly rapped him on the head and pushed him back down.

“Stay put. Adults are talking, no interruptions from children.”

Prince Liang winced in pain, shrinking back.

“Don’t give him a hard time,” Yan Xingyi said, watching He Qingsheng’s actions before sighing resignedly. “Xiao He, I did know from the start that the final choice was between His Highness and Physician Ying. I thought it would be good if His Highness could live, but I only gave my final answer after delaying until you returned. Because I believed that with you here, Physician Ying might have a chance at survival.”

“Though the process was a bit convoluted, you see, both you and Physician Ying are still standing before me now. That is the answer.”

“That’s truly all I know.”