Please, Don’t Die - Chapter 47

After checking the old lady’s pulse, Ying Qujie returned to the side courtyard.

By the desk, a woman with a gentle smile on her lips leaned slightly forward, her attention fixed on the lively little puppet dancing on the table. A man encircled his wife with one arm while using the other to form a protective barrier along the table’s edge, watching their interaction with a gaze full of tenderness and a trace of sorrow.

The puppet resembling Ying Wen spun around joyously, chattering endlessly as it called for its father and mother.

Ying Qujie glanced at them from outside but did not approach to disturb.

Instead, he turned aside and poked He Qingsheng, who was basking in the moonlight. “You…”

“Hmm?” He Qingsheng lazily lifted her eyes.

What did you do?

Or what price did you pay to save Ying Wen?

Are you alright?

Ying Qujie mulled over several ways to phrase his questions but couldn’t bring himself to voice them.

Suddenly, he understood the emotion he was feeling, helplessness.

He had devoted years to mastering medicine, yet he was utterly powerless when it came to He Qingsheng.

He Qingsheng: “What’s on your mind? You stopped mid-sentence.”

Ying Qujie silently extended his hand. “Do you need blood?”

The red bracelet swayed on his fair wrist, his elegant wrist bone presented before her. He Qingsheng froze for a moment, then snapped out of her distant state and said to Ying Qujie, “Come with me.”

In the study.

He Qingsheng stood boldly atop the desk. The wooden puppet, clad in carved attire, wasn’t as agile as a skeletal puppet, making her appear somewhat clumsy as she clutched the brush.

I should remake a skeletal puppet for her soon, Ying Qujie thought. Meanwhile, He Qingsheng’s brush danced swiftly across the paper, and in moments, intricate and mysterious runes emerged.

“Physician Ying, this rune can summon fire, this incantation can gather water. Both can be used for offense or defense. Once you’ve mastered them, they should suffice for self-protection.” He Qingsheng paused, then reluctantly pointed to the third rune.

“This is the Freezing Curse. If you encounter a ferocious beast, this curse can kill with a single strike. However, it disrupts karma and must never be used unless all hope is lost.”

She worried that Ying Qujie, a mere mortal, might grasp the fatal principle behind the Freezing Curse and, driven to kill, stray onto a dark path.

The version of the Freezing Curse she taught him was limited in scope, it could only freeze blood as it passed through the heart, piercing it from within.

First, internal organ ruptures made it difficult for mortals to discern the curse’s mechanism. Second, in life-or-death moments, speed was crucial. If the curse was cast swiftly and unexpectedly, even beasts or cultivators could fall victim, greatly increasing his chances of survival.

Ying Qujie studied the characters on the paper, carefully copying them onto a blank sheet as instructed. Casually, he asked, “Why teach me this all of a sudden?”

“Well, all encounters must eventually end in parting. Once I’m gone, this skill might just save your life in a pinch.”

He Qingsheng pointed at where his brushstroke ended. “When drawing runes, your mind must be steady, and the final stroke must be decisive. Otherwise, excess ink will ruin the rune.”

Ying Qujie watched as the ink bled into the paper, gripping the brush tighter. “You’re leaving? Where to?”

“Off to reincarnate, of course,” He Qingsheng replied with a cheeky grin.

Ying Qujie lifted his gaze and suddenly laughed. “Not a single word from you is true.”

He set down the brush. “Your sect’s destruction remains unavenged. What, did your wish suddenly come true?”

“Oh, you remember that,” He Qingsheng chuckled along. “It’s just that I’m heading back to settle the score now, so I thought I’d bid farewell to my ‘old’ friend.”

Ying Qujie’s brows furrowed into an elegant arc as countless thoughts raced through his mind in an instant. Yet when he finally spoke, the words that emerged were: “What about Ying Wen?”

“Ying Wen’s soul is damaged. I can only keep him in the mortal realm for one more day. By midnight tomorrow, you’ll need to open the Ghost Gate to send him into the cycle of reincarnation.”

He Qingsheng raised an eyebrow. “That settles it then. I’ll reincarnate with him.”

“I don’t believe you,” Ying Qujie said firmly. “You showed no intention of reincarnating before, a trip to the palace couldn’t have changed your mind. What did you discover there? What makes you so certain I’ll face dangers requiring immortal arts for self-defense?”

Ying Qujie’s sharp perception was undeniable, yet this very acuity could prove fatal for a mortal.

He Qingsheng nearly blurted out “None of your damn business.”

She turned her head away.

Ying Qujie’s tone softened. “You can’t keep using me while hiding things from me.”

“What could you possibly do even if you knew?” she retorted. It would only burden him with karma.

Silence fell between them as they stood in stalemate.

He Qingsheng stared absently at Ying Qujie, suddenly feeling that her initial decision to follow him for great fortune had backfired, dragging her into mortal affairs and, worse, compelling her to act against her will.

Yet without meeting Ying Qujie, whether she’d still retain her sanity now was debatable.

Truly, those destined for great fortune never encounter ordinary trials.

The image of Ying Wen pleading for help surfaced in her mind, and she found herself unable to remain indifferent.

Had Ying Wen accepted his fate or begged outright for salvation, she might not have felt so compelled to intervene in these mortal tribulations.

But that little rascal, mischievous yet sensible, comforting them even as he wept pitifully, had stirred something in her. When he finally admitted he didn’t want to die, He Qingsheng couldn’t explain why her heart had softened.

“With so much weighing on you, can your Daoist heart remain carefree?” Yu Fu’s words echoed in her ears.

Shaking her head, He Qingsheng dismissed the chaotic thoughts.

Staying longer, saving Ying Wen, even dealing with the rampaging emperor’s spirit, each act followed her heart’s calling. She saw no need to overcomplicate matters.

Meanwhile, Ying Qujie stared blankly at the incantation scroll after hearing He Qingsheng’s words. When she mentioned leaving to reincarnate, he should have felt relieved, without the ghostly woman, his life could return to normal.

Yet his first reaction was resistance, scrambling through fragmented memories to deny her impending departure.

Of course, her talk of reincarnation had been a jest.

But this realization brought no comfort. While reincarnation was false, her intent to leave and seek vengeance might very well be real.

He couldn’t discern whether her wounds had healed just by looking, nor could his blood mend her battered soul.

He sensed impending calamity, yet as He Qingsheng had said, what could he possibly do?

Despite mastering numerous Daoist texts, he’d been powerless when Ying Wen’s soul was devoured. How could he hope to handle He Qingsheng’s far more complicated situation?

Against gods, ghosts, and spirits, he was utterly helpless.

Night deepened.

Discarded practice papers piled high as ink in the stone grinder dwindled and was replenished repeatedly.

He Qingsheng marveled at Ying Qujie’s rapid progress, his talismans already carried spiritual essence.

“Rest, Physician Ying. Even I feel exhausted watching you,” He Qingsheng said sincerely. In just half a month, Ying Qujie had followed her through relentless turmoil, likely more upheaval than his entire previous life combined.

“No matter.” Ying Qujie took a sip of tea and glanced at the next room.

The conversation between Ying Hongfeng, his wife, and Ying Wen never ceased. Both sides knew this was their last chance.

It resembled the heartfelt parting words of an ordinary family of three, yet everyone understood this was no ordinary farewell.

The warm orange light flickered across Ying Qujie’s profile, casting an almost poetic glow as if admiring a beauty by lamplight.

Yet, a shadow lingered between his brows, evoking an inexplicable melancholy.

“I’m sorry, I spoke too harshly earlier.” He Qingsheng helplessly knocked out Ying Qujie, who had been determined to stay awake like an eagle trainer, and sighed. “Mortals are fragile. Just focus on keeping yourself safe, Physician Ying.”

With a surge of baleful energy, he gently laid the unconscious man back on the bed, tucked him in, and left the Ying residence.

…

At the Imperial Preceptor’s residence.

Yan Xingyi stared at the soft blade pressed against Qi Wan’s throat, cold sweat pouring down his forehead.

“Xiao He, let’s talk this out calmly.”

“Please, let’s talk, Senior He.” Qi Wan nodded slightly, terrified that any sudden movement might result in bloodshed.

“What is being trapped by Jin Yaoguang in the palace?” He Qingsheng fixed his gaze on Yan Xingyi, scrutinizing his every expression.

“What Jin Yaoguang? Who’s being trapped in the palace?” Yan Xingyi hastily adjusted his inner robe. He Qingsheng’s sudden midnight visit with Qi Wan in tow had caught him off guard, his eyes weren’t even fully open yet.

“Master-”

“Wait, wait, don’t act rashly!”

Half an hour later.

Yan Xingyi led He Qingsheng and Qi Wan into a secret chamber.

“Master, you really do have skills you never taught me.” Qi Wan’s eyes gleamed with fascination as she studied the intricate and mysterious totems.

The chamber was brightly lit by eternal candles, as clear as daylight.

Just as Yan Xingyi was about to tell her to shut up, he noticed the soft blade pressed against Qi Wan’s neck was actually the blunt side. Glancing at He Qingsheng’s composed expression, he nearly fainted from sheer exasperation.

“Fine, fine. My rebellious disciple, conspiring with outsiders to trick me.” Yan Xingyi angrily tapped Qi Wan’s head.

He Qingsheng thought: Rebellious indeed, but also clearly doted upon. Even now, Yan Xingyi can’t bring himself to give her a proper smack.

Qi Wan: “Senior He, what’s with that look? It’s creeping me out.”

“Rebellious disciple, that’s the look of someone who’s been tricked.”

Using Qi Wan as leverage had proven surprisingly effective. Clearing his throat, He Qingsheng flashed Yan Xingyi a perfectly polite smile. “Explain, Imperial Preceptor. Otherwise, I’ll plant a one-way love curse on your disciple and Lord Shangguan.”

“That’s downright vicious.”

Gritting his teeth, Yan Xingyi rummaged through stacks of documents before pulling out a pile.

The earliest among them was even signed by Wei Chunfeng.

Wei Chunfeng had been the first to discover the disappearance of Emperor Zhao Wu’s remains. After a long search, she found him again.

But the one who had returned by possessing a corpse was not Emperor Zhao Wu, it was the last ruler of the fallen previous dynasty.

Bloodthirsty and war-obsessed, he had been “revived” by unknown means, consumed by hatred and determined to drag the entire world down with him. He was an extremely formidable foe.

Even Wei Chunfeng could only severely wound him using the imperial palace’s purplish aura, sealing his escape with Jin Yaoguang.

“Did you not know he could absorb Jin Yaoguang to enhance his power?” He Qingsheng asked, puzzled.

Wei Chunfeng was a cultivator, and the Mianrihui toxin affected her as well.

Faced with the gravely wounded Emperor Zhao Wu, the barrier of Mianrihui, was it meant to trap the emperor, or Wei Chunfeng herself?

“Master only emphasized that Jin Yaoguang must never be neglected.” Yan Xingyi’s expression darkened as if recalling something. He hurriedly turned and began rummaging through cabinets.

From a stack of letters, he found something unusual.

To be precise, it was a letter from Wei Chunfeng’s fellow sect member.

The letter vaguely mentioned the anomalous corpse of Emperor Zhao Wu. Signed by a senior brother, the note suggested that such anomalous corpses served cultivators and could avoid sunlight confinement. They could first sever the connection with the person behind it, then use this opportunity to trap the enemy in a jar.

But clearly, Wei Chunfeng had not succeeded.

“Who is this senior brother?”

“Six years ago, our martial uncle betrayed the sect and was executed by fellow disciples in the East Sea.” Yan Xingyi’s knuckles turned white as he gripped the letter, as if realizing something, he spoke word by word: “My master’s death… has hidden circumstances.”

Qi Wan grasped his arm in silent comfort.

He Qingsheng thought of that striking shade of blue and couldn’t help but sigh in regret. Yet Yan Xingyi didn’t dwell on it for long, spreading the case files before her. Events great and small from the mortal world unfolded before her eyes like beads strung into a chain.