Please, Don’t Die - Chapter 56

The little wooden puppet in his arms fell silent, and for a moment, the courtyard was utterly still.

Ying Qujie slit his palm and gently touched the puppet, but the blood flowed around it, tracing the wooden grooves of its clothing before dripping onto the white jade floor, blooming into crimson plum blossoms.

A light snow began to fall from the sky, swift and sudden. Before long, a thin layer of frost coated the bodies of the palace servants strewn across the ground.

He walked outward, passing withered branches and scattered leaves, passing rivers of dark blood and sorrow, the red walls on either side receding behind him.

Beyond the final palace gate stood the Emperor and Empress of Great Su, along with a crowd of officials, their expressions a mix of anticipation and unease.

They craned their necks eagerly, but the sight of Ying Qujie, drenched in blood, sent a ripple of shock through them.

The Emperor and Empress, Yan Xingyi, Shangguan Ding’an… a group hurriedly surrounded him, their eyes filled with desperate hope, waiting for good news.

“Divine Physician Ying, has the matter been resolved?” the Emperor asked.

“Physician Ying, are your injuries serious?” the Empress inquired, her gaze tender.

“Physician Ying, what manner of evil was lurking in the imperial garden?” a minister pressed.

…

Only then did Ying Qujie realize that beyond the barrier, it was already the next day.

What had seemed like a brief clash was, in truth, a grueling battle of repeated assaults and defenses. Those inside had faced terror, while those outside had burned with anxiety.

The devastation in the imperial garden was too horrifying.

Had it not been for the palace’s many suppression wards and Yan Xingyi’s swift response, the entire palace might have already fallen.

The Emperor and Empress had issued a desperate decree, ready at any moment to sacrifice themselves as a final barrier. Regardless of rank or character, everyone had stood with bloodshot eyes, guarding the last palace wall, not daring to retreat an inch.

The vengeful spirits had dissipated, the malevolent energy dispelled, and the fleeing remnants of darkness had been purged. Ying Qujie briefly explained the situation.

It was the best outcome possible under the circumstances.

The crowd exhaled as if granted a second life. The Emperor and Empress immediately began issuing decrees to handle the aftermath, while the ministers seized the chance to volunteer for duties. It was as if they had only briefly stepped out of rhythm before swiftly returning to their ordained roles.

Yet Ying Qujie’s chest tightened abruptly. He heard Yan Xingyi ask, “What about Xiao He and the others?”

“Asleep.”

“Asleep? That’s good, as long as they’re alright.” Yan Xingyi patted his chest in relief, but then his arm froze mid-motion. He turned sharply. “Wait, she’s a ghost. Why would she be asleep?”

Perhaps Ying Qujie’s pallor was too stark, because Yan Xingyi suddenly realized his words were ill-timed and hastily backtracked. “Physician Ying, don’t worry. Xiao He is so strong, sleeping isn’t strange at all. It definitely isn’t because of anything… fatal…”

“Ah, I didn’t mean it like that. Ugh, Physician Ying, don’t overthink it. Damn my mouth.” Yan Xingyi promptly smacked his own cheek and swore to the heavens, “Anyway, she’s nothing like ordinary ghosts. She’ll be fine.”

Ying Qujie gave a faint hum, so quiet it was almost inaudible.

Beyond the palace gates, the once-chaotic market had returned to normal. Vendors grumbled about the sudden snowfall driving away customers as they packed up their stalls in small groups.

Children playing in the snow were dragged home by their ears, leaving the streets sparsely populated.

A charcoal-seller’s shouts accompanied Ying Qujie for a stretch, ensuring his solitary figure didn’t appear too desolate.

Exhausted after a sleepless day tending to the people, Qi Wan sat on a street corner gnawing on a sweet potato. The auntie who gave it to her had just pulled it from the stove, leaving her hands smeared with soot.

Through the rising steam, Ying Qujie’s figure passed by in a fleeting glimpse.

Qi Wan rubbed her eyes, convinced she must be hallucinating from exhaustion. She swore to herself that this time she would thoroughly reprimand her unreliable master and superior, who had been missing for over a day without a trace.

…

As if peering through a hazy mist.

He Qingsheng saw Li Fu’an engulfed in blazing talisman flames amidst a golden flower field. Yet the inferno didn’t scorch a single petal of the sea of flowers, merely carving out a small circle of safety around him.

She surveyed her surroundings, golden blossoms stretched from the hillside down to the valley floor, while ancient trees towered in the dense forest beyond.

They were in the depths of Jimo Mountain.

Li Fu’an dodged the erupting roots of the flowers, while Mian Rihui seized every opportunity to strike from the shadows, his malicious, piercing voice grating on the ears.

Countless golden petals shot toward Li Fu’an’s protective barrier as tangled roots lashed out, determined to drag down the evasive intruder from the sky.

Li Fu’an retaliated with the most devastating spiritual blades, leaving only broken branches and scattered petals in their wake. For every move Mian Rihui made, Li Fu’an countered, their clashes sending shockwaves through the earth, toppling the outermost ancient trees.

Amid the chaos, no one noticed He Qingsheng’s displaced tombstone, nor her faint wisp of lingering consciousness.

The malevolent aura that had followed her had wrapped around a fragment of her soul, bringing He Qingsheng’s consciousness here in a blurred, indistinct state.

A wandering spirit was fragile to begin with, let alone a mere remnant. Combined with the lingering consequences of devouring Emperor Zhao Wu, it meant that no matter how intense the battle before her, she had best not intervene.

The power of the Divine Blight Flower was not to be underestimated.

He Qingsheng cautiously observed every move of the two combatants. Li Fu’an, constrained by the flower field, was at a disadvantage, while Mian Rihui, previously wounded by the malevolent aura, wasn’t faring much better.

Dark clouds shrouded the sky, blotting out the sun and moon. Violet lightning churned within, yet not a single bolt descended as divine punishment.

The battle was deadlocked.

All three parties desperately sought an opportunity to tip the scales.

The fury in He Qingsheng’s heart swelled uncontrollably. She coveted the power Mian Rihui was unleashing. After devouring Emperor Zhao Wu, her soul had developed an addiction, a craving for consumption, for the surge of power.

Unlike the discipline of her ascetic training, this addiction teetered on the edge, a single thought separating divinity from demonhood.

He Qingsheng’s mind raced. She urgently needed a way to consume Mian Rihui.

Her main soul lay dormant in the capital, a thousand miles away. This remnant’s thoughts were less coherent than her whole spirit, and with such immense temptation before her, the ideas that surfaced grew bolder by the second.

For instance, she openly taught Li Fu’an forbidden techniques.

After only a brief moment of shock, he followed her instructions and attacked Mian Rihui.

Mian Rihui, seeing his own body in ruins, turned his fury toward He Qingsheng’s wisp of a soul.

But He Qingsheng was close to Li Fu’an, who, for his own survival, had to protect her with all his might, and obey her commands.

“Everlasting Longing, heed my call!”

With the forbidden technique tearing through the air, Li Fu’an’s longsword answered the summons. It streaked like a falling star, piercing toward Mian Rihui from an unpredictable angle.

Then, the air itself fractured as sword after sword materialized, forcing Mian Rihui into a desperate defense against the relentless onslaught.

Left with no choice, he shed his ruined body for another, finally enraged. A glowing rift in the spiritual realm opened beneath his feet.

The blackened death aura from Mian Rihui’s discarded vessel poured into the rift, instantly doubling its size. The golden flower field was uprooted and swallowed by the expanding void.

Mian Rihui’s gaze turned venomous. “Perish, all of you.”

Through the rift, an overwhelming surge of spiritual energy revealed countless streams of magma, tainted with Mian Rihui’s floral poison, poised to erupt.

“Use the Soul Displacement Technique!” He Qingsheng said succinctly.

…

The heavy snow in the capital had been falling relentlessly for seven days, blanketing everything in thick, soft layers that rounded and softened the edges of the world. Each step crunched underfoot, and footprints left behind would vanish within moments.

Ying Qujie arrived at the Imperial Preceptor’s residence once more, dusted with snow.

“Has Xiao He still not woken up?”

“No.”

Yan Xingyi watched as Ying Qujie pored over ancient texts, shaking his head helplessly before offering some comfort. “Just wait a little longer, Physician Ying.”

He added fresh charcoal to the brazier, and soon the flames burned bright.

The doors were tightly shut, with only a half-open window for ventilation. Anyone inside could look up and see the snowy scenery outside.

But Ying Qujie sat there all day, utterly absorbed, burying himself in books without once lifting his head to admire the view.

After several days, his eyes were bloodshot from exhaustion.

Yan Xingyi thought of all the questions Ying Qujie had asked him, almost none about He Qingsheng could he answer.

For the first couple of days, Yan Xingyi could still urge Ying Qujie to take care of himself. But now, seven days had passed, and there was still no sign of her waking. Yan Xingyi couldn’t bring himself to stop Ying Qujie from “forgetting food and sleep.”

Fortunately, two days prior, he had finally resolved the series of upheavals in the capital and could spare time to help with the search.

Around noon, the weather suddenly cleared.

Winter sunlight was always a rare treasure. Coincidentally, Qi Wan arrived with Shangguan Ding’an, who had changed into casual clothes after court, and the three of them worked together, each chiming in, to drag Ying Qujie out of the house for some sun.

Ying Qujie moved his books outside, where a battered little wooden doll lay beside the scrolls, dutifully holding down the corners.

Qi Wan and Shangguan Ding’an joined the search team, and before they knew it, evening had arrived.

Unnoticed, snow began to fall again, leaving delicate ice crystals clinging to their hair.

Qi Wan stretched lazily before mysteriously pulling Shangguan Ding’an under an evergreen tree.

Yan Xingyi, sensing mischief, followed closely behind.

Qi Wan motioned for Shangguan Ding’an to lean in, glancing furtively at Yan Xingyi. Once he was close enough, she suddenly kicked the tree trunk and bolted.

Snow from the evergreen branches cascaded onto the two beneath, instantly turning their hair and eyebrows white.

Qi Wan burst into laughter.

“Qi Wan!” Yan Xingyi lunged to knock her on the head.

She slid behind Shangguan Ding’an and stuck out her tongue at Yan Xingyi. “Master, this is called, ‘If we chance to share the snow today, then in this life, we’ve shared white heads.’ I was supposed to share white heads with Shangguan, you’re the one who followed us. Can’t blame me!”

Only after rattling off this explanation did Qi Wan belatedly sneak a glance at Shangguan Ding’an’s expression.

And there she met a pair of smiling eyes, brimming with warmth like spring water in the midst of winter.

Shangguan Ding’an pinched a bit of snow and placed it on Qi Wan’s head, saying earnestly, “This is sharing white heads.”

Qi Wan’s cheeks burned, and she averted her gaze.

Yan Xingyi twitched in exasperation. “Unbelievable. Am I dead to you?”

The three of them spontaneously started a game of “eagle catches chicks,” with Qi Wan laughing as she dodged Yan Xingyi, and Shangguan Ding’an dutifully acting as a human shield, whether there was any ulterior motive was left unspoken. But when the chase turned into a snowball fight, every snowball aimed at Qi Wan ended up hitting Shangguan Ding’an instead.

For a while, the courtyard was filled with boisterous noise.

Ying Qujie found himself staring blankly at one spot, He Qingsheng’s spirit hovered there alone, seemingly engrossed in watching the trio ahead engaged in a snowball fight, yet her gaze appeared unfocused and distant.

Large snowflakes drifted through her ethereal form, cascading freely into the embrace of the earth.

Her hair was jet black, yet not a single snowflake could linger upon it.

In this life, they would never grow old together.

Amid the wind and snow, Ying Qujie stood up and approached her cautiously.

He asked softly, “Will you play in the snow with me?”

There was no response, or perhaps her presence had lasted only a fleeting moment, so brief he could hardly tell if it had been an illusion.

“Physician Ying, come join us!” Yan Xingyi called out to him, completely unaware of the ghostly figure that had flashed by moments earlier.

Ying Qujie replied quietly, “No.”

Lowering his gaze, he pinched a handful of snow and scattered it over the little wooden puppet’s head like a petulant gesture, the silver-white flakes resembling strands of hair.