The Heroine Pays Me to Fall in Love (Quick Transmigration) - Chapter 29

The monk fell silent for a long while after hearing A’ning’s words.

During that time, A’ning did not speak either—she simply waited for him to make a decision. The two stood in heavy silence for what felt like ages until, at last, the monk shook his head.

“I still cannot give it to you,” he said quietly. Turning his head away so as not to look at her, he folded his legs, closed his eyes, and began chanting sutras in low murmurs.

So stubborn.

A’ning couldn’t fathom what went on in his mind. Whatever patience she had left was already wearing thin, irritation creeping into her gaze.

“Why won’t you give it to me?” she demanded, her brows drawing tightly together.

She lunged forward, grabbed the front of his robe, and pressed her sword firmly against his throat.

“Give me one good reason—otherwise, I’ll end your life right here.”

The monk finally opened his eyes. His lips were cracked and dry, and when he spoke, his voice came out hoarse and low.

“The Governor once saved my life,” he said. “Years ago, when I was nearly killed by bandits, it was he who rescued me. I owe him a debt of gratitude and I must repay it.”

A’ning narrowed her eyes. So that was it.

“But he’s committed grave sins!” she retorted sharply. “He’s stolen from the people, hoarded gold and silver for himself, and brought harm to countless lives. You still choose to protect him? What kind of monk are you, to turn your back on the suffering of the world?”

“I only follow my own beliefs,” the monk replied calmly, shaking his head. “The people matter—but so does repaying a debt of kindness.”

A’ning almost laughed. She truly couldn’t tell if the man was wise or simply a fool.

Clicking her tongue in annoyance, she decided she’d had enough.

With a swift motion, she flipped her sword around and struck the monk hard at the back of his neck with the hilt.

The monk had no martial training, and A’ning’s attack came too fast for him to react. He collapsed to the ground unconscious.

A’ning sighed, dropped her sword beside him, and quickly loosened his robe. Her hand slipped inside, feeling around until she pulled out a small book.

A loyal man like him would surely keep what Jiang Heng had entrusted to him close at all times—probably even touched it every so often, afraid to lose it.

But in the end, it was hers now.

A’ning flipped open the book and skimmed through its pages. It turned out to be Jiang Heng’s personal account ledger.

Every entry was meticulously recorded: secret transactions, collaborators, portions of silver exchanged, the exact profits taken.

Line by line, everything was clear.

She even saw the name Jiang Yujin written within. Frowning, A’ning kept turning pages until she confirmed that Jiang Yu’an was not mentioned anywhere. Only then did she exhale in relief.

Such a small ledger—yet it held the power to condemn both Jiang Heng and Jiang Yujin to death, while also clearing Jiang Yu’an’s name.

Still, she had no intention of presenting it directly to the emperor. A man of such status, who decided life and death on a whim—even with irrefutable evidence, persuading him to withdraw an order would be far from easy.

Better to strike from a different angle.

With that thought, A’ning tucked the ledger away, turned on her heel, and hurried out of the ruined temple. She mounted her horse and galloped off into the distance.

In her haste, she failed to notice the unconscious monk behind her. Two silent tears slid from the corners of his closed eyes.

Perhaps there was never a way to have it both ways in this world.

To be true both to the Buddha and to one’s beloved.

Jiang Chengxuan brought Jiang Zhinan to a secluded place.

Perhaps afraid she might try to flee, he tied a rope around her wrists and held the other end himself, leading her forward.

Zhinan said nothing, following him quietly. They were in a small wooden hut, sparsely furnished with basic cookware and a few daily necessities.

The place was simple—unremarkable—and hidden deep in the forested mountains, difficult for anyone to find. It seemed this was where Jiang Chengxuan had been hiding all along.

But what caught Zhinan’s attention was his condition.

He’d been coughing the entire way, his posture no longer straight and proud, his complexion pale. He looked gravely ill—perhaps even beyond saving.

Zhinan didn’t ask. She merely followed in silence, though a strange unease began to rise within her, as if all the tangled mysteries were finally about to unravel—today, at last, there would be answers.

After some time, Jiang Chengxuan came to a stop. He turned slightly, gesturing for her to look ahead.

To her surprise, two tombstones stood not far in front of them.

One bore the name Liu Rumeng, the other Liang Yutong. Nothing else was inscribed.

For some reason, the names felt oddly familiar.

Drawing upon Jiang Yu’an’s memories, she recalled that Liu Rumeng had been Jiang Chengxuan’s mother, while Liang Yutong was the woman he had once rescued from the streets—someone who had almost become his wife.

But both had died unexpectedly, leaving him utterly alone in the world.

That was all she could remember.

As if sensing her confusion, Jiang Chengxuan smiled faintly and spoke—not to her, but to the tombstones.

“I’ve come,” he said softly.

Zhinan held her breath, afraid to interrupt.

When he finished speaking, he sat down on the ground, his expression strangely calm, almost serene, as though he was merely here to rest during a journey.

After waiting for some time without another word from him, Zhinan finally asked, “Why did you bring me here?”

“Shh.” Jiang Chengxuan raised a finger to his lips, signaling for silence. “Just wait a little longer.”

She didn’t know what they were waiting for.

With a small sigh, Zhinan sat down as well, silently speculating with her system what he might be planning.

A while later, a carrier pigeon descended from the sky and landed gently on Jiang Chengxuan’s hand.

He untied the letter from its leg, unfolded it, and read. His expression shifted almost immediately.

Moments later, the corner of his mouth curved into a bitter smile—as though what he’d just read had struck him like a thunderclap.

Curious, Zhinan frowned slightly. Before she could speak, Jiang Chengxuan stood up and held the note out for her to see.

The message was brief, but chilling:

“Jiang Yu’an’s whereabouts have been confirmed. Execute on sight—behead and deliver the head.”

“Additionally, evidence of the Jiang family’s corruption has been secured. Jiang Heng and his eldest son are to be executed at noon tomorrow.”

The flood of information left Zhinan momentarily stunned, her brows furrowing deeply.

“Your A’ning is truly capable,” Jiang Chengxuan said with a low chuckle.

He tore the note to pieces and let the fragments scatter into the wind.

Zhinan could only stare at him, utterly at a loss.

“She didn’t tell you?”

Sensing the confusion in Jiang Zhinan’s eyes, Jiang Chengxuan let out a low sigh.

“She really did protect you well.”

“I thought,” he murmured, but whatever he meant to say caught in his throat and never came out.

“Forget it.” After a pause, he continued, “Let her tell you the rest herself one day. I’ll just tell you my story.”

“When you’ve heard it, you’ll probably understand why I did what I did.”

The story wasn’t long, yet it wasn’t short either. Jiang Chengxuan spoke in a halting rhythm, interrupted by bouts of coughing, his voice breaking now and then.

The protagonists of his tale were the very people buried beneath the two tombstones before them—his mother and his lover. But the events and ending he described were completely different from what Jiang Zhinan had always believed—worlds apart.

It turned out that the dignified Madam Liu had betrayed the Governor, Jiang Heng. Every day, she secretly met with a household servant, engaging in shameful acts behind closed doors.

Back then, Jiang Chengxuan had still been a child. One day, while playing in the manor, he accidentally stumbled upon their illicit entanglement. The sight terrified him.

He didn’t fully understand what he saw, only that his mother’s twisted expression, her sounds of pleasure, the disheveled hair and their interlocked hands—all of it filled him with raw fear.

Panicked, he made a small noise.

It was faint, but his mother still heard it. She turned toward him, her dazed eyes suddenly sharp and terrifying.

Jiang Chengxuan almost cried. He fled in a panic and soon after fell ill, bedridden for days.

His mother never came to visit—not until the day his fever finally broke.

Despite his fear and resentment, she was still his mother. The moment he saw her, his heart leapt with joy. He scrambled up from the bed, eager to hug her.

But instead, she reached out and wrapped her fingers around his throat.

“She told me,” Jiang Chengxuan said with a bitter laugh, “that if I ever revealed what I saw, I would die.”

“After all, she was a woman of humble birth who had clawed her way up to become the governor’s second wife. She couldn’t afford the slightest risk. A child could be replaced—but once she lost her position, she would lose everything.”

“She really meant to kill me. I could see it in her eyes.” His voice softened to a murmur. “A mother willing to strangle her own child to protect her reputation—how could such a person ever be forgiven?”

“So, Madam Liu’s death.” Jiang Zhinan inhaled sharply.

Jiang Chengxuan only smiled faintly and moved on to the next story.

This one was about the woman he had once loved—Liang Yutong.

It began as an ordinary tale of a hero saving a damsel in distress. He had rescued her by chance, and through a series of coincidences, they grew close. In time, affection turned into love.

Jiang Chengxuan cherished her like a precious gem. He swore he would marry no one else, that he would love her for all his life.

And she, too, promised that she would never marry another man, that even death could not part them.

But she was of low birth, and the governor could never approve of such a match. Seeing how deeply his son had fallen, Jiang Heng had spoken to him several times, trying to dissuade him. Yet Jiang Chengxuan had been adamant, blind with infatuation.

Left with no choice, the governor took a different approach—he went after the girl instead.

And to his surprise, it was all too easy.

The girl who swore eternal love folded at the first taste of wealth. All it took was a few gifts, a few promises, and she was gone.

In the end, the only one left behind was Jiang Chengxuan—believing in a love that had never truly existed.

When Jiang Zhinan heard all this, she immediately guessed the rest: the girl must have died by his hand as well.

Pitiful as she was, it was still Jiang Chengxuan who seemed the most tragic of all.

“Then why did you take revenge on your father too?” she asked softly. She couldn’t understand why he would drag the governor into it.

“Doesn’t he have his share of blame?” Jiang Chengxuan sneered. The wind tousled his hair, making his expression seem almost feral. “After I killed them, I started dreaming every night.”

“But in those dreams, I didn’t see their ugly faces. I saw them smiling at me—loving me sincerely.” His voice grew wistful. “And every time I woke, I couldn’t help but wonder: if Father had truly loved Mother alone, if he hadn’t meddled and torn me and Yutong apart, would everything have been different? Would I still be alone like this?”

He gave a faint, self-mocking laugh. “But I know better. Those thoughts are nothing but wishful fantasies.”

The bleakness in his voice silenced Jiang Zhinan.

“At first, I didn’t plan to do anything,” he continued after a while. “The moment I truly steeled my heart was during a family rite. I overheard Father making a vow before the ancestors.”

“He said he had sinned too much in this life, and from then on he would repent—by giving everything he owed his children, to you.”

Jiang Zhinan froze.

She had never heard of this, but now that he mentioned it, she recalled clearly: the governor had always treated her far better than her brothers, cherishing her as if she was made of glass.

So, this was the reason.

“You’re surprised, aren’t you?” Jiang Chengxuan gave a twisted smile, his eyes rimmed with red. “Why should the debts owed to me be repaid through you?”

“Jiang Heng had two sons and one daughter. Whichever of us he favored could have eased his guilt.”

“But me?” His voice trembled. “I only ever had one father.”

“Second Brother,” Jiang Zhinan whispered, heart aching. She wanted to comfort him, but before she could speak, he lifted his head, eyes locking onto hers.

“Compared to them,” he said, tears finally spilling down his face, “the one I hate most is you.”

“When I first taught A’ning, I saw myself in her. Like me, she would stop at nothing to achieve her goals—even if it meant sacrificing everything.”

“I didn’t kill you because I wanted you to understand—to feel what it’s like to be betrayed by someone you love, to watch your life traded away for power and status, to taste that helpless despair.”

“I plotted for so long, set up every move so carefully and still, I lost.” His voice broke into a bitter laugh. “I never thought she would risk everything—her life—to protect you.”

“Jiang Yu’an,” he whispered, his tone soft and almost envious, “you’re truly blessed. Blessed enough that even I can’t help but envy you.”