Jiang Li returned to the tavern, her face clouded with worry.
Zhufu
Street was filled with young women enamored with Huo Jue. Since Su Yao's
departure, everyone seemed eager to pluck this unattainable flower from its
lofty peak.
Alas, the
competition was fierce, with rivals at every corner.
Take Jiang
Li’s close friends, for instance. Liu Yan, with her delicate beauty and
scholarly lineage, was both cultured and poised. Zhang Yingying, lively and
charming, hailed from a wealthy family where she was the sole heir. In
comparison, all Jiang Li could offer was her appearance.
After much
hesitation, Jiang Li resolved to send the silver to Huo Jue. Though it lacked
the elegance of jade pendants or inksticks, Huo Jue was in dire need of funds.
She could frame it as a loan—surely he’d accept it under those circumstances.
---
At Zhengde Academy, rows of twenty desks filled the spacious classroom.
Several young men lounged at the back, talking in low voices.
A boy in
blue spoke animatedly, "Just now, when Huo Jue was surrounded by those
girls, he nearly couldn't escape! He looked so furious he could barely
speak."
"Seriously?
Why were they flocking to him?" asked a burly boy with thick brows.
"What
else? Showering him with gifts and confessions of love," replied the boy
in blue. "Is there a single young lady in Tong’an City who doesn’t adore
Huo Jue?"
"Tch,
it’s just his looks. These girls are so shallow."
The group
bantered, their tone a mix of humor and envy. Jiang Ling, seated nearby, grew
more agitated with every word.
Had Ali
also gone to see Huo Jue?
“What’s
wrong, jealous?” someone teased.
Jiang Ling
slammed his book down. “Why bother envying him? Study harder than Brother Huo
Jue, and maybe girls will like you even if you’re ugly. The real question is:
can you?”
Their faces
reddened, ready to retort—until a tall, commanding figure entered the
room.
Silence
fell.
Huo Jue
strode in with a cold expression. Taller than his peers, he carried himself
with a refined yet imposing air, like a pine tree standing unyielding against
the wind. Though he was their age, his presence outmatched them all.
The chatter
ceased immediately. No one dared cross Huo Jue. They’d only dared gossip
earlier because the headmaster had called him away.
Without
sparing them a glance, Huo Jue sat at his desk, pulled out a copy of Spring
and Autumn Annals, and began flipping through it, his demeanor
indifferent.
The tension
in the room eased.
Jiang Ling
smirked, then leaned closer to ask, “Brother Huo Jue, did you see Ali on your
way here?”
Huo Jue
didn’t lift his eyes. “No.”
Jiang Ling
exhaled in relief.
Good—his
warnings to his naive sister must have worked. She hadn’t foolishly gone
chasing after Huo Jue’s charm.
---
The
afternoon drum sounded, signaling the start of class. The elderly instructor,
holding a ruler and book, entered the room.
Today’s
lesson was on Spring and Autumn Annals. Huo Jue turned the pages in his hands
without interest. He’d memorized the text at six. By now, he’d read every book
in his family’s library.
But what
use was knowledge?
The
brilliant second son of the Wei family was long dead.
Huo Jue was
but a ghost, driven solely by revenge.
Lowering
his gaze, his slender fingers traced a line in the book:
*If you do not seek revenge, you are not a man.*
---
Class ended
in the late afternoon. Concerned for Su Shiqing, Huo Jue left the academy after
asking the headmaster for leave.
When he
returned to Zhufu Street, Granny Cao, the elderly caretaker he’d hired for Su
Shiqing, emerged from the room carrying a tray with an empty bowl.
“Lunch is
still warm in the kitchen, Jue. Go eat,” she said. “Doctor Su’s asleep.”
Huo Jue
nodded and went to the kitchen. After eating, he glanced at Su Shiqing’s closed
door before retreating to his own room.
Sitting by
the warm kang, he pressed a hand to his aching temple. The headaches had grown
worse, each bout sharper than the last.
This time,
the pain was unbearable. It felt like countless blades slicing through his
skull.
Huo Jue
tried to stand, but darkness consumed his vision. He collapsed onto the
kang.
---
Time
slipped by.
The sun
shifted across the room, its light moving from the worn desk to the kang by the
wall.
Suddenly,
the still figure stirred.
Huo Jue’s
eyes snapped open. A fierce, cold gleam flashed in his phoenix-like eyes, his
aura now sharp and menacing—utterly transformed.
He rose,
scanning the room with a sneer.
“Come out!”
he commanded.
The room
fell silent.
The warm
breeze brushed the window, but no other sound broke the quiet.
Huo Jue’s
gaze sharpened. Moments ago, he’d been in the Golden Palace, surrounded by
assassins.
How had he
ended up here?
What
sorcery was this?
After a
moment, he noticed a familiar book on the desk—Spring and Autumn Annals.
Picking it up, he froze.
The
handwriting was his.
This was
the very book he’d used in his youth at the academy—one he’d burned before
joining the court.
He set the
book down, his attention shifting to the worn blue cuffs of his robe.
The
governor’s seal he once held, the power he wielded—none of it matched this
coarse attire.
A chilling
realization began to dawn.
Throwing open the door, he strode outside. The courtyard was filled with medicinal herbs drying on bamboo trays. The air carried the faint scent of medicine.
Huo Jue
bent down, gently brushing his fingers over the half-dried herbs. His gaze
deepened as memories surfaced. These were herbs for Ma Xing Shi Gan Tang and Xiao Qing Long Tang—decoctions he had often brewed for Su Bozhibo years
ago, back when he lived on Zhufu Street.
Straightening,
Huo Jue's eyes roamed the familiar courtyard, lingering on every plant and
tree. His hands, hanging by his sides, trembled faintly. He clenched them into
fists, his breathing steadying as he forced himself to calm down.
After years
spent amidst mountains of corpses and seas of blood, Huo Jue had long trained
his emotions to remain as placid as still water, even in the face of calamity.
Yet now, a torrent of feelings overwhelmed him—surprise, disbelief, and a
flicker of hope he dared not name.
For a
moment, he couldn't tell if this was another dream or if he had truly... come
back.
A soft
knock at the door broke his reverie.
Then came a
voice, faint and timid, one that had haunted him in his dreams for countless
nights.
“Huo... Huo
Jue, are you there?”
Huo Jue
froze.
That soft
voice—it was her voice. It was Ah Li.
When no
response came, Jiang Li called again, her tone a little more anxious. “Huo Jue,
are you there?”
As if
waking from a dream, Huo Jue quickly strode to the door.
The wooden
door creaked open, the motion stirring the air and brushing softly against his
clothes.
Standing
outside was a girl with delicate crabapple-like features, her round deer-like
eyes glistening as though coated with a layer of mist. Timid yet hopeful, she
peered up at him.
Huo Jue's
breath caught, and a scorching ache seared through his chest as if his heart
had been scalded.
He gazed at
her in silence, his deep, heavy eyes fixed on her lively face—so familiar, yet
distant, as if separated by an eternity.
His lips
moved, a single word escaping like a prayer.
“Ah
Li...”
---
Jiang Li
felt something strange about Huo Jue today, but she couldn’t pinpoint what it
was.
His face
was the same, his eyes were the same.
Yet those
usually cold, indifferent eyes held an unfamiliar depth today, like the calm
surface of the sea concealing turbulent undercurrents.
Before she
could dwell on it, Huo Jue’s intense gaze left her flustered. She blushed,
quickly averting her eyes as the wind teased at her hair, revealing her smooth
forehead.
“I… I
brought you something.” Jiang Li bit her lip and pulled out a small silk purse
embroidered with bamboo.
The purse,
a delicate lake-green, was adorned with uneven embroidery. The bamboo stalks
were slightly crooked, their leaves misshapen. She had spent hours stitching
it, hoping to make it elegant, though her inexperience with needlework betrayed
her efforts.
Lowering
her eyes, Jiang Li mumbled in embarrassment, “It’s not very good…”
A slender,
pale hand entered her view—not to take the purse, but to gently pinch one of
her fingers. His rough fingertips grazed the needle marks on her skin, tracing
them lightly.
The
intimacy of the gesture caught Jiang Li completely off guard. Though she had
harbored feelings for Huo Jue for a long time, this closeness left her
flustered and stunned.
She
instinctively tried to pull her hand back, but Huo Jue didn’t let go. His grip
was firm yet gentle, and she found herself unable to move.
“How did Ah
Li hurt her hand?”
Jiang Li
glanced at him shyly and whispered, “I got pricked while embroidering this
purse. You know I’m not good at sewing…”
At her
words, Huo Jue seemed to finally notice the purse. He took it gently from her,
his fingers brushing over the awkwardly stitched bamboo.
“How could
it be bad?” he murmured. “I think these orchids are vivid and unique.”
Jiang Li
blinked. Orchids?
Huo Jue
chuckled softly, shaking the purse in his hand. “Is this the money Ah Li
saved?”
“Yes, it’s
mine.” Jiang Li’s voice grew anxious, worried he might refuse. “Don’t worry—I
can earn it back soon. Old Madam Chen from the East City loves the cakes I make
and rewards me generously every time.”
The purse
held about ten taels of silver—a sum Jiang Li could only have saved over two or
three years, no matter how generous Madam Chen’s rewards were.
Huo Jue
tightened his grip on the purse, his dark eyes softening as they settled on
Jiang Li’s earnest expression.
“Does Ah Li
really want me to accept this money?”
Jiang Li
nodded resolutely. “You need it now, especially with Old Man Su sick and Su Yao
gone. All the burdens are on you. You don’t need to be polite with me.”
At the
mention of Su Yao, Huo Jue’s brows furrowed. He hadn’t heard that name in
years.
Jiang Li
noticed his reaction and quickly added, “Su Yao left for Shengjing yesterday.
Her family arranged a marriage for her, so… you don’t need to think about her
anymore.”
Huo Jue froze, a long-forgotten memory flickering to life. He remembered Jiang Li coming to him once, after Su Yao’s departure, and boldly declaring: “Su Yao doesn’t want you, but I do.”
In his
previous life, he had cruelly rejected her, consumed by bitterness and
revenge.
But this
time…
Huo Jue
gazed at her for a long while before reaching out to lightly brush a strand of
her hair from her shoulder. His voice softened, carrying a weight of unspoken
emotion.
“Ah Li,
does what you said back then still count?”
Jiang Li
stared at him, bewildered.
The Huo Jue
standing before her seemed entirely unfamiliar—his gentle words and actions, so
out of character.
Could this
really be the same Huo Jue she had always known?
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