Overcome by sheer panic, He Zhuoming would have fainted long ago were it not for the fact that the stranger possessed a distinctly human appearance.
Yet remaining conscious proved worse than blacking out. Weak in the arms and knees, she collapsed back into the coffin, completely beside herself with fear. She stared blankly at the young man, at a total loss for what to say or do.
The young man reached out a hand toward her, taking her arm to pull her straight out of the coffin. “Did I startle you? I like to think I’m fairly decent-looking, certainly not enough to frighten someone unconscious.”
Terrified, He Zhuoming immediately tried to yank her arm back. The young man appeared entirely harmless, but his strength was immense. Try as she might, she could not shake off his grip, only causing herself a wave of sharp pain in her arm from struggling.
The young man continued, “I originally intended to greet you last night, but you were sleeping far too soundly. I knocked on the coffin lid several times, yet you never woke up.”
He Zhuoming remained silent.
The young man said with a beaming smile, “I’m not a bad person, merely a passing good Samaritan. Your complexion looks terrible, and your lips are cracked… How pitiful. Here, have some water. Don’t worry, my water is definitely not poisoned.”
With that, the young man released He Zhuoming’s arm, unhooked a waterskin from his waist, took a sip first, and then handed it to her.
Watching his throat bob as he swallowed the water, He Zhuoming couldn’t help but swallow hard herself, taking the waterskin and gulping down the water eagerly.
After draining every drop of sweet water from the skin in one breath, He Zhuoming licked her lips—as sensation returned to the cracks on her mouth, she felt a stinging pain.
When the young man reached out toward her again, He Zhuoming backed away in fear, only to step on a corpse behind her. Tripped up by the body, she tumbled to the ground, the aching pain bringing sour tears straight to her eyes.
The young man expressed surprise. “Why did you fall?”
He Zhuoming was stunned by his sheer shamelessness. “Didn’t I fall because you scared me?!”
Having not spoken for days, her voice sounded raspy and unrefined as she suddenly spoke up, the odd pronunciation startling even herself. She couldn’t help but clutch her throat, wondering if that voice truly belonged to her.
The young man replied earnestly, “But I wasn’t trying to scare you. I simply wanted my waterskin back. You were the one who kept backing away until you stepped on the corpse.”
Had he not mentioned the body, it would have been fine, but the moment he spoke, He Zhuoming realized what she was currently resting upon. Overcome with revulsion, she hastily scrambled up, threw the waterskin back to the young man, and ran out of the temple at top speed.
Catching the waterskin with one hand, the young man dropped into a half-squat, pulled out a handkerchief, and wiped away the dirt where He Zhuoming had stepped on the corpse’s lapel.
His eyes remained curved in a pleasant smile as he whispered softly to the headless body, “Children don’t look where they’re going, she didn’t mean to step on you. Don’t hold a grudge, now.”
He Zhuoming finally stepped out into the sunshine. Though the heat stung her face slightly, standing on solid ground once more, basking in the sun, smelling the scent of rice plants and wildflowers in the air, and seeing the rolling mountain range in every direction brought tears back to her eyes.
She wiped her tears with the red silk she had used to wrap her pearls, thinking to herself how fortunate it was that she had transmigrated wearing sneakers. Had she been wearing slippers or sandals, traversing these mountain paths would have been impossible.
The young man walked up beside He Zhuoming and asked, “Everyone in the village is dead. What are your plans moving forward?”
He Zhuoming was extremely wary and had no desire to share her true intentions with him. She lied, “I’m going to the city to seek refuge with relatives. What about you?”
The young man did not answer her question, instead gazing toward the nearby rice paddies. On the ridge running between the green crops, an elegant piebald horse had appeared at some point.
The piebald horse wore a green bridle, with a small green blanket woven from vines draped over its back. Willow leaves dangled from both sides of the blanket like green tassels.
The young man placed his index knuckle to his mouth and blew a sharp whistle. The piebald horse trotted over gracefully, its hooves clicking in a steady, rhythmic cadence.
He Zhuoming stole cautious glances at the horse and then at the young man, quietly hiding her bundle of gold and jewelry behind her back.
Looking at the young man’s profile, she felt he looked strangely familiar. Yet He Zhuoming was certain she didn’t know him at all—where had he come from? He mentioned discovering her last night, meaning he had arrived then; had he crossed paths with the bloodthirsty ghost groom from yesterday?
As the young man hooked the waterskin back onto his waist, He Zhuoming’s gaze shifted to his midsection.
Encircled around his waist was a black belt half a palm wide, secured on the side by a red clasp. The clasp was quite unusual, adorned with fresh red crabapple blossoms alongside an exquisitely crafted wooden waist token.
Carved upon the waist token were crabapple blossoms, accompanied by three characters written in a forceful, vigorous hand: Lin Qingyun.
The young man patted the piebald horse’s neck, grasped the reins of the bridle, and said to He Zhuoming, “The mountain paths are rugged, and a young girl like you might not find her way out. I’ll lend you Qingyang. He’s a fine horse that knows the way and can deliver you to the nearest city outside these mountains.”
Seeing that He Zhuoming remained dazed and unresponsive after he finished speaking, he smiled and said gently, “Rest assured, I know you’re afraid of me—I won’t follow along. I’ll just have the horse take you. Once you reach the city, dismount and go find your relatives; Qingyang can make his own way back.”
He Zhuoming asked, “You are Lin Qingyun?”
The young man tilted his head to look at He Zhuoming without speaking, merely curling his lips into a smile that brought out the dimple on his cheek. The pearl chain hanging from his left ear swayed gently in the breeze, glinting with a crystal-clear luster.
His silence seemed like an implicit agreement—though in truth, he was trying to recall who Lin Qingyun was. He didn’t seem to know anyone by that name… or did he?
The young man wasn’t entirely sure.
He was infamous for his poor memory, holding neither grudges nor remembering names.
He Zhuoming’s eyes widened. “You really are Lin Qingyun?!”
Lin Qingyun, the male lead of the original novel. His defining personality traits were indecisiveness, kindness, and being easily fooled—especially by women. Even if a harmless-looking woman tricked him a hundred times, he would still fall for it on the hundred-and-first time.
Without hyperbole, eighty percent of the hardships Lin Qingyun endured in the early arcs were self-inflicted due to this nature. Every time He Zhuoming read about him getting duped by a woman again, she had rolled her eyes in sheer frustration.
By contrast, the big villain possessed far more prestige—the villain persecuted every man and woman equally, showing no mercy regardless of gender. When a character lacked gender bias in their actions, they always seemed exceptionally captivating.
Yet a novel was just a novel, while reality was reality. He Zhuoming now understood that even if a handsome psycho in reality was extraordinarily attractive, he belonged in prison to age alone, rather than out in the world terrorizing innocent bystanders.
He Zhuoming stared intently at the young man. After pondering for a long while without remembering who Lin Qingyun was, he casually admitted, “Mm, I am.”
He Zhuoming took a breath, muttering to herself, “I knew it…”
No wonder this man was so kind and even willing to lend her his horse—he was the male lead after all!
Truth be told, ever since she transmigrated, the original novel’s plot had grown increasingly hazy in her mind. She had completely forgotten the names of many major characters around the protagonist—as for the visual descriptions of male characters who barely appeared in the original text, He Zhuoming had long lost all recollection of them.
After all, aside from describing the male lead as “having delicate features” and the big villain as “possessing a refined appearance,” every other male character got the exact same introduction: “This is a man.”
The novel didn’t have illustrations either, so who knew the difference between “delicate features” and a “refined appearance”? When she had confirmed the young villain’s identity back then, she had relied on directly asking for his name.
As it turned out, a villain was a villain—even in his youth, he was rotten to the core!
Finished with her inner monologue, He Zhuoming looked up to see Lin Qingyun still holding the piebald horse’s reins, waiting for her answer.
No longer feeling as afraid of him, she asked probing, “What about you? You haven’t answered me yet. What do you plan to do next?”
Lin Qingyun pointed toward the temple gate and said, “There are so many corpses here. I need to dig many graves to bury them all properly and erect tombstones for them.”
His mention of the corpses reminded He Zhuoming of something.
She hesitated for a moment, recalling that he had offered her water and was willing to lend his horse. He Zhuoming said, “Those people were all killed by a ghost groom. He might still be in the village, so if you plan to stay, you must be careful.”
Lin Qingyun blinked. “A ghost groom?”
He Zhuoming nodded. “Yes, a ghost groom.”
Lin Qingyun burst into laughter, leaning his whole body sideways against the sleek fur of the piebald horse’s neck, his hair ruffled into a mess by the horse’s gentle rubbing.
He Zhuoming felt baffled. “What are you laughing at?”
Lin Qingyun replied, “I’m only laughing because I never knew there was a bride in this world who could complete the marriage rites yet fail to recognize her own groom.”
With that, he swept a hand across his face. His healthy, bright complexion instantly turned a pale, rigid blue, dark cadaver spots surfacing on his skin in a deeply eerie and terrifying fashion.
He Zhuoming’s eyes widened in sheer horror, and she instinctively backed away several steps. With a gentle shake of his head, Lin Qingyun’s appearance returned to normal as he explained with a warm smile, “Don’t be afraid, that was merely an illusion.”
“I intended to lure out the foul deity of this place and eliminate it, which was why I disguised myself as a deceased groom to gain entry to that wild temple. I didn’t expect them to use a dead groom while capturing a living bride, ending up scaring you instead.”
Although he claimed he had scared He Zhuoming, he had no intention of apologizing. He had never uttered the words “I’m sorry” to anyone in his entire life, nor did he ever realize he could do any wrong.
Still recovering from the scene she had just witnessed, He Zhuoming asked in a trembling voice, “Are… are you actually alive, or are you dead…”
Before she could finish her sentence, tears welled up and spilled over once more from fright.
Lin Qingyun grabbed her hand, pressed it against his face, and exhaled softly into her palm—the warm breath was unmistakably that of a living human.
The string of pearls on his earlobe lightly tapped against the back of He Zhuoming’s hand, the crisp clinking of the translucent beads echoing right beside her ears.
Lin Qingyun said, “Feel for yourself. Am I alive or dead…”
Before he could finish asking, the young girl before him collapsed. Lin Qingyun hastily bent down onto one knee to catch her, only to realize she had fainted cold.
It was half from terror and half from starvation.
Another reason was that He Zhuoming felt safe beside the male lead, allowing her tightly strung nerves to relax slightly.
This faint plunged her into a deep, unconscious slumber until hunger woke her up.
Limp with hunger, He Zhuoming opened her eyes and stared blankly at the ceiling for a while before remembering her gold. Panicking, she scrambled up to search for it, only to find the bundle wrapped in red silk sitting right beside her pillow.
He Zhuoming opened the bundle and checked—the gold and jewelry were all intact.
The pearls were too numerous for her to count, so she couldn’t tell if any were missing, but when she weighed the gold in her hand, it hadn’t lightened.
Relieved, He Zhuoming looked around and quietly hid the bundle back under the pillow. She supported herself against the wall and stepped out of the crude farmhouse, discovering that it was already late at night outside.
A bonfire crackled in the open clearing before the house. Lin Qingyun sat with his back to her, roasting steamed buns over the fire. The scent of carbohydrates filled the air, making He Zhuoming’s mouth water instantly.
Dragging her weak legs, she shuffled over to Lin Qingyun’s side and asked, “C-can I have a piece?”
As she spoke, her eyes weren’t on Lin Qingyun at all; she was staring intently at the roasted buns.
Lin Qingyun took a bun off the fire and handed it to her. “This one is done. Go ahead and eat…”
Before he could finish his sentence, the bun in his hand vanished. He Zhuoming devoured it ravenously, squeezing out a strained word of thanks through her mouthful, moved to tears as she ate.
Lin Qingyun gazed at her with a smile, unhooking the waterskin to place it by her hand. “Eat slowly, be careful not to choke. There’s water here.”
He Zhuoming sobbed, “Waaah, thank you… thank you… You’re such a good person… I… I’ll definitely repay you in the future… Waaah… Once I get back to modern times, I’ll delete all those bad comments I wrote about you right away, waaah… In the future, if anyone calls you a saintly lead again, I’ll curse them out… Next time I go to a fan convention, I’ll buy out all your merch… Thank you so much, waaah…”
Lin Qingyun smiled without speaking, appearing to listen quietly while actually failing to understand a single word she was saying.
Seeing that the bun in her hand was nearly finished, he picked up two fresh ones from the fire and handed them over. He Zhuoming continued eating through her tears, while Lin Qingyun observed her eyes with curiosity.
He thought to himself: *Are her eyes made of water? How can so many tears keep coming out? Her face is so dirty from crying… But she certainly can eat; this is already her fifth bun.*
After eating twelve steamed buns in one go, He Zhuoming finally felt somewhat full.
Looking at the bare skewers over the bonfire, she realized she had devoured all of Lin Qingyun’s buns. She hastily wiped her tears and apologized, “I’m sorry, I was just so hungry…”
Lin Qingyun waved his hand. “It’s nothing, just a few buns. Are you feeling better now?”
He Zhuoming nodded. “I feel much better!”
Lin Qingyun’s eyes curved gently as he asked with a smile, “What is your name?”
When he asked others questions, there was an air of natural authority about him, as though everyone was born to answer his every question truthfully, while he had no obligation to answer anyone else’s.
However, He Zhuoming was terrible at reading the room and completely oblivious to the air of authority around him. She gave a perfectly ordinary reply: “He Zhuoming.”