2
You Can Only Hang Yourself on One Tree
Lin Qingran’s face grew increasingly haggard. A trace of blood from her earlier coughing still lingered at the corner of her lips, making her appear exceptionally fragile. Those around her worried she might ascend to immortality at any moment.
To the onlookers, this was the epitome of unbearable grief. Miss Lin seemed truly devoid of any will to live, her devotion to the Crown Prince running profoundly deep.
It was hard to imagine what would become of Miss Lin in the future; it seemed her heart had already died.
Moments later, Lin Qingran suddenly lost her strength and slumped to the ground. Yet her hands remained tightly gripping the coffin, her expression steeped in profound sorrow.
[This is so uncomfortable. My eyes are stinging so much I can barely keep them open.]
[Wow, the quality of this coffin is absolutely amazing! Reincarnation is a skill-based game—being Crown Prince is great. Even in death, you get to use such fine things.]
[Just from the thickness and sheen of the lacquer, you can tell how exquisite this coffin is. I heard that after the coffin is shaped, it’s first wrapped and padded with Goryeo cloth, then coated with forty-nine layers of lacquer. The craftsmanship is incredibly valuable. Damn these wretched capitalists—I don’t even get to enjoy such luxuries while alive!]
Xiao Heng found these noises unbearably irritating and grating.
Still, he hadn’t expected Lin Qingran to know so much about his coffin. She didn’t seem entirely witless.
Suppressing her envy, Lin Qingran gazed vacantly, stretched out a trembling hand, and gently, almost lovingly, caressed the coffin.
“Crown Prince, if you must leave, take me with you, please? Don’t leave me alone in this world to grow old in solitude, tormented by unbearable sorrow.”
Lying quietly in the confined space, Xiao Heng frowned slightly, his prominent Adam’s apple bobbing.
[Is Xiao Heng really dead? Even so, I haven’t married him yet—he shouldn’t have died like this, right? Could the timing be off? There’s no way I’m marrying anyone else. The royal family has far too many rules; every word and action would surely be watched. What a pity for my young heartthrobs and wild charmers—I’m stuck with this one choice.]
[My eyes are burning and sore from all this crying. Onions really are a tear-jerking marvel. I’ll probably have to keep up the act tomorrow too.]
Xiao Heng was deeply puzzled. Why had no one present reprimanded Lin Qingran for speaking this way?
[But Xiao Heng is so handsome. I wonder if he still looks the same now? I really want to take a peek, but I’m too scared.]
Torn between curiosity and fear, Lin Qingran had no choice but to suppress her urge to look.
[Better not look. What if his face is all distorted and gives me nightmares?]
[Strange, he really shouldn’t have died early, but rather…]
Xiao Heng grew even more perplexed. Why shouldn’t he have died young? And why did Lin Qingran seem to know something?
Just then, Lin Qingran swayed unsteadily, trembling as she withdrew her hand and slumped further to the ground.
To everyone watching, it seemed as though Lin Qingran was overwhelmed with heartache, her grief too profound for words.
Two palace maids nearby hurried over to support Lin Qingran and escort her to the rear courtyard, gently urging her to accept their condolences and take care.
Lin Qingran’s eyes were hollow, and she remained silent.
The two maids brought Lin Qingran to the Western Courtyard of the Eastern Palace, which served as guest quarters, though it was rarely used for lodging.
Everyone in the Eastern Palace understood that Lin Qingran was struggling to accept the news of Xiao Heng’s death and could see how deeply she felt for him. Thus, they refrained from saying anything unnecessary, merely bowing respectfully and letting her pass.
In the face of life and death, all words seemed so pale and powerless.
Seeing Lin Qingran’s sorrow outweighing her fear of death, the two palace maids sighed. After escorting her to her room, they carefully closed the door for her and then went to stand guard in the courtyard.
With no one else around, the two maids began to whisper.
“Do you think Miss Lin might do something rash? She was so deeply devoted to the Crown Prince, yet now they are separated by life and death—such is the unpredictability of fate. Seeing her in such agony just now made my heart ache as well.”
“She won’t. Miss Lin will surely see the Crown Prince off on his final journey. Besides, she must also consider Grand Tutor Lin.”
“That makes sense. Let’s keep our distance for now and not disturb her rest.”
Indeed, since Xiao Heng had not yet been buried, the maids were not overly concerned that she might harm herself.
Once she sensed they had moved away, Lin Qingran immediately sat up, her movements fluid and effortless, with no trace of the fragile demeanor she had displayed earlier.
She pulled a silk handkerchief from her sleeve and dabbed at her eyes, but it seemed to have little effect—the tears continued to fall.
Earlier news had been suppressed, and it was only after Xiao Heng was brought into the palace that the mourning announcement was made. She had been staying at home for some time and only learned of Xiao Heng’s death from the servants.
In truth, Lin Qingran was not a native of Tian Yuan Country but a modern-day person.
Earlier, after quarreling with her boss and resigning, she had been idling at home when a friend sent her a book. With nothing better to do, she had started reading it.
She could no longer recall the title, but that wasn’t the point. The key was that in the book, there was a minor character with the same name as hers—Lin Qingran.
The original Lin Qingran was the beloved granddaughter of Grand Tutor Lin, born into a prestigious family with striking looks—a true “white, rich, and beautiful” archetype. In modern terms, she would have been a leading lady with an innate aura of nobility.
Yet, despite her infatuation with Xiao Heng, she lacked wit and repeatedly courted disaster, recklessly trampling on his boundaries until she squandered her advantages completely.
The original character’s role had little impact on the main plot—she didn’t even pose a significant obstacle to the protagonists. Before long, Xiao Heng had her killed, her brief and pitiful life extinguished in the icy waters of a lake.
Who was Xiao Heng?
He was the greatest antagonist in the book, the Crown Prince who never won the emperor’s favor. He contended with the male lead for the throne but ultimately met his demise. Even in death, he carried himself with dignity, declaring before he died: “The victor is king, the defeated, a bandit. I have nothing to say, but I will die standing—I will never kneel!”
To be honest, Lin Qingran didn’t harbor any affection for Xiao Heng, but she regarded him as a formidable figure. In her view, he wasn’t truly a villain, so she had criticized the author in the comments for deliberately vilifying Xiao Heng, arguing that the author shouldn’t distort a character just to make the protagonist shine.
Somehow, she had ended up transmigrating into the book in her sleep, inheriting the original host’s memories. Three days had passed since then.
No matter what, maintaining the original character’s persona was paramount, and she had to gradually steer clear of her doomed fate.
But the events in the book didn’t align with the present—something was clearly off. Had her early transmigration triggered some butterfly effect, leading to Xiao Heng’s death?
Incredible!
If she had known she would transmigrate into a book, she would have read it thoroughly and meticulously, analyzing every single word and sentence. Even if the author hadn’t explicitly written something, she could have inferred from other descriptions—anything would be better than this current state of complete ignorance.
So, had the main antagonist Xiao Heng really died just like that?
Just as Lin Qingran was puzzling over this, a knock came at the door, and a woman’s voice sounded from outside.
“Miss Lin, the Young Marquis has arrived and requests your presence.”