4
The Coffin Board Can’t Hold It Down Anymore
On the surface, Lin Qingran appeared genuinely grief-stricken, but her inner thoughts seemed to contradict this display.
Yet Mu Feng couldn’t be certain, as the idea of being able to hear another person’s thoughts was truly extraordinary and unheard of. Perhaps he needed to consult ancient texts to understand this phenomenon.
“Miss Lin, please take care of yourself. I have finished chanting scriptures and offering incense for the Crown Prince, so I shall take my leave now,” Mu Feng said softly.
Lin Qingran gave a slight curtsy. “Farewell, Young Marquis.”
Mu Feng nodded, turned, and left the hall without looking back.
[Strange, why does Mu Feng not seem too distressed? Could it be…]
Xiao Heng’s heart tightened. Had Lin Qingran noticed something?
But the next moment, Lin Qingran dispelled Xiao Heng’s concern.
[Could it be that men don’t easily shed tears?]
[Ah, perhaps this child cries in private. The Young Marquis carries such heavy burdens. He should know that it’s not a crime for men to cry—keeping all that sorrow bottled up inside must be suffocating.]
Mu Feng’s steps faltered slightly, his posture seeming somewhat stiff, before he quickened his pace to leave.
Watching Mu Feng’s retreating figure, Lin Qingran still felt puzzled. In the original host’s memories, there had been little interaction with Mu Feng, so why had he unusually requested to see her today?
Lin Qingran wasn’t foolish; she didn’t believe Mu Feng had come merely to comfort her. There must be another reason.
Unfortunately, her understanding of the earlier plot was vague, and the author hadn’t provided much detail, leaving her unable to analyze Mu Feng’s unusual behavior. She could only suppress her suspicions for now.
Since she had already left the guest room, Lin Qingran saw no reason to return. To maintain the act fully, she needed to uphold the original host’s lovesick persona.
Subsequently, everyone who came to offer incense and chant scriptures for Xiao Heng would see Lin Qingran silently kneeling before the brazier, continuously burning paper money.
“Poor girl, why did she have to encounter such misfortune?”
“I fear Miss Lin will fall gravely ill after the Crown Prince is laid to rest in the imperial mausoleum. She’s barely holding on now, like a soul departed.”
“Indeed, what noble young lady would be reduced to this state for her fiancé?”
The surrounding murmurs reached her ears, yet Lin Qingran’s expression remained numb.
While everyone assumed she was overwhelmed with grief, she was actually contemplating the current plot developments and planning her next moves.
Thankfully, she hadn’t married yet; otherwise, she might have been required to be buried alive with him. At least her life was spared for now.
Therefore, she needed to maintain a low profile and stabilize her persona—that was paramount. She wanted to live well, even if it meant retiring peacefully in the Grand Tutor’s residence.
Imagine—drinking tea, admiring flowers, and enjoying the scenery every day. Wouldn’t that be a wonderful life?
Not marrying was fine; becoming a happy, carefree idler had always been her dream, and now she could finally realize it.
More importantly, everyone around her was good-looking. Even ordinary palace attendants were quite attractive—the palace truly was a place that valued appearances.
As dusk gradually fell, fewer people came and went from the Eastern Palace.
Although the Crown Prince’s passing was a significant event, the Emperor, Empress, and numerous concubines remained in the palace, and the attendants still had their duties to perform.
Snapping back to reality, Lin Qingran noticed it was already dark and thought she should return to her residence to rest. After all, she’d played her part well today—outsiders were convinced she was madly in love with Xiao Heng.
Unfortunately, her maid couldn’t accompany her into the palace, so Lin Qingran had to rise to her feet unaided.
Thankfully, her long skirt concealed the fact that she had been sitting rather than kneeling, or her ruse would have been exposed.
As she stood, Lin Qingran suddenly realized the hall was deserted. Eerie and unnervingly quiet, the place sent an involuntary chill down her spine, her heart pounding like a drum.
Then, a sound came from the direction of the coffin.
Clang!
Lin Qingran’s hair stood on end. While she had handled transmigrating into a novel with remarkable composure, that didn’t mean she could stay calm upon hearing strange noises in an empty mourning hall.
Movement? A reanimated corpse?
She recalled the palace servants mentioning that Xiao Heng had been dead for several days, yet his body remained perfectly preserved, showing no signs of decay. Damn it—wasn’t that the perfect condition for a corpse to reanimate?
Unbidden, scenes from Uncle Ying’s movies flashed through her mind—the terrifying visages of zombies. Lin Qingran’s face genuinely paled this time.
If not for her last shred of rationality reminding her she was in the Eastern Palace, she would have screamed outright.
Xiao Heng…?
[Help… someone help me!]
Unaware of what was happening and unable to fully grasp Lin Qingran’s thoughts, her heart raced wildly, nearing its limit. Yet, with a stiff expression, she turned toward the source of the noise—the coffin.
[Aaaaah! Amitabha! Bless me! Nanhai Guanyin! Lord Laozi, by your decree! Uncle Ying, protect me!]
Panic-stricken, Lin Qingran didn’t care about mixing up Buddhist and Taoist invocations—she just prayed her fears were unfounded.
Thump!
Another sound, seemingly from inside the coffin, struck straight at Lin Qingran’s heart. Her breathing grew frantic. After three tense breaths, her face twisted in horror, and she spun around, bolting without a shred of dignity.
[Help! Someone save me! My cheap fiancé’s coffin lid can’t hold him down! He—he’s reanimated!]
[Oh, dear heavens! Why do I always run into such “lucky” breaks?]
Xiao Heng was speechless. He, the Crown Prince of Tian Yuan Country, had been reduced to a “cheap fiancé.”
Lin Qingran scrambled away with surprising agility, a far cry from her usual delicate demeanor. Yet, she encountered no one along the way, her heart practically leaping out of her throat.
Inside the mourning hall, the noises soon subsided. Moments later, a black-clad figure landed softly beside the coffin.
“Your Highness, the matter has been handled. We’ve caught some clues about that person. Additionally, His Majesty and Her Majesty the Empress are aware and are feigning excessive grief, thus remaining secluded,” the man in black reported quietly to the coffin.
As if prearranged, the entire hall had been emptied—even Lin Qingran had been frightened away.
After a pause, a hoarse yet magnetic voice responded.
“How amusing.” Xiao Heng snorted, his brow etched with disdain. “Xuan Ying, let’s return.”
Although his mission to the border had left him seriously wounded, it had been worth it—he’d successfully deceived his enemies and uncovered some traces of the conspiracy.
Even if the mastermind behind this tried to shift blame, Xiao Heng was determined to sever their key allies.
“As you command, Your Highness.” Xuan Ying stepped forward immediately to assist him.
Xiao Heng pressed a pale hand to his chest. His injury was severe—it had nearly cost him his life. Coupled with the long, arduous journey back from the border these past few days, the wound had yet to heal and showed faint signs of worsening.
Thinking of Lin Qingran, who had behaved differently from usual today, Xiao Heng pursed his lips slightly but paid it little mind. She was merely an insignificant person; he had more pressing matters to attend to.
Once he had recovered, he would settle the score with those behind this.
Upon returning to the Eastern Palace, Xiao Heng sealed off his bedchamber—and, of course, the mourning hall along with it—allowing no one to enter or leave.
The palace servants were puzzled: Why was no one keeping vigil for the Crown Prince?