This is a bit strange to explain.
Right now I’m squatting on the ground, watching the servants wail at the top of their lungs as they carry the corpse in the courtyard.
My corpse.
A little ghost next to me is pulling at my sash, giggling while playing with it. I’m too lazy to care. I’m just staring at my own body being carried so crookedly by the grief-stricken steward, my flesh and blood twisted in all directions, my face full of indignation.
I died so creatively! I even specially picked a day where heavy snow was falling, so my blood would flow on the white ground, red makeup wrapped in plain white, lying on my back in the snow. A magnificent and handsome death.
And as a result, I’m being carried by so many hands, my head lolling to one side, blood smeared everywhere. It’s both terrifying and ugly!
Damn it, can you let me die again!
In the thirteenth year of Chengde, I died.
I died in a sky full of dancing snow, with a layer of cold wind falling into my eyes. I had no regrets when I died, so the moment my soul left my body, I rushed to reincarnate without stopping.
Who knew that when I reached the Bridge of Helplessness, a God suddenly descended from the sky and blocked me. With one slap he overturned my Meng Po Soup, rolled his eyes at me angrily, and said that someone in the mortal world had used his own lifespan as the price to light a Longevity Lamp for me. As long as the lamp does not go out, my soul will not disperse, and I cannot enter reincarnation.
“If you want to reincarnate, then go blow out that lamp.”
After saying that, he mercilessly kicked me back to the mortal world.
I opened my eyes with that sentence.
The first thing I saw was my corpse, lying in the snow. Blood everywhere like red rouge, dotted on the white snow and on the green robe I wore before I died.
“It still looks pretty good dead.” I thought. Fortunately, I chose to end my own life, at least preserving the integrity of a scholar and my great reputation as the Prime Minister of the world.
If I had died in Liang Yan’s hands, he would have definitely skinned me and pulled out my bones, making me die in disgrace and despair.
Fortunately, Liang Yan is an emperor who cares about his face, otherwise I would have to worry about him chopping my corpse into pieces and sending people to dig up my grave so I couldn’t rest in peace.
Liang Yan hates me to the bone.
I know.
Just like I hate him.
Honestly, if that God who kicked me had left a few seconds later, I would have rolled up my sleeves and argued with him properly. I am, after all, the Prime Minister of the Liang Dynasty, second only to one and above ten thousand — although that was when I was alive. But even if I just became a ghost, you can’t just give me such a vague sentence and not let me reincarnate! What kind of propriety is that!
The little ghost playing with my sash scratched his sparse hair and asked me, “Then who is that ‘one’ above you?”
Ghosts really don’t know how to talk like humans.
I glanced at the little ghost and snatched my sash back from his hand. The half-grown child lost his toy, and even dead he is like when he was alive, pouting aggrievedly, holding back tears ready to cry.
I had no intention of coaxing him. Who told him to not know how to ask questions and immediately ask about the dog I hate the most in my life.
Liang Yan is that “one.”
My name is Shen Qi. I am the Prime Minister of the Liang Dynasty. Liang Yan is the current Majesty, the emperor I personally helped to the throne.
He is also a mad dog.
In front of others, Liang Yan smiles and calls me “Minister Shen,” and I bend my waist and respectfully call him “Your Majesty,” showing full affection between ruler and subject.
Behind closed doors, he pins me on the dragon throne, holding down my hand that grips a dagger, with a cold smile, cursing me: “Traitor.”
My clothes are in disarray, I raise my hand with all my strength holding the sharp dagger, until the tip slices open the side of Liang Yan’s neck, and crimson blood soaks into the blade.
Liang Yan lowers his head along the flowing blood and bites my lower lip, a bloody mess.
Both of us are very clear —
He doesn’t want to kiss me. He wants to bite me to death.
Such scenes happened almost every day I spent with Liang Yan. So much so that later, as soon as I picked up a knife, Liang Yan knew where I would stab him, and as soon as Liang Yan raised his hand, I knew this dog wanted to choke my neck again to make me unable to breathe.
“Bad luck!” I cursed. I took one last look at my bloody and miserable corpse, turned my head away in disgust, and picked up the little ghost who had been squatting and howling for half a day without actually crying.
“Let’s go, find that damned broken lamp. I want to see which great person used his own lifespan to stop me from reincarnating.”
About this broken lamp, I actually have a few candidates in mind. A Longevity Lamp, as soon as you hear it, is something only the closest and dearest would light. In this life, I hold a high position and great power, but I really don’t have many relatives and friends. During festivals I would feel a little lonely, but now that I’m dead, I find it convenient. Back and forth it’s only these few people, finding a lamp should be as easy as turning over my hand.
My first target is the current mistress of the General’s Residence, Shen Yi, my sworn younger sister.