It was already too late. It had started to alter the rules.
Lu Xiao hated this feeling, being toyed with by his enemy. Perhaps in the beginning, it hadn’t anticipated that a human could experience such an inexplicable chemical reaction at first sight. Perhaps even now, it still couldn’t comprehend that possibility.
But because the clues Lu Xiao had uncovered went far beyond what it was willing to reveal, the stingy thing had resorted to tampering with Qian Jinye’s memory.
One thing was certain: at the start, it must have designated Qian Jinye as an NPC, someone meant to provide Lu Xiao with a wealth of information.
Yet the two of them had grown inseparable, as close as lovers, and Qian Jinye would tell him everything without reservation. That was clearly not the behavior of a mere tool for gathering information.
If things continued this way, its secrets would be exposed, an outcome that went completely against the intended direction of the story.
So, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, it rewrote Qian Jinye’s identity, turning him into a “player” like Lu Xiao.
Just like in a tabletop role-playing game, once Qian Jinye became a player, he too would be bound by the rules.
Finding the key could be interpreted as nothing more than the favor of a fickle goddess of luck. And Qian Jinye’s loss of memory about certain things, that was fate’s decision, not their own.
In a tabletop game, Lu Xiao could normally see the success rate of every action he attempted. It was what allowed him to make rational, strategic choices.
But now, the percentages are gone. He couldn’t even see whether his actions succeeded or failed. Their lives had become like those of ants, insignificant, helpless, forced to grope through the dark without guidance.
It was like a gamble. A grand, perilous gamble with no visible outcome.
The only thing that gave Lu Xiao any comfort was the knowledge that it, too, was bound by the rules. It could not act beyond them. That meant it could fail. And that was why, even after countless failures, they still sent Lu Xiao back into this near-impossible game, because as long as the chance wasn’t zero, there was still hope.
But this time, something had clearly gone wrong. Qian Jinye’s mental state was too fragile for further questioning. Who knew how much more he might forget if they pressed him now.
“Jinye, it’s all right. Don’t think about it anymore. Look, I’m right here with you. I’m holding your hand. You’ll be fine.”
Switching into his gamer mindset, Lu Xiao forced himself to calm down. The priority now was to steady Qian Jinye and figure out their next step.
He gently kneaded the center of Qian Jinye’s palm, unsure of the exact acupoint but remembering that the motion could help ease anxiety.
He kept doing it, again and again, until his fingers grew sore. At last, Qian Jinye’s breathing evened out, and a trace of clarity returned to his eyes. He pushed Lu Xiao’s hand away and struggled to his feet, trembling slightly as he did so.
“Let’s go,” he said. “I will find out how my mother really died.”
The two of them supported each other as they stepped out of the room. Above them, the branches were covered with twisting tendrils, writhing and entangled, a sight that made Lu Xiao’s stomach turn.
He had friends who loved this kind of grotesque, horror-filled setting in tabletop games, but he wasn’t that sort of person. What he enjoyed was the thrill, the sharp rush of adrenaline, not disgust.
The tendrils glistened with a layer of slime, and an uneasy thought flashed through his mind. What exactly were those pearls?
They had barely taken a few steps when a small black pearl dropped to the ground in front of them. It was much smaller than the white ones, almost invisible in the darkness if one didn’t look closely.
Qian Jinye suddenly stepped in front of Lu Xiao protectively and drew out a flint stone from his sleeve.
“I’m not sure,” he said, “but it feels familiar. Let me try something.”
Realizing that Qian Jinye was sincerely asking for his opinion, Lu Xiao hesitated for a moment, then nodded. The risk of failure was high, but if they succeeded, it could be a major breakthrough.
Standing side by side, Lu Xiao gave Qian Jinye a firm nod of support.
Qian Jinye took a deep breath and stepped toward the pearl. He struck the flint, sending sparks flying toward it.
Ordinarily, pearls couldn’t burn. But given the strange phenomena surrounding them, Lu Xiao didn’t doubt that even this act might produce something extraordinary. Perhaps Qian Jinye’s subconscious was guiding them, showing them the way forward.
Crackling sparks flared. Qian Jinye stumbled back a few steps.
The pearl was burning. At first, the flame was ordinary, but soon the blue core shifted to an eerie green. Around them, the trees reacted as if facing a mortal enemy; the tendrils recoiled, retreating from the glow.
“What is this…” Lu Xiao whispered, mesmerized.
He had never seen such a fire before, red and green intertwined in a hypnotic dance. Every cell in his body screamed at him to approach, to touch that radiant flame.
Without realizing it, he began to move closer.
“Stop! Lu Xiao, don’t let it take you!”
Qian Jinye caught him just in time, pulling him back. Snapping out of the trance, Lu Xiao realized how close he’d come to disaster. Cold sweat broke across his skin. If Qian Jinye hadn’t been there, he would have walked straight into the fire and been consumed by it.
“What on earth is that?”
Qian Jinye hesitated, eyes clouded. “My mind is a mess, but something inside me urged me to light it. Judging by how the trees reacted, I think the fire protects us from their attacks. But as you saw, it can also corrupt us.”
Lu Xiao instinctively pulled him further away as they watched the flames burn themselves out. When they were gone, a pristine white pearl lay in the ashes, slightly larger than the black one had been, identical to those hanging on the trees.
No, exactly the same.
“I still can’t remember clearly,” Qian Jinye murmured, “but it feels so familiar. That must have been a form of transformation. When the white pearls are ground into powder, they can be taken internally or used on the face. The color has a faint greenish tint, like jade.”
He wrapped the pearl carefully in a piece of black cloth, shielding it from the greedy reach of the branches overhead.
“Pearl jade powder, then,” Lu Xiao said quietly.
Qian Jinye nodded. “Yes. The very same powder that my family supplied exclusively to the emperor.”
“The emperor adored it,” he continued, “which is why he favored the Qian family. But the process of burning and refining the pearls drove the workers mad. They had to rotate shifts constantly. It cost a fortune and yielded very little.”
He paused, pained, eyes squeezed shut as old memories surfaced.
“But Father wasn’t satisfied. He always found desperate men, outcasts, criminals, to produce more, selling the extra powder on the black market where even the emperor couldn’t trace it.”
Lu Xiao’s chest tightened. So that was the truth behind these cursed pearls. Whatever miraculous properties they possessed, they were born of cruelty, paid for with human lives.
Qian Jinye clutched Lu Xiao’s sleeve. “My elder brother argued with Father about those trades. If the emperor hadn’t given that contract to our family, my brother would never have left.”
Lu Xiao had read about Qian Shengke before, an honest, upright official, a man of principle. Yet the emperor had never trusted him with real power, only assigning him trivial household affairs within the Qian estate. No matter how well he managed them, it was meaningless.
Clearly, both brothers had resented their father’s dealings with the emperor. Shengke had rebelled by leaving; Jinye had stayed, unwilling to abandon the family completely.
A thought came to Lu Xiao, and he asked carefully, “Gege, your stepmother, what was your relationship with her like?”
At once, Qian Jinye’s face darkened. He shoved the pearl bundle into Lu Xiao’s arms, his expression cold and closed off. After a moment, guilt flickered in his eyes, and he muttered, “I don’t want to talk about her.”
That said enough. There was definitely tension there. And come to think of it, they hadn’t seen Lady Qian at all today. Could that daughter of hers really have appeared out of thin air?
Even wrapped tightly in black cloth, the pearl still seemed to unsettle the trees; their branches twitched, wary, as if sensing its presence. Clearly, whatever intelligence they possessed was primitive at best.
Lu Xiao and Qian Jinye made their way to the guest room next door and knocked softly on the door. No response.
They forced it open, only to find the room utterly empty, the floor covered with scattered pearls gleaming faintly in the dark.
It was white.
“Most likely, they met a tragic end,” Qian Jinye said quietly.
Now, every time Lu Xiao saw a white pearl, a wave of nausea rose in his chest. He could almost see it, the image of that unfortunate guest, engulfed by a sea of blazing pearls, body twisting and screaming as fire devoured both flesh and soul.
It was a torment that seared not only the body but also the mind, a horror that seemed to stain the air itself.
They moved on, breaking open one guest room after another. To their horror, each one revealed the same scene. Identical. Flames, pearls, and silence. Lu Xiao’s heart lurched violently in his chest. A dreadful thought took root in his mind and refused to let go.
Where were Li Xianguan and Chen Yue’er now?
As they drew closer to the corridor where their friends were staying, Lu Xiao suddenly caught Qian Jinye’s wrist, stopping him before he could smash open another door. His own hands were trembling, cold sweat pooling in his palms. He couldn’t bring himself to look.
The words from the letter echoed in his mind like a nightmare, ominous and mocking. Was it happening again? Had they once more failed to save the others from its grasp?
Then, a voice, faint, muffled by the walls, cut through the suffocating silence.
“Hey, I heard something! Is someone out there?”
“Idiot, keep your voice down! What if it’s someone dangerous?”
Lu Xiao’s eyes widened, the spark of hope flaring bright. Without thinking, he dashed forward and threw himself against the next door, bursting it open with all his strength.
Li Xianguan and Chen Yue’er were right behind it, pressed close to listen, and nearly fell backward when the door swung inward.
“Good heavens, ancestor! What’s got you in such a hurry?” Li Xianguan exclaimed, quickly steadying Lu Xiao before he toppled over.
Lu Xiao clung to him with all the force of someone who had just been dragged from the edge of despair. “You’re fine. Thank heaven, you’re fine,” he murmured, voice hoarse with relief.
Chen Yue’er gave him a few light pats on the back, half comfort and half amusement, afraid that his excitement might make him hiccup or faint.
Qian Jinye stepped forward and, with a hint of exasperation, pried Lu Xiao off of Li Xianguan like one would detach a clinging koala. His expression clearly said he found Lu Xiao’s display of emotion a little undignified.
But at least everyone was safe. That was all that mattered. Lu Xiao quickly composed himself and began exchanging information with the other two.
Although Li Xianguan and Chen Yue’er had stayed inside their room the entire time, their position was much better than Lu Xiao’s, they were closer to the main corridor, not tucked away in the far corners like he and Qian Jinye had been. As a result, they had heard far more of what had happened.
They described hearing the screams of guests from nearby rooms, the sharp crackle of flames devouring something, and the thick, wet sound of viscous fluid dripping onto the floor. Everything they said matched perfectly with what Lu Xiao and Qian Jinye had witnessed earlier, confirming that their assumptions were correct.
But what came next went beyond anything they had imagined.
Chen Yue’er had always been sharp-eared, and tonight was no exception. She said she had heard the cry of an infant, a baby’s wail that she was certain belonged to Miss Qian. The sound was clear, strong, and powerful, not at all like that of a frail newborn.
Yet mingled with the baby’s cries was another voice, a man’s, old and hoarse, weeping brokenly. The tone was unmistakably similar to that of Master Qian.
At those words, Qian Jinye’s expression changed. A flicker of alarm, confusion, and something deeper flashed across his features.
Lu Xiao, ever perceptive, caught it immediately.
“Gege,” he asked softly, “you know something about this, don’t you?”
✦ ✧ ✦
Nycreth
[Translator]
☕ A LITTLE SOMETHING FOR THE TRANSLATOR
⚠️ TRANSLATOR COFFEE LEVELS CRITICALLY LOW ⚠️
☕ BUY THEM A COFFEE →
✧ (づ｡•ㅅ•｡)づ ☕ ✧
✦ thank you for reading ✦
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ChaptersChapter 1 · The beginning of the tragedyChapter 2 · Don’t forgetChapter 3 · Look at it directlyChapter 4 · Whom are you trying to seduce?Chapter 5 · TeaseChapter 6 · Sleeping in the same bedChapter 7 · Internal locksChapter 8 · Tampering The rules…Chapter 9 · Black LotusChapter 10 · FledglingChapter 11 · There are no horses in the stable.Chapter 12 · Water-oil separationChapter 13 · The cost of backtrackingChapter 14 · It got biggerChapter 15 · Was it a mouse?Chapter 16 · Too fieryChapter 17 · Administer medicineChapter 18 · Tracing the PearlChapter 19 · A KissChapter 20 · Ge, Kiss meChapter 21 · Ten Thousand Deaths Without RegretChapter 22 · Endless CorridorChapter 23 · CowardChapter 24 · GoodbyeChapter 25 · Back toChapter 26 · It’s is me, Not MeChapter 27 · VictimChapter 28 · Crossed CupsChapter 29 · IntuitionChapter 30 · ChangeChapter 31 · DifferentChapter 32 · ErrorChapter 33 · Mind Your Own BusinessChapter 34 · WanderingChapter 35 · EmbraceChapter 36 · LoveChapter 37 · UnrestrainedChapter 38 · Asking Over a DrinkChapter 39 · As BeforeChapter 40 · SatiatedChapter 41 · A Change in the WindsChapter 42 · A’SuChapter 43 · Welcoming the BrideChapter 44 · GossipChapter 45 · WeaknessChapter 46 · Wedding NightChapter 47 · Brother QingChapter 48 · FadingChapter 49 · Lying LowChapter 50 · CaressChapter 51 · OnceChapter 52 · The Hidden PassageChapter 53 · MotherChapter 54 · FlawlessChapter 55 · ProphecyChapter 56 · EtherealChapter 57 · DecipheringChapter 58 · The TrapChapter 59 · Stone StatueChapter 60 · ChessChapter 61 · AssassinsChapter 62 · The National Preceptor?Chapter 63 · Please return my belongings to me.Chapter 64 · I’m not that desperate.Chapter 65 · No wayChapter 66 · No turning backChapter 67 · I told you, get out of the wayChapter 68 · Still became a monsterChapter 69 · Let’s end thisChapter 70 · Why do you look so much like him?Chapter 71 · One wanted to kill, two stopped himChapter 72 · Unless, the people at Mingzhu Academy are keeping it from himChapter 73 · FraudChapter 74 · Don’t look back, Lu XiaoChapter 75 · It’s coldChapter 76 · Kill MeChapter 77 · We are even marriedChapter 78 · Gege… I Love YouChapter 79 · “It” had arrivedChapter 80 · Wake Up!Chapter 81 · How Nostalgic….Chapter 82 · You already Promised meChapter 83 · Their TerritoryChapter 84 · Jokes were JokesChapter 85 · What you dream was realChapter 86 · Did you cry?Chapter 87 · What’s wrong, young Master?Chapter 88 · No, I only ever said it to youChapter 89 · Honey, Please let me go.Chapter 90 · What are you pretending to be, a gentleman?Chapter 91 · It’s just a shoddy trick to fool people, but I like it anywayChapter 92 · Ge, I did it voluntarily, it’s no useChapter 93 · You little BratChapter 94 · Gege~ please have mercyChapter 95 · Hearing Lu Xiao come in, he patted the seat next to himChapter 96 · Stop fooling around, let me kiss youChapter 97 · “I want…” “Want what?”Chapter 98 · Gege, watch closely how I get youChapter 99 · Little Eleven, how about we talk to ‘it’ first?Chapter 100 · Had it gone mad?Chapter 101 · I will make my decisionChapter 102 · Tsk, how indecentChapter 103 · You are the creator of my original worldChapter 104 · The world is not your toy, go back to where you came fromChapter 105 · He was a boy with snow-white hair and a handsome faceChapter 106 · Haven’t seen you for a long timeChapter 107 · TYRBL Extra: 1Chapter 108 · TYRBL Extra: 2Chapter 109 · TYRBL Extra: 3Chapter 110 · TYRBL Extra: 4