Zheng Yun?

Wasn’t Zheng Yun dead? Hadn’t he been dead for thirty years, just like her?

Li Ying’s eyes widened as she stared in terror at the face that bore no resemblance to Zheng Yun’s. Yu Fuwei… how could he be Zheng Yun?

As if sensing her thoughts, Yu Fuwei tightened his grip: “Yu Fuwei is the reincarnation of Zheng Yun!”

The reincarnation of Zheng Yun? Was Yu Fuwei Zheng Yun’s reincarnation?

Reincarnated souls, after drinking Meng Po’s soup, forget all memories of their previous lives.

If he hadn’t fallen into the Blood Pool Hell and been submerged in its waters, Yu Fuwei would never have remembered his past life.

And having remembered his past life, he recalled how his entire family had been slaughtered.

Bitter hatred surged in his heart. Yu Fuwei’s fingers around Li Ying’s neck tightened further, causing her breathing to become labored. She struggled to raise her hand, desperately patting Yu Fuwei’s arm, trying to make him release his grip. But her body was already weak, and this small amount of strength could not move Yu Fuwei at all. Yu Fuwei truly hated her and genuinely wanted to strangle her to death. His face contorted as he said, “You destroyed my entire Zheng family! How dare you call yourself virtuous?”

Yu Fuwei’s eyes were filled with pain and fury: “You deserve to die! You truly deserve to die!”

Li Ying’s breathing became increasingly rapid as she was strangled, her face flushing red. Tears began to well in her eyes, and a single teardrop rolled down from the corner of her eye. Seeing that tear, Yu Fuwei suddenly trembled and froze.

An internal struggle seemed to be raging within him. He kept telling himself that he was Zheng Yun, and that Zheng Yun should kill Li Ying, tear apart her soul, and avenge the Zheng family. However, besides being Zheng Yun, he was also Yu Fuwei—and Yu Fuwei would never kill Li Ying.

Memories flooded back vividly. There were memories of Zheng Yun, but more were those of Yu Fuwei. He recalled scene after scene of his interactions with Li Ying, how she had never despised him for being a merchant, but instead treated him with respect, causing him to develop deep feelings for her. Yu Fuwei admired Li Ying so profoundly—how could he possibly harm her?

Yu Fuwei struggled intensely within, and his hand finally loosened involuntarily.

Air suddenly rushed into Li Ying’s nose and mouth. Having escaped death, she coughed violently. Yu Fuwei stood up and looked at his own hands, murmuring, “I cannot kill you… I cannot kill you…”

His expression remained deeply pained: “But you harmed me, harmed my parents, destroyed my entire family. I must kill you…”

He bent down to pick up the Buddha’s Top Relic that had fallen to the ground, then gripped it tightly, gritted his teeth, and strode into the cluster of Red Spider Lilies without looking back.

Just like that, he heartlessly abandoned Li Ying in the Path of Life and Death.

Without the Buddha’s Top Relic, Li Ying could only remain trapped in the Path of Life and Death, unable to exit or return. She would stay forever in the dark void, never again seeing the light of day.

Yu Fuwei, holding the Buddha’s Top Relic, stumbled out of the Path of Life and Death and left the Underworld.

From Mount Yao, he returned to Chang’an.

In the great mansion of the Yu family, the sounds of reed pipes and flutes began to play.

Yu Fuwei drank until completely intoxicated. While beating the Jiegu drum, he watched a slender Hu maiden wearing a pomegranate-red gauze skirt with openwork flowers. Her hanging braids were adorned with small golden bells. Following the beat of the drum, she tiptoed and spun rapidly on the oval rug with interconnected pearl patterns. When the Hu maiden spun, the bells made crisp, pleasant sounds, and her red gauze skirt blossomed like a magnificent peony. When the music ended, the peony-like skirt gradually folded in. Yu Fuwei, still beating the Jiegu drum, drunkenly exclaimed: “Turning sleeves like flying snow, spinning left and right, creating whirlwinds! Excellent! Excellent!”

After her final spin, the Hu maiden sat down in Yu Fuwei’s lap. She wrapped her arms around his neck and giggled: “Since the Master decided to take the jinshi examination, he’s always reciting those sour poems that this slave doesn’t understand.”

The other Hu maidens who had been playing the Huqin and Pipa put away their instruments and complained coquettishly: “Master has been secluded studying for so long, it’s been ages since he enjoyed himself with us slaves.”

Jinshi examination? Studying?

Hearing these two phrases, Yu Fuwei suddenly burst into laughter, laughing until tears came to his eyes.

In his previous life as Zheng Yun, being from the Zheng clan of Xingyang, a prestigious great family, he could become an official whenever he wished. Why would he need to study desperately for the jinshi examination as he did in this life?

Past life and present fate reversed—how ironic.

Was this the arrangement of the Ten Kings of Hell?

Zheng Yun had been born into a top-tier family among the Five Great Clans and Seven Noble Families, who despised merchants. His parents even looked down upon Consort Jiang, who was already the Emperor’s consort, and by extension, her daughter, Princess Li Ying of the Great Zhou. Yet the Ten Kings of Hell had deliberately reincarnated him as a merchant, who could only wear plain black robes, travel in ox carts, could not take the imperial examinations, could not enter officialdom, was discriminated against everywhere, and looked down upon by everyone—experiencing firsthand the life of the merchants he had despised most in his previous life.

Was this arrangement meticulous care, or cruelty?

Yu Fuwei laughed until tears streamed down his face. The Hu maiden in his arms timidly asked, “Master, what’s wrong?”

Yu Fuwei stared at her face, which outshone the flowers in beauty, and said with a smile: “Nothing.”

He gently pushed the Hu maiden off him: “Continue dancing.”

The Huqin music resumed, and the beautiful Hu maiden began dancing the Huxuan dance again, smiling.

Yu Fuwei stayed in the mansion for seven days and was drunk for seven days.

During this time, he spent every night in revelry with the Hu maidens of his household. Zheng Yun had been a perfect gentleman, mild as jade, with such cautious propriety that he didn’t even have a concubine, let alone frequent women of dubious reputation. But Yu Fuwei was different; he had nothing to do with being a gentleman. He was unrestrained and unconventional, never concerned with the separation between men and women. He pitied those homeless Hu maidens and, disregarding rumors, kept them in his household, giving them a place to stay. He also had no concept of master and servant, never avoiding drinking and merrymaking with these Hu maidens, often playing the drum to accompany them. He treated them not as a master but as friends.

And Zheng Yun would never have become friends with these lowly Hu maidens.

So, was he Zheng Yun?

For the next three days, Yu Fuwei no longer reveled with the Hu maidens but locked himself in his room, drowning his sorrows in wine.

The priceless Buddha’s Top Relic was carelessly tossed aside, while in his palm, he tightly clutched a jade-colored night-luminous pearl.

This was the night-luminous pearl Li Ying had given him; he had never parted with it.

He examined the night-luminous pearl, sometimes laughing, crying. He would cry until his face was covered in tears and mucus, then murmur to himself: “Who are you? Who are you?”

Was he Zheng Yun or Yu Fuwei?

He stayed alone in his room, completely drunk, agonizing over this question.

He didn’t seek answers from knowledgeable scholars or the diverse Hu maidens; instead, he pondered this question alone.

Since his father’s death, he had been like this—shouldering the enormous family business alone, navigating between the human and ghost realms, becoming a ghost merchant as wealthy as a nation.

He didn’t need to rely on others.

Unlike Zheng Yun, whose timid nature had led him to be coerced by Wang Ranxi into killing Li Ying, committing a crime deserving family extermination, and automatically delivering evidence to Emperor Taichang’s hands.

So, was he Zheng Yun?

One from a great family, one a merchant; one noble, one humble; one mild, one unrestrained; one decisive, one timid—through reincarnation, he had become an entirely different person.

This was probably intentional on the part of the Underworld.

Ultimately, the Underworld let him choose who he wanted to be.

After being drunk for seven days and seven nights, Yu Fuwei gripped the jade-colored luminous pearl in his hand, got up stumbling, and picked up the discarded Buddha’s Top Relic.

He had finally made his choice.

Yu Fuwei returned to the Underworld.

Before going to the Underworld, he met with He Shisan, who had been requesting to see him. He Shisan first asked him where he was going. He replied, “I’m going to bring someone back to Chang’an.”

He Shisan asked again, “Who is that person?” Yu Fuwei didn’t answer but instead asked him: “You wanted to see me, what for?”

He Shisan lowered his head, bit his lip, and said: “Brother Yu, there’s something I want to ask you.”

The matter He Shisan spoke of concerned Cui Xun.

When Ding Jing announced in court that Cui Xun had not surrendered to the Turks and had instead cared for the families of 50,000 Tianwei soldiers, he hoped the court officials would convey his clarification to the people word for word. Emperor Longxing naturally strictly prohibited any such dissemination, threatening severe punishment for violators. But he didn’t realize that some people still had a conscience beyond just loyalty to the emperor.

Ding Jing’s clarification about Cui Xun eventually spread throughout Chang’an. He Shisan heard about it and, shocked, went to ask Ah’man. Ah’man’s eyes were red and swollen, clearly having cried. Perhaps she was thinking of her cold words toward Cui Xun, or perhaps she was recalling the box of copper coins she had thrown at Cui Xun in front of her brother’s grave.

She told He Shisan: “I don’t know much more than you about Brother Wangshu’s situation, but, Shisan, I can tell you that he spent his entire fortune caring for us—that part is true.”

He Shisan was stunned.

For years, a friend of his brother had sent them money through others, providing for their livelihood. He had never met this benefactor and wanted to personally thank them, but the benefactor never appeared, making it impossible for him to express his gratitude.

As it turned out, that benefactor was Cui Xun, the traitor he hated most.

His face showed shame. Yu Fuwei said, “I know what you want to ask. That day when you broke into Cui Xun’s mansion and injured him with stones, you were subsequently punished with twenty strokes by the Dali Temple and were bedridden. I sent you medicine, but that medicine wasn’t bought by me—it was bought by Cui Xun.”

He Shisan was completely stunned. Yu Fuwei sighed: “That day, I said you owed the person who gave you the medicine a favor.”

He continued: “Shisan, you owe Cui Xun not just a favor, but also an apology.”

Before he finished speaking, He Shisan was already speechless and distraught.

He recalled the pebble he had thrown at Cui Xun’s forehead and the blood that had slowly trickled down from Cui Xun’s temple like red jade beads. Tears of remorse streamed down the young man’s face.

On the Path of Life and Death, in the endless field of Red Spider Lilies, Li Ying crawled forward with barely a breath left. Although she knew she could never crawl out of this void, she kept moving forward.

As long as her soul had not scattered, she would not give up.

Her elbows were already scraped raw, and her clothes were so dirty that their original color was unrecognizable. The red spider Lilies surrounding her swayed back and forth, as if mocking her futile efforts. She would faint and then wake, and when conscious, she would use all her strength to try to crawl out of this void.

As she sank into unconsciousness once more, she felt someone silently lifting her from the ground.

She struggled to open her eyes: “Yu… Fuwei?”

She paused, then said: “Zheng… Yun?”

After that, she didn’t know what else to say. Zheng Yun had wanted to kill her, and even though he hadn’t succeeded, plotting to murder a princess was equivalent to treason, a crime punishable by the execution of nine generations of relatives. But she couldn’t righteously speak these words to Yu Fuwei. In her eyes, he wasn’t Zheng Yun but Yu Fuwei—the person who had repeatedly risked his life to save her.

Moreover, considering the power of the great clans at that time, if she hadn’t died, perhaps only Zheng Yun himself would have been executed, without involving his parents and entire clan.

Li Ying pursed her lips and said guiltily: “Yu Fuwei, I’m sorry…”

Yu Fuwei’s face, however, no longer showed anger or pain, but was instead very calm. He said: “Cause and effect—if Zheng Yun had not harbored the intention to harm, the Late Emperor would not have used him to eliminate the great clans. With one evil thought, one falls into all evil paths. The Ten Kings of Hell allowed Zheng Yun to leave these evil paths and reincarnate as a human, already intending to help him. But if one doesn’t save oneself, even the Ten Kings of Hell cannot save them.”

So Zheng Yun became Yu Fuwei, whose family background and personality were opposite to his own. Yu Fuwei then met Li Ying and, like Zheng Yun, fell in love with her. In the end, he faced the same choice as Zheng Yun.

To kill her or save her?

Zheng Yun had been indecisive; he didn’t want Li Ying to die, but he couldn’t let go of his years of friendship with Wang Ranxi. His evil intention persisted until the end, and by the time he wanted to stop, it was already too late.

As for Yu Fuwei, after being drunk for seven days and seven nights, he finally understood who he was.

Yu Fuwei said, “Zheng Yun died thirty years ago. I am Yu Fuwei.”

He picked up Li Ying, holding the Buddha’s Top Relic that would lead her out of the Path of Life and Death: “Let’s go. I’ll take you to save Cui Xun.”