Chapter Seven: The Past is Vivid in Memory
leam of light had already crept close to his brow.In his thick fox fur cloak, Jiang Wuqi's pale face took a step forward.This step, the world is different!Four points of light flickered on the horizon...Zhao Ru Cheng came from a wealthy family. He bought a house near the academy and lived there with a dozen servants attending to his needs. He rarely stayed in the dormitory. Du Ye Hu, on the other hand, once he started drinking, couldn't stop for quite some time.
Thus, when Jiang Wang returned to his dormitory, he realized that the usually noisy place was now eerily quiet, with only him present.
After shutting the door, he instinctively glanced at the bed furthest to the left in the dormitory.
The bed was made with unusually neat and clean bedding, the material identical to that of other students' beds in the dormitory. At this moment, there was no one on the bed, and it would never have anyone lying on it again.
This is Fang Pengju's bed. Although his family was wealthy, he never acted fussy or particular. He ate and drank with everyone else, never being picky.
Opposite Fang Pengju's bed, the other one was empty with a pile of luggage on it.
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On both sides, the beds were arranged to end here, three on each side.
On the left, snuggled against Fang Pengju's bed, was the second one in the dormitory, the messiest by far. Bedding was haphazardly piled into a heap, scattered clothes were just for decoration, and if you sniffed closely, you could even smell the scent of alcohol. If you peered under the bed, you'd see rows upon rows of carefully arranged wine jars, meticulously kept. Compared to the living conditions of its owner, these wine jars were clearly treated with much more care.
The bed on the left, nearest the door, must be Ling He’s. He's always in charge of opening and closing the door. The bedding has a few inconspicuous patches, but it's been washed very clean.
The bed on the right, the first one, belonged to Jiang Wang. His bedding was comparable to Ling He's in terms of quality. Even though he hadn't been back for a long time, his bed was still very clean, obviously cleaned regularly. Maybe it was Ling He, maybe Zhao Ru Cheng... or perhaps even Fang Pengju,
The second bed next to Jiang Wang's belonged to Zhao Ruocheng. His bed was unique in the entire dormitory. The bedding and sheets were all high-quality products from Yunxiangzhai. Even on the small dormitory bed, there was a golden embroidered canopy hung above it. It was in stark contrast to Du Yexiao's across the way.
People who don't know Zhao Ruocheng well might find him difficult to get along with, but in reality, it's just that his standards of living are too high. Even if he only occasionally stays in the dormitory, he tries to make it as luxurious and comfortable as possible. He even once spent a fortune to remodel the entire dormitory into a top-tier suite comparable to the Tianzi No. 1 room—if Jiang Wang hadn't beaten him up, that is.
From the age of fourteen when he entered the Daoist Academy's outer gate to now, Jiang Wang had spent three years in this dormitory. Every detail in the room was exceptionally familiar to him.
Things change, people leave, and events come to an end.
Jiang Wang was silent for a while, then took off his shoes and socks, unbuttoned his outer garment, and lay down on his own bed.
He was very tired and exhausted, but until this moment, he could finally sleep soundly.
One awakens floating above worldly affairs, one dreams waiting for the heavens to rise.
The entire Maple Forest City was square and well-planned. The city lord's mansion was located in the center, radiating outwards in all directions. To the east lay the grounds of the Dao Academy, while wealthy families resided in the west. Most commoners lived in the south, while merchants and wealthy businessmen were primarily concentrated in the north.
Only after seeing Jiang Wang emerge safely from the Dean's private chamber did Ling He alone carry Fang Pengju's corpse away from the Dao Institute.
When Fang Peng was alive, he was popular and had many friends. But when he died, everyone shunned him.
He is wicked and vile in his actions, and should be despised by everyone.
Ling He didn't feel sorry for him, but he still felt a twinge of heartache.
He wrapped his outer robe around Fang Pengju's body. The robe was old but very clean.
For his stride, walking from east to west of the city was not a long distance, and the path to Fang's manor was also very familiar. But Ling He walked very slowly, his steps heavy.
He was reluctant.
He was the oldest, he should have taken care of his four younger brothers, but he didn't.
He still remembers the scene of five people making a pact by the Green Willow River, and he remembers the radiant smiles of each of his five brothers.
Green Willow River is a tributary of Qing River, winding its way around Niutou Mountain. The water in the river is crystal clear, able to reflect young faces and young hearts. That year, they rode horses with swords, raised their cups for toasts, and countless times honed their martial arts skills. Countless nights were spent discussing matters under candlelight.
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They made a pact to ascend to the Inner Court together, to wield their swords and become immortals together, to transcend the mundane and achieve sainthood. Those memories, those...promises.
Ling He never imagined that the five of them, who were so compatible and deeply bonded, would one day turn against each other, facing life and death.
How is this possible
He thought.
He couldn't understand, but holding Fang Pengju's icy corpse in his arms, he finally walked to the gate of Fang Mansion.
"What are you doing here" the doorman asked, blocking his way.
The Fang family mansion was grand and imposing, towering high above everything else.
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“Oh.” Ling He held Fang Pengju’s corpse, slightly bowing his head in greeting, “Fang Pengju has passed away. I brought his body back to give him a proper burial at your estate.”
If no one collects the body, the official will take it to a mass grave for disposal. That is the favorite place visited by left-path demons, and even in death, they find little peace.
But Ling He thought this didn't need to be said. He wasn't someone who liked to take credit, nor did he consider it a merit.
The gatekeeper's face changed, and he slammed the door shut. A voice came from behind the door: "Take him away! The master said he is not allowed to enter!"
“Little brother,” Ling He said sincerely, “please convey my words to your master again. No matter what Peng Ju says, he is still of the Fang family bloodline. They might have just spoken out of anger and won’t ignore him.”
The doorman hesitated for a moment, "Let me ask again...don't take the chance to barge in!"
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“Don’t worry, little brother.”
Ling He stood motionless at the entrance of Fang's residence, holding Fang Pengju's body in his arms, listening to the retreating footsteps.
He lowered his head and looked at Fang Pengju's already cold face, saying: "Pengju, look what kind of mess you've made Even if you're dead, no one will remember you anymore. You're despised by both gods and men."
After a long time, the sound of the doorman came again from behind the door.
"The old master said," he paused, then repeated the words of the Fang family master: "They're all dead, what use is there in bringing them back"
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Ling He was stunned for a moment before stammering, "The Fang family are respectable people and should give Pengju a respectable send-off."
“The old master said that he already knew the cause of Fang Pengju’s death. Such a heartless and unjust person is not worthy to be from the Fang family!”
“But he is Fang’s offspring, isn't he” Linghe said.
“Get out!” The doorman threw a coin through the crack, “If you bother us again, we’ll call the police!”
Those coins clinked and clanged to the ground, quite a sight to behold. They would be more than enough for a simple burial. The extra money would simply be a tip.
This is Fang's attitude.
Ling He fell silent.
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He no longer tried to say anything.
He was very poor, having been poor since childhood. He lacked money, his only good outer garment being draped over Fang Pengju's corpse, and his tunic patched in many places. Standing before the grand gate of Fang's mansion, he resembled a destitute relative who had been turned away.
He held Fang Pengju's body and turned to leave.
From beginning to end, I didn't even glance at those coins.
This is Linghe's attitude.ingtaizu when he deposed the empress from a single sentence, "The prince shot the dragon fox," this is an extremely huge amount of work... Many old scholars spend decades or even centuries without ful...