Chapter 7

A strange, eerie silence descended. Murong Fan cast a detached gaze toward Jiang Si.

She kept her head slightly lowered. The crushing pressure and suffocating aura were already more than she could bear, to say nothing of the deeper terror of feeling completely transparent, as if someone had seen right through her soul.

Murong Sheng watched her as well, his face a mask of shock and disbelief. The young man, who had just been so full of youthful fervor, loudly proclaiming that he could defy fate itself, now felt as though a basin of icy water had been dumped over him, leaving his hot-blooded spirit dazed and hollow.

After a long pause, Murong Fan finally spoke.

"Sheng'er, leave us."

"Little Imperial Uncle..."

"I have words for this Fifth Young Lady Jiang."

Murong Sheng hesitated, his feet feeling as heavy as lead. Just as he lingered, unwilling to go, someone suddenly entered from outside, grabbed him by the collar, and hauled him away. His exclamation was cut short, likely smothered by a hand over his mouth.

Jiang Si braced herself and looked up.

"Your Highness, may I ask... what exactly is my fate?"

Murong Fan stepped closer, bringing with him the faint, cooling scent of sandalwood. He was exceptionally tall, his presence both detached and ethereal.

"You were born in the third year of Zhengjia, at the first quarter of the Zi hour, when the yin energy was at its peak. Consequently, your life force is weak, your roots are unstable, and your destiny is one of shallow fortune and brevity."

Jiang Si’s heart hammered against her ribs. She fought to maintain an expression of innocent ignorance, her clear, dark-and-white eyes fixed on him, filled with a well-acted confusion.

"Your Highness, is my fate truly that wretched?"

Murong Fan looked at her, his voice calm and filled with pity.

"Such a destiny is the mark of a life cut short."

A life cut short.

He had hit the mark.

Whether it was she herself or the original owner of this body, both were, in every sense, doomed to die young. Now that two souls destined for early graves had merged into one, such a fate was undoubtedly the worst of the worst.

"Your Highness, do you mean that I will die young?" she asked, her fear perfectly measured.

The light and shadows shifted across the walls of the classroom, dimming the space. Through the windows carved with intricate floral patterns, the world outside began to look strange and unfamiliar.

Murong Fan’s voice was close, yet it sounded as if it came from the edge of the horizon.

"You should remember that in your past life, you were estranged from your kin, destined for a life of lonely, bitter toil—a life, too, that ended prematurely."

That single phrase, "you should remember," sent Jiang Si’s heart racing. She realized that this Prince Fangye had not only discerned the anomaly in her fate but was also fully aware of her origins.

After the initial panic, she felt a sense of relief.

He was indeed the "Buddha of the Imperial Clan"—he truly possessed profound insight.

The life she had tried so hard to forget was, in the end, nothing more than the four words others used to describe it: lonely, bitter, and toilsome. For a fleeting moment, she felt a pang of resentment for her own sake. All those years of struggling alone, all that feigned strength when she had no one to lean on—in the end, it was merely the life of someone destined to die young.

She lowered her head to look at her hands.

They were fair, delicate, and slender—the hands of someone raised in luxury, never having known a day of labor. Her original hands, though thin, had had slightly thick knuckles, with palms and fingertips calloused and rough.

"Your Highness, is there a way to break this fate in this life?"

"It is already broken."

"...That is good," she murmured.

So, after she took the place of the original owner, the fate had been broken. But they both knew this wasn't a "breaking" of fate; it was a substitution.

When she raised her head again, both her expression and her eyes had changed. Since her deepest secrets were laid bare, there was no need to pretend to be naive or ignorant any longer.

"Your Highness, will you keep my secret?"

Such a terrifying truth would surely lead others to treat her as a monster. In this life, she only wanted to live well.

"The Buddha delivers all living beings, yet all living beings suffer—a suffering that is not meant to be spoken of to outsiders. However, one like you, born of the accumulated resentment and bitterness of a past life, carries a lingering baleful energy. If you do not wish to harm others, you must, above all, avoid marriage."

It seemed the Prince would keep her secret, but he had issued a warning.

If she married, she would bring harm to others.

That was fine by her; she simply would not marry.

"Thank you for your guidance, Your Highness."

"The human heart is like a demon, most difficult to fathom. Some are unmoved by Buddhist teachings, others ignore the karmic burdens of conscience; so long as their own lives are not endangered, they care for nothing else. If others die, it has nothing to do with you. If you turn a blind eye, no one will ever know."

Jiang Si understood.

The Prince did not trust her character.

"As Your Highness said, I remember my past life. In that life, I was estranged from my kin and filled with bitterness. In this life, I have the family I once craved but could never attain, and I desire nothing more. Your Highness, rest assured—I will certainly not harm anyone."

...

As the sky grew dark, the wind picked up.

After Murong Fan exited, he glanced to the side and departed with composure.

Jiang Si followed, her peripheral vision drifting toward the same spot.

Murong Sheng was leaning against the wall, clearly having taken a heavy blow. Beside him stood a handsome, imposing man dressed in dark-patterned black robes with a gold belt, a curved sabre hanging at his waist.

When their eyes met, the man’s gaze was filled with intense scrutiny.

"Fifth Young Lady Jiang, is it? Until we meet again."

Jiang Si didn't ask who he was, nor did she care about his remark about meeting again. She simply curtsied and, feigning a look of fright, left the classroom.

As soon as she disappeared, the man clicked his tongue at Murong Sheng with an expression of utter disdain.

"You really do have a death wish, don't you? Ignoring your uncle’s warning and still insisting on walking your own path."

This man, who addressed Murong Fan as his maternal uncle, was none other than Shen Su, the son of the Grand Princess Yi'an and a Prince of the Second Rank.

The Grand Princess Yi'an was the younger sister of the current Emperor and held a position of favor unlike any other, which was why Shen Su had been granted the title of Prince at birth; he now served as the Commander of the Imperial Guard.

He did not hold back in lecturing Murong Sheng.

"I tell you, Heir Apparent, you are truly something. You knew the Fifth Young Lady Jiang had an anomalous fate, yet you were still reckless enough to throw yourself at her. You made your uncle neglect his own meditation and rush over here to fish your life out of the fire."

Murong Sheng was scolded into silence, his head hanging low; all his youthful spirit seemed to have deflated like a punctured ball, leaving only a hollow shell.

Shen Su couldn't stand the sight of him and became even more dismissive. "How can you be so fragile? You’re falling apart over such a trivial matter—how will you ever shoulder great responsibilities in the future? I refuse to believe you’ve fallen so deeply for this Jiang girl that you can’t live without her. Think carefully: which is more important—your own life, or her?"

He hadn't had time to think about that, but the truth was, he was afraid, which was why he was acting this way.

Suddenly, a sharp pain struck his head, and tears welled up in his eyes.

"Cousin Su, why did you hit me!"

"I hit you because you deserve it!" Shen Su fumed. "Look at the state of you! There isn't a shred of the Imperial dignity left in you; I’m embarrassed for you. I’ve heard that the Fifth Young Lady Jiang doesn't even like you. Just days ago, she complained to your uncle that you were being lewd toward her. Murong Sheng, oh Murong Sheng, is this all you amount to?"

"You don't understand anything! Fifth Young Lady Jiang... she did that on purpose. She was just trying to spite me..."

Shen Su raised his hand, gesturing as if to strike him again, but Murong Sheng dodged it.

"Cousin Su, I know I was wrong."

"As long as you know you were wrong. Remember your uncle’s words: do not provoke that Fifth Young Lady Jiang again, lest you lose your own life."

Shen Su ordered someone to see him home, then went to chase after Murong Fan.

Arriving at the Prince's residence, he saw the man in the night air and quickened his pace.

The new moon had risen, its pale light shimmering. The man stood in silence beneath the moonlight, looking like someone detached from the mortal world.

"That boy Sheng—I used to think he was decent. Who would have thought he could turn himself into such a ghost over a little girl?"

"A young man is full of vigor and believes he can contend with fate; it is only human nature."

Shen Su thought to himself that this was true—who hadn't had an age where they feared nothing and no one? For his own part, he had once believed himself to be the greatest in the world, recklessly boasting that his martial arts were unrivaled across the capital.

If he hadn't been soundly disciplined by this uncle of his—who was only two years older than him—he would likely still be wandering about, oblivious to his own arrogance.

This uncle of his was known as the "Buddha of the Imperial Clan," yet who could have guessed his martial prowess was equally unfathomable? He rarely struck, but when he did, it was like a gentle breeze passing over a mountain—a cure for all forms of defiance.

"So, Uncle, you intervened that day because you saw the anomaly in the Fifth Young Lady Jiang’s fate?"

"Not entirely." Murong Fan turned, his calm eyes seemingly shimmering with starlight. "Everyone wants to discuss Buddhism or ask me about astrology and the Eight Trigrams, but no one has ever spoken to me of mundane matters. To see children’s bickering brought before their elders—I found it amusing, so I intervened."

Shen Su let out a dry laugh. Only his uncle would find such petty, trivial matters amusing.

Did his uncle find it amusing when he disciplined him all those years ago?

He should be grateful that his uncle had been in a whimsical mood back then, curing him of his youthful arrogance and setting him on the right path, while also allowing him the honor of becoming his uncle’s trusted confidant.

"Uncle, if that boy Sheng remains obsessed, will he truly lose his life?"

Murong Fan turned the prayer beads in his hand. "It is not just Sheng'er. It would be the same for anyone else."

"Then is she truly destined to be a widow?" Shen Su couldn't help but recall that fleeting, stunning glimpse of her. She was so delicate and pitiable, the kind of woman most likely to evoke love and protection; she didn't look like someone who would bring death to her husband at all.

At the time, he had actually understood Murong Sheng. Had he been at that age, he too would have found it hard not to fall for such a pitiable girl.

"She looks like such a precious little thing—who would have thought she’d be a 'femme fatale'? Does that mean she must remain unmarried for life? Is there truly no one who can suppress her fate?"

After asking, he felt foolish.

If his uncle said that any man who married her would die, then it must be true.

Just as he thought he had asked a wasted question and that Murong Fan would not answer him, the man spoke with casual indifference.

"There is."

Shen Su was greatly astonished.

Could there really be a man in this world who could overcome such a lethal fate?

"Who?"

"Me."

Upon hearing this, he stood frozen in utter shock.