Qingshan Chapter 4 : Chapter 4

Chapter 4: A Quarter of an Hour

A fleeting steed in the gap, fire in the stone, body in the dream…

In an inexplicable echo, I, Chen Ji, didn’t know how long I wandered in the darkness, as if trudging through an icy river for a century, unable to pierce the fog before .

Yet this darkness seed to last only a mont, as brief as a spark from clashing stones.

I couldn’t control my body; I could only listen.

The sound of wind, rain, and even the splash of oars cutting through water, as if soone were carrying across a sea of black clouds in a small boat.

I wanted to break through the darkness, but everything around felt as sticky as glue, trapping .

Outside the darkness, a relaxed voice suddenly spoke: “Lord Zhou, we wouldn’t have co in person without absolute certainty. The mont you saw us, you had two choices: cooperate fully and help us catch Jing Dynasty’s spies in Luocheng, or we make your life worse than death. There’s no other option.”

A middle-aged man responded in fury: “I don’t know what cri I’ve committed to warrant you two slaughtering my household! I don’t know any Jing Dynasty spies!”

The relaxed voice continued: “On the twenty-seventh of last month, you hosted a banquet for Lord Li of the Artisan Directorate at Mingzhu Garden in White Cloth Alley, East Market. During the feast, you redeed Miss Cuihuan from Mingzhu Garden and gifted her to him. But Miss Cuihuan happens to be a Jing Dynasty spy, and she’s already betrayed you… Do I need to go on?”

“Miss Cuihuan being a spy has nothing to do with ! I had no prior dealings with her!”

“You want evidence?”

“Yes!”

In the room, a girl laughed: “Since when does our Secret Spy Division need evidence to kill a spy?”

Lord Zhou fell silent, and the room grew quiet, save for heavy breathing.

The room was a ss—porcelain shattered on the floor, an antique shelf for decorations broken, like a scene of ruin.

Amid the wreckage, seven or eight corpses lay twisted, with only one middle-aged man sitting on the ground, hair disheveled, looking wretched.

Across from him, a young man in sleek black combat attire stood with a relaxed, playful deanor. Nearby, a slender black-clad girl crouched on an armchair, watching the scene unfold.

The two, barely in their twenties, had killed an entire room of people.

In the darkness, I suddenly felt their voices were like a hand, seizing as I sank into the abyss, pulling back from hell to the mortal world.

“Lord Zhou, who are your colleagues in Luocheng? If you don’t want to tell the truth now, that’s fine—we have the whole night to wear you down,” the young man said with a smile. “Hold on a mont, we’ll bring your family hidden in Firewood Alley, and we’ll see if you’re willing to talk then…”

The next mont.

A corpse in the room abruptly sat up!

Hiss!

I gasped sharply, like a drowning man reborn, greedily breathing. My breaths were piercingly loud in the silence, breaking the room’s oppressive stillness.

I sat up from the floor, my head heavy and foggy.

Instinctively, I touched my waist where the knife wound should have been, but there was nothing.

The girl perched on the armchair spun her head around: “Huh, Yunyang, your technique’s getting rusty. Can’t even kill soone properly?”

Yunyang retorted: “Impossible. His heart must be off-center!”

“Missed and too embarrassed to admit it?”

“What now?”

“Kill him again.”

At that mont, I was flooded with questions: Why was I reborn? Where was I reborn to? Could I find my way back ho? If sothing as miraculous as rebirth could happen, could I see my family again?

I opened my eyes: “Wait, I have sothing to say…”

As soon as I spoke, footsteps sounded outside, drawing everyone’s attention.

Over a dozen n in identical black combat attire entered the courtyard, escorting seven or eight people, including two children, a boy and a girl, both around eight or nine.

Taking advantage of the mont, I quickly scanned my surroundings: the room was small, with a rosewood desk to the left, two armchairs, and a table in the center.

Books, ink, and paper were scattered in disarray.

Had I transmigrated?

Was this the dream world Li Qingniao spoke of?

I seed to have transmigrated into the body of soone just killed, but I didn’t know who they were before death.

I wanted to pause and think about my situation, but the crisis unfolding was too fast, leaving no ti for reflection.

As I thought, the dozen black-clad n forced Lord Zhou’s family to kneel on the ground. One of them clasped his fists and reported: “Zhou Chengyi’s hidden family has been brought in full. This woman was redeed by him from White Cloth Alley ten years ago. The two children are theirs, one boy, one girl. The others are the steward and maids.”

The black-clad n had resolute faces, each with a sheathed long sword hanging at their waists.

Yunyang crouched in front of the woman with a smile: “Madam, did you know Zhou is a Jing Dynasty spy?”

The woman clutched the little boy tightly, shaking her head in fear: “No, we don’t know anything!”

Yunyang drew a slender silver needle from his sleeve and, in a flash, stabbed it into her chest. She collapsed without a sound.

Dead.

Cries erupted in the room. The steward shouted hoarsely: “Master, what’s going on, Master?!”

Zhou Chengyi didn’t answer, only watching the scene with a grim expression.

Yunyang looked at him, then crouched before a maid: “Anything you want to tell ?”

The maid stamred: “I… Our master only cos two or three tis a month. We… we barely see him.”

Yunyang stabbed the needle forward. The maid tried to dodge, but the needle was too fast to evade. She could only watch as it pierced her chest.

I instinctively touched my own chest.

Yunyang killed his way through until he reached the little boy. Smiling, he crouched down but didn’t look at the boy, staring instead at Zhou Chengyi: “Kid, has your dad told you anything?”

Zhou Chengyi’s face twitched: “Your Ning Dynasty claims to be founded on literature and propriety, yet you’d slaughter a child?”

Yunyang sneered: “This spring, Jing Dynasty cavalry raided south, killing countless innocent Ning citizens. Should I lecture you on poetry and etiquette? Besides, last year you bought a ten-year-old girl and raised her in your household, only to gift her to Luocheng’s prefect. Was she not a child? Lord Zhou, if you don’t confess, your kid’s next.”

“Dad, save !”

But Zhou Chengyi only turned his head slightly, ignoring the child’s plea.

Yunyang whistled: “Such a cold heart. Looks like we’ve caught a spy bigger than a sea eagle, hiding under our noses for years. I’m almost ashad.”

Stab.

The boy collapsed, lifeless.

I watched silently. The boy’s eyes, still open, stared at .

Veins pulsed on Zhou Chengyi’s forehead.

Then, the girl nad Jiaotu approached the little girl, crouching down softly: “Just now, your mother only held your brother. Did you see that?”

The little girl nodded in fear.

Jiaotu continued: “If you co with and call sister, I won’t kill you.”

But the girl didn’t agree, only looking at her father in helpless fear.

“In this world, weakness brings girls a lot of suffering,” Jiaotu said with a smile, pulling the girl into her arms. “Don’t be afraid. It’ll be quick.”

She drew a silver needle, identical to Yunyang’s, from her hair and stabbed it into the back of the girl’s neck. The girl went limp in her arms, silent.

My pupils contracted.

Yunyang, unfazed, approached the steward and : “Young man, you got lucky surviving earlier. Since you cheated death, I’ll give you another chance. Let’s play a ga: whoever gives information first gets to live.”

The steward imdiately crawled forward, sobbing: “Sirs, I’ll talk! I’ll tell you everything you want to know! Let live!”

Yunyang grinned: “I love a good betrayal scene!”

I spoke up: “I don’t have any information, but give two quarters of an hour, and I’ll find it for you.”

The steward hurriedly explained: “He’s just an apprentice at a clinic. What could he know? Listen to !”

Yunyang looked at , his expression sincere: “Your information takes two quarters of an hour, and I’m not even sure you’ll deliver, so I’m very sorry… Oh, you!”

As he mocked, I suddenly lunged at the steward, pinning him to the ground.

In a flash, a piece of broken porcelain I’d hidden in my hand sliced across the steward’s neck. But my lack of experience showed—I missed the artery on the first try.

Yunyang and Jiaotu didn’t intervene.

In panic, the steward, lying on the ground, swung his fist at my cheek, but I didn’t dodge. Gripping the porcelain tightly, I slashed again.

This second cut severed the steward’s carotid artery, blood spraying like a fountain.

The steward was dead.

I stood slowly. My cheek was bruised from his punch, and my palm was cut from gripping the porcelain too tightly, blood dripping to the floor.

Jiaotu’s eyes glinted.

Yunyang’s interest was piqued: “You really want to live?”

Panting, I said: “I don’t have information, but give a quarter of an hour, and I’ll get it for you.”

“Oh?” Yunyang raised an eyebrow. “Deal, but you only get one quarter of an hour.”