115: The unwavering childhood sweetheart

“Let’s go. One sheep or two, it’s all the same. We’ll go directly to Shen Jianxing’s dream.”

Once Shen Jianxing’s problem was resolved, he would focus on the issues in Yan Province and the capital, hoping to harvest a large number of believers.

With a massive debt of 1 billion pressing on him, even the usually elegant and composed Lin Chuping couldn't stay calm.

Even the spiritual tea tasted bitter.

Unfortunately, the System was like a closed-mouthed gourd, stubbornly insisting on “heavenly secrets cannot be revealed,” forcing him to fill an unknown pit with a 1-billion-value grand array.

***

Nan Shu Village.

Shen Jianxing was practicing calligraphy at his desk to pass the time.

Due to his health, he had been muddled for the past few years, and Shen Jianxing only had a general understanding of the capital’s situation.

Shen Jianxing put down his brush and rubbed his throbbing temples.

Outside the window, the moonlight was like water, but he inexplicably felt waves of palpitations.

The Nine Nether Heart-Eating Curse was acting up.

However, it was only palpitations, still within the range of endurance.

Compared to the previous experience of rolling in agony on the bed, almost fainting from pain, this level of pain was already considered “mild.”

He took a deep breath, his fingertips trembling slightly, yet he steadily dipped his brush in ink and continued to write on the Xuan paper.

The origin of the Nine Nether Heart-Eating Curse had not yet been thoroughly investigated. Today, he received news from his elder brother that, according to records, several Geniuses in Great Yan’s history had also died from severe heart pain.

Good news: the Nine Nether Heart-Eating Curse was not targeting their Shen Family.

Bad news: the Nine Nether Heart-Eating Curse was targeting Geniuses throughout Great Yan, indiscriminately cursing them to death.

Shen Jianxing stared at the spreading ink on the Xuan paper, his brush tip hovering in mid-air, reluctant to fall.

Indiscriminate curse-killing of Geniuses.

This conclusion sent a chill down his spine.

The Great Yan Dynasty had been established for over three hundred years, with heroes emerging in every generation. But upon closer thought, indeed, many astonishingly talented individuals had died prematurely for unknown reasons—martial Dao Geniuses suffering Qi Deviation, literary masters coughing up blood and dying, and even several exceptionally gifted imperial princes dying young... If someone truly orchestrated this in the shadows, then this game was played on too grand a scale!

“Snap!”

He snapped the brush handle, and splinters pierced his palm, blood dripping between his fingers.

Shen Jianxing seemed oblivious, a cold glint flashing in his eyes.

Who was this person hidden within the court?

Shen Jianxing threw the blood-stained broken brush onto the desk and unrolled a list of key court officials.

As the candlelight flickered, he used the blood from his palm to mark names.

“Prime Minister Liu Chongshan?”

His fingertip hovered over the first name.

“An old villain of three dynasties, his cronies permeate all six ministries...”

Ambitious and intent on controlling the entire Great Yan, such a person was highly likely to be colluding with demons.

“Qintian Supervisor Mo Xuanzi.”

This person was extremely mysterious, rumored to be the strongest in all of Great Yan, yet he rarely appeared. It was said that he didn't even show up for the new emperor's enthronement.

The capital had fallen into desperate situations several times, but this person showed no intention of intervening. Some even began to speculate whether Mo Xuanzi had already died and his Dao dissipated.

If it was this person, the possibility was low.

There was one last guess: the imperial family. In this world, the strong were revered. To what extent?

If one was as strong as Mo Xuanzi, even if you directly killed the emperor and ascended the throne yourself, no one would dare to resist.

If the imperial family wanted to consolidate their rule by cursing Geniuses to death, it was not impossible... Shen Jianxing suppressed his chaotic thoughts, picked up an unopened letter, and a touch of sweetness welled up in his heart.

Even the pain in his heart lessened considerably.

The blood on Shen Jianxing’s fingertips had not yet dried, but upon touching the letter, he subconsciously wiped it on his lapel.

The elegant four characters “For my dear Shen Lang” on the envelope melted the gloom from his brows like ice and snow.

As he broke the wax seal, a wisp of orchid fragrance wafted out. The letter paper was a special cloud-patterned stationery from the capital, and the handwriting on it was clear and graceful with a hint of unrestrained spirit:

“My dear Jianxing:

To see these words is to see you.

Half a year has passed since you left the capital to recuperate.

Whenever I trim the candle by the western window, I always recall the old days when you and I sparred under the plum tree in the General’s Manor. You let me have three moves and still won by half a move, which so angered me that I broke your favorite jade flute—I still keep that broken flute, but my dear husband has not yet returned.

I heard that a celestial temple has manifested in Qingzhou. A Yue will set off with the merchant caravan in ten days.

Your fiancée, Su Mingyue

Yongchang Year Three, Frost’s Descent”

In the bottom right corner of the letter was a drawing of a fierce little person, grabbing another little person’s ear—exactly how she used to be when she lost a fight to him as a child and acted spoiled.

Shen Jianxing’s fingers gently traced the ink on the letter, as if he could see the bright, sun-like girl through the words.

As the candlelight flickered, his thoughts drifted back to that spring day ten years ago... He was twelve then, just about to sneak out of the capital to hunt demons.

Passing by the corner gate of the General’s Manor, he first met eight-year-old Su Mingyue—a wild girl in a goose-yellow jacket, carrying a wooden sword, challenging him to a fight.

“If you lose, you have to give me the jade flute at your waist!”

The little girl tilted her chin, her eyes remarkably bright.

He let her have three moves but still won, and the little girl, enraged, broke his jade flute on the spot.

But as he turned to leave with a dark expression, his sleeve was tugged by a small hand: “Hey... I, I’ll give you my most precious sugar figurine to compensate you...”

The sweet memory had not yet faded when the scene shifted to three years ago.

At that time, he had just been tormented by the Nine Nether Heart-Eating Curse, reduced to skin and bones. Rumors spread throughout the capital that the Shen Family’s third Young Master would not live much longer.

Even when the imperial physicians hinted at preparing for his funeral, the Su Family sent thirty-six loads of dowry.

What etched itself into his memory most deeply was that rainy night.

He had a high fever that wouldn’t break, and in his delirium, he saw Su Mingyue kneeling by his bed, feeding him medicine spoon by spoon.

Hot tears fell on his face, and he heard her say, with a choked voice: “Shen Jianxing, if you dare to die, I’ll wear my wedding dress and hold your memorial tablet to complete the ceremony, so you won’t even find peace as a ghost...”

“Cough, cough...”

Shen Jianxing suddenly coughed violently, quickly covering his mouth with a handkerchief.

When he unfolded it, several striking red plum blossoms had bloomed on the snow-white silk handkerchief.

He smiled bitterly, looking out the window. The old plum tree in the moonlight trembled slightly in the wind, much like that stubborn figure in his memory.

“A Yue...”

His life might already be at its end. He didn't want to implicate that somewhat naive girl. In the half-year he had been in Qingzhou, Shen Jianxing had tried his best not to inquire about Su Mingyue’s news.

But now, Su Mingyue was actually coming to Qingzhou to see him.

***

When Lin Chuping arrived, he happened to see Shen Jianxing in this lovesick state.

Lin Chuping leaned against the window frame, watching with interest as Shen Jianxing held the letter, lost in thought.

Moonlight streamed through the window screen, casting dappled shadows on his pale face, yet it could not hide the tenderness.

“Tsk tsk, to be able to smile so radiantly when the Nine Nether Heart-Eating Curse acts up, Shen Jianxing is truly the first person of all time.”

Lin Chuping flicked his finger, and a golden pellet shot through the air, hitting Shen Jianxing squarely on the forehead.