Chapter Seventy-Seven: Ling Shunuo’s True Identity

When Ling Shuno was brought out, he kept staring to the right of Ling Zhetian, as if something there was drawing his attention. Indeed, Feng Qiuji was floating back and forth in that spot. When Anuo looked at her, she was pleasantly surprised—she took his gaze as proof he could see her. Seeing Anuo unharmed, she felt relieved and happy.

Anuo’s attire was neat, and he didn’t look thin from hunger; it seemed the Fusang people had treated him well, at least not abused him. Ling Zhetian noticed Anuo’s persistent gaze to his right, so he turned to look himself, but saw nothing but empty air.

“What have you been staring at since just now?” Ling Zhetian asked, picking him up with curiosity.

“Nothing,” Anuo replied with a smile, nestling into Ling Zhetian’s arms and acting spoiled. “Father, I missed you so much.”

“Good boy.” Ling Zhetian laughed as he stroked Anuo’s head, his expression tender and paternal, making Feng Qiuji envious as she watched. “Let’s go home now.”

“Where’s Mother? Why didn’t she come?”

“She’s waiting for you at home.” As they spoke, they walked away, and Feng Qiuji drifted after them. Their purpose in Fusang had been fulfilled; it was time to return home. Yet one thing puzzled her: hadn’t Ling Shuno seen her? Why pretend otherwise?

Initially, Feng Qiuji thought Anuo’s ability to see her was simply because he was still young, but upon reflection, that didn’t seem right. If he truly saw her, he should have been startled—why was he neither frightened nor did he mention her to Ling Zhetian?

Well, whether he could see her was no longer important. Feng Qiuji floated around them, feeling that this state of freedom was quite nice—her body was light, she could go wherever she pleased.

When Ling Zhetian returned to the Lu Residence, everyone had already noticed his absence and anxiously awaited his return. Seeing him come back with Anuo, they all breathed a sigh of relief.

During this time, Ling Zexin had quickly helped Feng Qiuji fill in the gaps of her “lost” memory. Feng Qiuji thus understood her current identity. This realization left her feeling frustrated and unfulfilled, and she gazed pitifully at Lu Wenwen, making him embarrassed to look at her.

Now that she was no longer innocent, and had a child with the Emperor—not her own by birth, but one who called her mother—Feng Qiuji knew what was expected of her. It seemed her life was destined to follow the path of a dutiful consort, remaining in the palace to care for husband and child.

Anuo saw Feng Qiuji but, unusually, said nothing to her. Instead, he quietly approached Ling Zexin and said, “Little uncle, I’m sorry for worrying you these days and for making Father scold you. I know I was wrong. Please accept my apology.” With that, he bowed to Ling Zexin.

Ling Zexin was utterly stunned, staring at Anuo in disbelief for a long moment. He tugged at Feng Qiuji’s sleeve and whispered, “Little Qiuji, pinch me—is this a dream?”

Feng Qiuji was startled, frowned slightly, and quickly stepped back, seeming rather unaccustomed.

Seeing her reaction, Ling Zexin’s mood immediately soured. He went over to rub Anuo’s face, lamenting, “My dear nephew, I’m so glad you’re back. If anything happened to you, how would I go on?”

Lu Wenwen, pleased by this joyful reunion, ordered the servants to prepare a feast so Ling Zhetian and the others could enjoy a good meal.

As they began to eat, Feng Qiuji felt a sudden loneliness. She wished for someone to keep her company, even someone who could merely acknowledge her presence. Only now did she truly understand the feeling of being ignored—being alone was so lonely.

She drifted to the rear garden of the Lu Residence, settled atop a tree, and gazed blankly at the setting sun. Night was about to fall. If she could never return to her body and was doomed to float eternally, what then? A wave of sorrow and fear washed over her. She wanted to cry, but realized she had no tears—she couldn’t even weep.

At that moment, she heard footsteps—two familiar voices approaching in the dusk. Ling Zhetian was in front, followed by a rather reserved Feng Qiuji.

They stopped, and Ling Zhetian turned to Feng Qiuji and asked, “Tomorrow we return to Ling Dynasty. What are your plans?”

Feng Qiuji was silent for a while before answering, “I don’t know.”

“You don’t want to be Empress, do you?”

She remained silent for a long time, ultimately giving no reply.

Ling Zhetian turned away, not looking at her. “If you wish to leave, I won’t stop you. We’ve never consummated our marriage, so you needn’t worry about your chastity.”

“Really?” Feng Qiuji, finally hearing these words, looked up in delight, a smile breaking through her long-held sorrow.

Ling Zhetian’s heart tightened—he was never one to force others against their wishes. Since she didn’t want to stay, he wouldn’t compel her. From atop the tree, Feng Qiuji saw his expression change, and felt a pang of sadness herself. She had wanted to scold the other Feng Qiuji, but realized that body belonged to someone else; it was only right that it returned to its owner. How could she decide whom Feng Qiuji loved or didn’t love?

If she could appear before Ling Zhetian now, she would apologize sincerely and promise never to act so willfully again, for she now felt a desire to stay by his side. But people are always like this: failing to cherish what they have, only regretting when it’s gone. Yet regret is useless.

Feng Qiuji didn’t love Ling Zhetian, so she wouldn’t stay with him. If she was doomed to float in the air forever, what would happen to Ling Zhetian? She couldn’t bear to see him lonely.

Only now did she understand what it truly meant to love someone—it was not wanting him to be sad, regardless of the reason. Before, she thought Ling Zhetian loved Qin Ruyan, so she chose to leave and let them be together, not wanting to see him upset. Now, she wished to appear before him and stay by his side, knowing he didn’t love Qin Ruyan and not wanting him to be lonely.

Only now did she realize that the lack of communication between her and Ling Zhetian had kept them from understanding each other. Because they cared too much, they kept separating, all to avoid causing each other pain.

She didn’t listen closely to what they said afterward, only noting that Feng Qiuji spoke a few words with Ling Zhetian and then happily hurried out of the garden, leaving Ling Zhetian alone.

The sun set, shadows enveloping him. He looked up at the treetop. For a moment, Feng Qiuji thought he saw her, but he merely glanced and walked away, leaving Feng Qiuji watching his lonely figure vanish from sight.

She drifted down from the tree, feeling hollow inside. She wanted to accompany Ling Zhetian—even if he couldn’t see her, she wanted to stay by his side and watch him.

“Feng Qiuji.” Just as she was about to leave, someone called out.

She turned and saw Ling Shuno standing a few steps away, his gaze focused on her.

She floated before Anuo and asked, “Can you see me?”

“I can see you,” Ling Shuno replied, looking into her eyes.

“Really?!” Feng Qiuji was overjoyed and tried to hug him, but her arms passed right through. Though a little disappointed, she was mostly happy—Anuo could not only see her, but hear her.

“Then why weren’t you scared when you saw me earlier?”

“Because I was once just like you,” Anuo said with a smile, leaving Feng Qiuji baffled.

“What do you mean, just like me?” Feng Qiuji found his smile mysterious and profound, not at all like that of a four-year-old child.

“Do you really believe I’m a four-year-old?” Anuo’s smile deepened, his tone teasing.

“You’re not four?” Feng Qiuji circled him. “Are you five?”

“I’m not joking.” Anuo shook his head, exasperated.

“Then what’s going on?” Feng Qiuji had always suspected Anuo’s intelligence was too high—his words and actions were nothing like a four-year-old. She’d long wondered, but never found a good answer.

Anuo looked around to ensure no one was nearby, then lowered his voice. “The real Ling Shuno died more than three years ago.”

“What?” Feng Qiuji exclaimed, shocked.

“He was only a few months old when someone strangled him. When I found his body, it was already cold. So I entered his body and lived on.” Anuo’s face was full of reminiscence, as if recalling something from long ago.

“Who are you really?” Suddenly, Feng Qiuji found Ling Shuno strange and frightening. She’d never suspected this little boy had such deep secrets. The world suddenly seemed darker—who could she trust?

“My real age is fifteen. I just graduated junior high. Do you understand now?”

“Junior high?” Feng Qiuji was startled. To her knowledge, junior high was something that only existed in the modern world.

“That’s right.” For the first time in years, Anuo confided his deepest secret to another person and breathed in the fresh air with relief.

－－－－－－End of Chapter－－－－－－

After a busy day, I finally got to crawl into bed and type for a bit.

First published by Xiaoxiang Book House. Please do not repost!