After Transmigrating Into The Weak Villain Chapter 101

Chapter 101

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Picking up the broken hairpin, the sharp break pricked his fingertips, making them ache. The crimson velvet feathers seemed to bloom like a cluster of red plums in the cold winter night in his palm. 

It was also like a fire burning in his palm. 

Jiang Yanchi’s heart skipped a beat. 

Taking up the neatly folded letter, he slowly unfolded a corner. The pen strokes were stiff but familiar, and the handwriting came into view. 

The opening sentence: “To see this letter is to meet, and now with this letter, we part ways. When the pen falls after writing the letter, there is still a soul before the person. After the pen stops, I fear there will be no half-soul left in the world (①). I once said that the so-called wind to me is the wind that breaks the courage, and the wind that gives and takes. I hope you will always remember to break only the courage of the treacherous and not chill the heart of the loyal minister. Kill only the body of the crafty thief and not harm the bones of the loyal minister. This is the way for you, and also the ability to handle affairs. The talent of an emperor, the decisive heart. All in one person. The heaven’s son descendsand becomes the emperor. The road is long, and its reach is distant (②). 

Now, there is a talented person, Zhao Xuan. Father and son have different minds, but on holidays, they can be used extensively. In the fourteenth year of Changping, the newly crowned top scholar is Qi, with an unyielding and impartial face, also a talented individual. To pacify the hearts of the people, eliminate the treacherous minister Chu’s family. To follow the will of the people, return the military power to the Xu family. 

The Xu family is safe, with a loyal heart, capable of guarding the northern border for thousands of miles. I hope you, trust and use them to protect and stabilize. 

After more than twenty years since the chaos of Yongan, there have been more than tens of millions who have been deeply poisoned. 

May it stop at Jinghe. 

After this, no war, no chaos, no starving, no grieving souls. The mountains and rivers are beautiful, and the people live in peace. 

For the ruler, do not use the power of the world to follow the will of one person, only to increase calculations and struggles that never cease.

I give the power of the world to him, hoping that you will use it for the people of the world. 

Sincerely recorded. 

Chu’s last words.

The thin piece of paper trembled, tears dropped along the jaw, hitting one corner, spreading out the words “last words,” staining them into a dark ink.

What time was it? 

Why was he still saying these words? 

Those tears seemed to be cut off, but he was afraid they would stain again. He carefully folded the letter, but found that the letter had turned over, and there was still half a sentence. 

Jiang Yanchi only glanced at it and immediately burst into tears. 

Just holding that hairpin. 

In these seven days, he had never torn his heart like this again. 

The sentence was not like the verbose front part, just a plain and simple one. 

“Sorry. This life is too short, only enough to protect one person.” 

Why. 

Why was he the one apologizing. 

“I’m sorry to you. I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” Jiang Yanchi tightly pinched the hairpin, but could only press the broken part against his heart. 

“I originally wanted to protect you, I originally wanted to save you… Why, why did it turn out like this… Xu Chunmu was right. At that time, I shouldn’t have taken you back to the capital. You would die, you would really die…”

“Even if I exert all my efforts to grasp the imperial power, even if I publicly announce to the world that I’m marrying you as my empress, even if I kill so many people, I still… couldn’t save you. If at that time, I didn’t recognize you, if I didn’t bring you back from the northern border, if I never participated in your life, would you… be living well?” 

“Why did you play the zither for me, why did you tell me that I could become a good emperor? Why did you help me take control of the Eastern Palace, why did you save my mother… why, why did I meet you when I had nothing…” 

The late-night snow fell again. 

As if burying everything. 

“I’m sorry…” 

“I thought I could save you, I thought… only I could save you.” 

In this moment. 

A sudden surge of sweetness rose in Jiang Yanchi’s throat. 

A tilt of the head, and a clump of black blood, long suppressed in his heart, was finally spat out. 

***

The key turned in the lock, a click. 

A beam of light entered the dark room, and as the door was pushed open slightly, it encountered resistance. Shen Yin pushed the door open, half of her body squeezed in, seeing Shen Chu crouched down by the door.

Click, the light was turned on. 

The light stung his eyes. 

“Brother.” 

She half-crouched in front of him, holding his face, “What happened to you? Why are you crying?” 

“That, the doctor has come, we…” 

“No need, no need to see the doctor.” Shen Chu smiled dimly, but Little Yin firmly held his hand. 

Shen Yin didn’t pull him right away, frowning and asking, “Why not? Maybe your mind is not clear now. You’re sick, and when you’re sick, you must…” 

“It’s okay, I’ll be fine soon on my own. Really, it’s okay…” 

He staggered to stand up, but Shen Yin forcefully pulled him, pushing him inside, “No, you must see the doctor.” 

Under the shove, Shen Chu’s back hit the corner of the desk heavily, and an iron box fell from the top of the bookcase, making a clang sound. The lid of the box opened when it hit the edge of the desk, and inside, old yellowed photographs scattered on the floor. 

There were old photos, a few twisted and crooked letters, and a thin little diary. 

Shen Chu lowered his head, picked up the one at his feet. It was a photo of himself at the age of eight, holding the little bundle of Shen Yin sitting on a rocking chair, taken by his mother when she took advantage of the opportunity. 

There was another one, with Little Yin at the age of three, lying on his back, supporting her head with her hands. The blurry smile was almost overflowing from the yellowed old photo. 

So they were all here. 

All hidden in this thick iron box. 

She wanted to seal everything, to shrink all the painful past related to herself into this small iron box. 

Picking up the diary next to her, he casually opened a page: March nineteenth, clear sky. Little Yin ate two meat buns this morning, and the knee she fell on yesterday has scabbed. If I can earn money in the future, I hope to buy a house with a yard on the first floor so that she won’t fall down the stairs again.

Turning a few more pages, almost every page is about writing about his sister. 

Until the last page. 

The handwriting on it has been blurred by tears, making it impossible to read. 

November, twenty-seventh. 

Sometimes, as long as one person is alive, the world seems to still have hope. The doctor said she is critically ill, and this time, she probably won’t make it. I don’t want her to walk alone, I will accompany her. 

Snap. 

A hand slammed forcefully on the diary. With a clatter, the bound diary couldn’t bear the weight and scattered, the pieces falling to the ground. 

Shen Yin glanced at only two lines, then suddenly covered her face, squatting on the ground, crying out loud. 

“Little Yin, what’s wrong with you…” Shen Chu’s nose was sore, his voice soft, “Why are you crying again.” 

“I don’t want to see these.” 

A slight pain in the heart. 

Shen Chu lowered his head and silently picked up the scattered diary pages, his hands trembling, his movements chaotic and hurried, “Well, then don’t look. It’s okay, don’t cry…”

Papa. 

His own tear fell on the back of his hand, and he stared blankly, silently wiping away the dampness on the back of his hand. 

“Why, why is every diary about me, why, why did you die for me, brother… why, why did your illness relapse, why do you look now, look like—” 

“Again, just like back then!” 

Shen Yin squatted down, flicked twice, accurately pulled out a photo, it was Shen Chu at eighteen, Shen Yin at ten, a photo taken when he had just entered the third year of high school. 

“The eyes, the way of speaking, exactly the same. Why, why. What were you going to do when you locked yourself in the room just now, are you going to commit suicide again? Is this really hereditary, you and mom are the same, you and mom are both—” 

Creak. 

“Miss Shen.” 

The doctor coughed lightly at the door, interrupting, “May I come in?” 

Shen Yin turned around, wiped away the tears from the corners of her eyes, adjusted herself, and said steadily, “Dr. Chen, come in.” She welcomed him to sit at the desk. 

“Mr. Shen.” The doctor smiled slightly, shook hands with him, pushed his gold-rimmed glasses up and down on his nose as he looked him up and down, “We… haven’t seen each other in a long time. I don’t know if you still remember me.” 

The sound was like throwing a stone into a rice field, quickly stirring up fireflies, and memories suddenly appeared in front of him. 

Observing his expression, the doctor smiled knowingly, “Do you have some impression? When you were fifteen, you were almost expelled from school for theft. Your class teacher found me and said that you… seemed to have a bit of a mental illness.” 

Seemed, there seemed to be such a thing.

In the year when he was fifteen, his junior high school teacher once took him to the hospital. 

“Don’t worry. Your sister was a bit stimulated just now, but it’s actually because she cares about you. Take a deep breath now and relax. Let’s first see what your current situation is.” 

Papa. 

The pen rhythmically pressed down, disturbing Shen Chu’s eyelashes to tremble, and his eyelids lifted instantly. 

“Is your memory currently in a state of disorder? Are there things that you suddenly can’t remember.” 

Memory. 

What memory disorder?

“When was the last time you cried?” The doctor looked at the tears on his face and asked, “Just now? Is your crying because it hurts or because of sadness?” 

“I…” 

The rhythmic sound of the pen suddenly stopped. 

At the doctor’s signal, Shen Yin turned off the main light in the room, leaving only the small desk lamp on. 

Now, Shen Chu could only see the doctor in front of him. He had a gentle and kind smile, and his attitude was mild, giving people an involuntary feeling of closeness. 

“Do you still remember what your mother said before she committed suicide by charcoal burning?” 

Boom. 

It seemed like something exploded in his mind. 

What did she say? Shen Chu started to recall on his own, but found the memories to be very vague. 

‘Xiao Chu…’ 

His pupils suddenly contracted, and Shen Chu said, “She said, ‘Little Chu, let’s die together.'” Shen Chu finally remembered some scattered fragments. 

“Anything else?” 

“Nothing…” 

However, Shen Yin covered her mouth tightly with her hand. Tears uncontrollably overflowed. Shen Chu heard the trembling in her breath. When he turned his head to look at his sister, the light from the desk lamp cast a huge shadow behind Shen Yin. 

The shadow seemed to gradually shrink and became a small, round silhouette. 

Upon closer inspection, in front of the shadow, huddled with tears, was a small girl. 

It was the five-year-old Little Yin. 

Looking around, he once again found himself in that completely sealed dark room. 

However, everything in front of him had never been so clear. 

Every crack in the bricks, the faint sound of burning charcoal, eyes, ears, seemed to be pulled back into the clear memories of that year. 

He heard the doctor’s voice, the sound of the pen pressing down and lifting up, the flame burning blue when the charcoal was burning, the windows sealed with glue, the dark and oppressive atmosphere in the room. 

“Can you hear clearly what your mother said at that time?”

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