A person with no fate!
About to die!
What kind of nonsense is this!
The old scholar was so furious that he almost went up and slapped him.
He knew that fortune-tellers tended to exaggerate to scare their clients into paying more to resolve their so-called misfortunes, but this was going too far! This wasn’t just a scare—it was a curse!
“No wonder this charlatan has had so little business here for so long… He simply doesn’t know how to deal with people.”
“Oh no, this is bad… He’s about to get beaten half to death…”
The onlookers around shook their heads, laughing and discussing among themselves.
Yet the expected scene of chaos and violence did not unfold. The two individuals seated across the low table remained perfectly still.
Cheng Ping maintained a look of astonishment, while the young lady, Cheng Jiao-niang, remained as calm as ever, as though the words spoken had nothing to do with either of them.
“What about the fortunes and misfortunes?” Cheng Jiao-niang asked.
“Without a fate, how can one discern fortune?” Cheng Ping shook his head, his expression grave. For the first time, he studied the young lady carefully, his face filled with disbelief.
Suddenly, he let out a soft “oh,” as though something had dawned on him.
“I’ve seen you before!”
With a loud clatter, the surrounding onlookers jumped in surprise. The young lady, who had been sitting peacefully just moments before, suddenly shot to her feet, her stool toppling over as if she had been startled.
Even being called a dead person hadn’t shaken her this much—yet a simple “I’ve seen you before” provoked such a reaction?
Cheng Ping gave an awkward smile, a mix of alarm and embarrassment on his face.
“No, not in the way you’re thinking…” he hurriedly explained. “It was… at the Cheng family entrance. You’re the young lady who made quite a spectacle when you arrived, aren’t you?”
Cheng Jiao-niang let out a soft “oh.”
“How did you know what I was thinking?” she suddenly asked again.
Cheng Ping forced a dry laugh.
“Well… it’s written all over your face. You weren’t really looking at me—you were looking through me, seeing someone else…” he replied with an uneasy smile.
Huh? The onlookers were stunned.
How come we didn’t notice anything? Apart from the fact that she seemed a bit unusual…
They couldn’t help but glance discreetly at Cheng Jiao-niang.
Cheng Jiaoniang smiled, though with tears glistening in her eyes, her smile carried a tinge of sorrow.
“Yes, you’re very clever,” she said.
Clever?
How could anyone tell?
Everyone turned their eyes to Cheng Ping—so thin he looked like a strong gust could blow him away, dressed in clothes barely better than a beggar’s, his gaunt features giving him a somewhat shifty appearance.
Cheng Ping grinned cheekily.
“That’s right, that’s right,” he replied.
Cheng Jiao-niang looked at him, lowered her head, then raised it again as if steeling herself with some resolve.
“Let me ask you one last question,” she said.
Her expression was solemn, tinged with what seemed like both sorrow and despair, stirring an involuntary pang in the hearts of those watching.
Cheng Ping swallowed hard. Though he had always spoken without hesitation in his divinations, this time he felt almost afraid to open his mouth.
“You’ve saved up a hundred coins—what do you plan to do with them?” Cheng Jiao-niang asked, her eyes fixed on him as she spoke slowly.
So that’s what she was asking about. Cheng Ping let out a sigh of relief and smiled with a hint of pride.
“Well, with that, I’ll be able to cover my basic needs—food, drink, survival—so I can finally devote myself to studying and interpreting the classics,” he said, his face lighting up with excitement as he looked at the young lady. “The text I plan to study and interpret is…”
His words broke off abruptly as he noticed tears finally streaming down her face.
At first, just one or two drops, then two full trails, until they began to flow uncontrollably.
“Laozi,” she slowly uttered the two words.
Cheng Ping’s eyes widened in surprise.
“Huh? How did you know?” he asked. Then another thought struck him, leaving him even more puzzled. “And how did you know I was saving up a hundred coins?”
Cheng Jiao-niang looked at him, a faint smile appearing through her tear-streaked face.
“When I was little, I heard people talk about it every day…” she murmured, as if speaking to herself.
What? Heard people talk about it every day when she was little? Talk about what? About him saving a hundred coins to study the classics?
Before Cheng Ping could gather his thoughts to ask, the young lady suddenly turned around and began walking straight ahead.
“Watch out!” he couldn’t help but shout.
But it was too late. The young lady stumbled over the low stool beside her, lurching forward until two women hurriedly caught her, preventing her from falling.
“Miss, are you hurt? Did you bump your leg?”
“Please, sit down.”
They fussed over her, but Cheng Jiao-niang pushed them away gently.
“You sit,” she said. “I’d like to walk by myself for a while.”
Without even looking at them, she continued forward, her gaze fixed ahead.
Sit? What is there left for us to sit around for!
The two women exchanged a puzzled glance. By the time they looked back, Cheng Jiao-niang had already walked away. She seemed unaware of her surroundings, moving hurriedly and bumping into several people, causing a slight commotion on the street.
“Miss!”
Everyone snapped back to attention and rushed after her.
“Run, quick!” The old scholar immediately waved frantically at Cheng Ping.
Cheng Ping, also coming to his senses, nodded and turned to leave—but he was a step too late. The attendants who had walked a few steps away had also regained their composure and grabbed him by the shoulder.
“Hey, hey—not the face, don’t hit the face!”
Amid Cheng Ping’s protests, they restrained him and dragged him away.
The onlookers shook their heads, some with a hint of schadenfreude.
“Serves him right. Who told him to deceive people…”
“Look, he made that young lady cry like that…”
The old scholar also shook his head. After a moment’s thought, he hurriedly packed up his calligraphy and painting stall and made a quick exit—afraid that if real trouble broke out, he might end up as collateral damage.
“Miss, Miss…”
“…What’s wrong? Please, tell us what’s happening…”
The two women pressed urgently, flanking Cheng Jiao-niang on either side as they followed her.
Cheng Jiao-niang did not look at them, yet it didn’t feel like she was ignoring them intentionally.
“I’m fine, I’m fine. I just want to walk… just walk for a while,” she murmured woodenly, tears still streaming ceaselessly down her face.
If she was still aware of her surroundings, she showed little sign of it—moments earlier, she had bumped into several people in the crowd, forcing her attendants to step ahead and clear a path.
Surrounded by attendants in front and behind, the elegantly dressed young lady—beautiful yet weeping uncontrollably—quickly drew the attention of passersby on the street. People watched with curiosity and confusion. Had it not been for the fierce demeanor of her guards, a crowd would certainly have gathered to stare.
“What… what exactly is going on?” The two women felt like crying themselves—whether from anxiety or because they were moved by Cheng Jiao-niang’s tears, they couldn’t tell.
The attendants were equally bewildered.
None of them had ever seen the young lady like this. Only now did it dawn on them that this girl, who could take a life with a mere gesture, was after all just a young lady… one who could weep like any other.
“It’s nothing, it’s nothing. She’s just releasing pent-up emotions,” Cheng Ping called out, his arms already bound with clothing as the attendants dragged him along.
“Let her walk if she wants to walk. Let her cry if she wants to cry. Let her do whatever she needs to do.”
The attendants turned to glare at him.
Cheng Ping straightened up, trying to appear wise and dignified—but before he could fully stand, one of the attendants slapped him hard on the head, nearly knocking his hair loose.
“It’s all your fault, you scoundrel! Talking about death and doom with our lady!”
“If our lady loses her mind or comes to harm because of this, just you wait!”
They had hit him and scolded him, but in the end, no one knew what to do.
Cheng Jiao-niang continued walking without pause. The street was bustling with people chatting and laughing, but as she passed, they stopped and stared, pointing in astonishment. Yet she noticed none of it—walking aimlessly, directionless.
“Go! Hurry, go…”
Cheng Jiao-niang looked up and saw a young man appear before her. Drenched in blood and covered in wounds, his features were blurred by gore, yet it did nothing to hinder his agile movements.
A long spear danced in his hands like a dragon.
“Brother Dongshan…” Cheng Jiao-niang called out.
“Go—!” His roar was deafening.
Unable to resist, she quickened her pace, moving closer to him, step by step.
The frantic sound of horse hooves echoed around them. Ropes flew from all directions, tightly binding the young man’s limbs.
“Go!”
His voice still rang in her ears as he was torn apart alive before her eyes. A mist of blood rained down from the sky.
Cheng Jiao-niang closed her eyes, tears falling like rain.
Go, go, hurry and go…
I can bring the dead back to life. I can reattach severed limbs. But it’s useless, utterly useless. He’s dead. He’s gone…
Father… Father… How could this happen? How could it end like this?
“Ah-fang, you can’t get through! The gate is sealed! There’s no way through!”
We can get through. We must. Hurry, go—go now!
When she opened her eyes again, raging flames lit up half the sky, accompanied by cries and screams.
Hurry, go! Go now!
Put out the fire—quick! The Cheng estate was exquisitely built, full of hidden mechanisms designed for both defense and offense. What was a fire to them? How could the Cheng estate fear fire? How could the Cheng family fear fire?
Mother, aunts, sisters… Even if only women remained in the house, they could activate the mechanisms and extinguish the flames!
Natural disasters are merciless, but human cruelty is far worse.
Ghastly crimson soul-summoning banners, swords, arrows, and crossbows cast cold, gleaming arcs through the firelight.
The old and the young, masters and servants, cats and dogs, insects and birds…
Not a single one was spared…
Go, hurry—go!
I master intricate mechanisms. I design buildings and draw blueprints. But it’s useless—utterly useless. They’re all dead… all of them…
How could this happen! How could it end like this!
The snow on the main road outside the city had not been cleared. Half had melted from people walking over it, while the other half had been trampled into a hard, icy layer.
With a sharp cry of pain, Cheng Ping fell to the ground.
One of the attendants kicked him.
“Get up. Now.”
Cheng Ping lay motionless on the ground.
“I… I really can’t go on…” he gasped weakly. “My feet are about to fall off…”
The attendants kicked him a few more times, but Cheng Ping refused to get up, no matter what.
To be fair, they had been walking for a very long time. Even the two women, who had initially kept pace without difficulty, were now lagging behind, stumbling wearily.
How long had they been walking?
The attendants stared blankly for a moment, then instinctively glanced toward the horizon. The midday sun had already begun its descent toward the west.
Good heavens…
“Miss, please… I beg you,” San-niang could no longer hold back her tears and cried out, “I beg you, if your heart is hurting, just cry—let it out. But please, let’s stop walking… Your feet will be ruined…”
Cheng Jiao-niang’s face was now dry of tears, her expression numb, her steps never faltering.
“I’m fine. I’m fine.”
When spoken to, she would still respond.
“I just want to walk. Let me walk a little more.”
But the words she repeated were always the same.
Xi-niang and San-niang could go no further. Staggering to a halt, they watched the young lady ahead of them striding down the road. Her robes were stained with mud, melted snow, and dirt, dragging heavily behind her as though weighing down her already slender frame, making her seem on the verge of collapse.
It was getting dark… getting dark. The time for the ritual had come. Look—Father was standing on the altar again.
Cheng Jiao-niang couldn’t help but smile and quickened her pace.
It had been so long since Father had stood on the altar. Not just him—all the uncles, brothers, and male relatives of the family stood lined up on the ritual platform.
Ferocious flames leaped as high as a person, licking menacingly at their figures.
Go, hurry—go!
Chains bound their hands and feet, pierced through their shoulders and backs. As human offerings, they stood beside a boiling bronze cauldron waiting to devour them in a gruesome feast.
Go—now! Cheng Jiao-niang bent over, clutching her chest.
It hurts… it hurts so much!
My heart—it aches unbearably!
Go! Hurry, go!
I can read the heavens and interpret omens. I can divine the past and the future. But it’s useless—utterly useless. They’re all dead… every one of them…
“This can’t go on—her feet will be ruined…” several attendants muttered with frowns.
“Knock her out…” Cheng Ping suggested weakly from the ground.
Knock her out?
The attendants frowned, their eyes shifting toward the young lady ahead.
In what seemed like the blink of an eye, the walking lady suddenly went limp and collapsed.
“Miss!” everyone cried out, rushing toward her.
Cheng Jiao-niang hadn’t completely lost consciousness. Lying against the cold ground, she gazed sideways at the world around her. The fading glow of the sunset edged everything in gold, while the sounds of shouts and hurried footsteps around her seemed to slow and grow distant.
Go… hurry, go…
In the boundless night, under a sky half-devoured by flames, she couldn’t escape—she, too, was trapped.
Surrounded by rows of crossbows, the slightest movement would trigger a rain of arrows.
What a beautiful palace… what exquisitely crafted crossbows…
Cheng Jiao-niang groped along the ground with her hands. Where were her arrows? Where was her bow?
A man approached step by step through the dark night.
Go… come closer… Let me see you clearly. Why… why did it have to be you?
A rain of arrows fell like a net, enveloping her completely.
Cheng Jiao-niang closed her eyes.
She knew how to shoot a bow, she knew how to wield a blade—but it was useless, utterly useless. She died… died at the hands of someone she never could have imagined…
Forgetting… is actually quite good.
Why remember?… They weren’t happy memories anyway.
Ah-Fang, forget it all.
Yang Shan!
How could I forget? How could I ever forget? Even if I suffer torment every day, even if I weep tears of blood every night—I will not forget!
My people! The bloody vengeance of the Cheng clan!
Cheng Jiao-niang clawed at the ground, letting out a hoarse cry that seemed to tear through her very soul without end.
The sound startled the approaching attendants and women once again.
“Let her shout—it’s good if she lets it out. Let her scream,” Cheng Ping, still lying on the ground, hurriedly called out as well.
The voice reached Cheng Jiao-niang’s ears. She lifted her head and looked around, her gaze passing through a tangle of legs and feet until she saw the man also lying on the ground.
In truth, she had known for a long time. She was not Cheng Fang of this place. This was not her home.
She had simply clung to a faint thread of hope
It had been said before—clinging to false hope was just a refusal to accept reality.
But she had died. They had all died. Wasn’t death just… death? Whether death came sweetly or tragically, dead was dead. Everything was gone. Everything was over. So why had she come here…?
“This has nothing to do with me! Can’t you see? This is her own doing! You can’t blame me for this!” Cheng Ping continued to babble anxiously.
What was happening? What exactly had occurred?
She struggled to push herself up. When she couldn’t rise, she stayed low, crawling—crawling toward him, her blurred vision fixed on the man.
Tell me… you must be able to tell me, right? Ancestor…
Ancestor!
Tell your descendant… please, tell me!
Why have I returned here?
Ancestor!
“The Cheng clan of Jiang-zhou originated from Shu-zhou. At Sword Gate, the peaks pierce the heavens; along the Heng River, the currents carve through the earth. Our ancestor practiced divination—a humble trade. When faced with wicked or misguided questions, he used yarrow stalks and tortoise shells to speak of fortunes and misfortunes. In the market, he would read a few people, earn a hundred coins to sustain himself, then close his stall, lower the curtains, and study the Laozi.”
An elegant male voice chuckled softly by her ear, and a pair of hands gently rested on her head.
“Ah-Fang, have you remembered? The ancestor of our Cheng family was a truly remarkable man.”
“Father, what was the ancestor’s name?”
“Our ancestor was named Ping, courtesy name Zun.”
Cheng Ping… Ancestor.
Cheng Jiao-niang stared at the man, crawling and crawling, as though she would never reach him.
Then a heavy blow struck the back of her neck. Her vision went black, and she lost consciousness.
