INE Chapter 86: Red Zhi

When Gu Baiyi awoke, aside from her slightly pale complexion, there were no obvious signs of anything wrong.

On the other side, Xie Bai lay flat on the ground, breathing steadily in a deep sleep, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

But unexpectedly, a moment later, his brows tightened and his lips began to murmur, as though trapped in immense pain.

Ji Rong frowned and looked down at Xie Bai.

A thin stream of blood trickled from his nose and mouth, running down his brows and lips like a delicate crimson light cast over his face in springtime.

Only, this was no light, but a ribbon of blood soaking through his dark red robe.

He lay curled on the ground, clenching his fingers until they drew blood from his palm. He gasped like a dying fish, struggling desperately to breathe.

At last, Mo Yu looked at Xie Bai and shook her head. “The young master is consumed by his inner demons. I’m afraid he may never escape this illusion.”

Ji Rong looked from Xie Bai to Mo Yu, then to Gu Baiyi. “Why?” she asked.

But it wasn’t clear whether she was asking why Xie Bai was trapped in his obsession, or why that obsession ran so deep in the first place.

Mo Yu replied, “I don’t believe in reincarnation, but I do believe in karma. The cycle never fails. When I died, my soul floated upward, almost scattered by the wind. If Sister Yue hadn’t placed the chessboard and saved me, I wouldn’t be here today.”

“I believe that those consumed by obsession will face the consequences, even if they die peacefully. This young master, if not today, then one day, will be undone by the weight in his heart.”

The man on the ground was still struggling, a pool of blood spreading beneath him, pitiful and tragic.

Gu Baiyi looked on calmly, then glanced at Ji Rong, who stood beside Xie Bai.

Ji Rong’s expression was complicated. On one hand, Xie Bai’s survival did her no favors.

On the other, while she could watch him die without batting an eye… something in her hesitated.

After all, she had known Xie Bai as an NPC in this world for two years. Yes, he was detestable, sharp-tongued, and had once stabbed the heroine.

But she believed all actions had their causes. Xie Bai’s behavior was suspicious, certainly, but he must have had his reasons. Perhaps there was still some clue hidden in him, something yet to be uncovered.

If she let him die, that clue might vanish with him.

She believed that everyone in this world had their reasons for existing, no one loved or hated without cause.

Gu Baiyi looked at Ji Rong and gave a faint smile. “If you wish to save Xie Bai, Senior Sister, then go save him.”

Ji Rong was briefly stunned. She hadn’t expected Gu Baiyi to say that.

After all, the heroine wasn’t some kind-hearted saint. Why would she want to save someone who had tried to hurt her?

But Gu Baiyi turned her head, looked at Xie Bai lying on the ground, and said to Ji Rong, “I won’t save Xie Bai. He tried to kill me. We are enemies. Even if he dies before my eyes, I won’t so much as blink.”

“But you bear him no such grudge. If you want to save him, go ahead.”

Her words sounded cold, but Ji Rong understood, Gu Baiyi was giving Xie Bai a chance at life.

Why, even she didn’t know.

Mo Yu chimed in, “If you want to save him, it’s simple. Enter the dream and pull him out of his obsession.”

Ji Rong thought to herself: And if I can’t pull him out, won’t I be trapped there too?

Mo Yu seemed to read her mind and smiled faintly. “If you fail, you’ll be stuck in the illusion with him. But… since you look so much like Moon Sister, I’ll make an exception. Even if he doesn’t make it out, I’ll bring you back.”

Truly, she owed her sister one.

Ji Rong had the odd sense that even though her sister had fallen into the abyss a century ago, her presence still lingered, silently guiding her steps.

And since she’d already been led this far, all she could do was grit her teeth and move forward.

She bowed slightly and said, “Thank you, Senior.”

Mo Yu gave a graceful smile. “You’re welcome.”

With that, she raised her finger and pointed at Ji Rong.

Wrapped around her finger were strands of ghostly resentment, and threads of red fate.

As they fell, Ji Rong felt something being pulled out of her body.

Then everything went dark.

When she opened her eyes again, Ji Rong saw a courtyard.

It was in disrepair, with a few rooms around it. Inside, the shrill cries of a woman echoed.

It was late spring. An old maid carried basins of blood and splashed them on the withered plants.

Blood stained the dark stone tiles. A midwife stepped over the threshold, across the crimson-slick steps, and shouted, “Born! A young master!”

Ji Rong floated overhead, bored, watching like she was in a movie.

After a long while, she realized who the child was.

It was Wei Zhibai, the first son of the previous Prince of Chu.

Though born first, his mother had only been a courtesan the king had dallied with in his youth, hardly a respectable lineage.

The Prince’s official wife, already pregnant herself, was displeased. She resented the prince’s womanizing and viewed the lowborn son as an embarrassment.

The Prince, too, saw the child as a burden. He concealed the birth and pretended the boy didn’t exist.

Only after the Princess gave birth to a proper heir did he acknowledge the child, saying, “He is my son by a concubine. Treat him as your second young master.”

Though technically the eldest, he was deliberately called the second son. The Prince’s stance was clear, and the servants took the hint.

The Princess, favored and jealous, saw the courtesan as a thorn in her side. She didn’t even need to act, her steward took it upon himself to skimp on the woman’s food and clothing, moving her to a rundown courtyard.

There, she was mocked daily, treated as a servant by the Princess and her attendants.

Bitter and humiliated, she longed for her days in the brothel. But with no way to escape the palace walls, she vented her anger on the child.

Ji Rong watched the woman beat and scold the boy day after day. He never cried, just looked up at her with clear, calm eyes.

One day, after a savage beating that left his body streaked with blood, the boy finally spoke. He reached out, gently grasped her wrist, and asked, “Mother, with a life like yours, who else can you blame?”

That night, she took her own life.

Her body was covered in bruises, some deep, some shallow, terrifying to behold.

The second young master stood in the courtyard, his face blurred by the smoke of burning funeral paper. The servants covered the woman’s face with a cloth, wrapped her carelessly, and tossed her body somewhere unknown.

But even in death, the Princess remained hostile toward the boy. She found an excuse to dismiss all his servants, leaving only a young maid named Hongzhi to keep him company in the crumbling courtyard.

At this point, Ji Rong was thoroughly confused.

She had thought she’d enter Xie Bai’s illusion and be confronted by his obsession right away, but she hadn’t seen any sign of it. In fact, Xie Bai hadn’t even shown up.

Just as she was inwardly complaining, a little maid in red entered the courtyard, teary-eyed.

She was still so small, yet already tasked with serving such an unfavored young master. It must’ve felt like a hopeless life.

But then she saw the second young master standing among the fallen leaves, dressed in white and painting the surface of a fan.

Ji Rong was stunned.

That white-robed boy, wasn’t that peacock Xie Bai?

Only… this version wasn’t peacockish at all. On the contrary, he carried the air of a noble heir. He barely glanced at the little maid before returning to his fan.

Hongzhi noticed his white clothes, which didn’t look like mourning garb, and asked timidly, “Young Master, aren’t you going to keep vigil for Madam?”

The boy didn’t even look up. “This large, empty courtyard, has anyone come to mourn? Since she’s buried in the wilderness, the rats and crows can keep watch for her.”

The Princess had wanted the two to rot together, but they survived.

The winters were harsh, so the boy found some gold ornaments in his mother’s trunk. He pawned them for bedding and charcoal to keep them warm.

One night, the fire was burning. Hongzhi huddled by the door, soaking in the warmth.

The second young master looked at her red silhouette outside and beckoned her in.

She entered and knelt down, only to hear him say, “We’re both born low. Just surviving is already a feat. You don’t need to treat me like a master.”

Ji Rong watched the scene, stunned.

Though the second young master’s tongue was as sharp as Xie Bai’s, the real Xie Bai would never say something like that.

She recalled the game’s lore, Xie Bai was a vicious character with a tragic past, and likely more suffering to come.

But unexpectedly, he and the maid had survived together.

He was fourteen. She was ten.

Two children… facing the world alone.

And still, they endured.

Hongzhi was still a child and couldn’t do much to care for the Second Young Master. Not that he seemed to care whether she lived or died. Still, in the bitter cold of winter, when there was little charcoal to burn, he would let her crawl under the covers to warm up.

Lying in bed, his heart felt frozen, though his body stayed warm. Holding the girl’s small, icy feet in his hands, he had no other thoughts, only the determination to survive. To live longer than those who wanted him dead.

In the courtyard, all the plants had withered, except for a single pale pink apricot tree that had somehow bloomed.

Whenever he was idle, the Second Young Master would stand beneath that tree, carefully painting fan designs. When he finished, he’d hand a bundle of folded fans to Hongzhi and ask her to sell them at the market.

Half the silver she earned was used to buy new fan surfaces and bamboo frames; the rest he gave to Hongzhi so she could buy herself new clothes.

He said, “The New Year’s coming. The maids in the estate all have new outfits. You may be low-born, but you’re still, at least barely, a girl.”

Hongzhi’s face turned crimson. She stood frozen, tears welling up in her eyes at that “barely a girl.”

She took the silver and left through the high walls. But when she returned, she held in her arms a set of red robes, made for a man.

A lone lantern hung in the courtyard.

The Second Young Master saw the clothes in her hands in the lamplight and flew into a rage. He grabbed a bamboo stick and came at her.

Hongzhi clutched the robe and ran, shouting, “Help! The Second Young Master’s trying to kill me!”

After a few laps around the yard, he finally caught her. Staring at her still-immature face, he gave her only a cold glance, then tossed the stick aside and walked away without a word.

Several more years passed. The little maid and young master had both grown up. But to Hongzhi, growing up didn’t seem to bring any benefits, no more huddling under warm blankets with him, and he was always harsh with her now.

As Hongzhi grew taller and more slender, one day the Second Young Master frowned at her and said, “You’ve grown up. It’s time I found you a husband.”

“He mustn’t be too good, such men treat their wives poorly. But he can’t be too bad either. Best to find someone honest and simple, someone who’ll care only for you. Otherwise, with your temper, you’ll be kicked out before you’ve even settled in.”

Hongzhi burst into tears. “No! I want to stay with you forever!”

The Second Young Master gave a cold laugh. “Forever? Do you even know how long forever is? For some, it’s longer than a river’s flow. For me, it’s as short as the candle on my desk, I might burn out any day now.”

“You follow me around, but I find you noisy. You think I’m fierce and unbearable. In the end, girls like you are hard to raise. I might as well marry you off tomorrow, then we’d both be free.”

After that, they stopped speaking. Even when they crossed paths, they looked away.

Later, the Second Young Master fell gravely ill. His sleeves were stained with hidden blood. Hongzhi stumbled upon him by chance and, in tears, went out to find medicine.

She fed him bowl after bitter bowl, but the sickness only worsened. His face grew paler, his breath weaker.

She dragged out his chest, only to find it empty. Even after selling all the fans he had painted, it still wasn’t enough to hire a top physician from the capital.

Walking far and wide in tears, she came upon a towering wall. The glazed tiles on the roof shimmered brightly in the sunlight.

Wiping her tears, she knocked on the door, hoping to plead with the old prince, beg him to save the young master, his own son.

After a while, the red-lacquered doors opened. A man in black stepped out, a sword at his waist, clearly a guard.

Before she could speak, the man lifted a leg and kicked her square in the chest.

Blood gushed from her mouth. Clutching her chest, Hongzhi struggled to her feet. And then, unable to help herself, she began to cry.

She cried so bitterly, feeling helpless and ashamed. As she walked on, she spotted a young boy hiding in a corner, frowning down at the luminous pearl in his hand.

In the dream, Ji Rong had stayed long enough to learn that the child was Wei Zongqiu, eldest legitimate son of the Prince of Chu, Wei Zhiyuan.

The boy was only four or five. Seeing Hongzhi crying and laughing at the same time, he asked with a smile, “Big sister, why are you laughing and crying?”

Kneeling on the ground with a hoarse voice, she said, “Young Master, my master is gravely ill, he’s dying. I wanted to cry, but then I remembered he hates crying, so I tried to smile. But then I realized my smile must look terrible, and I must’ve scared you.”

The boy didn’t fully understand her words. He only knew that Hongzhi’s master was dying, and she was very sad.

Tilting his head, he handed her the luminous pearl and said, “My mother gave me this toy. She said it’s even brighter than a gryphon’s eye, but I think it’s useless. I was thinking about throwing it away.”

“I heard it’s worth a lot. If you don’t mind, big sister, you can take it and use it to save your master.”

Hongzhi looked at the pearl, gleaming in his small hand, shining with a light she had never seen before.

She reached out but paused, wiped her tears, then pulled her hand back and said, biting her lip, “Thank you, Young Master, for offering me something so precious. But I am lowly-born, and have nothing to offer in return. My master wouldn’t want to be healed by taking something for free. Please take it back.”

The boy glanced at the bloodstained bamboo fan hanging at her waist, now even more beautiful for its marks.

Clapping his hands, he smiled. “That fan is pretty. Let’s trade!”

The apricot blossoms in the courtyard had withered.

The Second Young Master lay in bed, staring at the white light filtering through the window. He shivered and coughed constantly.

With every cough, he remembered those endless, miserable winters, Hongzhi’s icy feet, the red-hot coals in the brazier. And suddenly, he didn’t feel so cold.

He knew he was dying.

Perhaps it was karma. And in his final moments, his only little maid wasn’t even there.

The door creaked open, letting in a sliver of daylight.

He opened his eyes to see his nursemaid enter.

He forced a smile. Blood dripped from his mouth onto the bedding.

He had been holding on just to see her one last time and leave final instructions.

The old nurse had risked punishment to come. Seeing him like this, tears streamed down her face. “Young Master, if you have any last wishes, please tell this old servant.”

The Second Young Master had always hated tears. But now that death was near, all those strict rules seemed pointless.

He only said softly, “My mother died young. And now, so will I. I must have been born cursed. My mother hated me, she only got brought into the palace because of me. My brother hated me, without me, he would’ve been the true eldest son. My father hated me too, because of me, his favorite lost his place.”

“I’ve lived on all these years just to spite them. Now that I’m dying, I suppose everyone will finally be happy.”

He coughed hard, blood soaking the old blanket.

When the fit ended, he lifted his unstained hand and pulled out a stack of crumpled banknotes from beneath his pillow.

He said, “I was never worth much. Dying is no great loss. The only thing I can’t let go of is that little maid. She’s still so young. I haven’t even found her a good home.”

“You’ve served me well. When I’m gone, take half of this. Give the other half to Hongzhi. Tell her not to cry. Tell her to use the money to find a good man and marry him.”

“You don’t need to thank me, or burn paper offerings. Even if my spirit lingers, I doubt I could bless anyone. And don’t cry. I should’ve died long ago.”

He trailed off, then suddenly fell silent.

Something felt off.

He looked around the empty room and asked in a trembling voice, “Where’s Hongzhi?”

“Where’s my maid?”