Crying While Filling the Pit I Dug - Chapter 71

Yi Qing paid little attention to him and turned to Song Miaomiao, saying, “Wife, let’s go home.”

“Okay.” Song Miaomiao felt uncomfortable walking and was ready to return.

Yi Qing handed over the items he was carrying to Song Miaomiao, which puzzled her. It wasn’t because she didn’t want to carry them or because she was accustomed to being treated as a Princess for so long, but rather because it was unlike his usual behavior to let her carry things.

Taking the items, Song Miaomiao was taken aback when Yi Qing suggested, “Wife, since your feet are bothering you, I’ll carry you back.”

Master Ling admired the couple’s affectionate display and even adjusted his address, “Master Yi and his wife truly make a loving couple. I envy you both.”

With Song Miaomiao on his back, Yi Qing bid farewell to Master Ling, who respectfully responded, “Farewell, Miss… Master Yi.”

As they made their way back to the mansion, they attracted curious glances from passersby enjoying the lantern festival. Even the maids returning to the mansion were surprised. Perhaps such behavior was considered bold in the dynasty.

However, Song Miaomiao’s attention was solely fixed on the tofu.

Fortunately, the food box was relatively small, and though it was a bit cumbersome to carry, it wasn’t too much of a hindrance. Song Miaomiao carried it with great care.

Yi Qing walked steadily, having thoughtfully purchased a ceramic crock with a lid to prevent any spillage of the tofu on their way home.

Upon returning, Yan Yu used a small bowl and spoon to serve Song Miaomiao the tofu. The white and tender pieces, paired with the black ones dipped in vinegar, along with the red peppers and fresh green onions, formed a bowl of fragrant delight.

Song Miaomiao couldn’t wait to scoop up a large spoonful and exclaimed, “It’s delicious!”

She hadn’t anticipated it before, but now that she was enjoying such delicious food, she couldn’t help herself. She devoured the entire pot.

When she was finally full, Song Miaomiao couldn’t help but hiccup again.

“Wife, here are the hawthorns,” Yan Yu said.

Song Miaomiao: “…”

That night, Song Miaomiao had a sudden dream. In the dream, thick clouds and mist surrounded her, obscuring her view of the surroundings. She found herself transformed into the mute girl, Song Wanyu, dressed in plain clothes, once again. She stood by a crooked-neck tree in the back mountain of the Wanshan Sect, anxiously twisting a hot earthen pot, waiting for Ling Qianyi to arrive. But he never came. Song Miaomiao grew increasingly anxious as she waited, the bone soup in the earthen pot gradually cooling from hot to warm, then from warm to cold, and finally turning cold.

Restless like an ant, Song Miaomiao was about to go search for Ling Qianyi when he appeared, covered in blood and clutching his chest as he limped toward her. Shocked, Song Miaomiao reached out to help him.

Unaware of her current role as the Princess and unable to speak like Song Wanyu, she attempted to call out Ling Qianyi’s name, but only managed to produce inarticulate babbling sounds.

Distressed, Song Miaomiao held Ling Qianyi’s arm, but his eyes were filled with darkness as he threw her aside, causing her to fall to the ground. Despite the pain from the impact, she continued to call out his name, asking what was wrong.

Ling Qianyi’s eyes, bloodshot and brimming with pain and hatred, met hers as he accused, “Since you stabbed me with a sword, why pretend?”

Stabbed him with a sword? Song Miaomiao glanced at Ling Qianyi’s chest, covered in blood and bearing a massive wound, blood dripping from his fingers.

The realization hit Song Miaomiao like a thunderbolt. She remembered now—the sword wound on Ling Qianyi’s chest was inflicted by her when she wanted him to descend the mountain and be rescued by the Demon Princess, hoping to drive him away.

Song Miaomiao desperately shook her head, her voice wavering as she spoke in a tone only she could understand, “Ling Qianyi, I had no choice. I’ll get the medicine for you right away.”

She reached for her earlobe, urgently calling out, “[System Oppa, quick! Give me hemostatic and painkillers!]” 

But there was no response. Song Miaomiao was on the verge of tears. Clinging to the ground, she crawled towards Ling Qianyi, struggling to stand up and embrace his legs.

Tears streaming down his face, Ling Qianyi cried out, “Why did you stab me with a sword?” Suddenly, the scene shifted to the main hall of the Wanshan Sect.

The hall was filled with people, but they were all slumped in chairs or lying on the ground—Taoist priests, women, disciples in white, and members of the Demon Cult—all covered in blood.

Amidst that, two figures lay in a pool of blood—one with wide-open eyes, the other cradled peacefully in Ling Qianyi’s arms, eyes closed.

Ling Qianyi sobbed as he held, kissing her face and pleading, “Miaomiao, wake up! You can stab me as many times as you want, just please wake up!”

Song Miaomiao couldn’t bear it. She reached out to comfort him, but her hand passed through his body. Surprised, she looked at her semi-transparent hands, then back at Ling Qianyi, desperately calling out, “Ling Qianyi, I’m here!”

“Wife, wife!”

Song Miaomiao opened her eyes to see Yi Qing’s face close to hers, concern etched in his expression. “Wife, what did you dream about?”

She was drenched in sweat, tears streaming down her face as she struggled to speak. The anguish of Ling Qianyi’s fate in that world weighed heavily on her heart.

Yi Qing sighed, rising from the bed to fetch a handkerchief and gently wipe away her tears. After a while, Song Miaomiao’s sobs subsided, and she drifted back to sleep. Yi Qing watched her with a mix of emotions until the break of dawn.

Throughout the day, Song Miaomiao remained in a daze. Ling Qianyi’s presence lingered in her mind, his kiss haunting her thoughts. She couldn’t shake the feeling that their relationship in that world was more than just that of brother and sister.

But it was just a dream, wasn’t it? Ling Qianyi couldn’t possibly feel that way about her, could he?

As she pondered over the way both Ling Qianyi and Yi Qing looked at her, she couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something she had missed—a path she hadn’t anticipated.

In Ling Qianyi’s eyes, perhaps she wasn’t just a supporting character, but…

In the afternoon of the second day, Yi Qing was summoned to the palace. With Song Miaomiao feeling preoccupied, she decided to accompany him on the way and brought some gifts for the Emperor, as was her custom every ten days.

Upon their arrival at the Zhanggan Hall, it appeared that urgent government affairs required Yi Qing’s attention, so only he was summoned by the Emperor, leaving Song Miaomiao to wait outside the hall.

Shortly after, Master Ling, dressed in court attire, hurried over. “This subject greets the Princess,” he said with a bow.

Song Miaomiao nodded. “Master Ling, there’s no need for formalities.”

“Thank you, Princess,” Master Ling replied respectfully.

“Master Ling, were you also summoned by my father?” Song Miaomiao inquired.

Master Ling nodded. “Yes, Princess.”

Curious, Song Miaomiao asked, “Do you know what it’s about?”

“I’m not sure,” Master Ling replied with indifference.

Puzzled, Song Miaomiao probed further, “What’s your name?”

“I am surnamed Ling,” Master Ling replied.

Perplexed by his response, Song Miaomiao adjusted her question. “Master Ling, why haven’t I… seen you before?” In truth, as a Princess, she hadn’t met many court officials.

Master Ling explained, “I was appointed as an official in the court just this autumn.”

Wasn’t that through the Imperial Examination?

Song Miaomiao asked curiously, “What was Master Ling’s rank…?”

“This subject was ranked first with difficulty.”

Ranked first?

Song Miaomiao didn’t even pass the first-class exam! Her grades in the class were mediocre, no one cared about her, and the teachers didn’t like to talk to her.

Unexpectedly, the waiter brother in that world couldn’t even read, and Master Ling, who had the same face in this world, turned out to be the number one scholar. Song Miaomiao was very happy for him.

Song Miaomiao said, “By the way, I stepped on your fan and pendant that day, and my feet were covered with mud. I remember that I stained the edges of your folding fan. I’m sorry.”

Master Ling said, “Princess, it’s fine. I could just wipe it off.”

The jade pendant could be wiped clean, but the surface of the folding fan was made of paper. If the edge of the fan was stained with mud, it would likely have seeped into the creases on the surface of the fan, making it impossible to wipe clean.

Song Miaomiao said, “Don’t be so polite. I will give you a folding fan some other day.”

While the two were chatting and smiling, Yi Qing came out from the palm hall, frowned, grabbed Song Miaomiao’s hand, and said to Ling Qi coldly and impatiently, “Lord Ling, His Majesty is calling you into the hall.”

Ling Qi was startled by Yi Qing’s cold tone and said, “Master Yi, Princess, I will take my leave.”