The Honest Farmer and the Cunning Snake

Time flows like a shuttle—how true those words ring. As the days passed, the wound on my back healed almost completely; my arm could now swing twice around without pain. For me, there’s only one thing to say: the pace of my recovery outpaces any expectation, and the burdens are light.

During these days of convalescence, I never saw Yun Heng again. Perhaps he had already forgotten such an insignificant person as myself. I never hoped he would remember me; reality reminds me that such fanciful dreams are best left unimagined.

Countless times, I wanted to seek Yun Heng for a final farewell, then set out in search of my younger brother. Yet reason warned me against it. The illustrious General Yun Heng rescuing a palace maid from a fallen kingdom would certainly become public knowledge. If anyone followed me, the moment I found my brother would be the moment he was discovered by those with ill intent.

Rationality prevailed over emotion. The General’s residence is now the safest shelter I have. I deeply understood the feeling of being unable to return home—though for me, that place was never truly home. The house is gone, the country destroyed.

I gave Late Spring a brief greeting and headed out to the street. She was a bit startled, unable to understand why I went out, but since I wasn’t truly a servant of the General’s residence, she had no reason to stop me.

The street was lined with teahouses and taverns. I wandered into a few, ordered some tea, and sat. The palace upheaval in Lingyun had happened only days ago, and people still discussed it over their tea.

As expected, I heard rumors—rumors that caught me entirely off guard. They said Lingyun is still Lingyun, but the emperor had died suddenly, the empress followed him to the grave, the crown prince vanished, and the eldest princess disappeared. With so few heirs, the five-year-old Huangfu Xin ascended the throne, Lan Consort presiding as regent, aided by her brother, General Murong.

Lan Consort—it was Lan Consort! The emperor most likely died by her hand, and the other princes and princesses probably did not escape her schemes. Such a calculating woman lay beside the emperor every night.

My hand clenched the cup so tightly that blood welled from my fingers.

Noticing strange looks from those around, I fought back tears, threw down a piece of silver, and hurried out, terrified that lingering even a moment longer would betray me.

Aimlessly, I wandered the streets, recalling my first encounter with Lan Consort in the palace. She took my hand and praised that I resembled the empress—how beautiful I was. Such a young and lovely woman married the emperor as a secondary wife; how pitiable, I once foolishly thought.

The sun blazed overhead, and I stared up at it. Or tried to, for my eyes could not bear the light.

Yes, I was blind—mistaking a hungry wolf for a kind soul. Had I not adored Lan Consort, how could she have attracted the emperor’s favor? His affection for her was perhaps rooted in his love for me.

If the street were empty, I would have knelt to beg the emperor’s forgiveness.

In my previous life, I had seen all manner of people, yet still allowed my eyes to be pecked out by an eagle.

Stopping at a well, I greeted the old woman in the courtyard, washed my face, and dried it with a handkerchief. I have no memory of how I managed these tasks.

On the road back to the General’s residence, I kept thinking how heartbroken my younger brother would be if he knew. He liked Lan Consort no less than I did, often trailing after her, calling her Sister Lan.

After Huangfu Xin was born, the empress showered him with affection as well.

But it was the honest farmer who fell prey to the cunning snake.

Lost in my tangled thoughts, I failed to notice anything amiss on the road.

The shouts around me seemed directed at me. I turned, only to see a horse’s hooves raised high above, descending toward me…