Reincarnation (2)

Wenren Yue didn't understand why Le Wuya's expression had suddenly become so complicated.

He didn't have time to think about it.

After coughing twice, Wenren Yue's figure grew weaker and more transparent.

As if sensing something, Le Wuya raised his hand and gripped his arm.

Just moments ago, Wenren Yue had still been able to support him, but in such a short span of time, he was visibly much weaker.

If this continued, he would vanish on the spot within a few breaths.

Strangely, the moment Le Wuya made contact with Wenren Yue, a cold, exhausting fatigue welled up in his heart — yet Wenren Yue's transparent soul actually solidified a little.

Sensing the energy draining from his body, Le Wuya did not loosen his grip. Instead, he tightened it and pulled Wenren Yue's soul along with him.

"Tell me where I can find people who are dying or who have just died. The sooner the better." Le Wuya said concisely. "You are going to disappear."

Wenren Yue failed to grasp his intention: "I would not regret dying..."

Le Wuya ignored his noble words and asked directly: "What would I do if you died?"

Wenren Yue was stunned for a moment before being dragged away by Le Wuya.

Le Wuya currently knew nothing except Wenren Yue's name.

It would be one thing if Wenren Yue were a commoner, but he was a government official.

No matter how large or small the post, officialdom was full of entanglements and complications.

If Wenren Yue disappeared, how was he — an uninvited guest occupying this body for the past four years — supposed to survive?

With Wenren Yue in immediate danger, the best solution Le Wuya could think of was to find a dying person's body and stuff him inside.

He didn't want to kill anyone.

For Le Wuya himself, this would pose no problem — but Wenren Yue was an innocent man, and he couldn't drag him into trouble.

After all this was settled, he still needed to find a way to return this body to its rightful owner.

As they walked, Le Wuya said: "Think — where could we go? The mortuary, the prison, the cemetery..."

Midway through his words, Le Wuya glanced up and happened to see a scribe passing through the Moon Gate carrying a tray of files. He immediately called out: "You — come here."

The scribe stopped, startled, and turned to face him.

In the moonlight, Le Wuya could clearly make out the blue tape binding the files in the man's hands, with case numbers written on them.

These were criminal dockets.

Immediately after, a bittersweet feeling washed over him:

...He had actually seen that clearly.

The clerk from the execution chamber came forward in small, hurried steps: "Master, what is it?"

Le Wuya replied: "Find someone, prepare the sedan, and go —"

Le Wuya tilted his head slightly toward Wenren Yue and signaled him to quickly supply the destination.

Wenren Yue seemed to already have a place in mind; his voice dropped subtly: "Go to Nancheng Prison."

Le Wuya completed his instructions cleanly: "— to the Nancheng prison cells."

The scribe was visibly startled and asked: "It's so late — what business do you have there at this hour?"

Le Wuya looked him up and down.

Taking in the clerk's lazy attitude, Le Wuya confirmed two things.

First: others could not see the soul of Wenren Yue standing beside him.

Second: Wenren Yue himself commanded no authority whatsoever.

Le Wuya found this rather strange.

This dynasty had always followed an avoidance system when appointing officials — county magistrates were not permitted to serve in their home regions. The subordinate staff in the various offices, however, were not subject to this rule, and most of them were local men with local ties.

Even a powerful dragon couldn't easily crush the local snake. But at the very least, one was supposed to keep up appearances, wasn't it?

Not only had this man not stirred when he heard an order being given, but where did he find the audacity to question him directly to his face?

Le Wuya smiled and said: "What did you call me just now?"

The scribe flinched and answered hesitantly: "...'Master'?"

Le Wuya: "Oh. I thought you were my grandfather."

Clerks were expert readers of tone and expression, and this one could hear perfectly well that there was something sharp and pointed beneath Le Wuya's words.

He immediately bowed low and said: "Master, please don't be angry. I'll go prepare the sedan at once. Please wait a moment."

His manner was polite, his movements swift, and he trotted off immediately.

But Le Wuya had already sensed what was really going on and asked Wenren Yue: "Will he actually prepare a sedan chair for you?"

Wenren Yue smiled bitterly and shook his head.

Managing this group of petty officials had long since ceased to be a matter of a day or two.

They were always perfectly agreeable in person — whenever he gave an instruction, they nodded and accepted it enthusiastically, then vanished in the blink of an eye.

When the matter had been delayed and Wenren Yue tried to hold them accountable, they would wipe their brows, nod, and voluntarily take the blame — while a crowd of local subordinates chimed in one after another, each with unavoidable difficulties and urgent matters of their own. The implication was that punishing them would be failing to distinguish loyalty from treachery, right from wrong.

He had tried both punishment and reward, but the results had been meager.

Having heard enough, Le Wuya stopped wasting words and led him straight to the stables.

No matter how little authority the young county magistrate actually wielded, at least the county office's horses were available to use.

Watching Le Wuya cheerfully select a mount, Wenren Yue stood to one side obediently, but his worry was plain: "Do you know what you're doing?"

Le Wuya chose the finest horse, swung himself up with a scholar's ease of movement and a martial artist's natural confidence, turned the horse's head with practiced ease, and answered simply: "No. But I'll put you in a body first, and figure out the rest from there."

With that, he stretched out his hand toward Wenren Yue: "Come on, Wenren Yue. I'll find a way to keep you alive."

Wenren Yue looked up at him, blank for a moment — then silently placed his hand in Le Wuya's palm.

The moonlight fell like fine salt, thin and even across everything.

Le Wuya wrote himself a pass on the spot, then rode out into the night with a soul on the verge of fading, galloping through the cold silence.

The chill of winter nights had a way of clearing the mind.

Many thoughts he hadn't had time to examine came drifting in now on the night wind.

Memories entangled with many people surged like waves — all of them silently pressed down by Le Wuya.

He lowered his gaze slightly, holding the reins with one hand, the other clasped around Wenren Yue's cold hand and gathered it against his side, keeping him close.

This, at least, would keep him from disappearing immediately.

At this moment, Le Wuya also desperately needed someone beside him.

Even someone he hadn't known before today.

Beyond that, Le Wuya had his own calculations to make.

Given Wenren Yue's current state, he might not hold together long enough to survive the journey to Nancheng Prison.

And even if he held on, who could guarantee that he would successfully enter the right person's body?

Therefore, Le Wuya needed to gather as much information as possible before Wenren Yue was extinguished entirely.

He asked: "Where is this place?"

Knowing that he was in peril and might vanish at any moment, Wenren Yue answered quickly: "Yizhou, Nanting County."

Le Wuya was familiar with the geography of Dayu, and he knew a little about Nanting County.

It was a county at the junction of Jingzu and Dayu — not a wealthy or prosperous place, but one with a strong geographical position. A waterway ran through it with a large bridge, and merchants passed through frequently.

Le Wuya asked again: "How many households, and how many li in area?①"

"Ten li across. A total of 1,100 households, with a population of 6,400."

"How many criminal cases have been filed in the past month? How many civil cases?"

"One criminal case and thirty-one civil cases."

After a few more questions, Le Wuya already had a clear picture forming in his mind.

Though clearly weakened, Wenren Yue's answers came fluently, his voice steady and responsive.

He was young, inexperienced, and a little at a loss — but he was by no means a muddled official who didn't know his own county.

Which raised a question.

He was barely in his mid-twenties and already held a seventh-rank official post. A talent this young had a bright future ahead of him, and his temperament seemed easy enough. If he were promoted and rose through the ranks, these same subordinates would likely be more than willing to curry favor — and dragging a few chickens and dogs along with them to glory would hardly be difficult.

Yet looking at how perfunctorily the prison clerk had treated Wenren Yue, it was clear that none of them took him seriously — as though they'd already decided this was as far as he would ever go.

Why was he so thoroughly disregarded?

Soon, Le Wuya landed on a possibility: "...You didn't pass the imperial examinations, did you?"

"...No. I did not."

Wenren Yue was briefly surprised that Le Wuya had seen through this so quickly.

But he was genuinely forthright, and answered whatever he was asked: "The post I hold was obtained through purchasing an office."

"How far did you get in the examinations?"

"I was a tribute student. In the preliminary examinations, I placed sixth at the prefectural level."

Le Wuya raised an eyebrow: He passed the examinations at such a young age?

He asked: "Then why didn't you continue sitting for them?"

Wenren Yue let out a soft sigh and answered honestly: "In the year I passed the juren examination, I was twenty-two. Unexpectedly, my mother fell gravely ill and passed away. I observed the three-year mourning period, and by the time it ended, my resolve had shifted."

"I was never one who enjoyed officialdom, and after my mother's passing, even less so. I only wanted to remain at my father's side and keep him company in his old age."

Wenren Yue lowered his eyes, his expression carrying a quiet melancholy: "My father's family has been in the rice trade for generations, and we are modestly comfortable. He had always hoped I would become an official and bring honor to the family. The year before last, there was a drought south of the Yangtze River, and my father donated half the family's wealth to help the people of his hometown through the hardship. The local chief administrator, Si Jiangkai, greatly admired him for this. After a little maneuvering, the authorities accepted the contribution and arranged for an alternate post."

Le Wuya nodded.

That made sense.

His non-examination background made him an object of contempt among officials; his merchant family background made him an object of contempt among petty clerks as well.

No wonder he was hemmed in at every turn.

But something still didn't quite add up.

Nanting County was on the border and not especially prosperous — but it held a geographic advantage and was by no means a worthless post.

In a position like this, with so many people craning their necks for the opportunity, how had a mere tribute student managed to leap ahead and secure such a substantive appointment so quickly?

That question had little bearing on the matter at hand, so Le Wuya filed it away and asked instead: "Do you have a wife, children, or close friends?"

He had filled a house with red candles and hanged himself in grand fashion — yet no one who cared for him had been there to stop him?

"I am not married. I had a childhood companion who grew up with me, but while we were traveling by boat to my posting, he leaned too far over the railing to admire the scenery and fell into the water..."

Le Wuya's grip on Wenren Yue's hand tightened slightly.

For his own purposes, having this man with no dependents, no relatives, and no friends was a great convenience.

For Wenren Yue himself — how much pain and loneliness that must have carried — only he could know.

Le Wuya held the reins with one hand and, as the horse's hooves rang steadily against the road, asked the most important question: "Why are you going to the prison? Whose body are you hoping to enter?"

"There is a man in the prison. I know he is going to die." Wenren Yue said.

Le Wuya: "Who is he?"

Wenren Yue made a low, pained sound.

Le Wuya thought he was gathering his words. He waited for some time, but no answer came.

Le Wuya nudged him gently with his elbow: "Hey — have you gone mute?"

Wenren Yue blinked. He found this kind stranger who had stumbled into his fate oddly amusing — free-spirited, unguarded, probably about the same age as himself.

The thought loosened something in him, and he stopped addressing himself as "this lower official": "He was caught up in a major case and accused of treason. The evidence was deemed conclusive, and his mother was implicated and imprisoned along with him. He is gravely ill and destitute. I believe he was falsely accused. I have been reluctant to submit the case file, hoping to conduct a more thorough investigation. But the matter involves treason, and it is serious — the prefect has come to inquire in person multiple times and has been pressing me to submit the dossier quickly. Yet when I see that this man is nearly dead and his mother is suffering..."

Weakened as he was, Wenren Yue's voice came out soft and faint: "Truthfully, I don't know whether I am right or wrong in this. I've already said too much and risk troubling you, so let me stop there."

These words gave Le Wuya pause.

A rather outrageous possibility came to mind.

With no connections at court and little influence, could it be that Wenren Yue had hanged himself and written a blood letter precisely to use his own death as leverage — to send his grievance all the way to the throne and save that man's life?

No matter how humble Wenren Yue's background, he was still an official of the imperial court.

His own life was the only bargaining chip he had left in officialdom, besides bribery.

"You sought death in order to save a prisoner?"

Wenren Yue fell quiet, clearly abashed.

He knew it was foolish.

"Yes... I truly had no other options. I have not sat the imperial examinations, so I have no teachers or friends in the capital. I have only been in this post for half a year and have no one I can appeal to. I wrote a petition laying out the full situation to the prefect, but it was rejected twice. I genuinely could not see another way. The only thing I had left to use was myself."

Le Wuya: "...Is the prisoner your friend?"

"No." Wenren Yue replied. "He is a local student — no connection to me at all. We have met only a handful of times. His age... is not very different from mine; either two years older or two years younger."

By now, Le Wuya believed they truly were strangers to each other.

"...And you were willing to die for him?"

"I am the father-and-mother official of this place. If a real parent were in my position, would they not do the same? Why would I regret it?"

Wenren Yue paused, then said softly: "We're here."

Through the darkness, the outline of Nancheng Prison began to take shape against the night sky. Le Wuya gently pulled the reins and brought the horse to a stop.

They had made considerable noise along the way, and there were already figures at the prison gate peering out at them.

Le Wuya drew back his sleeve so the weakened Wenren Yue could dismount first: "You go ahead."

Wenren Yue caught hold of his sleeve, swung down to the ground — but did not let go of him right away.

His face was pale as paper, but his eyes were burning: "Thank you, sir. Whatever happens here tonight, thank you for listening to me."

Le Wuya sat high on the horse and was drawn slightly downward by the grip, meeting Wenren Yue's gaze.

Wenren Yue looked up at the stranger who had taken over his body with eyes full of quiet expectation — no sadness, no anger, no regret.

He asked: "May I ask, sir — which worthy official are you?"

Le Wuya: "..."

He was, in fact, a well-known figure of this dynasty.

In what sense he was well known — that was another matter entirely.

But he couldn't tell the truth.

Because Wenren Yue was looking at him with the eyes of a man at the end of his life.

Le Wuya knew nothing of ghosts and spirits, and had no idea whether a soul dispossessed at the moment of death would survive after another had taken his body.

It was possible that he — the cuckoo who had taken over this nest — would be expelled from this body the moment Wenren Yue passed on.

Both of their fates were uncertain.

And so, he ought to leave Wenren Yue with something good to hold onto.

Therefore, Le Wuya's expression did not change as he said: "Gu Qizhen. Courtesy name Hengzhi."

A minister from the late Emperor's court — a fine official and a fine scholar, known for his talents and noble character. Regrettably taken too soon by misfortune.

Wenren Yue bowed deeply to him, then turned and walked into the prison.

Le Wuya dismounted and tilted his face up toward the bright moon.

...The world. This world.

Since the moment he had opened his eyes, he had been flung back down into this earthly realm.

Le Wuya had grown up surrounded by splendor. He understood both the hearts of officials and the hearts of common people — but he had never started from nothing.

Family name, reputation, connections — all the things that had once been effortlessly within reach in his former life were now entirely absent.

Thinking of this, Le Wuya let out a small laugh.

Quite interesting, wasn't it?

Le Wuya raised his hand and touched his neck. The raised marks were still there.

Fortunately, this official's robes were formal enough to conceal them.

At the same moment, Le Wuya caught something in his peripheral vision — the guard at the door exchanging a furtive glance with someone.

Le Wuya gave no sign of having noticed and stepped forward to greet him.

The man, apparently already holding the pass, trotted up quickly with a smile and said: "Welcome, Master."

Le Wuya asked calmly: "What is your name?"

There were so many petty officials — a county magistrate could hardly be expected to remember each one of them. There was nothing unusual about asking.

As expected, the man took no offense and bowed: "Your Honour has so much to attend to — I wouldn't expect to be remembered. I am the cell captain on night duty this evening. My name is Chen Wang."

Le Wuya nodded to indicate he understood.

Old Chen: "It's so late. If there's urgent business, would you not rather have Secretary Zhang come in your stead?"

Le Wuya said: "I'm only here for a short while. Are you that put out?"

While Old Chen was trying to work out whether there was an edge to those words, Le Wuya reached into his money pouch.

Before all this, Wenren Yue had been in such a panicked state about hanging himself that he hadn't even had time to empty his wallet.

Le Wuya fished out two broken pieces of silver and tossed them over with an easy hand: "Take it. Consider it drinks, on me."

The moment Old Chen caught them, he could tell by the weight what they were worth. Though pleased, he wasn't blind to the natural, easy-spending air that came off Le Wuya from the inside out: "Thank you, Master!"

Whatever Wenren Yue's disadvantages in officialdom, there was at least one thing in his favor:

His family was in trade, and he was not short of money.

Now that the silver had changed hands, Old Chen dropped the pretense and asked carefully: "Master, are you here again to see the scholar Ming?"

Le Wuya waved his hand: "You already know — so why the act? Lead the way."

Old Chen bowed several times, smiling: "This way, Master, please!"

Le Wuya followed a few steps and noticed the man was only extending an arm to gesture the direction while remaining in place himself, rather than leading the way. He kept that in mind. When he had drawn about half a chi ahead of where Chen had been standing, he let his peripheral vision drift back —

Prison captain Chen was quietly signaling two jailers.

The two jailers evidently understood him perfectly.

After Le Wuya had followed Old Chen ten steps further, he closed his eyes to sharpen his hearing.

Behind him came the sound of hurried footsteps — then silence, swallowed by the night.

...One of the jailers had slipped away from his post to go report to someone.

Clearly, in officialdom, money alone bought nothing — only people mattered.

No matter how freely a man spent his silver, it didn't stop them from pocketing it, doing nothing, and rushing off to inform their real master.

But Le Wuya felt neither gloomy nor annoyed.

On the contrary, he felt quite at ease:

However much the personnel had changed, at least the workings of officialdom were exactly as they had been before his death.

It felt, in a way, like coming home.