Lin Jin’s cloak had been left behind in the ghost realm the night before. He hadn’t had time to buy a new one, so now he ran straight into the snow wearing only a thin robe. It wasn’t until halfway there that he belatedly realized how cold it was.
The icy wind poured into his body. After only a few breaths, his lungs began to ache faintly, but Lin Jin didn’t care. His mind was filled with the scene he’d witnessed at Zuixian Tower that day.
It was well known that the previous emperor had been foolish, brutal, and debauched, and the people had suffered terribly under his tyranny. Later, the current emperor—then still Prince Rui—led an uprising, overthrew the former ruler, and ushered in today’s prosperous era. He even revised the laws, ensuring that women no longer had to live beneath men, granting them the right to choose their own paths in life.
Back then, Prince Rui had an adviser named Chu Ji. Few people knew much about them, yet in Zhongyun City, someone had fabricated a play portraying Chu Ji as a woman disguised as a man, spinning a romantic tale between her and Prince Rui.
Chu Ji. Chū Jì.
Lin Jin was certain these pieces did not come together by coincidence.
Zuixian Tower was just as lively as ever. Lin Jin ran inside, panting, grabbed the waiter who’d told them the story the day before, and held onto his shoulders, barely able to catch his breath.
“Sir—I—I want to ask you something.”
“Ah—this…” The waiter was busy serving dishes. “I’m in the middle of something. Could you wait a moment?”
Lin Jin didn’t bother explaining. He reached into his storage pouch and handed a silver ingot to the waiter.
The waiter’s eyes lit up instantly. He happily pocketed it, handed his dishes to someone else, and bowed respectfully.
“All right, sir—ask away. I’ll tell you everything I know.”
Lin Jin raised a hand, signaling him to wait. After finally catching his breath, he took a deep breath and asked,
“I’d like to know—who wrote the script for ‘Miss Chu Gracefully Rejects Prince Rui’?”
Judging by Lin Jin’s urgency, the waiter had expected a life-or-death question. He hadn’t imagined it would be something like this.
Still, having taken the money, he answered seriously.
“To be honest, I don’t know. I’m just a waiter. Besides, when people watch a play, they’re here for the fun—who really cares who wrote the script?”
He glanced toward the stage.
“Perfect timing, sir—the next performance is ‘Rejecting Prince Duan.’ If you like it, why not stay and watch? Consider that silver your tea money for the show.”
The waiter cheerfully led Lin Jin to a seat in the front row. After settling him in, he looked up, spotted someone, and greeted them with a grin.
“Oh! Second Master, you’re free today too? Same as usual, right? I’ll get it ready!”
Hearing this, Lin Jin instinctively turned his head.
The man called “Second Master” sat to his right—a refined, scholarly elderly man in a long robe, sitting upright. Noticing Lin Jin’s gaze, he met his eyes briefly, smiled, and nodded in greeting.
“Hey, young sir,” the waiter said, “weren’t you especially interested in ‘Rejecting Prince Duan’? If you’ve got questions, why not ask Second Master here? He absolutely loves this play—watches it almost every day. If even he doesn’t know the answer, then probably no one does.”
“Oh?”
Second Master seemed mildly surprised. He stroked his beard and lifted the teapot beside him, pouring Lin Jin a cup of tea.
“So, young friend, what is it you wish to ask—something only this old man can answer?”
“It’s nothing major,” Lin Jin said.
He really was thirsty after the run, so he accepted the tea without ceremony and thanked him before continuing.
“I just want to know who wrote the script for ‘Rejecting Prince Duan.’”
“You’re an interesting one,” Second Master chuckled.
“Most people watch a play for the characters onstage—you’re concerned about the one behind the curtain. May I ask why you’re so curious?”
“Well…”
Lin Jin hesitated, unsure how to explain. After a moment, he said,
“Everyone knows Lord Chu was a man, yet the playwright chose such a unique angle, portraying him as a woman of great ideals. I’m curious whether the writer did it simply for novelty and entertainment—or…”
He paused, lifted the teacup, and took a sip. He didn’t finish the thought, but Second Master laughed softly and completed it for him.
“Or whether the writer wasn’t fabricating at all—whether he knew a hidden truth others didn’t. For example, was Lord Chu Ji indeed a woman?”
Lin Jin’s eyes widened slightly in surprise. Before he could respond, Second Master sighed.
“What’s wrong? I was just guessing out of curiosity. Lord Chu has long since retired, and the other person involved is far beyond our reach. Whatever the truth was, time has already buried it. As mere bystanders, what’s the point of dwelling on it?”
Lin Jin opened his mouth, intending to argue or explain—but the words felt meaningless once they reached his lips.
In the end, he finished his tea. Before the play even began, he bade Second Master farewell and left Zuixian Tower.
The trail had gone cold again.
Chu Ji was almost certainly Chū Jì. Lin Jin had hoped to follow this lead and perhaps find Chū Jì herself, to reconstruct the truth from another angle—but now it seemed impossible.
The second master was right. Chu Ji had long since withdrawn from the world, and the other person still sat upon the golden throne in the capital. They weren’t people Lin Jin could simply seek out.
Still, he couldn’t help but wonder.
If Chū Jì and Dong Si’s ideals had already been realized, then why hadn’t Chū Jì returned, as she once promised, to see this prosperous age together with Dong Si?
“I have stood amid wind and snow for far too long. Now I wish only to brush the snow from my sleeves, become a handful of spring water, and gift myself to the one who waits in dreams behind the curtained window.”
Lin Jin was replaying the lines he’d heard onstage the day before when, suddenly, a sense of unease flashed through his heart.
Ever since being transported into this book, the thing Lin Jin trusted most was this body’s instinctive sense for danger. He turned around immediately, scanning behind him. The streets of Zhongyun City bustled with passersby, though they were noticeably quieter than yesterday.
Then his sharp eyes caught something off.
Scattered along the roadside were several young men. Though dressed differently, their builds and bearing shared an eerie similarity.
…Damn.
He was being watched.
Lin Jin turned as if nothing were wrong, intending to slip away and rush back to Mantingchun to cling to his teammates for dear life. But before he’d gone more than a few steps, he sensed a subtle disturbance in the flow of air around him.
His heart lurched.
Someone was closing in.
He couldn’t keep calm anymore. He broke into a run, yanking a sound-transmission talisman from his storage pouch. Pride be damned—right there in the middle of the street, he shouted at the top of his lungs:
“Han! Save me!!”
Sam Williams On TYMIMA Chapter 152