Ink Blade Chapter 3 (Part 1)
Sylver: Short notice. I’ll change some titles/names to prevent some confusion in the future. The previous chapters have been adjusted accordingly.
(Hall Master → Palace Master, ex. Palace Master Chu Yan)
(Execution Hall → Punishment Hall)
(Head ex. Head of the Punishment Hall → Hall Master)
(Jiuzhong Hall → Jiuzhong Palace)
Sorry for the inconvenience and Thank You for understanding. Enjoy~~
Translated by Sylver
Edited by kleio
Chapter 3: Rebirth (part 1)
Chu Yan never thought that he’d get the chance to do it all over again.
But, as his consciousness stirred and he came to, the first person he took notice of was Qiu Jin, his personal maid who had died right before his eyes in the cold, empty cave.
Chu Yan almost believed he had gone to the underworld. However, the ‘Qiu Jin’ in front of him was not the familiar, mature face, but was a lot more youthful, and looked to be only in her 20’s.
In other words, the person in front of him was the Qiu Jin in Chu Yan’s memory, who was still in the prime of her life.
"Master," Qiu Jin's voice drifted over from outside the heavy curtain decorated with tassels of gold thread. An exquisite porcelain bowl rested on top of the tray she was holding. "This hangover soup has just been freshly brewed. Master, please drink it before resting.”
Hangover soup?
Disbelief and doubt surged in his mind. As he propped himself and sat up, a corner of the brocade quilt slipped down to his waist, revealing an unscathed body. Only at this moment did he suddenly realize that he was lying on the bed in his chamber, devoid of any pain or injury that should’ve been there.
He swept a look around the furnishings of the room; tables, chairs, bed cabinets, screens and mirrors, all of which were old furnishings in the Zhongqian Hall in his memory. Many of them had been thrown away and destroyed by him.
Faint sunlight poured in through the exquisite pear-wood window lattice, spreading delicately on a pair of painted porcelain vases. A saber hung on the wall at the head of the bed; it was “Xuan Hong”, the saber belonging to Chu Yan in the past that he loved dearly.
The gold and copper four-legged incense burner held an incense, leisurely burning and giving off aromatic smoke to fend off any discomforting aura, bringing with it an air of tranquility. A sense of comfort and peace descended, though quite odd when recalling his last memories of war and death.
Chu Yan’s eyes suddenly fluttered shut, his hand pressing his painful temples in hopes to relieve the pain. He took a deep breath.
Is it Zhuang Zhou dreaming of being a butterfly, or a butterfly dreaming of being Zhuang Zhou[1]?
Is he trapped in a dream as of present, or was everything in the previous life just a big dream?
Chu Yan remained silent for a long time, then narrowed his eyes as he scrutinized Qiu Jin from top to bottom. He discreetly searched his dantian with his consciousness, and found that although his internal force was much less, it was still way deeper than when Bai Hua poisoned him before his death. Calculating the estimate, it could be inferred that he went back six or seven years ago.
He tentatively asked, “Qiu Jin, was this Master drunk last night?”
Qiu Jin, holding the hangover soup, nodded and replied, “Answering Master, Master spent the entire night drinking with Young Master Bai Hua until midnight.”
Young Master Bai Hua?
….drank until midnight?
Chu Yan was once again at a loss of words.
Could it really be that he….is fortunate enough to get a chance to do it all over again?
Qiu Jin stared at Chu Yan without uttering a word, neither putting down the bowl nor holding it up. She didn’t think she said anything wrong, but her Master was behaving somewhat abnormally today….
She pondered whether to inquire or not, but before she could, Chu Yan’s voice interrupted her, “What year is it now?”
Regardless of her confusion, she still answered him compliantly, Then Chu Yan immediately followed up with another befuddling question, “Which month and what day?”
Qiu Jin still respectfully answered, silently considering whether she should persuade her master to drink the hangover soup first and talk while sober.
Chu Yan repeated the day several times in a low voice, and his eyes gradually cleared up. However, at the next moment, Chu Yan’s expression suddenly changed. He scrambled out of bed and grabbed a loose robe, putting it on hastily as he quickly asked, “Is Ah Ren in the Punishment Hall?”
“Yes…” Qiu Jin opened her mouth to answer, somewhat startled by his hasty behavior. However, Chu Yan rushed past her side before she could continue, hysterically disappearing out the door in the blink of an eye.
****
Jiuzhong Palace, Punishment Hall.
Chu Yan used his qinggong with its full potential the entire way, anxiety burning in his heart. The haunting memory of this day still played vividly in his mind.
Mo Ren had been by his side for more than ten years. He always did things in a decent way, being extremely cautious with everything and never daring to overstep his authority. This, coupled with his deep love and respect for Chu Yan, even ordinary punishment was rare for him, let alone being punished in the Punishment Hall.
The first time Mo Ren committed a crime serious enough to require punishment in the Punishment hall, happened in the third year after Chu Yan met Bai Hua, and in the second year after Bai Hua was admitted to the Jiuzhong Palace by Chu Yan. That was.....yesterday!
At this moment, Chu Yan no longer cared whether this whole rebirth thing was a dream or an illusion. He only knew that he could no longer just sit back and watch that person suffer the slightest bit of pain. He didn't care about the guards of the Punishment Hall who saluted him all the way, nor did he care about its Hall Master who got informed about his arrival and came to greet him.
He went in like a flash of shadow, but halfway through, the sound of whips sharply slashing through the air broke out.
.
.
.
[1] Zhuang Zhou's dream of a butterfly is an idiom in Chinese- a story tells that Zhuang Zhou, a Chinese philosopher once dreamed he was a butterfly, flitting and fluttering around, happy, and doing as he pleased. As a butterfly, he did not know he was Zhuang Zhou. All of a sudden, he awoke and found he was Zhuang Zhou, solid and unmistakably human. But then he did not know whether he was Zhuang Zhou dreaming he was a butterfly or a butterfly dreaming he was Zhuang Zhou. Later it came to refer to a wonderful dream, or used as a metaphor for the vagaries of life.
