Chapter Seventy-Seven: Blessed Across Three Lifetimes, How Fortunate Indeed

“Come here! I won’t hold anything against you,” the Seventh Prince hastily promised.

Yu Hualiang knew then that he would win this wager. He lowered his head, gritting his teeth and swallowing the emotions that threatened to spill from his eyes. Raising his voice, he declared, “Cao Zhiling, everything you said was right, including that I’ve always wanted to leave you.”

“What...” The Seventh Prince was devastated by these words. He couldn’t believe it, and demanded, “Why?”

“I don’t love you... yet you keep forcing me.”

Yu Hualiang’s words were sharp, each one cutting like a blade. Tears glimmered in the Seventh Prince’s eyes; suddenly, he clutched his chest in agony.

Ye Fang hurried to support him. “Your Highness! Are you all right? Call the army physician!”

The Seventh Prince waved him off, straightening with Ye Fang’s help, his voice hoarse as he addressed Yu Hualiang. “I... I’ll wait for you... to love me... just give me a chance.”

Yu Hualiang shook his head fiercely, unable to contain his tears. He turned away, struggling to steady his trembling voice. “Let it go... I’ll go find A Liu instead...”

He sighed softly, a faint smile on his lips. “Today... I just wanted to see you one last time. After I die…”

“Stop!” The Seventh Prince interrupted, pleading through choking sobs. “If you come back, I promise—I won’t cling to you anymore! Go wherever you wish, I won’t interfere! Please... don’t jump.”

Yu Hualiang swallowed his tears and said, “Mu Zicheng, to have you in this life is a blessing of three lifetimes... so fortunate... don’t mourn.”

“Come back to me! Try taking one more step forward!” The Seventh Prince broke free from Ye Fang’s support, limping toward Yu Hualiang.

But Yu Hualiang was faster, and he plunged into the abyss.

“Ziliang!”

The tranquil moonlit night was shattered by the Prince’s anguished scream, followed by heart-wrenching sobs.

Soon after, the Seventh Prince coughed up blood and fainted.

“Hurry, the army physician!”

After the commotion, Yu Hualiang cried like a child at the bottom of the cliff.

Cao Zhiling had never seen a man cry so bitterly and was helpless, unable to bear the sight. He clumsily tried to comfort him, “Don’t be too sad. After all, this was your own decision.”

Hearing this, Yu Hualiang’s tears flowed even harder, but realizing Cao Zhiling had noticed, he stifled his sobs. This made Cao Zhiling feel even worse, as if he might explode with frustration.

“Um... Yu Hualiang...” Cao Zhiling called to him, unsure how to comfort him.

Yu Hualiang realized he was causing Cao Zhiling worry. He exhaled, still sniffling, and said, “You don’t need to say anything... They should have left. Let’s go out.”

Seeing him look better, Cao Zhiling relaxed and nodded, hugging Yu Hualiang. He soared up the cliff in a few swift steps. Yu Hualiang sighed inwardly, “Lightness skills really are convenient!”

After emerging from the abyss, they saw the Seventh Prince’s encampment in the distance, rows of tents flickering with lamplight, busy with unknown tasks.

Cao Zhiling carried him for a long time. Only after they had left the Prince’s camp far behind did Cao Zhiling set him down. “Come with me.”

Yu Hualiang shook his head. “After all, I am a citizen of Mo.”

“Then where will you go?”

Yu Hualiang sighed. “I miss A Liu. Do you remember where he went?”

“Jincheng,” Cao Zhiling replied softly.

“Zicheng... Zicheng.” The bell-like voice echoed near and far in the Seventh Prince’s ears.

“Ziliang... don’t jump.” In the midst of desolation, the Seventh Prince tried to catch a glimpse of Yu Hualiang, but he was like the wind, vanishing before he could touch him.

Suddenly, the scene shifted to a springtime in full bloom. The Prince recognized the setting—apricot blossoms in Lijiazhuang.

Yu Hualiang stood nearby, smiling as he watched children picking flowers beneath the apricot trees. The Prince gazed at him, wanting to reach out and touch his face.

But Yu Hualiang dissolved like an apricot blossom, scattering into petals. The Prince desperately chased after them, but could never catch up.

From the sky, Yu Hualiang’s words echoed, each one piercing the heart: “I don’t love you... yet you keep forcing me.”

“Ziliang!”

The Seventh Prince awoke from his dream, drenched in cold sweat. Ye Fang hurried over with a cup of water. The Prince pushed it aside and rose to leave.

Ye Fang blocked him. “Your Highness!... He’s already dead.”

“No... impossible!” The Prince roared, “Impossible! Impossible! Impossible! No... impossible!”

He buried his face in his hands, sobbing. Everything before him was so real—his Ziliang had jumped from the cliff right in front of him, and he had forced it...

Ye Fang had never seen the Prince so vulnerable. No matter the grievance or wound, he had never shed a single tear—yet for Yu Hualiang, he cried like this.

“Your Highness... please accept your grief.”

The Prince shoved Ye Fang aside and shouted, “I want you to search below the cliff! I want him alive if possible—dead, I want to see his corpse.”

Ye Fang did not hesitate, bowing low to accept the order. “Yes, Your Highness.”

After he left, the Prince gazed down at the purple jade token in his hand, sobbing softly.

Ye Fang found nothing and reported, “We found nothing. Perhaps he was eaten by wild beasts.”

The Prince’s eyes suddenly brightened. Gripping Ye Fang, he asked with renewed hope, “So, he might still be alive, right?”

Ye Fang couldn’t bear to see him like this, but if this continued, the Prince would lose his mind. He had to tell him the truth.

“Your Highness, that is a thousand-foot cliff. Yu the artist would surely die from such a fall.”

“But where is the body? Where is the body?” the Prince shouted again.

Ye Fang sighed. “Your Highness... Yu the artist is truly dead.”

There was a fierce light in the Prince’s eyes. He drew the sword at his side, pointing it at Ye Fang with hatred. “He can’t be dead! From now on, anyone who says he’s dead—I’ll kill them first! Do you hear me?”

Ye Fang knelt, trembling. “Yes... Your Highness.”

Ye Fang truly felt the Prince had gone mad. He ordered men to scale the cliff, and aside from the impossible places, they dug everywhere, but never found Yu Hualiang’s body.

This only convinced the Prince further that Yu Hualiang was still alive. He would look at the purple jade token and weep, then laugh. Ye Fang enquired with the army physician about the Prince’s condition.

The physician looked around and whispered to Ye Fang, “We have cases like this at home. It’s not an illness, it’s possession. I fear the soul of the deceased artist is haunting the Prince.”

Ye Fang shivered. “Then what should we do? Where in Fanhe can we find a priest to exorcise him?”

The physician offered a solution. “No need for all that. Just burn some paper money for the deceased, collect the ashes, mix them in water, and have the Prince drink it. It’ll cure him instantly.”

Ye Fang was relieved. “Thank you, physician.”

Ye Fang, thinking only of the Prince, set about the task. But at the top of the abyss, the paper would not catch fire, just as the physician said—Yu Hualiang died with resentment toward the Prince.

He would surely become a vengeful spirit, haunting the Prince forever. The paper money Ye Fang burned would never make it to him, so the fire would not light.

Unable to do anything, Ye Fang decided to err on the side of caution and knelt, bowing three times, hands clasped in prayer more devout than any Buddhist. “Yu Hualiang, the Prince owes you nothing. Take this paper money and enjoy wealth in the underworld. Please, stop haunting the Prince! I, Ye Fang, beg you!”

Ye Fang, face twisted with grief, was about to light the fire when the Prince suddenly appeared, scaring him nearly out of his wits.

“What are you doing?” the Prince asked coldly.

Ye Fang turned and replied guiltily, “Your Highness... I’m burning paper for the artist, so he won’t haunt you.”

“How many times have I told you! Ziliang... is not dead.”

Ye Fang, disregarding the difference between servant and master for the first time, contradicted him, “Your Highness! You remember what he said before he died, don’t you? He really is dead!”

The Prince was about to become angry when he suddenly thought of something and asked Ye Fang, “When Ziliang jumped, what did he say?”

Ye Fang was caught off guard. Since the Prince insisted, he could only answer, albeit slowly. “He said you kept forcing him.”

The Prince frowned. “And?”

“And...” Half a month had passed, and Ye Fang could barely recall—he remembered something about being a spy, and about going to find A Liu.

Hearing this, the Prince’s eyes lit up once more. He ordered urgently, “Notify all units and prepare to march! I want to return to the capital within a month.”

Ye Fang was bewildered. Was he on the same page as the Prince? The order seemed wild—though Fanhe was a small country and had suffered greatly from the Prince’s fierce attacks over the past month.

But they still had some armies left. Still, with the Prince’s command, Ye Fang dared not delay and relayed the orders at once.

The Prince immediately led his forces to assault the enemy capital. When news reached Mo’s General Ji, he was so astonished he couldn’t speak, praising the Prince as a genius. Now the Prince was like a wild beast—anyone who crossed him would suffer. He hadn’t slept, nor rested, and was nearly unrecognizable.

He had grown a beard, left it unshaven, his hair wild, and he had grown gaunt. Ye Fang watched with concern and often advised him to rest more.

But the Prince paid no heed. In the following days, he led his troops like a whirlwind, and soon the ruler of Fanhe surrendered and handed over his seal.

The Prince’s success was partly due to a rift between Fanhe’s general and monarch—the general took a few followers and defected to Xia, while most surrendered to Mo.

Once the Prince returned victorious to the capital, he finally collapsed from exhaustion. When he woke, he found himself back in Mo, having slept for three days and finally regained some strength.

After reporting to the Emperor, he went straight to his own palace to ask about A Liu’s whereabouts.

Half a year had passed since A Liu was sent away—everyone said the Prince was looking for a needle in the sea.

When he asked, Li the guard trembled in fear. “Your Highness, it was Er Mazi... He thought you wanted him to quietly handle that A Liu, so he took the money and never returned.”

The Prince was so furious his hands shook. He kicked Li over and roared, “Find Er Mazi for me! I’ll cut him to pieces!”