Chapter 29 “Who Am I Really”

Chapter 29: "Who Am I, Really?"

"Where is this place?"

"Why am I here?"

I distinctly died three years ago, so why have I been resurrected now?

I instinctively touched my neck; the suffocating sensation from the silk noose still lingered in my throat.

Could it be that someone saved me? But even if I was rescued, I shouldn’t have woken up three years later.

My heart was filled with doubt, my head throbbed with pain, and a sharp, piercing ache pulsed at my temples. Reaching up to touch it, I realized I was injured—my forehead was wrapped in thick layers of bandages.

"Young Master, this is the Qiu Residence, your home. Where else would you be if not at home?"

"My home?"

How could this be my home?

I gazed at the surroundings within the room; the decor was distinctly different from the Chancellor’s estate’s simple, rustic architectural style. Everywhere reeked of ostentation.

The antique vase in the corner was priceless, the brocade quilt and pillow were embroidered with gold thread, a bright yellow canopy hung overhead, and matching sets of luxurious rosewood furniture filled the space. Everything screamed wealth, flaunting opulence at every turn, as if shouting to the world, "We are rich, very rich."

My father toiled his whole life, yet he lived with integrity and died penniless, his head separated from his body. How could he have had the means to afford such extravagance?

Wait—the Qiu Residence?

What is the Qiu Residence?

I lived in the capital for at least nineteen years. Because of my father’s position as an official, I had contact with many prominent officials and nobles and was familiar with all the influential families in the capital. But I had never heard of the surname Qiu.

At the same time, something even more bizarre was happening: the servant before me kept calling me "Young Master," his expression utterly sincere, yet I had never seen him before and couldn’t possibly be his young master.

A terrifying suspicion rose in my heart. My fingers trembled as I touched my face, panic seeping into my voice. "A mirror—where is the mirror?!"

The servant, startled by my urgency, quickly helped me to a mirror. When I looked into it, even the dark pupils of my eyes began to tremble. The person in the mirror wore white robes, with a frail, slender figure, sickly and delicate, evoking pity.

His skin was so pale it seemed almost translucent, his jet-black hair cascading down the sides of his thin face. His long, delicate eyebrows were slightly furrowed, as if weighed down by unspoken sorrow. His peach-blossom eyes tilted upward slightly, glistening with a watery sheen. His nose was straight and delicate, his lips full and pink, but—missing was the red mole beneath his right eye.

Trembling, I touched my right eye, feeling the smooth, unblemished skin. My voice shook. "Where is my mole? Why is it gone?"

The servant, seeing my agitation, looked puzzled but patiently explained, "Young Master, what mole? Your face is so clean—it couldn’t be marred by any mole."

"No, that’s not right." I urgently grabbed the servant’s hand, pointing beneath my eye. "I had a mole right here. Why is it gone?"

The terrifying suspicion in my mind threatened to consume me. Desperate, I clutched the servant’s arm and pressed him, "Tell me, who am I? Please, tell me, who am I, really?"

The servant looked at me with disbelief, as if I were a madman, yet he remained respectful. "You are our Young Master, the beloved only son of the Prefect of Yuanzhou, Qiu Yunqing."

As soon as he finished speaking, I collapsed to the floor like a limp rag, like a soulless automaton.

"Young Master, what’s wrong with you?"

"You’ve been unconscious since you fell from upstairs. Now that you’ve woken up, you’re asking all these strange questions. Did the fall damage your brain?"

"I must go inform the Master at once."

"No," I quickly stopped him from leaving, forcing myself to calm down. I forced a strained smile and said, "I’m just feeling a bit unwell. Please leave for now. When I feel better, I’ll call for you. For now, don’t tell the Master that I’ve woken up, alright?"

"But..." The servant hesitated, seemingly uneasy.

Seeing that gentle persuasion wasn’t working, I put on a stern face, adopting the authoritative tone I used to scold Xiao Man, and coldly glared at the servant. "You dare disobey your Young Master?"

"I’m just feeling a little unwell today, nothing more. If you dare spread rumors or speak nonsense in front of the Master, do you even want to keep your tongue?"

As soon as I finished, the servant looked at me as if he’d seen a ghost. I cursed inwardly—his reaction surely meant I’d given myself away. His original master must never have scolded him like this.

Just as I was about to try to put on an act, the servant quickly composed himself, thinking I was seriously ill, and bowed to take his leave. "Then rest for a while, Young Master. Huai Xin will take his leave."

As I watched the servant’s retreating figure, I felt puzzled. Though the Qiu family’s decor was vulgar and crude, the name given to this servant was quite elegant.

"Huai Xin" was taken from a line in the *Chu Ci*: "Holding faith, yet dismayed—suddenly, I shall depart." The one who named him hoped he would uphold sincerity and keep his promises.

Wait—but why would I know this? A huge question arose in my mind: I had never memorized lines from the *Chu Ci*, so why could I recall the allusion behind "Huai Xin" so easily?

I had little learning; even writing characters was a struggle for me. How could I possibly cite classics and recall the origins of these words so effortlessly? Why were these inexplicable phrases suddenly popping into my head?

It was too strange—unless...

Unless these things that weren’t mine originally came from Qiu Yunqing.

I stared blankly at my fingertips—pale with a hint of pink, covered in a thin layer of calluses, clearly from years of practicing calligraphy and playing the qin.

A thought struck me. I hurried to the desk, picked up a brush, and casually wrote the three characters "Qiu Yunqing," instantly confirming my suspicion.

This handwriting was nothing like my clumsy scrawl—it was unmistakably the handwriting of the original "Qiu Yunqing."

Though my own handwriting had improved significantly, it was still far from elegant and flowing. But the characters I now wrote carried a free-spirited charm, the kind that would earn praise and admiration if put on display.

A cold sweat broke out on my back, and I trembled uncontrollably as the horrifying truth gradually surfaced.

I had been reborn, but the body I now occupied wasn’t my original one—it was Qiu Yunqing’s. He had fallen into a coma after a sudden fall from upstairs, and I had awakened in his body.

This bizarre and terrifying truth wrapped around me like a giant spiderweb, suffocating me. What was even more suffocating was that I hadn’t just taken Qiu Yunqing’s body—I had also taken the knowledge and skills he had painstakingly cultivated over the years.

Poetry, song, rhythm, the art of chess, exquisite painting—all these skills unfolded before me like a scroll. The talents I had longed for in vain in my previous life were now mine without the slightest effort.

I let out a bitter laugh, staring absently at the reflection in the mirror. Slowly, I raised my finger and touched my right eye.

Though Qiu Yunqing and I looked identical, he didn’t have the red mole beneath his eye, and his demeanor was calmer and more detached than mine.

Even though we looked exactly alike, his body didn’t evoke the same lustful desires in others. Why was that?

A vague guess formed in my mind. I slowly untied my belt, and the white robe fell to the floor. The reflection in the mirror confirmed it—his body wasn’t deformed and abnormal like mine.

As if blessed by heaven, he not only lacked that alluring mole but was also a normal man.

The youth in the mirror looked no older than eighteen—the age when I first met Xie Yan. While I had suffered endless bullying because of my appearance, someone with this same face had lived peacefully, never treated as a freak.

I laughed bitterly, my eyes reddening as I lost myself in thought. Suddenly, a knock came at the door, followed by Huai Xin’s voice. "Young Master, it’s Huai Xin. I’ve brought you some porridge."

"Come in."

I had already dressed properly and replied flatly.

Huai Xin skillfully set up a low table on my bed, placing on it a fragrant mushroom and lean pork porridge along with some light side dishes. The porridge was steaming with mushrooms and lean meat, emitting clouds of steamy aroma.

Strangely enough, I used to hate mushrooms, finding their taste odd and quite repulsive. But today, seeing them made my mouth water and I felt a strong craving.

At this thought, I lowered my head dejectedly, my eyelashes trembling. This change in my dietary preferences was undoubtedly due to this body.

Who am I now—Feng Jiuyue or Qiu Yunqing? If even my body is no longer Feng Jiuyue's, and all my likes and dislikes are the opposite of before, am I still me?

"Young Master, you've always loved mushrooms the most, always asking the kitchen to add plenty. Why aren't you eating today?"

Seeing that I hadn't taken a single bite for a while, Huai Xin looked anxious and and asked urgently, "Is your head still hurting? Should I call a doctor?"

I waved him off, picked up the valuable gold spoon, scooped up a generous portion of mushrooms from the porridge, and slowly put them in my mouth. The rich aroma of the mushrooms instantly spread through my mouth, lifting my mood considerably.

"What was the date of my fall?" Although I had my suspicions, I still asked.

"The ninth day of the eighth month, the second day after your eighteenth birthday," the servant replied, his expression grim and somewhat worried.

I paused, I noticeably slowed my eating.

Qiu Yunqing was born in the same month and on the same day as me. The day he fell was exactly when I died three years ago. It felt as though an invisible hand was manipulating my life, sending a chill through my heart.

So, did Qiu Yunqing take my place in the reincarnation cycle? And I took his place here.

Seeing that I wasn't responding, the servant frowned, growing increasingly anxious, his words filled with concern and confusion.

"Young Master, why are you so fond of the Crown Prince? Why insist on becoming his study attendant? The Master disagreed, yet you talked back to him and even dared to jump from the upstairs."

"The Crown Prince?"

I was like a cat whose tail had been grabbed, my eyes widening, pupils constricting, as I stared intently at Huai Xin and asked in a trembling voice, "You mean Crown Prince Xie Yan?"

"Yes, Young Master," Huai Xin nodded, his tone rather resentful. "What is so great about the Crown Prince that you're so infatuated with him?"

"I've clearly heard people outside say that the Crown Prince isn't as good as the rumors make him out to be. They all say that three years ago, he suddenly had a bout of madness that caused an uproar in the court and enraged the Emperor. Even now, he's half-mad."

"If you follow him, you're bound to suffer."

A note from the author:

Just a heads up~ Physical intimacy with Xie Yan will only happen after Xiao Qiu gets his own body back. Xiao Qiu won't be in Qiu Yunqing's body forever.

Happy New Year, everyone! Here's a little skit.

Author: Xiao Qiu and Xie Yan, come wish everyone a Happy New Year.

Xiao Qiu (obediently): Wishing everyone a Happy New Year!

Xiao Qiu (scratching his head, at a loss for words, starts pulling on Xie Yan): You're cultured, say some auspicious words for everyone.

Xie Yan (giving the author a death glare, very unhappy about the plot's twists): No time.

Xiao Qiu (eyes reddening): Then I'll go back to the chancellor's residence to sleep tonight.

Xie Yan: Peace and joy, may all things go smoothly for you.