Chapter 19 Transformation

Chapter 19: Transformation

In the days leading up to the military campaign, Jing Su spent his time in the room teaching Duan Lingwen to recognize characters and parse sentences. He held Duan Lingwen’s hand, guiding him through the strokes repeatedly.

Duan Lingwen immersed himself in learning with an almost obsessive fervor.

Aside from essential breaks, he was almost constantly hunched over his desk. Yet, accustomed to physical labor, his handwriting was neat and orderly when Jing Su guided his hand, but when left to his own devices, even with intense focus and careful effort, his characters still came out somewhat crooked.

As Jing Su entered, he saw Duan Lingwen frowning deeply, jaw clenched, as if locked in a silent struggle with the brush in his hand.

Only when Jing Su drew near did Duan Lingwen suddenly sense someone beside him, startling him so much that his hand trembled, causing the brush tip to skid sideways.

He looked up in a fluster, and upon seeing it was Jing Su, a fleeting look of embarrassment at being caught in an awkward moment crossed his face. Instinctively, he tried to conceal the paper filled with his wobbly script.

"Still practicing calligraphy?" Jing Su’s voice drifted down from above.

Duan Lingwen, looking mortified, softly mumbled, "Yes."

Jing Su chuckled, as if lost in a memory, "When I first learned to hold a brush, my handwriting was truly dreadful. My uncle would often get so angry he’d storm off, scolding my characters as being like 'spring worms and autumn snakes'—crooked, sloppy, and utterly without form."

His words were a blend of truth and fabrication, intended solely to comfort the man before him.

Duan Lingwen genuinely believed him, his eyes brightening slightly. "Really?"

Jing Su paused, then nodded gently. "Mm, calligraphy isn’t mastered in a day. We... have all the time in the world."

Just then, Deng Tong’s voice echoed from outside the door: "Young Master, I’ve brought the person."

Deng Tong pushed the door open, followed by a boy who appeared to be about sixteen or seventeen years old.

He was a Shuang'er, with downcast eyes and a demure demeanor. Upon entering, he stood respectfully before kneeling to pay his respects. "Your humble servant, Xiao Fu, greets the Young Master."

Jing Su gave a slight nod, then turned to Duan Lingwen and said gently, "He is the child of an old family servant, quite steady by nature. While I am away these next few days, I will have him stay by your side to attend to your daily needs."

Duan Lingwen looked at this Shuang'er, who was several years his junior, feeling utterly at a loss.

Xiao Fu had already heard Duan Lingwen’s name before his arrival. He bowed respectfully, "Xiao Fu pays respects to Madam. Henceforth, I am at your service, Madam."

"P-please, rise…" Duan Lingwen, flustered, almost instinctively reached out to help him up. Such a formal kneeling gesture was utterly foreign to him. For the past twenty years, he had always been the one kneeling to landlords and officials—when had anyone ever knelt to him with such deference?

This sudden reversal of roles threw him into disarray, leaving him profoundly uneasy, feeling entirely undeserving of such profound respect.

Xiao Fu knew his place. He rose slowly and said respectfully, "Thank you, Madam."

Jing Su stepped forward, took Duan Lingwen’s hand, and then addressed Deng Tong and the other, "You may both withdraw for now."

Deng Tong: "Yes!"

Xiao Fu: "Yes."

After the two withdrew and the door softly closed, only the two of them remained in the room.

Seeing Duan Lingwen still somewhat ill at ease, Jing Su took his hand and led him to sit on the nearby couch, saying softly, "If you dislike having others too close, he can serve outside the courtyard."

Duan Lingwen replied, "I can take care of myself."

Jing Su explained, "I know you’re used to being independent. It’s not about having someone constantly at your side serving tea and water."

He paused, his expression turning serious. "However, I will be away for several days. Although there are bodyguards in the residence, there may still be oversights. Having someone nearby to attend to you will put my mind at ease."

"Now that you are studying and reading, you will inevitably need to acquire more paper, ink, and books, or perhaps wish to find some miscellaneous texts. These trivial matters can be left to the servants."

With that, Jing Su sighed softly, "My Wenwen—you and I are about to marry. You will rightfully become the other master of the Jing family. I want to do everything in my power to ensure you never suffer any more grievances. Whether you wish to study, write, ride horses, or practice archery—whatever you desire, you need only tell me."

Duan Lingwen’s breath caught sharply. He opened his mouth, but a thousand words clogged his throat, clumsily unable to find expression. In the end, it emerged as a barely audible, trembling whisper: "...Thank you."

"Didn’t you promise me that there’s no need for thanks between us?" Jing Su drew him into an embrace, gently stroking his hair.

Duan Lingwen buried his face in the crook of Jing Su’s neck and mumbled, "Mm."

The next day, before dawn, a solemn, murderous atmosphere permeated the air.

The city gates stood wide open, and columns of soldiers marched from their various camps within the city to the main camp outside the walls.

At the central army’s position, flags fluttered prominently, catching the eye.

A large commander’s banner, embroidered with a massive "Lu" character, stood tall, surrounded by various command and signal flags, snapping crisply in the cool morning breeze.

Beneath the banners stood rows of soldiers, their blades, spears, and halberds gleaming coldly. These were Lu Xin’s elite personal troops, flanked and fronted by large formations of infantry.

On the flanks and periphery of the army were cavalry units. Their numbers were not large, approximately a thousand horsemen.

The main force advanced in a mighty procession toward Jiangcheng.

After ten days of marching, following Lu Xin’s orders, Jing Xun led two thousand troops to ambush the Zhang River crossing to the side and rear of Jiangcheng, preventing reinforcements from the Yu Army from arriving.

This area had relatively gentle river currents, making it easy to cross, and was the most likely shortcut for reinforcements from Danyang.

If they failed to intercept the enemy reinforcements here, once the latter crossed the Zhang River and caught our main force in a pincer movement with the defenders of Jiangcheng, Lu Xin’s army would be in a dangerous position.

At the Zhang River crossing, shrouded by woods, two thousand ambushing troops hid silently on both sides of the crossing.

Occasional bird calls in the forest only accentuated the eerie silence around. The soldiers held their weapons at the ready, their eyes fixed intently on the opposite bank.

Yet, amidst this tension, Jing Su’s expression remained unusually calm.

Leaning against the trunk of a thick tree, his gaze scanned the opposite bank, but his brow showed none of the grim seriousness of facing a formidable enemy.

Because, to him, the outcome of this battle was already known.

In his previous life, they had also ambushed here. They had stood watch fruitlessly for several days; before the Yu Army reinforcements could even arrive, the defending general of Jiangcheng had already opened the city gates and surrendered.

After inspecting the forward sentry posts, Jing Xun returned to the temporary command post hidden among the trees. He saw Jing Su leaning against an old tree, his eyes directed toward the opposite bank but distant, a faint smile even touching his lips.

This was scarcely the proper demeanor a commander should have on the eve of a fierce battle.

Jing Xun frowned deeply. He walked to Jing Su’s side, his voice hushed but carrying a slight reprimand: "With the enemy approaching and the entire army on alert, you have the leisure to let your mind wander?"

Jing Su jerked back to awareness, the softness in his eyes vanishing instantly, replaced by his usual calm. He replied, "Uncle, you needn't worry. All sentry posts are properly arranged, and there’s no sign of the enemy."

"I suspect it’s not that there’s no activity, but that someone’s mind isn’t here," Jing Xun said meaningfully.

Unable to speak openly about his rebirth, Jing Su could only respond indirectly: "Warfare is the art of deception, full of feints and truths. Our army waits here rested, already seizing the initiative. If the Yu Army dares to come, we will ensure they never return."

Jing Xun snorted lightly. When it came to military strategy, he certainly spoke convincingly. But in his opinion, even if the Yu forces knew Jiangcheng was under siege, they might not necessarily send aid troops.

Given the current situation, the rebel armies in the west and north were the greatest threats to the Yu Dynasty.

With this thought, Jing Xun glanced at the military supervisor beside him, who was one of Lu Xin’s men.

He had long realized that Lu Xin did not trust the Jing Army. To find a way out, they had to split from Lu Xin’s faction.

Now that the world was in chaos, with heroes vying for supremacy, the Jing family’s foundation was strong enough to make a bid for power.

A gentle breeze stirred through the woods, rustling the grass and trees.

As the wind passed, the orchid's slender leaves on the windowsill swayed gently, casting shifting shadows.

Duan Lingwen, who had been concentrating on his writing, paused his brush, drawn by the flickering light and shadow.

He looked up and saw the orchid drooping listlessly, its edges already showing signs of dryness and curling, having lost its usual vibrant sheen.

It had been nearly half a month...

Duan Lingwen stared blankly for a moment, then laid down his brush and stood up, intending to fetch a basin of water.

As soon as he pushed open the door, Xiao Fu, who had been waiting under the corridor, immediately approached and bowed, asking, “Madam, is there anything you need?”

Duan Lingwen still felt somewhat uncomfortable being addressed as “Madam.” After a brief hesitation, he replied softly, “It’s nothing... I just wanted to water the orchid in the study.”

“Such a small task is not worth troubling you, Madam,” Xiao Fu said promptly. “This servant will get the water.”

“No need,” Duan Lingwen instinctively refused. He was not used to being waited on, especially for such a simple task. “I’ll do it myself. It’s a good chance to stretch my legs a bit.”

Seeing this, Xiao Fu did not insist further and only said respectfully, “Then this servant will accompany you.”

The two walked in single file toward the well in the corner of the courtyard. Xiao Fu fetched a ladle and scooped half a ladle of water from a nearby bucket.

Just as Duan Lingwen was about to take it, a commotion erupted from the alley on the other side of the wall—sounds of a fierce fight and cries for mercy.

The pleas were intermittent, as if someone’s mouth was being covered, but in that brief moment, Duan Lingwen’s heart skipped a beat. The voice... sounded somewhat familiar?

Puzzled, he walked toward the side gate. Xiao Fu quickly followed.

Opening the gate, they saw several burly men kicking and punching a person curled up on the ground. The man, clutching his head, was dressed in tattered clothes and covered in filth.

The man, beaten and bruised, struggled to lift his head, as if trying to plead one last time. His panicked gaze swept across the alley entrance and suddenly fixed on Duan Lingwen.

Even from a distance and despite the blood and grime on his face, Duan Lingwen recognized the man—Duan Laoer.

He turned to leave, wanting nothing to do with Duan Laoer.

Duan Laoer clearly recognized him too, his eyes suddenly flashing with desperate hope. Mustering an unexpected burst of strength, he broke free slightly and screamed at Duan Lingwen, “Duan Lingwen, it’s me! I’m Duan Laoer!”

Xiao Fu asked in surprise, “Madam, do you know this man?”

“No,” Duan Lingwen shook his head gently.

Seeing Duan Lingwen turn to leave, Duan Laoer shouted loudly, “I had nothing to do with your grandfather’s death!”

Duan Lingwen’s footsteps halted abruptly.

Seeing this, Duan Laoer clung to his last hope, his cries growing more desperate and urgent, “That day—that day I did go to see him, but he was fine when I left! Really! Your grandfather’s death isn’t my fault!”

At the mention of his grandfather, Duan Lingwen clenched his sleeves. He turned and walked toward Duan Laoer.

The men, who were also from the Jing family, frowned when they saw Duan Lingwen return. They temporarily stopped their assault.

The leader stepped forward, clasped his fists respectfully toward Duan Lingwen, and said in a polite tone, “This man is a laborer we're overseeing. He recently escaped without permission. This matter should not concern you, sir.”

“It does concern him! It does!” Duan Laoer wailed, tears streaming down his face. He could no longer endure the daily chore of carrying manure buckets.

“Duan Lingwen! For the sake of us being fellow villagers, please plead with that Jiang guy—no! Young Master Jiang! Plead with Jiang Su for me, ask him to spare me! I really won’t dare anymore!”

Duan Lingwen stared at him intently, his voice tight with suppressed pain, “What you just said... about my grandfather’s death—what do you know about it?”

His words were vague and contradictory.

Duan Lingwen’s heart sank slowly, his nails nearly digging into his palms. He took a step closer, his voice hoarse but carrying an unprecedented sharpness, “What did you do that day? What did you say? Did my grandfather fall... because of you?”

Cornered by the questioning, Duan Laoer collapsed on the ground, trembling, and finally broke down, “I—I just wanted that bit of wild boar meat you had... He wouldn’t give it to me, so I—I said a few things... I called him an old fool, said he had no teeth to eat meat anyway, that it was a waste to keep it... and—and I pushed him a little... But I swear! It was just a light push! He was just gasping with anger, sitting there to catch his breath... I never meant to harm him! He was fine when I left!”

His rambling account finally revealed the truth of that day.

Duan Lingwen’s chest heaved violently, consumed by grief and hatred.

Until his dying breath, his grandfather had never mentioned Duan Laoer’s involvement. Yet even now, Duan Laoer was still making excuses.

“Please, for the sake of Uncle Duan, spare me this once!” Duan Laoer begged. If he had known Jiang Su had such a formidable background, he would never have offended him.

Because of Uncle Duan’s death, Duan Lingwen had tolerated him again and again. But now, his last living relative in this world was gone. He had nothing left to lose.

Duan Lingwen looked at the wretched Duan Laoer on the ground and said hoarsely, “Didn’t I say that if you ever dared come to my house again, I’d dig a pit and bury you?”

Duan Laoer froze for a moment. The murderous intent in Duan Lingwen’s eyes moments ago had seemed real. Gritting his teeth, he spat out through clenched teeth, “Duan Lingwen, don’t forget, Uncle Duan died because of you...”

Duan Lingwen slowly crouched down, meeting the eyes of the limp Duan Laoer, and said coldly, “You’re not fit to speak Uncle Duan's name.”

If not for Uncle Duan’s sake, with all the past and present grievances, he might not have hesitated to kill Duan Laoer.

“Not worthy?! Hahaha! Duan Lingwen, who are you pretending to be so noble?” Duan Laoer’s face twisted, veins bulging on his forehead as he screamed, “You think just because you’ve climbed up in the world, you’re someone now? Let me tell you! You were born an ill-omened monster!”

He stared fixedly at Duan Lingwen, at the cloth covering his left eye, and laughed hysterically, “You know it too—this eye of yours is cursed! It killed your parents! Now it’s killed your grandfather! Uncle Duan died because of you too! Everyone who gets close to you meets a bad end! You’re a jinx! Anyone who touches you is doomed!”

He grew more agitated as he spoke, spittle flying, as if trying to shift all the blame onto Duan Lingwen.

Duan Lingwen slowly raised his hand, his fingertips lightly touching the cloth covering his eye.

The men around them frowned, and the leader barked sternly, “Shut up! Stop spouting nonsense!”

But Duan Laoer, having thrown caution to the wind, continued to vent his hatred, “Am I wrong? Ask him if he dares to take off that cloth and let everyone see? That’s the mark of a demon—”

His words cut off abruptly as Duan Lingwen, under his stunned gaze, slowly removed the cloth.

The blazing afternoon sun shone on his face, illuminating his distinctly different eyes. The left eye, once hidden by the cloth, was now clearly visible—a luminous golden pupil.

The men stood frozen in place. Xiao Fu murmured, “Madam...”

Duan Lingwen looked at Duan Laoer, his voice eerily calm, “Now, do you see clearly?”

Duan Laoer was instantly struck dumb, unable to utter a sound.

“If these eyes of mine had the power to kill...” Duan Lingwen spoke slowly, pausing briefly before continuing, “you would have died the year I turned thirteen.”

With that, he didn't give Duan Laoer another glance and turned to walk back toward the side gate.