Chapter 150 Day 14 of Transmigrating into an Imperial Examination Novel

Chapter 150: The Fourteenth Day of Crossing into an Imperial Examination Novel

“Perhaps… I won’t come back.”

This sentence shattered the last shred of hope in Qin Cang’s heart.

He twitched the corner of his mouth, trying to force a smile that suggested understanding or indifference—but his facial muscles stiffened, unresponsive, eventually twisting into an ugly, grotesque grimace.

An immense wave of sorrow engulfed him, suffocating him.

A reckless, uncontrollable idea surged forth.

He raised his head, his gaze burning with desperate, unwavering intensity, locked onto An Yi’s eyes—those eternally unruffled eyes—and his voice, strained from suppressing emotion, emerged hoarse and low:

“If… if I want to go with you.”

He poured nearly all his strength into uttering the sentence fully, each word drenched in blood-like effort: “Would you… be willing to take me?”

Holding his breath, he waited for the final answer.

An Yi looked at him, his gentle smile unchanged.

Slowly, clearly, he shook his head.

Not a trace of hesitation.

Qin Cang stared—stared at those smiling eyes, at that flawless yet distant face.

A dark thought flashed through his mind.

No.

He clenched his fist tightly, nails biting deep into his palm. The sharp pain yanked his wavering sanity back to a sliver of clarity.

After over a year of living together day and night, he knew An Yi too well.

This man—outwardly warm as jade, like a spring breeze turning to rain—was inwardly utterly cold and detached.

If he said he wouldn’t take him, he meant it.

Any pleading, tears, or even threats would be futile before him—might even provoke his complete disgust, sealing forever the door that had never truly opened.

He couldn’t… at least not openly.

Instinctively, Qin Cang violently suppressed the dark obsession boiling beneath his eyes, threatening to erupt.

He strained to pull his stiff facial muscles into a forced, understanding smile: “I understand.”

His voice trembled slightly—but he kept it steady. He lowered his head, concealing the wild, vine-like paranoia blooming deep within his eyes.

He couldn’t let him notice—absolutely not.

He lifted his head again; the twisted smile now calmer, leaving only a trace of dejection and forced comprehension. His eyes even held a flicker of youthful confusion and reluctance:

“Then… when are you leaving? I… I’d like to see you off.”

He deliberately used the formal “you,” creating distance—as if drawing a clear line, accepting reality.

An Yi looked at him, his gaze lingering on his face for a moment.

He lowered his eyes. *This kid is truly twisted.*

Then, seemingly oblivious to the storm concealed beneath Qin Cang’s mask, he answered calmly: “Tomorrow morning.”

“Tomorrow morning…” Qin Cang repeated softly, then nodded firmly—as if engraving it into his bones: “Alright. I… understand.”

He said nothing more—not even daring to glance at An Yi again, fearing one more look would shatter his fragile composure.

He turned and walked away, his steps faltering as he left the small courtyard. His shadow appeared thin and lost—fitting the image of a helpless boy about to part from his “teacher.”

Yet the moment he vanished from An Yi’s sight, Qin Cang’s entire demeanor underwent a radical transformation.

The veneer of feigned loss and compliance peeled away like brittle eggshells, revealing the true, twisted, stubborn core beneath.

How could he let An Yi leave?!

How could he allow this man to vanish from his life?!

Never to meet again in this lifetime? Absolutely not!

His chest burned with near-destructive panic and possessiveness, scorching his insides with searing pain.

He knew An Yi—seemingly gentle, yet once resolved, immovable. Begging was useless. The only way was…

To follow him!

Yes—follow him!

No matter where he went, no matter how arduous the road ahead, he would follow!

Clutch at him like a shadow, haunt him like a hound!

He would never lose his trail!

This thought spread like wildfire, consuming all reason.

Without hesitation, he moved swiftly.

He had little to pack—a few clothes, the worn-out chopping knife he’d carried for years—and…

From beneath a cracked brick in the wall’s corner, he pulled out a small cloth bundle—the coins he’d saved over the past half-year, meant to buy a jade pendant for An Yi.

He stuffed the bundle tightly against his chest, over his heart.

An Yi remained seated, gazing in the direction Qin Cang had disappeared. The gentle smile on his face gradually faded.

The sunlight still held warmth.

He picked up the teacup on the table and took a light sip.

As night deepened, thick darkness swallowed Earth-Black Village whole.

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Qin Cang, carrying a small pack, arrived silently outside An Yi’s yard.

He didn’t approach the wicker gate. Instead, he chose a spot behind a dense bush—clearly visible to An Yi’s window, completely concealed.

The evening breeze blew, carrying a chill—but he felt no cold.

He huddled on the cold ground, his eyes glued to the window without blinking, from which a faint orange candlelight glowed.

An Yi's silhouette occasionally flickered across the paper window, blurred and elongated.

Just by watching this shadow, Qin Cang's heartbeat went haywire, mixed with a sick sense of satisfaction and a deeper craving.

He had no idea where An Yi was going, nor what dangers lay ahead.

All he knew was that he couldn't let him leave.

Even if it meant watching from afar, even if it meant lurking like a rat in the gutter, he was fine with it.

He hid well, hardly breathing, melting into the darkness.

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Inside the room, An Yi didn't turn in right away.

He just put away his stuff—though there was little to organize; the important stuff was in his own storage space.

He walked to the window, his gaze sweeping across the dark night outside, as if by chance, past the bushes where Qin Cang was hiding.

He let out a faint, almost imperceptible sigh.

That kid... wouldn't give up that easily.

With his keen perception, how could he not detect the almost physical gaze, burning with obsession and desire, outside the courtyard?

He shook his head.

He didn't dislike Qin Cang; in fact, he admired his wild, untamed vitality.

But that was all.

All he'd given was a casual lesson, a tiny bit of kindness, never meaning to carry the burden of someone else's heavy life and... an emotional attachment that had clearly gone off the rails.

The world was vast, and he had his own path to follow.

Taking a boy so weighed down by his own thoughts and deep obsessions was the last thing he wanted.

Moreover, Qin Cang had his own path to walk.

Furthermore, he could tell that Qin Cang's feelings for him had long since gone past simple gratitude and admiration; they were mixed with too many dark, possessive, untamed desires.

Qin Cang... An Yi had watched him grow up, still just a kid.

He raised his hand, his slender fingers gently pinching out the oil lamp whose tiny flame flickered on the table.

With a soft pop.

Inside the room, all was plunged into darkness.