Zhao Rucheng, coming from a privileged family, had purchased a residence near the Dao Academy, where he was attended to by a dozen or so servants and rarely stayed in the dormitory. Du Yehu, on the other hand, once indulged in alcohol, would not be easily dismissed in a short while.
Thus, when Jiang Wang returned to the dormitory, he was struck by the realization that the usually noisy room now only held himself.
After closing the door, he subconsciously glanced at the bed farthest to the left in the dormitory.
The bed was neatly made with clean bedding, no different in material from the others in the dormitory. At this moment, there was no one on the bed, and there would never be again.
This was Fang Pengju's bed. He came from a wealthy family but was never fussy or petty, eating and drinking with everyone without any complaints.
The bed opposite Fang Pengju's was empty, piled with many pieces of luggage.
The beds on both sides were arranged symmetrically, with three on each side.
The second bed on the left, next to Fang Pengju's, was the messiest in the dormitory. The bedding was casually piled into a heap, with scattered clothes merely as decoration. If one sniffed carefully, they could still detect the aroma of alcohol. Looking under the bed, one would see neatly arranged, dense rows of wine jars. Compared to the living conditions of the bed's owner, these jars were clearly well taken care of.
The first bed on the left, right by the door, belonged to Ling He—he was always in charge of opening and closing the door for everyone. The bedding had a few inconspicuous patches but was laundered very clean.
The first bed on the right was Jiang Wang's, with bedding comparable to Ling He's. Despite not having been back for a long time, the bed was still tidy, clearly cleaned regularly. Perhaps by Ling He, perhaps by Zhao Rucheng... or maybe even by Fang Pengju.
The second bed on the right, next to Jiang Wang's, belonged to Zhao Rucheng. His bed was unique in the entire dormitory, with bedding and sheets all from the high-end Yunxiang Studio. On the small dormitory bed, there was even a canopy embroidered with gold threads. It was a stark contrast to the opposite bed of Du Yehu.
Those who were not familiar with Zhao Rucheng might think he was difficult to get along with, but in reality, it was just that his standards of living were too high. Even when he occasionally stayed in the dormitory, he would try to make it as luxurious and comfortable as possible. He had once thrown a large sum of money to transform the entire dormitory into a top-tier guest room—if Jiang Wang hadn't given him a beating.
From the age of fourteen when he entered the outer court of the Dao Academy until now, Jiang Wang had spent three years in this dormitory. He was extremely familiar with every detail in the room.
The things remain, but the people change, and all affairs come to an end.
After a moment of silence, Jiang Wang took off his shoes and socks, removed his outer garment, and lay down on his own bed.
He was very tired and exhausted, but it was only at this moment that he could finally sleep soundly.
A wake floats on affairs, a dream awaits the high sky.
The entire Fenglin City was square and neatly planned. The city lord's residence was at the center, radiating to all directions. The east of the city was the domain of the Dao Academy, while the west was where the noble families resided. The south was mostly inhabited by commoners, and the merchants and wealthy merchants were basically gathered in the north of the city.
Seeing Jiang Wang safely walk out of the dean's meditation room, Ling He finally left the academy alone, carrying Fang Pengju's body.
Fang Pengju, who had many friends and was responsive when alive, was abandoned by everyone after his death.
His actions were despicable and malicious, and he deserved to be despised.
Ling He did not feel wronged for him; he just felt a bit heartbroken.
He wrapped Fang Pengju's body in his own outer garment, which was old but very clean.
For his pace, walking from the east of the city to the west was not far, and the way to the Fang family mansion was very familiar. But Ling He walked slowly, with heavy steps.
He was reluctant to let go.
Being the eldest, he should have taken good care of his four sworn brothers, but he failed to do so.
He still remembered the scene of the five of them swearing brotherhood by the Green Willow River, and the bright smiles of each of the five brothers.
The Green Willow River is a tributary of the Qing River, winding around Oxhead Mountain, with very clear water that could reflect young faces and young hearts. That year, they rode with swords, that year they drank together, countless times they honed their martial arts, and innumerable nights they talked by candlelight.
They had agreed to enter the inner court together, to ride swords into the azure sky, to become extraordinary and sacred together. Those memories, those... agreements.
Ling He never thought that the five of them, who were so spirited and deeply bonded, would one day turn against each other, facing life and death.
How could this be?
He thought.
He couldn't understand, but he finally reached the front door of the Fang residence, holding Fang Pengju's cold body.
"What are you doing?" the gatekeeper stopped him and asked.
The Fang residence was very tall, towering high.
"Oh," Ling He, holding Fang Pengju's body, slightly bowed his head to greet, "Fang Pengju has passed away. I'm returning his body for your family to bury."
If no one claimed the body, it would be taken by the authorities to the mass grave. That was a place often visited by left-path cultists, and it would not be peaceful even after death.
But Ling He thought it unnecessary to say this. He was not someone who liked to take credit, nor did he consider this a merit.
The gatekeeper's face changed, and he slammed the door shut. A voice came from behind the door: "Take it away! My master said he is not allowed inside!"
"Excuse me," Ling He said sincerely, "please inform your master again. No matter what, Pengju is of the Fang family. They might have just spoken in anger and won't abandon him."
The gatekeeper seemed to hesitate for a moment, "I'll ask again... don't take this opportunity to barge in!"
"Rest assured, young man."
Ling He stood firmly in front of the Fang residence, holding Fang Pengju's body, listening to the hurried footsteps fade away.
He looked down at Fang Pengju's already cold face and said, "Pengju, look at the mess you've made. Even in death, no one will remember your good deeds. You are detested by both gods and ghosts."
After a long while, the gatekeeper's voice sounded again from behind the door.
"My master says," he paused, imitating the tone of the Fang residence's master, "He's dead already, so why bring him back?"
Ling He was taken aback for a moment, then stammered, "The Fang family is respectable; they should give Pengju a decent burial."
"My master said he is well aware of the cause of Fang Pengju's death. Such an unrighteous person is not of the Fang family!"
"But he is of the Fang family," Ling He said.
"Leave!" The gatekeeper threw a handful of knife coins through the door crack, "If you keep纠缠 us, we will report to the authorities!"
The knife coins clattered to the ground, quite eye-catching. If used for a simple burial, they would be more than enough. The extra money would be a tip.
This was the Fang family's attitude.
Ling He fell silent.
He no longer tried to say anything.
He was poor, poor since childhood. He was short of money; his only intact outer garment was wrapped around Fang Pengju's body, and his middle garment had many patches. He stood in front of the magnificent Fang residence, like a poor relative who had been turned away.
He turned and left, holding Fang Pengju's body.
From beginning to end, he did not glance at those knife coins once.
This was Ling He's attitude.