The honeysuckle in the courtyard had blossomed, covering the trellis with golden flowers and silver stamens, the green vines clustering together in full bloom.
In front of the door stood a young man with a handsome and refined appearance, his robes exquisite and elegant. He gazed down at the single blooming flower.
He was the young master of the national protector’s household, born with a silver spoon in his mouth, a prodigy of the highest order. From a young age, he had shown exceptional intelligence and grace—he could compose poetry at five, was well-versed in literature and law by eight, and had a deep knowledge of classics and history. Praised for his talents and gentle demeanor, he was a figure of admiration and favor from the heavens.
Zanxing had become the young master of the Yang family.
Through countless cycles of reincarnation, she had come to understand that no matter how splendid and glamorous the beginning, it could not escape the bitter fruits of fate. Living in the mortal realm, one would inevitably experience the sorrows of separation and death. Even though in this life she enjoyed wealth and ease, it did not guarantee a favorable end.
The Yang family, deeply in love, had only one child, Zanxing. When Zanxing was ten years old, a chance encounter with mountain bandits led to the massacre of a merchant’s family, leaving only an eight-year-old child who survived the carnage. Zanxing brought this child back to the mansion, and the Yang family adopted him, renaming him Zifeng.
Zanxing was very fond of Zifeng.
Having no siblings of his own and growing up in solitude, Zifeng was given a playmate in Zanxing, and Zanxing took special care of him, feeling a deep sympathy for the child’s tragic past. Whenever Zanxing had something good to eat or a new toy, he would always share half with Zifeng, dragging him along to enjoy the fun. Though not born of the same parents, their bond was as strong as that of real brothers. The Yang couple treated Zifeng as their own.
Zifeng was equally affectionate towards Zanxing. Traumatized by the horrific deaths of his parents before his eyes, he was timid and frail. He needed Zanxing’s company to sleep soundly at night, often waking up from nightmares. Zanxing was always there to comfort him, and the two brothers looked after each other, their days filled with a gentle, enduring warmth.
“Big Brother,” the young Zifeng looked up at him and said, “I wish you could always be this kind to me.”
Zanxing patted his head and smiled. “Of course, we are brothers.”
Zanxing never doubted the bond between them as brothers. When he first went into battle with his father, lacking experience and understanding of the enemy, he suffered a defeat, and the whole city mocked him behind his back for his empty reputation. The usually timid Zifeng, who had never fought before, came back from a skirmish with a bruised and battered face, stubbornly claiming, “Who told them to insult my big brother!”
Zanxing laughed heartily, his previous frustration dissipating somewhat. “You’re quite brave.”
He also never doubted Zifeng’s affection for the Yang family. Mrs. Yang had long suffered from a persistent cough, and Zifeng would personally climb mountains to gather herbs for her medicine. When Zanxing was away on campaigns, Zifeng took care of the elderly Yang couple.
In times of danger, Zifeng supported him quietly from behind. When Zanxing faced setbacks in his career, Zifeng would bring him wine and offer careful comfort.
Unbeknownst to him, as he gradually became a prominent figure with a widespread reputation, Zifeng had grown from a frail youth into a handsome young man. Zanxing married and had children. His wife was the daughter of a cultured official, gentle and well-mannered, with a beauty that could rival the stars. His young son was intelligent and well-behaved.
It seemed that heaven’s favor towards him had reached its limit here.
During another campaign, the enemy seemed to have anticipated his defensive arrangements, and he suffered another defeat. Upon returning to the capital to offer his apology, he was met with shocking news: someone had accused the Yang family of treason.
The accuser was none other than Zifeng.
The once gentle and affectionate young man who always smiled and followed behind him now revealed his true nature, like a wolf shedding its disguise. His eyes were filled with undisguised malice and resentment. Standing in the Golden Palace Hall, he presented fabricated evidence, adamantly accusing the Yang family of years of disloyal scheming. At that moment, Zanxing realized that perhaps all the years of intimacy and friendship had been nothing but a facade.
The soldiers had raided the Yang family estate. His elderly parents, frail and unable to withstand the harsh torture, died in prison. His beautiful and gentle wife was taken by Zifeng under the pretext of questioning, subjected to violation and torment. Unable to endure such disgrace, she had thrown herself into the lake and drowned when no one was watching. He received the news in prison, feeling utterly lost and broken.
The dim light of the prison was shattered by the sound of approaching footsteps. A young man stood before the cell, his gaze triumphant and wild, as if he was eagerly showcasing the fruits of years of hidden plotting.
Zanxing asked, “Why?”
“Why?” Zifeng looked at him, as if contemplating seriously, then slowly smiled and took a step forward, glaring into Zanxing’s eyes with a fierce intensity. “Because I hate you.”
“I hate your condescending charity, I hate your self-righteous generosity. I hate your sympathy and pity, I hate your hypocritical pretense—it’s nauseating.”
Zanxing couldn’t help but interrupt him loudly, “But the Yang family has never wronged you!”
“So what?” Zifeng sneered disdainfully, “You want to maintain your reputation as an all-good person, but you should see if others are willing to be beggars.” He glared at Zanxing, his eyes burning with jealousy. “Why should you be a renowned young general, while I have to remain a mere background figure? Why should you marry the most beautiful lady in the nation, while I could only wed a commoner���s daughter? Since you preach equality, why do you have what I don’t? It’s you who are the hypocrites!”
Zanxing took a step back, feeling a wave of dizziness. “How could you think this way?”
Zifeng had always been gentle and weak, with mediocre talent. His father had considered having him enter the officialdom, but his writing was average, and his martial skills were modest. They had often seen him chatting and laughing with the daughter of a scholar’s family, assuming they were genuinely in love…
“If you have grievances, you could have voiced them. Everything could have been negotiated. Why resort to framing us?”
“No need,” Zifeng said, playing with the letter in his hand, his smile cold and sinister. “I have been serving in the Yang family for so many years just for this day. Big Brother, now your wife is mine, your estate is mine, and in the future, the merits of the Yang family will also be mine. Since you’ve always liked to play the benevolent person, why not complete the act and give me everything?”
Zanxing realized something: “What do you want to do?”
“What do I want to do?” Zifeng murmured, his delicate face under the dim prison light appearing as though it were a ghostly apparition. The face that had been familiar for so long now seemed terrifyingly alien.
What was even more terrifying were his words.
He said, “The Emperor is old and is offering a great reward for the secret of eternal life.” Zifeng looked at Zanxing with a sinister smile in his eyes. “The secret requires the blood of the divine mushroom to create the elixir…”
“My nephew has been intelligent and beautiful since childhood, and he is the reincarnation of the divine mushroom…”
“Zifeng!” Zanxing’s eyes reddened, and he rushed to the iron bars, his voice hoarse. “You’re insane. He’s just a child!”
“So what?” Zifeng sneered coldly. “Even children, I won’t spare.”
—-
T/N: Looks like a prologue to a rebirth-revenge story…