Chapter 34

Just how many secrets did Ning Shiting have?

The consciousness of a person was the most difficult to control.

Gu Tingshuang had used his spiritual vision to manipulate butterflies, birds, and even wolf packs, but humans were the hardest to manage, and the amount of useful information he could directly perceive was the least. This was likely because humans, being the most intelligent of all creatures, had a natural spiritual resistance that made it more difficult for an outsider like him to control them compared to other beings.

Ning Shiting appeared gentle and soft, without much of a temper. However, during the one or two months he had been staying at the prince’s residence, Gu Tingshuang had seen him fall ill once or twice and suffer from nightmares many times.

A person like this, with a scattered mind, should be easy to take advantage of.

Yet, the moment Gu Tingshuang fully entered Ning Shiting’s consciousness, he quickly realized that things were not as he had imagined.

This Jiaoren was deep-minded, with all his thoughts hidden in the most impenetrable depths. Although Ning Shiting had lost consciousness, Gu Tingshuang could still sense a certain unshakable obsession deep within him.

This obsession was less a wish of Ning Shiting's and more a reflection of his own character.

It was an extreme, delusional, and stubborn side of him—something Gu Tingshuang had never imagined.

As memories intermingled and converged, Gu Tingshuang coldly examined Ning Shiting’s thoughts, tracing back to what he had just been thinking.

He saw Ning Shiting in a place that seemed very cold—judging by his thick clothing, the tightly shut doors and windows, and the warm charcoal fire burning inside.

“Gongzi, the enemy’s scouts brought an ice mayfly spirit as bait. What should we do with it?”

The soldier beside him hesitated. “The ice mayfly race is erratic and loyal to only one master. Once released, no one can track it. Although it's just a twelve-year-old child, it shouldn't be underestimated. I suggest killing it.”

Ning Shiting said, “Bait? I want him.”

In the next moment, the scene quickly shifted to Ting Shu kneeling before him, the child’s eyes gleaming with excitement. “Gongzi saved my life, I will follow you to the death!”

Happy moments, unhappy ones, smiles, anger. The two of them napping with their heads touching like brothers, Ting Shu being scolded in a low voice by Ning Shiting after killing someone for him. The whip in his hand curled up, but in the end, he couldn’t bear to strike, only giving a few light taps on Ting Shu’s outstretched palm.

Then, the scene slowly changed.

Gu Tingshuang saw Gu Feiyin, his own father.

He had hardly seen Gu Feiyin growing up and had only a vague impression of him, mostly based on what others had described to him.

This was the first time he saw Gu Feiyin’s appearance so clearly, in Ning Shiting’s memory.

They looked alike; one glance and you could tell they were father and son, especially their eyes.

When he was young, he often heard the Wangfei say, “Your eyes, they’re like a wolf’s.”

What she probably meant to say back then was, “You look like your father,” right?

The image in Ning Shiting’s memory was suddenly pulled apart, as if it had shattered into countless fragments, swiftly passing before Gu Tingshuang’s eyes.

He tried to grasp them but could only catch fleeting words, like floating feathers.

A young Jiaoren was sent to the far in the extreme northern mountains, lying on fine gauze, awaiting the arrival of the blood clan.

He was five years old that year and already highly poisonous. The best-looking Jiaoren would be sent to the blood clan king to be consumed; he was the only weapon left after the Jiaoren tribe’s warmongering.

But he didn’t wait for the blood clan to arrive. He only heard the sounds of smoke and fire, and the clash of weapons.

A man bent down to look at him: “A Jiaoren, a poisonous Jiaoren. Take him back and treat him.”

Then, Ning Shiting was a bit older. No longer so gaunt, he now had the plumpness that should come with his age.

A small, chubby figure, kneeling before the imposing Wangye, his voice clear and strong: “Wangye saved my life, I will follow you to the death!”

.𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟.

The scenes shifted again and again. Sometimes it was Ning Shiting, and sometimes it was Ting Shu.

This ice mayfly spirit and Ning Shiting himself were essentially the same—once they committed to someone, they would follow them with everything they had.

Even if it meant flying into the fire.

The final scene was one that Gu Tingshuang couldn’t understand—

In an frosty layer on a snowy mountain, Ning Shiting was half-encased in ice, barely alive.

Ting Shu knelt before him, a sharp blade piercing his chest, the bright red blood soaking both them and the ice beneath.

The blood flowed freely; the child feared the pain, his heart beating with the blade inside it. With each beat, the blade pushed further into his heart.

His lips turned purple from the pain, but there was still a smile in his eyes. “Gongzi, Gongzi, this ten-thousand-year-old ice can be melted with human blood, you’re saved. Don’t scold me, I came here on my own.”

“The handkerchief embroidery pattern you gave me, I asked the embroiderer to help me finish it, but I haven’t, haven’t had a chance to pick it up yet… Gongzi.”

The child’s lips moved, struggling to finish speaking, to entrust his final words. But the blood had taken away all his life, and the ice was freezing his heart.

Ning Shiting’s voice was hoarse, hardly sounding human, as water dripped down his face—it was hard to tell if it was blood or tears.

By the time Gu Tingshuang reached this point, Ning Shiting’s deep emotions had overwhelmed him, and for the first time, his consciousness was forcibly pushed back, snapping back into his own body.

It was as if a string had broken, and Gu Tingshuang suddenly opened his eyes.

Ning Shiting was still lying in his arms, held silently by the one bound to a wheelchair.

Gu Tingshuang straightened up, and as he was about to shake Ning Shiting awake, he found himself hesitating.

Ning Shiting’s eyes were closed, a trace of moisture at the corner of his eye. Although it was just a dream, the expression on his face was one of profound sadness.

It seemed as if, in the next second, he would open his eyes and collapse in front of someone.

Gu Tingshuang hesitated for a moment longer, then reached out and gently wiped away Ning Shiting’s tears with his sleeve.

The Jiaoren’s body was so soft it was almost unreal. Despite being such a large man, when he fell, he was as light as a piece of paper.

In silence, Gu Tingshuang held him, one hand gripping his waist, the other manoeuvring the wheelchair into the room.

He placed Ning Shiting on the bed in the inner room of the apthocary.

Ning Shiting had yet to wake.

For the first time, Gu Tingshuang felt that something had slipped out of his control, something beyond his expectations.

He had been reading Ning Shiting’s memories, and unless this person had a condition of delirium or was having a nightmare, everything Gu Tingshuang had seen in Ning Shiting’s subconscious were true experiences from his past.

And that final scene...

Judging by Ting Shu and Ning Shiting’s appearances, their ages should be close to what they were now.

The ten-thousand-year-old ice layer in Ning Shiting’s memory wasn’t just any place; it was in Xizhou itself. Gu Tingshuang, who had spent years observing the world through the eyes of wolves, recognised the patch of lavandula in the scene, which only bloomed in the extreme cold of Xizhou.

This memory was riddled with oddities. Not to mention that this was Ning Shiting’s first time in Xizhou, Gu Tingshuang had never heard of him being trapped under the ice. And the wound in Ning Shiting’s memory on Ting Shu’s chest, piercing through the heart—without Soul Returning incense to immediately sustain life, once the spirit dissipated, not even the highest god could save him.

But through Ning Shiting’s grief, Gu Tingshuang understood that Ting Shu was most likely dead.

Why was this?

Just how many secrets did Ning Shiting have?

The Translator has Something to Say

The notes are all comments from the work… I will not translate them unless people really want to read them going forward!