Short Story

When the Crown Prince ascended the throne, he installed his Crown Prince’s Secondary Consort as the Empress.

The reason was simple.

It was written in the Destiny Book that his first Empress would die from a hail of arrows piercing her heart.

On the day the imperial decree for the installation was issued, my elder sister-the Crown Princess Shen Chengyun-entered my palace with a beaming smile and gave a rather sloppy bow.

“This consort offers her congratulations to the Empress.”

She leaned in close, her bright red lips curling into a venomous sneer.

“Shen Ruoruo, you’d better cherish these few days of luxury. Don’t get too ahead of yourself, though. If you do anything to upset me… well, whether you receive an honorable posthumous title after you die will be entirely up to me.”

“Is that so?”

I took a step back and spoke in a low, steady voice.

“Then Sister had better make sure she doesn’t die before I do.”

In the ancient villages at the foot of the Shennongjia mountains, there is a secret ritual: using grown women as bait to lure a Wild Man.

This time, the village chose me.

If luck is on my side, I will become pregnant and give birth to the hope of the entire village.

But this time, luck is not on their side.

Because they have no idea that I am the sole Earth Master successor.

Because of a bet, Jing Shaochuan lost me to his twin brother.

I acted as if I knew nothing and spent a night of reckless entanglement with his brother.

The next day, I blushed and asked Jing Shaochuan to buy some ointment for me.

“Where are you feeling unwell?” He frowned slightly, his voice deep and cold.

I murmured softly, “You were too rough last night. You hurt me.”

Jing Shaochuan froze visibly.

I took a step forward, hugging him gently and intentionally acting sweet and spoiled.

“But, you were so different last night compared to how you usually are… I really liked it, though.”

My father was a treacherous official.

The man who raided my home was my fiancé.

When he slipped the iron chain around my neck, his touch was even more tender than the year he placed a flower wreath upon my head.

On the day my father was beheaded in public, I was calmly picking lice off my mother. I remarked, “If I had a fire, I could stir-fry these lice and pair them with a pot of wine.”

Unexpectedly, my words drew a laugh from the young general in the neighboring cell, despite the hooks driven through his collarbones. Was it that funny?

I was beaten and driven out of the Chancellor’s Mansion with clubs.

As I lay dying of illness in the pouring rain, a scholar picked me up and took me home.

He didn’t mind my filth, nor did he mind my stupidity.

He cared for me in silence, acting even more like a mute than I did.

Once my injuries had healed, I prepared to bid the scholar farewell.

He went out to buy supplies for my journey, but he did not return that night. When I finally found him, I discovered that someone had broken both his legs and left him on the street to die.

He saw me and looked dazed for a moment, his face tinged with regret.

“Zhizhi, why haven’t you left? You should have gone.”

I wanted to ask myself that too-why hadn’t I left? Perhaps it was the few scraps of conscience I had left that made me unable to walk away, unable to avoid the trouble.

I dragged him home and nursed him with care. Before long, he recovered.

Neither of us ever mentioned my departure again. Later, his name appeared on the golden roster.

He was named the Top Graduate during the palace examinations, and he was on the verge of achieving fame and fortune.

Yet, he knelt and pleaded with His Majesty to thoroughly reinvestigate the case of the deposed Crown Prince from years ago.

His Majesty was furious. He threw him into the Imperial Prison and ordered his exile to the frontier.

I had no money and couldn’t get into the Imperial Prison.

I could only wait at the city gates, hoping to run into him and ask what on earth had happened.

But I waited through several dawns and dusks, and he never came.

Later still, I entered the palace as a study companion for the Fifth Princess.

Only then did I learn that a scholar in the Imperial Prison that year had died to prove his resolve, smashing his head against the blood-stained walls of the cell. Naturally, there were no guards to escort a prisoner out through the city gates.

But the Song Duhe I knew was never a reckless man, and he certainly wasn’t one to choose death so easily.

On the day of the poetry gathering, someone teased Pei Yi’an. “Brother Pei has already been plucked by Princess Zhaoyue, unlike the rest of us who are still solitary figures. I truly envy you.”

Pei Yi’an suddenly flared up in anger. “Princess Zhaoyue and I share nothing but the bond of teacher and student. There is no other possibility in this life. Do not speak such nonsense.”

My younger sister chuckled softly in my ear. “Sister, did you hear that? Young Master Pei has no feelings for you. Stop being so sentimental and making a fool of yourself.”

I put away the jade pendant I had intended to give to Pei Yi’an and replaced it with a poem.

Then, I gave my sister a sharp slap across the face. “I’ve heard exactly what you wanted me to hear, Sister. Thank you for the lesson.”

Later, when I sought out others to consult on my studies, Pei Yi’an took it upon himself to offer me his tutelage.

I looked into his eyes and said indifferently, “I’m afraid of the wagging tongues of others. I wouldn’t want you to tarnish my reputation, Teacher.”

The first time I went out on a long-haul run with my Master, I suddenly heard someone calling my name in the middle of the night.

The voice made my heart race.

I leaned against the window to look out, but my Master suddenly yanked me back!

He rolled down the window with lightning speed and spat his cigarette butt out with a fierce flick.

Then, pointing at the pitch-black road outside, he let out a torrent of creative curses!

I was young back then and had no idea who he was yelling at.

I could only curl up in the passenger seat like a shrimp, not daring to make a sound.

Later, I spent over ten years driving long-haul trucks on my own.

I never again encountered a situation where someone called my name in the dead of night.

Until three days ago, when I suddenly received word that my Master had passed away.

Do you know about the Uncanny Valley Effect?

This sense of dread originates from ancient times.

Back then, our ancestors had already seen these things! They appear similar to humans, yet are distinctly different.

Today, they hide within modern society.

They might even be our family and friends.

The question is, how do we tell them apart…?

When I first started driving freight trucks, I once asked Master out of curiosity: Why did truckers need to perform Chongsha, while bus drivers didn’t?

Master said it was because trucks carried cargo, not people, so what they feared most was running into trouble on the road.

Buses, on the other hand, were always picking people up and dropping them off, so their greatest taboo was disaster striking onboard.

That was why buses didn’t pay much attention to warding off the road itself.

What they cared about was ballasting the vehicle.

Most bus drivers I’d met used stones for it.

Some used stone statues.

Whenever the passenger count hit four or seven, the driver would bring out the Vehicle-Ballasting Stone, treating it as one extra passenger onboard to keep misfortune away.

But recently, I took on a strange job.

A bus driver came to me and asked me to ballast his bus as a living person.

He said that before me, three Vehicle-Ballasting Stones had already shattered on his bus.

After starting high school, I was taken in by the Xu Family.

The Xu family had a golden boy, Xu Ge, whom I secretly admired for three whole years.

But in Xu Ge’s heart, there was a perfect white moonlight.

The day his white moonlight went abroad, he sat red-eyed in a dim bar corridor for an entire night.

That night, the rain was pouring.

I left my only umbrella at the corner, then quietly slipped away.

Many years later, Xu Ge and I crossed paths again at a gathering.

I was there to pick up a friend who was dead drunk.

Through the smoky haze, a man in a gray hoodie nonchalantly pushed open the door, still surrounded by a flock of girls.

I watched for a moment, pretended not to recognize him, lowered my gaze, and left. Outside, the rain was pouring, and I stood at the door fretting.

Just then, an umbrella was handed to me from behind.

The hand holding it had a pale, strong wrist.

The man in the hoodie spoke softly: “Ruan He. “This umbrella of yours-you left it with me all those years ago.”