Notes on Longevity

Chapter 85 The Opera Performer Dies, the Top Scholar Goes Mad

The second prince looked quite pleased, then smiled strangely and said, "Tell me, what should I do with her?"

The Second Prince's eerie laughter and "enjoyed" expression disgusted Zhang Ze'an.

He glared at the Second Prince and shouted, "Second Prince, aren't you afraid that Li Chengru will find out and come back to kill you?"

"Li Chengru, Li Chengru," the Second Prince said with a strange smile upon hearing the name, "It's Li Chengru and Zhang Ze'an again. You did the same thing as him back then. Do you know why only he received such favor from Father?"

Zhang Ze'an glared at him without saying a word, the words echoing in his mind: "Your Majesty, please hide first, I'll go find someone."

"Because you only know how to hide behind others."

The Second Prince's eerie laughter was so loud that Zhang Ze'an's head was throbbing.

This was a secret between him and Li Chengru, and also a secret between him and the emperor. He had always been very bold, except for that day.
"Enough!" Zhang Ze'an roared, his eyes bloodshot. He wished he could kill the Second Prince. But he was, after all, a prince; killing him would be tantamount to treason!
"Not enough! Not enough!" The Second Prince gritted his teeth and came up to him, slapping his face with his hand. "You hypocrite, you scoundrel. I still remember how you cheated on the imperial examination to win against Li Chengru."

"You, someone who has diligently studied poetry and classics since childhood, are inferior to a self-taught江湖人 (jianghu person, a person who has studied late in life) who only learned these things halfway through life. Even your victory was achieved through cheating. What good are you? Besides hiding behind others and borrowing their reputation, what else can you do?"

As the Second Prince finished speaking, the faces of the Pear Garden disciples were filled with astonishment. They looked at Zhang Ze'an in disbelief, thinking that what the Second Prince said couldn't be true!
But that's the truth.

Zhang Ze'an tried to speak, but was repeatedly interrupted by the Second Prince: "What? What did I do wrong? Did I say something wrong?"

The second prince sneered, mimicking Zhang Ze'an's angry outburst with a knife that day: "Let me tell you, don't think I'm afraid of you just because you're a prince. Even without this knife, I would still dare to touch you."

"Wow, how impressive! Why aren't you scolding me now?"

The Second Prince glared at Zhang Ze'an, who remained silent with his head bowed, and roared, venting all the grievances he had suffered into those words: "You piece of trash! What do you think you are? I can tolerate Li Chengru's insults, but what are you? How dare you insult me? If it weren't for the knife that Li Chengru and Father Emperor gave you, would you dare to speak to me like that?"

Zhang Ze'an clenched his fists, choking back silent sobs. He was absolutely right! If it weren't for Li Chengru and that knife, he would just be a merchant's son.
"Alright, stop wasting your breath on him." The man in black, who was gripping Xie Xiaoshuang's neck, snapped his fingers with his free hand.

Then a group of men in black entered through the back gate after hearing the noise. The knives in their hands were stained with blood.

In the central courtyard, the bodies of Peking Opera disciples lying in different places were filled with terror, their faces filled with unease as they stared at the dark sky.

The second prince looked at the scene in the backyard, smiled slightly, stood in front of Zhang Ze'an, and said to him, "You are just a piece of trash!"

He then struck Zhang Ze'an on the neck with a palm strike, and watched him fall to the ground, saying, "Kill them all! Leave no one alive."

Suddenly, the glint of swords and the clash of blades erupted under the moonlight.

Peking Opera disciples know how to use a knife, but not martial arts; they can sing opera, but they cannot kill.

The Second Prince, with his back to Zhang Ze'an, who hadn't been killed, and the lifeless disciples of the Pear Garden, greedily stared at Xie Xiaoshuang, who stood frozen in terror before him. "Miss Xiaoshuang," he said, "why did you have to do this? If you had gone with my men back then, none of this would have happened." Xie Xiaoshuang watched in horror as the Second Prince approached, but she couldn't move, couldn't resist. She could only close her eyes and weep silently, feeling him lift her up and carry her into the room.
In the dead of night, Yang Youan walked into the half-open gate of the Lili Garden with a heavy heart.

He lowered his head, deeply troubled, not knowing why. Because in the lantern carried by the old man, he saw Xie Xiaoshuang holding a torch, her face somewhat somber as she smiled at him.
His face froze, and he stopped in his tracks. He stared blankly at the familiar bodies lying in the courtyard.

Suddenly, the worry in his heart seemed to become a reality.

His expression was terrified, his lips twitched, and he ran towards the backyard shouting, "Shuang'er!"

In the backyard of the pear orchard, Zhang Ze'an stood blankly outside the reception room, his eyes fixed on the woman who had placed a knife against his neck.

His clothes were disheveled, his hair was messy, his eyes were bloodshot, and his face was streaked with tears as he looked at Zhang Ze'an.

Her movements were quick, yet light. She felt the sharp, cold blade slowly slide into her neck, the blade touching the soft tendons. Instantly, she felt something gush out from her neck, splashing onto the silvery blade.

It hurt so much, she wanted to cry, she wanted to speak. She thought of Yang Youan; she seemed to see him. She saw him dressed in red, riding a fine horse, his face beaming with a warm smile. Surrounded by a crowd, he walked into the pear orchard.
She fell to the ground, the blade striking the earth with a sharp, extremely piercing sound.

That night, Yang Youan cried until his eyes were red, and asked Zhang Ze'an, who was standing there blankly, what had happened.

"But I couldn't say anything. That night, I just watched him cry his heart out, his voice breaking, as if he were mute, holding Xie Xiaoshuang's body."

Zhang Ze'an sat in the front hall, looking at Ping An sitting opposite him with a troubled and helpless expression.

“He cried all night that night, and I stood there all night too. But when I came to my senses, he was gone.”

"Zhenghe! Yang Zhenghe! Uncle, have you seen a young man come out of here? He looks rather handsome, like a scholar." Zhang Ze'an rushed out of the pear garden. She looked around but couldn't see Yang You'an. There was only an old man standing not far away, staring at her with a puzzled look in his eyes.

"A young man did run away from here, but he's a madman, not a scholar." The old man looked at the haggard Zhang Ze'an with even more confusion, feeling that something was wrong, and turned away with some fear.

"A madman? How could that be, old man!" Zhang Ze'an felt as if his heart was burning with rage. He couldn't believe it and chased after him again.

He grabbed the old man's shoulder and asked, "No way, old man, are you sure you're not mistaken?"

He couldn't believe the old man's repeated questions and insistence: "He's not crazy, he's a scholar. He's even this year's top scholar in the imperial examination, how could he be crazy?"

“It’s him,” the old man said quickly, startled by Zhang Ze’an’s appearance. “Who on Yang Zhuangyuan Street doesn’t know him? It’s him. He rushed out of the pear orchard early this morning, shouting something like ‘Shuang’er, Shuang’er.’”

"Do you know where he went?" Zhang Ze'an asked anxiously.

This time, the old man didn't speak, but pointed in that direction.

(End of this chapter)