Everyone Wants To Harm Me - Chapter 118

Yu Chongrui picked up the Liu Yi mask and put it on, purely because he had spotted Shao Dongting in the crowd and didn’t want to be recognized by him.

Shao Dongting was standing in an inconspicuous alley behind a vendor stall, speaking with two rough-looking men in short garments. Judging by their respectful, fawning attitudes, they weren’t confronting him—they weren’t in trouble. As Shao Dongting talked, he kept a wary eye on the street. Yu Chongrui turned his back and casually grabbed a Nuo opera mask from a nearby stall, slipping it on and pretending to be picking out and trying on masks.

His distant cousin’s methods had always been similar to his, but not exactly the same. Both only cared about results, not the process—and they weren’t above taking shortcuts. But their definitions of “means” differed.

He waited behind the mask until the three finished talking and dispersed. Shao Dongting left through the small alley.

The mask vendor grumbled, “Sir, are you buying it or not? If not, don’t block my business.”

Yu Chongrui was about to take off the mask and return it when a voice behind him said, “Sir, I think you should buy that mask.”

The voice was soft and delicate, like a ripe peach in June—crisp, fresh, a little naive.

He turned to see a girl of fifteen or sixteen, her head barely reaching his chin. She was wearing an exaggerated crying mask that clearly didn’t fit—it stretched from her hairline to her collar, making her look a little ridiculous.

His hand paused on the edge of the mask. “Why?”

“Because…” From beneath the crying mask, only a pair of smiling, crescent-shaped eyes were visible, shimmering with light. “There’s a dragon girl in distress here, waiting for her Liu Yi to come save her.”

For some reason he couldn’t explain, he didn’t say no. He let her pull him into the troupe’s game.

It was actually a trick the troupe used to draw a crowd, combining literary riddles and martial arts challenges. One obstacle involved walking across plum blossom poles—only three or four inches high, which felt like flat ground to him. He breezed through the level and won first place.

“You’re amazing! Do you know martial arts?” Her eyes sparkled like stars behind her mask.

He gave a reluctant compliment. “You’re amazing too. You solved all the riddles.”

“I usually have nothing to do at home, so I read riddles for fun. The troupe leader used common ones—I’ve seen most of them, so it’s not that impressive,” she admitted honestly. “But there was a nine-square calculation puzzle, and I solved it the fastest! Everyone else got stuck there, so I won first place!”

He didn’t listen too closely—because he had spotted the two thugs who had spoken to Shao Dongting earlier now lurking nearby, eyeing the girl. Their movements were sneaky, and their target was clearly her.

Judging by her dress and makeup, she looked like a noble daughter who got separated from her family while out celebrating the Lantern Festival. But why would Dongting go after a teenage girl?

Sure enough, when she came back from claiming her prize, the two men saw she was alone and closed in from both sides.

Yu Chongrui quietly followed one of them, and just as the man reached out his hand, he grabbed it from behind.

The thug’s grip was weak—no martial arts training, just a street punk. Yu Chongrui quickly let go to avoid injuring him too badly.

Even so, the man’s face paled in pain. He seemed to know his limits. His companion stepped forward, fists raised, but the first man quickly pulled him back with a look and a nod, holding his wrist as they both fled.

The girl reacted a beat late, clutching the prize purse she had just received. “Were they trying to steal my money? The prize is 800 yuan! They must’ve been watching me the whole time!”

They had been watching her—but probably not for the prize money.

She thanked him with a cupped-fist salute like a martial artist, then remembered she was still wearing the mask and started to take it off.

A face like the bright moon emerged from behind the clouds. The lanterns and fireworks on the street instantly lost their brilliance.

In that moment, Yu Chongrui understood.

Dongting had probably hired two amateurs not to hurt her, but to stage a hero-saves-beauty encounter. And he had ruined it.

Later, after mingling with more people and walking for some time, she finally realized just how striking her appearance was.

“My Aunt says my mother was a rare beauty—unforgettable to anyone who’s seen her. I take after her,” she said with a smile, voice as soft as a peach blossom. “So… am I pretty too?”

The peach had ripened, shedding its youthful tartness. Soft, sweet, and with a delicate graininess of mature allure. He had been most defenseless when, at night, she’d drape her arms around his neck and call him husband in that voice—completely unaware of the effect she had.

He pinched her peachy cheek. “You are too.”

“Too what?” She puffed her cheeks in mock anger, looking even more like a peach. “I’m asking if I’m pretty! Did you fall in love with me at first sight?—No, wait. You saw me during the Lantern Festival but only started liking me by the Shangsi Festival. Did I trick you with sweet talk? So you do fall for that kind of thing!”

A face like that—who could forget it?

That was why, in the crowd at the Shangsi banquet, he had spotted her immediately.

And he hadn’t been the only one. Several people, both men and women, had their eyes on her—with motives far from innocent.

Shao Dongting’s trick with the wanderers might have been harmless. But someone else had slipped something into her wine.

The mantis stalks the cicada, unaware of the oriole behind.

While heading out, he ran into a maid who seemingly appeared out of nowhere. Her handkerchief’s fragrance made him cover his nose on instinct.

He knocked the fake maid unconscious from behind and used the handkerchief on her instead. She would be asleep a long while.

The girl didn’t notice anything amiss. She leaned on him sleepily. He took her to the most remote storage room, locked it from the outside, and was about to leave when she suddenly opened the door and ran out—outer robe missing.

Wushisan’s effects usually wore off in an hour or two, maybe half a day at most. He couldn’t leave.

There was another reason: people under Wushisan acted unpredictably. They were hard to deal with.

“Whose boy are you? Why are you so handsome?” she asked, hugging his waist and looking up at him with teasing eyes. “You remind me of someone.”

He thought she recognized him and paused. “Who?”

“My future husband.”

Where had she even learned lines like that?

It wasn’t until long after their wedding that Yu Chongrui realized: the two hours she’d spent clinging to him and whispering sweet nothings had nothing to do with the drug. That was just her being herself.

As she gradually recovered, she stopped fearing “Mojin” and the poison within her. Even Deng Zishe’s gu bugs would cautiously sneak closer to take a look. Sometimes, she’d even bring up the past.

“When I was first poisoned, I didn’t understand. I thought everyone wanted to harm me.”

“You thought I wanted to harm you too?”

She scrunched up her face. “Yes, you were the worst!”

He reflected and thought he had been very restrained at the time. “What did I do to you?”

“You gave me lovesickness.”

He had wanted more time with her, so he watched her train with the sword and hike the mountains every day. But she always found ways to slack off. In the peach grove, she’d be halfway through sword practice and suddenly climb a tree to pick a peach, peeling it with the sword her parents left her.

Yes, there were peach trees in Yaoyuan now. He had planted a whole orchard at the foot of the mountain. In spring, they bloomed brilliantly; in autumn, they were heavy with fruit.

Halfway up the mountain, she clutched her chest and cried out dramatically. “No, no, my chest hurts!”

He quickly helped her sit by the roadside. She clutched her chest and said, “I still feel like there’s something in there.”

“Didn’t the bug already come out?” He was worried. “Should I call Zishe to take another look?”

“No need. I know why,” she said, leaning against him. “It’s you. You’re stuck in my heart.”

A few nights later, he heard her mumbling in front of the mirror, “Why don’t I gain any weight when I eat so much?”

She ran over and hooked her arms around his neck. “Husband, hold me. Am I heavier now?”

He picked her up. Still light as ever. But he couldn’t let her down. “Seems like it.”

She put a hand to her chest and blinked. “That’s because you’re taking up more and more space in my heart!”

Another few days later, he left her alone at home for the first time to handle official business for Governor Liu. When he returned, she was waiting by the hall entrance. She ran to him, grabbed his arm, and started kneading it. “Husband, are you tired today?”

Seeing her at home, all his fatigue vanished. “No.”

“But you’ve been running around in my head all day—how could you not be tired?”

Then she asked again, “Did you think about me today? Have I been in your thoughts all day?”

He laughed. “Yes.”

“No wonder I feel so sore—it’s from spinning too much!” she exclaimed, theatrically punching her arms and legs. “So today, can I maybe…”

Trying to slack off again.

“Strike while the iron’s hot. Keep practicing. The sword still needs training.”

What he regretted most was not keeping her close and protecting her properly. But over time, seeing her become healthier, stronger, and more energetic, he realized—maybe she had never needed protecting. He was simply someone who had walked a part of the road with her.

He had always feared she wouldn’t be able to stay with him for life. But in the end, he was the one who left first.

He collapsed on the mountain. It took two days after they brought him back before he woke up. Sanniang said it was overwork and terminal illness. Too old to be saved.

Sanniang was the orphan girl Deng Zishe adopted. His two sons only loved money, but Sanniang inherited Zishe’s legacy.

He was already sixty-eight. Not a surprising outcome. At least he was spared a long decline. But it was still sudden for those around him.

When he opened his eyes, she was by his bedside, red-eyed but smiling the moment he woke. He suddenly remembered their first meeting that Lantern Festival—the bright moon piercing the clouds, lighting up his cold and lonely life.

She was still as beautiful as ever.

“Whose young man is this? So handsome,” she said, holding his hand. “You look like someone I know.”

He could no longer speak. He could only look at her and ask with his eyes: Who?

“My husband in the next life.”

——End of the full text——