The Nightmare Experience of a Useless Person

A blind date? Jiang Zhiyang instantly understood what Xiulian meant; it was simply to throw a catfish into the pond and make Qingjun jealous too.

Would she get jealous? Jiang Zhiyang wasn't sure. In his eyes, compared to something trapped in a pond, she was more like that pool of spring water—forever clear, calm, and tolerant.

This possessive jealousy, to her, is probably like a toddler crying because he can't get candy—utterly childish.

But Jiang Zhiyang was so naive. Even though he knew it was all an act, he was still very uneasy, like a cheating husband who had lost all sense of direction.

"Sister Qingjun, let's go sit in the courtyard for a while. I have a really good idea. Please listen to it and give me your opinion."

At 1:15 PM, Xiulian successfully led Qingjun to the courtyard, placed a small stool there, and stared straight at the gate.

"Sister Qingjun, I want to write storybooks."

"Storybooks?"

Xiulian spoke with fervor and sincerity in her eyes, "Yes, when I'm reading, I always love to imagine new plots. If, if I could write them down myself and send them to a bookstore, if the owner could appreciate them, I could even get some royalties. If, and I mean if, one day they were adapted into a script, I could even perform on stage!"

The sky was overcast, but the girl in front of me seemed to be radiating light. The bright future she described was like the strong grass after the spring rain, a vitality more vibrant than childbirth.

Love, Qingjun thought of this word again for no apparent reason. It seemed that besides the love of family and the love between men and women, Xiulian's love for her notebook was equally beautiful.

"Zhiyang-ge! Where are you going!"

Xiulian's loud call interrupted Qingjun's thoughts. She looked in the direction of the sound and saw Jiang Zhiyang pry open the door a crack and step out with one foot.

"No, no, go do your thing." His eyes darted away, giving Qingjun a light tap before quickly looking away, and then he slipped out the door.

"Wow, Sister Qingjun, look at him, he's acting suspiciously."

It was indeed suspicious. In the past, he would have reported it well in advance and given gentle instructions, but today, there was nothing.

"Did you see that? Why is he dressed so extravagantly today?"

Dressed flamboyantly? He was dressed in a slightly wrinkled beige robe and black boots with fur trim, which could hardly be described as flamboyant. However, his tall and slender figure gave him the air of a frail scholar.

"Something's fishy! He wouldn't be secretly cooking for himself and eating alone behind our backs, would he?"

Is something sinister? Compared to Jiang Zhiyang, Xiulian's behavior seemed more like something sinister. She clung to Qingjun's arm, and the two followed her at a distance that was neither too close nor too far.

Meanwhile, the people in front also walked and stopped in perfect unison. Whenever Qingjun became a little tired and slowed down, Jiang Zhiyang would stop the carriage and sit on a large rock by the roadside to rest.

"Xiulian, shall we go back?" Qingjun suggested softly, rubbing her legs.

"Aren't you curious who Zhiyang is going to see dressed like this?"

What he wears, where he goes, or who he meets are all Jiang Zhiyang's freedom, and none of this has anything to do with her, Qingjun.

Xiulian moved closer to Qingjun, her words a mix of encouragement and coaxing, "Let's just follow him secretly without disturbing him."

Along the way, there were only a handful of people, a caravan transporting goods, two strong men chopping firewood up the mountain, an old woman carrying a basket of wild vegetables, and these three, one in front of the other, barely noticeable.

"Xiulian, is it really going to work for us to pretend to be stupid?"

Xiulian remained silent, but smiled and pulled Qingjun along as they continued their journey. Qingjun knew their final destination well: the Kangjiang River flowed by, and the lanterns were as beautiful as ever—it was the street where the Laba Lantern Festival was held.

The only difference was that the man was accompanied by a beautiful young girl. Her thick, black hair was styled into a high bun, and in addition to the usual headdress, she had a bright red camellia in her hair. With her fair face and red lips, she smiled and laughed, looking radiant.

Amidst the bustling traffic, the two walked side by side, but the girl was small and walked slowly, so she had to hold onto Jiang Zhiyang's sleeve to avoid being separated by the crowd.

They passed by the high-hanging carp lanterns, walked through the bustling waterside pavilions, ate wontons at a stall, and fed the fish by the small bridge. To onlookers, they appeared to be a loving couple, a match made in heaven.

Occasionally, the person would suddenly turn their head, looking around as if searching for someone in the crowd, and after a moment of focused attention, would quickly glance back.

Qingjun observed this, but remained silent. This simple trick was not interesting, even boring, almost tedious and quite dull...

Qingjun felt neither jealous nor resentful, but was inexplicably irritable. It was as if Jiang Zhiyang had placed her in a position to compete with ordinary women—fairly and equally—to vie for his favor.

It was laughable, so laughable that Qingjun didn't even need to bother with it. However, she was also disappointed. Those moments that had made her heart flutter and lingered in her mind were actually so ordinary, and could be given to someone else as soon as she turned around.

And that person, too, will experience the same rapid heartbeat, erratic breathing, and blank mind as her, before being tinged with the same warm orange, restless red, expectant green, and dejected blue.

She got too into character, which was a mistake...

She was not an ordinary person, nor a Qing emperor, but a nameless, high and mighty deity.

The gods understand love and hate, they should be content, and then stop their losses in time.

"Xiulian, I need to come back to my senses... no, I need to go home. You go home with Jiang Zhiyang, don't walk alone."

Leaving those words behind, Qingjun turned and left, quite decisively and swiftly.

Xiulian felt a sense of foreboding and, unable to stop Qingjun, had no choice but to turn back to find Jiang Zhiyang.

"Go home? What home does she have left?"

Could she really be a young lady from a wealthy and powerful family? She doesn't mind simple meals and isn't afraid of the biting cold, but now his crude tricks have angered her.

Jiang Zhiyang's regret reached its peak.

His superficiality was wrong, his jealousy was wrong, his naivety was wrong. He would remember his mistakes a hundred times, turn them into thorns, and whip them into his flesh, causing him pain to the depths of his heart, in order to seek her forgiveness.

But now that the runaway noblewoman has returned home, will they ever see each other again? The answer is obvious.

Qingjun definitely doesn't want him anymore, nor does he want everyone at Leshantang, and he even wants to discard the name itself...

She would return to the high branch, becoming an untouchable phoenix, Jiang Zhiyang thought to himself.

Rongcheng was cold and damp in the twelfth lunar month. The damp, frosty soil was mixed with sharp stones. Jiang Zhiyang didn't care about his shoes that had fallen off. He grabbed his coat and ran.

Fortunately, the girl's steps were small, and Jiang Zhiyang could easily catch up. Her figure swayed in the crowd, one step, two steps, slowly, as if she were getting further and further away.

He rushed forward and grabbed Qingjun's slender wrist tightly.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, it was my fault. I shouldn't have pretended to be close to someone to upset you. That girl and I are innocent. She's just the matchmaker's daughter. I asked her to tell the matchmaker that she doesn't need to arrange blind dates for me anymore because I already have someone I like."

Ignoring Qingjun's expression, Jiang Zhiyang frantically explained, hoping that his "beloved" would be willing to stay for him.

"Whether I'm innocent or not, it's none of my business." Qingjun was unwilling to turn around, but there was still an unexpected unease in her tone.

"How could it be unrelated?" Jiang Zhiyang lowered his voice, bowed his head, and spoke softly, "Your current anger and jealousy, doesn't it also mean that you like me too?"

"Jiang Zhiyang, let me tell you, possession and jealousy will never be associated with me." She exerted force with her arms and fiercely broke free from her restraints.

"Not even a little bit? To you, am I no different from anyone else?" His voice turned cold, like a timid cat.

But he never received an answer; he could only stand there, stunned, watching her receding figure grow ever more distant…