The three days before Chen Wei's funeral were a whirlwind of chaos. In my previous life, his death was a shameful event, just a minor note in the history of the Chen Family's decline. This time, under Arya's guidance, it became the biggest event the Myriad Rivers Domain had seen in a decade. I, Meira Su, was at the center of it all, playing a part in the grandest deception I had ever witnessed.
We worked from the Patriarch's secondary study, a large room transformed into our command center. Scrolls of guest lists, ceremonial procedures, and security plans covered every surface. Servants and elders moved in and out constantly, but Arya and I made every final decision.
Watching Arya was like seeing a master artist at work. He was smooth and effortless. He issued orders with a calm authority that eased tensions and gained instant obedience. He negotiated with suppliers of white mourning silks and secured a bulk discount with a few well-chosen words that combined charm with a hint of threat. He redesigned the patrol routes for the estate guards, predicting potential security risks from the Jin Family with an insight that seemed almost prophetic. He handled it all with a natural grace, his expression one of dutiful sorrow, his handsome features set in a noble grief.
I knew the truth. Chen Wei, the man we were about to honor as a tragic hero, was a coward who had betrayed his family for a chance to live in disgrace. The irony tasted bitter, a secret I kept to myself. My role was to act as the supportive fiancée, and I played it perfectly. I oversaw the floral arrangements, choosing the lightest Moonpetal Lotuses and Spiritweep Willows. I consulted with musicians to ensure the flutes played the most mournful tunes. Each action was part of a carefully crafted deception.
But my real purpose was to stay by his side.
We spent nearly every moment together. We worked late into the night, the room lit by the soft glow of lumina pearls, the only sound the scratching of brushes on paper. In those quiet times, the line between our public act and private truth began to blur.
One night, as I reviewed the final draft of the eulogy Arya wrote, my eyelids grew heavy. The exhaustion from the past few days and the mental strain of living this new life were catching up to me. My head drooped forward, and my brush slipped from my fingers, leaving a small black smudge on the scroll.
I jolted awake, a wave of embarrassment washing over me. Before I could apologize, a hand gently took the brush from my grasp.
"You should rest," Arya said softly. He had moved from his side of the table to mine without me noticing. He placed a cup of steaming tea in front of me. "This is Spirit-Soothing Tea from my personal collection. It will help."
I looked up at him. I saw only Arya, his dark eyes filled with genuine concern that made my heart ache. It was a caring gesture, but in the context of our performance, it felt as intimate as a whispered secret.
"Thank you," I managed to say, my voice thick with an unnamed emotion. I wrapped my hands around the warm cup and let the heat seep into my cold fingers.
He stood beside me for a moment, shielding me with his presence. "You have been a great help, Meira," he said, his gaze focused on my face. "I couldn't have done this alone."
In my previous life, he had shouldered every burden alone until it crushed him. Knowing that he felt he could depend on me this time, that he wanted to rely on me, was a powerful revelation that nearly brought tears to my eyes. I simply nodded, unable to speak, and took a sip of the tea. It was the most delicious thing I had ever tasted.
The day of the funeral arrived. The Chen Riverwood Estate had been transformed. The vibrant colors of the prosperous noble family were gone. Instead, rivers of white silk fluttered like mourning ghosts from every eave and gatepost. The air was thick with the scent of sandalwood incense, a somber aroma that lingered in the lungs.
The most powerful figures in the Myriad Rivers Domain began to arrive. The Sect Master of the Spirit Cauldron Sect was a portly man with shrewd eyes. The Hall Master of the Myriad Beast Hall was a wild-looking woman with a tamed Spirit Leopard by her side. The Patriarch of the Lei Family was a massive man whose presence seemed to crackle with latent energy. They all came to pay their respects, their expressions carefully neutral, their eyes missing nothing.
Arya and I stood at the entrance to the grand Ancestral Hall, ready to receive them. He wore formal white mourning robes, his demeanor regal and somber. I stood next to him, our hands subtly linked behind our backs, a hidden source of strength for both of us. To the world, we were the future of the Chen-Su alliance, a picture of grace and unity in the face of tragedy.
The most challenging arrival was the last. The Jin Family delegation was led by their patriarch, Jin Bolin. He looked more like a merchant than a cultivator, wearing robes adorned with gaudy gold thread, his smile oily and insincere. A surge of pure hatred washed over me, a venomous echo from my past. This man's family was the source of my pain. I tightened my grip on Arya's hand, my nails digging into his palm.
I felt a gentle squeeze in return. I glanced at Arya. His face showed polite solemnity as he greeted Jin Bolin, but his eyes were cold and hard as obsidian. He understood. He might not know my future, but he recognized the nature of the danger standing before us. That shared understanding was a comfort deeper than any words.
The Ancestral Hall was packed. In the center of the grand chamber, on a raised dais, sat a memorial tablet carved from the finest spirit-jade. It bore a single name: Chen Wei. It was surrounded by a mountain of white Moonpetal Lotuses. It was a hero's farewell for a coward's soul.