The path back to his own courtyard wound through corridors lined with bamboo and peach trees, their branches quivering in the late morning wind. Lu Ming walked slowly, each step deliberate, as if testing whether this world would collapse beneath his feet if he pressed too hard.
When he turned into the familiar gate, he caught sight of two figures rushing toward him.
"Young Master!"
Sun Rong, his personal servant, almost tripped over his own feet as he bowed hastily, his round face pale with worry. Behind him, Chen Ronghua, steady and composed as ever, gave a sharp curtsy, her eyes narrowing as they swept over him.
"You finally returned," she said, her voice carrying that faint sternness he remembered all too well. "The master's anger shook the entire hall. What trouble did you cause this time?"
Lu Ming stopped at the threshold and simply looked at them. The two stood in the sunlight, their outlines sharp, their voices alive. Not corpses buried in a shallow ditch after the purge, not broken shells of who they once were — but alive. His throat tightened.
"Why are you staring like that?" Chen Ronghua frowned. "Don't tell me the wine hasn't left your head yet."
Lu Ming's lips curved into a smile, soft and strange even to himself. "I was just… happy to see you both."
Sun Rong blinked, startled, then tried to cover it with a cough. "Young Master jests. We're here every day. You act as though we'd gone somewhere."
You did, Lu Ming thought bitterly. You left me in blood and ash, and I carried that weight through a second life. And now… you're here.
He forced his tone into something casual. "Father was furious because I stayed overnight at the brothel. I spent the night with a courtesan, Zhao Lingqi."
Sun Rong's mouth dropped open, while Chen Ronghua let out a sharp hiss of air. Her hand shot to her hip, where she would have rested a rod had she been his nurse still.
"A courtesan? Do you think you're some idle heir of a declining house?" she snapped. "Such women may smile sweetly, but they'll hollow your bones, young master. If word spreads further, it'll ruin your reputation, and worse, bring shame to the Madam."
Her words struck like stones — the same lecture he had ignored countless times in his first life. Then, he would have rolled his eyes, muttered something about youth and pleasure, and gone back to his indulgences.
Now, he bowed his head. "You're right."
Both of them froze.
"I was reckless," Lu Ming said quietly. "I won't excuse it. It was a mistake."
Silence fell. The spring breeze rustled through the peach blossoms above. Sun Rong stared at him as if he had grown a second head. Chen Ronghua's mouth opened, then shut again, unused to having her scolding so easily accepted.
"…Young Master," she said at last, her voice softer, "are you truly listening to me?"
Lu Ming chuckled, low and bitter. "When haven't I needed your scolding?"
Her eyes softened, confusion giving way to something almost maternal. She looked away, muttering, "As long as you understand."
Sun Rong scratched his head, trying to recover. "Still, Young Master… Zhao Lingqi? I've heard her name whispered in town. Isn't she the one famed for her zither and poems?"
Lu Ming's gaze turned distant. "Yes. She… she's different."
He did not say more. To reveal what he knew — her depression, her attempts to escape the grasp of corrupt officials and predatory nobles, her small moments of laughter in his second life — would be too much, too soon.
Sun Rong sighed. "If Madam hears more of this, she'll have my hide for not keeping a tighter watch."
"She already knows," Lu Ming said dryly. "She glared Father into silence this morning."
That drew a startled laugh out of Sun Rong, while even Chen Ronghua's lips twitched despite herself.
For a few blessed moments, the courtyard felt light.
But Lu Ming's smile didn't reach his heart. He studied their faces — Sun Rong's youthful eagerness, Chen Ronghua's composed dignity — and grief stabbed him like a knife.
In my second life, Sun Rong, you died shielding me during the purge. They cut you down like a dog in the mud. And you, Ronghua… you finally found marriage, only for your husband to beat you into despair. I never even asked how you fared. I never cared until it was too late.
Now, he vowed silently, this time, I'll change everything. I'll protect you both, even if it costs me everything.
He exhaled, pushing the ache down before it could show.
"Come," he said, stepping into the courtyard. "No need to stand at the gate."
Sun Rong hurried after him, still fussing, while Chen Ronghua muttered about the impropriety of speaking so openly about courtesans in daylight. Their familiar voices washed over him, grounding him, almost making him believe he had never left.
Then —
"Brother!"
A bright, girlish voice rang out from behind. Lu Ming turned just in time to see a small figure darting through the gate, her silk skirts fluttering.
Lu Lan.
His little sister barreled toward him, cheeks flushed from running, eyes sparkling with mischief. "I finally found you! Everyone's saying you were at a brothel last night. Did you really—"
"Lady Lan!" Chen Ronghua gasped, scandalized. "Young ladies should not repeat such words!"
But Lu Lan only grinned wider, hands on her hips, eyes locked on her brother with pure curiosity.
"Brother," she demanded, "tell me! Was she pretty?"
"Brother, was she pretty?" Lu Lan repeated, her voice bubbling with mischief.
The air in the courtyard seemed to freeze. Sun Rong coughed so violently he nearly doubled over, while Chen Ronghua slapped a hand to her forehead.
"Young Lady Lan," the maid hissed through her teeth, "a proper daughter of the Lu family must not speak of such indecencies! Brothels, courtesans — such things are not for your lips!"
But Lu Lan only giggled, undeterred. "What indecency? Everyone in the servants' wing was whispering it. If they can say it, why can't I?" She spun toward Lu Ming, her wide eyes sparkling like the spring sky. "So? Tell me!"
Lu Ming couldn't help it. He laughed. The sound startled them all — a deep, genuine laugh that warmed the courtyard.
In his second life, he had never heard her ask such a question. She had grown quiet, reserved, too soon burdened with the weight of family expectations. And then… she was gone, taken by sickness before she ever turned eighteen.
Now here she was, bright and mischievous, standing before him like a ray of sunlight that had pierced through years of grief.
"She was beautiful," Lu Ming admitted at last, his voice gentle. "But beauty is only one part of a person, Lan'er."
His little sister tilted her head. "Then why did you stay with her, if she's only pretty?"
Chen Ronghua made a strangled sound, about ready to faint from outrage. "Young Lady! Enough questions—"
But Lu Lan's stubborn little chin jutted out. "No! I want to know! Brother never pays much attention to girls. Even when the ministers' daughters come to visit, he yawns behind his fan. But suddenly, he sneaks into a brothel? That must mean something!"
Sun Rong, half choking on suppressed laughter, quickly turned away and pretended to examine the paving stones.
Lu Ming smiled faintly. His sister's sharpness was something he had overlooked before, dismissing her questions as childish prattle. Now, he saw it clearly: her curiosity was keen, her observations piercing. She had the makings of someone who would have grown into a remarkable woman — if only she had lived long enough.
"You're not wrong," he said.
That silenced her for a heartbeat. Lu Lan blinked up at him, surprised he wasn't brushing her off.
"I didn't go to see her because of her beauty," Lu Ming continued. "I went because… sometimes, in the most unexpected places, you meet someone who makes you stop and think. Someone who feels real, even when the whole world around you feels false."
His words were simple, but they carried a weight none of them expected.
Lu Lan's smile softened. "So… you like her?"
Lu Ming chuckled, shaking his head. "It's not that simple, Lan'er. Liking someone isn't about a single night. Time will tell what she truly is, and whether we're meant to meet again."
Chen Ronghua's eyes narrowed suspiciously. When did the young master start speaking like a sage? she wondered.
But Lu Lan leaned closer, whispering conspiratorially, "If you do like her, you'd better be careful. You know how Father is. He'll roar like a tiger if he thinks you've been ensnared."
Lu Ming raised a brow. "And Mother?"
His sister burst into laughter. "Mother will glare until Father hides behind his beard. But she'll probably peek at the girl herself, just to see if she approves."
That earned a chuckle from Sun Rong, who muttered, "The young lady speaks the truth."
Chen Ronghua groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. "This entire household has gone mad."
But even she couldn't stop the small smile tugging at her lips.
For a while, the courtyard filled with warmth: Lu Lan peppering her brother with mischievous questions, Sun Rong chiming in now and then, and Chen Ronghua hovering like a hawk, alternately scolding and sighing.
Then, unexpectedly, Lu Lan's tone shifted. She tugged at her brother's sleeve, her eyes suddenly wide and searching.
"Brother… you won't leave, will you?"
The laughter died on Lu Ming's lips. He looked down at her, startled. "Why do you ask that?"
"Because Father's been saying you'll be sent to the militia," she whispered. "The servants say it's dangerous. They say men go there and never come back." Her small hands gripped his sleeve tighter. "I don't want you to go."
In his second life, he had brushed her off. Told her not to cry, that it wasn't her business. And then, when he truly was gone, her tears had been all that remained.
This time, he lowered himself so they were eye level. He placed a hand gently atop her head.
"Lan'er," he said softly, "no matter where I go, I'll come back to you. That's my promise."
Her eyes shimmered, uncertainty warring with belief. "Really?"
"Really," he said, his voice steady. "You'll always be my little sister. No soldier, no battlefield, no storm will change that."
She studied him for a long moment, then finally nodded, her lips curving into a small smile.
"Good. Then I'll hold you to it." She straightened, trying to look dignified despite her youth. "And when you come back, I want to hear the zither from this Zhao Lingqi myself. If she's good enough to keep my brother out all night, then she'd better be worth it."
Lu Ming laughed again, the sound gentler this time. "You have my word."
Chen Ronghua groaned. "Heaven save me from meddlesome siblings."
Lu Lan stuck her tongue out at the maid, then twirled away, her skirts fluttering like butterflies. "I'm going to Mother's rooms. She promised to play weiqi with me today."
And just like that, she was gone — a whirlwind of silk and laughter trailing through the gate.
The courtyard quieted again. Only the rustle of leaves remained.
Lu Ming stood in the silence, staring after her. His smile lingered, but so did the heaviness in his chest.
This time, Lan'er, he vowed silently. I'll make sure you grow up safe. You won't fade before your time. I'll give you the future you never had.
The courtyard seemed strangely empty once Lu Lan's laughter faded beyond the gate. Without her bright presence, the silence crept back in — a silence Lu Ming had once taken for granted, and now treasured all the more.
He lingered for a moment where she had stood, staring at the spot as though afraid she might vanish if he looked away.
"Master Ming," Sun Rong said softly, breaking the hush. "Shall I fetch tea?"
Lu Ming turned, smiling faintly. "Yes. Make it strong."
The young servant bowed quickly and hurried off. Chen Ronghua, meanwhile, fussed with the cushions on the stone bench as though rearranging the world into order could distract her from her own thoughts.
"Ronghua," Lu Ming said gently.
She paused, straightened, and gave him a questioning look.
"Thank you," he said simply.
The older maid blinked, caught off guard. "For what, Young Master?"
"For scolding me," he replied with a small chuckle. "For watching over Lan'er when I didn't. For staying exactly as you are."
Chen Ronghua's stern face softened despite herself. Her eyes shimmered, though she quickly looked away, pretending to adjust her sleeve. "You've grown strange since yesterday, Young Master. Strange, but… not unpleasant."
Lu Ming's smile deepened. "Strange is better than useless."
Before she could respond, Sun Rong returned with the tea tray, steam curling upward. He poured a cup and offered it with a bow.
"Sit, both of you," Lu Ming said, gesturing to the low bench.
They exchanged startled glances. Normally, a master would never suggest such a thing. But Lu Ming wasn't the boy they remembered, and in his third life, formality was a chain he had no desire to wear.
Reluctantly, Chen Ronghua perched at the edge, hands folded primly. Sun Rong obeyed more easily, though his posture was stiff with uncertainty.
Lu Ming sipped the tea, then set the cup down with deliberate care. "Tomorrow morning," he said, his tone calm but resolute, "I'll begin training with Guard Zhao Yunliang. Sword drills, body conditioning. I intend to continue until I'm fit for whatever awaits me."
Both aides stiffened.
"Young Master…" Chen Ronghua's voice carried both worry and disbelief. "Since when have you ever cared for training? You used to sneak out of drills the moment the instructor's back was turned."
Lu Ming didn't deny it. "And look where that left me. Weak, sheltered, easy prey. No more."
Sun Rong studied him closely, his sharp steward's son eyes narrowing as if weighing the truth of his words. "Then… this isn't just for show? You mean it?"
Lu Ming met his gaze squarely. "I mean it. Father's punishment may still send me to the militia. If that's my fate, then I won't march there a useless fool. And even if he changes his mind, strength is no shame to a man."
The servant's lips twitched upward, a flicker of approval breaking through. "Then I'll see to your clothing and prepare everything you'll need. If you rise before dawn, I'll rise with you."
Lu Ming inclined his head, gratitude in his eyes. "Good. I'll rely on you, Sun Rong."
Chen Ronghua, however, remained unconvinced. She leaned forward, her voice low and firm. "And what happens when your body aches, when the blisters burn your hands, when every muscle begs you to quit? Will you give up then, the way you always have?"
Her words might have stung once. Now, Lu Ming welcomed them.
"I'll endure it," he answered simply. "Because pain in training is nothing compared to the regret of failing those I should have protected."
Something in his tone silenced her. She stared at him as though trying to see through the calm mask he wore, searching for the boy she knew. But what she found in his eyes unsettled her: a determination far too old, too seasoned, for his years.
"Very well," she said at last, sitting back. "I'll hold you to your word. But don't expect me to go easy if I find you slacking."
Lu Ming chuckled softly. "I wouldn't want you to."
The three of them shared tea in companionable quiet after that, the crackle of the brazier filling the silence. The courtyard lanterns flickered, their light painting long shadows across the paving stones.
As the night deepened, Lu Ming dismissed them gently. "Go rest. Tomorrow will come early."
Sun Rong bowed low. "Good night, Young Master."
Chen Ronghua lingered a moment longer, her sharp eyes softening. "You've changed," she murmured. "I don't know why or how… but if this change makes you stronger, then perhaps it's the Heaven's doing."
Then she left, her steps fading into the night.
Alone, Lu Ming returned to his chamber. He sat by the window, the cool breeze stirring the candle flame beside him.
The memories of his second life came unbidden — the purge that had slaughtered loyal servants like Sun Rong, the whispers he had heard of Ronghua's miserable marriage, the sight of his sister's pale, lifeless form.
His hand tightened into a fist.
Not again.
This time, he had a chance to rewrite it all. To repay debts. To protect the ones who deserved protection.
He reached for the sword stand in the corner, its blade gleaming faintly in the candlelight. His fingers brushed the hilt, and a quiet resolve settled in his chest.
Tomorrow would be the first step.
He leaned back, closed his eyes, and let the wind carry away the last traces of laughter and regret. Sleep claimed him at last, not with the heaviness of despair, but with the calm determination of a man walking toward his fate with open eyes.