After Transmigrating into a Novel, I Turned on Easy Mode - Chapter 14

Winter arrived in a blink. Watching the great flurries outside the window, Wu You’s thoughts kept circling back to Zhao Qingzi. How was the big-bad doing now? Her health wasn’t the best.

Ever since their last meeting had been discovered by her older brother, the two had met far less often. Nothing to be done—Original Wu’s reputation was simply too nasty.

She sighed, a little regret rising. Her own birthday was almost here, too—how was she supposed to face the original body’s father? She’d inherited the original’s memories, but not her feelings.

Flipping through those memories, Wu You found the original had barely interacted with her father at all. It was as if that father had more or less forgotten his daughter. In that case… maybe she could muddle through?

Feeling a bit cold, Wu You shut the window and couldn’t help rubbing her hands. A small, modern complaint bubbled up—she missed central heating and cell phones, all the ways to pass the time. And the friends and family she’d taken for granted—now she missed them fiercely.

Yes, Wu You was bored out of her mind. No need to do anything, no need to worry about survival. By now she could be pretty sure Zhao Qingzi had no intent to kill her, so there was no need to live in fear—but the quieter things got, the lonelier she felt.

After a while cooped up, the stuffiness only grew. She decided to ride.

Mounting her big black horse and pulling on a red cloak trimmed in white fur, Wu You headed out of the city. It felt a bit stupid to be out in a snowstorm, but galloping let her toss a bit of that loneliness aside.

She led her horse along the riverbank. A thin skin of ice had formed over the water; wind from the front carried snowflakes that melted the instant they kissed her cheek.

Her neck felt cold. She drew the cloak tighter, tied the horse to a dead tree at the bank, and kept walking slowly along the shore.

Everything was blanketed in snow, the world a white expanse—leaving Wu You the only vivid color in that space.

From far off came the thud of beating clothes. Wu You blinked. Someone doing laundry in this cold? Curiosity tugged; she followed the sound.

A woman crouched by the water in patched clothes, stick in hand, thumping the cloth again and again. Her hands, gripping the stick, were swollen and crimson—frostbite, most likely.

Wu You frowned. Not taking care of herself at all. It was meddlesome, yes—but she couldn’t help it.

She walked over without bothering to hide her presence, boots creaking in the thick snow.

The woman glanced back and saw a very pretty girl. A spark lit in her eyes. “Whose young miss is this—looks like a little fox-spirit.”

The term wasn’t exactly proper, but it fit best.

Noticing the woman staring without blinking, Wu You felt a touch awkward. Still, she crouched beside her.

“Auntie, why are you washing clothes out here when it’s this cold?”

Surprised that a rich-looking girl would speak to her first, the woman recovered and smiled. “It’s convenient—my house is close, just under Chaoguang Temple. Which household are you from, miss? How come you’re out here alone?”

Right—she was also the oddball out in the cold. Rubbing her nose, Wu You grinned. “I’m Wu You.”

At the name, the stick slipped from the woman’s hands. Seeing the widened eyes, Wu You thought: oh no. She’d forgotten the original’s “little tyrant” persona. Did she scare the auntie?

She was about to explain she’d turned over a new leaf when the woman rallied, smile deepening. “So you’re General Wu’s beloved daughter. No wonder—such looks.”

…So the point was “pretty,” huh. Right, she was here to persuade the auntie to go home—those hands were a mess. Didn’t it hurt?

“Auntie, your hands are all frostbitten. You should hurry back.”

Perhaps moved by the concern, the woman brightened. “It’s nothing. Thank you, miss.” Then, a little tentative: “If the miss has time, my home’s nearby under Chaoguang Temple. If you don’t mind, you could sit a spell.”

Chaoguang Temple? The name rang a bell. After a moment: right—the beginning of Zhao Qingzi’s parents’ tragedy. She had nothing else to do; she might as well take a look.

The auntie seemed excited. Wu You brought her black horse along and followed. After about ten minutes, a shabby house came into view—no surprise, that was the place.

Inside, the furnishings were bare-bones; the roof even let in drafts. Plainly poor. The woman seemed to have no children or family.

Wu You frowned slightly as the overly enthusiastic woman bustled about heating water and wiping a stool. The whole thing felt oddly awkward.

She meant to take her leave and head straight to the temple, but the woman eagerly made herself a guide. With a sigh, Wu You accepted; she didn’t know the area well, after all.

On the way up, the woman kept asking about her. Wu You answered loosely, now and then.

The mountain path was also snowed over and steep. The woman seemed very familiar with it, always finding shortcuts. Wu You was quietly grateful; alone, this would’ve been much more trouble.

At last, the temple roof came into view. Wu You’s spirits lifted; she quickened her pace. From afar, the temple bell tolled. There were fewer winter pilgrims—but the world never lacked for the devout.

She turned to call the auntie to hurry—only to find no one behind her. From the footprints it looked like the woman had turned back home.

She didn’t think much of it and headed into Chaoguang Temple.

Wu You didn’t really believe in gods and ghosts, but given her own experiences she wasn’t about to tempt fate. She bowed three times to the great Buddha on the hall’s altar—then felt she ought to ask for something.

She prayed for peace and safety for her family in her former world. Then another face surfaced: Zhao Qingzi. That beautiful face always smiling—and yet somehow lifeless.

Eyes closed, palms pressed together, Wu You prayed in earnest: that the Bodhisattva would grant Zhao Qingzi a life without worry in this life; that she could walk out of her hurt and live bravely for herself.

Finished, she wandered the grounds, actually looking for the banyan tree where Zhao Qingzi’s parents had met. It had been over twenty years—was it still there?

She searched—and deflated. There were too many banyans here. How was she supposed to pick the “memorial” one? After a few rounds, she thought to give up and go home.

Then, beneath a larger banyan, a familiar silhouette. Wu You rubbed her eyes, checked twice. A wheelchair. From the back—it really was Zhao Qingzi. And on her head, that butterfly hairpin looked like the very one Wu You had given her.

No sign of Zhao Qingshu today—just a little maid holding an umbrella. For some reason, happiness bubbled up; Wu You’s smile bloomed as she called, loud and clear, “A-Zi!”

The girl seemed startled by the voice and turned. Amid the pure white of falling snow, Wu You in her red cloak was a fierce splash of color against the simple world.

The snow hadn’t stopped, and this person didn’t even hold an umbrella. A small scold rose—she never took proper care of herself. But with snow dusting that red cloak and speckling the black hair, she looked… very good.

A sudden, shameless thought: this beauty is tempting. And she’d come for me. Satisfaction warmed her chest.

Wu You ran up, smiling wider. “A-Zi, what brings you out today? Did you pray to the Bodhisattva? Make any wishes?”

Instead of answering the barrage, Zhao Qingzi motioned for her to crouch. Wu You understood and knelt.

Lightly, Zhao Qingzi brushed the snow from her cloak, taking in the silly-bright smile. Unfortunately, good looks excused foolish grins, turning them into a kind of winsome charm.

The melted flakes were cold on her hands. She was about to tuck them back into her sleeves when someone took them—just like before—and gently rubbed warmth into them.

While rubbing, Wu You nagged: “A-Zi, be careful. I can freeze and it’s fine, but you can’t. Oh—hey! You haven’t answered my question. Did you make a wish?”

A real smile flickered in Zhao Qingzi’s eyes—no mask for once. “I did. But the contents are secret. You?”

Wu You mimicked her tone. “I did. But the contents are secret.”

Watching that impish look, Zhao Qingzi found her unbearably adorable. A tickle ran through her. Was she… flirting with me…?

Wu You felt the gaze turn dangerous and hurriedly changed the subject. “Is this the banyan from back then?”

Zhao Qingzi came back to herself and looked up, nostalgia in her eyes. “Yes. The beginning of a karmic entanglement. I come each year.”

Wu You looked up too. Two decades had passed; people and things had changed beyond recognition. But the tree was still lush. She couldn’t help a sigh.

Zhao Qingzi’s gentle voice sounded at her ear. “When I was little, I most wanted to become my mother. Now… I want to tell her I’m not the same.”

Wu You turned to her. She was calm from start to finish, but Wu You’s chest pinched. Just as she was about to speak, Zhao Qingzi said first, “A-You, let’s go. Nothing here worth looking at.”

They headed downhill together. On the way, Zhao Qingzi asked why she’d come. Wu You told her about the woman. Zhao Qingzi frowned and warned her not to share personal details with strangers.

Wu You smiled and said she knew.

Not long after the two left, another figure came to that banyan—the very woman who had led Wu You up the mountain.