After Transmigration, Her Whole Family Are Villains

Chapter 133

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In the Buddhist temple, the Bodhisattva's eyes were long and slender, filled with compassion.

A smile played on its lips.

The large ears symbolized good fortune.

One hand rested on its chest, the other held prayer beads.

The Bodhisattva's robe was intricately carved, flowing gracefully over its body, with an elegant corner of the garment curled up.

The Bodhisattva gazed down upon all living beings, treating them equally.

Jiang Wan and the old madam would copy scriptures and offer incense to the Bodhisattva daily.

At this moment, the Bodhisattva remained motionless, steadfast, offering no help.

In everyone's eyes, this seemed incomprehensible.

Jiang Rong appeared to have gone mad, which was somewhat expected given his timid nature.

He had always seemed a bit unstable.

But when Jiang Huaisheng went in, he had recited a mantra for calming the mind, and it had only been a day since he entered to rest.

How could anything happen to such a strong man after being confined for just a short while?

The servants thought the master was too merciful, almost like the Goddess of Mercy herself.

Jiang Huaisheng could have done anything inside: rested, taken a nap: and half a day would have passed.

Jiang Huaisheng believed he had been there for half a month.

In reality, it hadn't even been two hours.

Just over three hours, in fact.

For those waiting outside, three hours felt interminable.

But for Jiang Huaisheng, who could hear nothing but his own breathing and heartbeat, time stretched endlessly. He kept wondering why he wasn't hungry after so many days, when in fact it had been less than two hours.

When the crowd saw Jiang Huaisheng's condition, they were shocked.

The men in black looked at Jiang Changtian with admiration.

The master was indeed extraordinary, possessing uncommon abilities.

The Jiang family members, however, suspected he might have been poisoned. How could this be possible? freeweɓnovēl.coɱ

He had only been confined for two hours.

Yet he had already started to harm himself.

Jiang Rong was still raving, not even acknowledging his father's emergence, continuing to mutter to himself.

Wu was both anxious and frightened. She had fallen asleep leaning against the warm couch, holding her child.

Now suddenly awoken, seeing her husband's pitiful state, she was paralyzed with fear, not daring to touch him. She held the child, afraid of being pushed over by her husband.

Jiang Huaisheng wasn't mad, but he felt on the brink of insanity. He breathed heavily, seeing his wife and child, and embraced them without hesitation.

He was alive, he was still alive, he was fine, everything was fine.

He couldn't feel the blood flowing down his face, couldn't feel the droplets falling.

Instead, he smiled, comforting Wu.

The onlookers were even more alarmed.

With a loud "bang!", Jiang Wan was thrown inside.

Jiang Wan saw that her father had also crawled out, and she was terrified. There must be a problem.

It must be poison.

After entering the room, she was extremely cautious, touching nothing.

Although they had come together, and she was certain Jiang Changtian hadn't tampered with the room, it was hard to be sure.

Jiang Changtian had worked in the Medicine Preparation Department, and doctors said his medical skills were excellent.

Her grandmother would occasionally chant sutras in here, but the door was usually left open.

With the door closed, it was like a black box inside.

Jiang Wan sat on the meditation cushion.

She often meditated with her grandmother, sometimes for long periods.

If Jiang Changtian hadn't poisoned the room, Jiang Wan wasn't actually afraid.

She used to have frequent dreams.

Each dream would span decades.

Incredibly long.

Trapped in the dream.

But upon waking, it was just one night, one dream.

Looking at her father and elder brother just now, the time had actually been very short, not long at all.

But soon, she felt something different.

This was unlike her usual meditation.

Usually, she had to make an effort to quiet her mind.

But here, it was naturally silent, without a single sound.

Inside, she truly couldn't hear anything from outside, nor could she see even a glimmer of light.

Was this room really meant for chanting sutras?

Jiang Wan began to panic.

Soon, she heard a "thump, thump, thump..." sound.

Where was this sound coming from, how could there be noise in such a quiet place?

She searched fearfully, but quickly realized the sound wasn't coming from anywhere else.

It was her heartbeat.

"Thump, thump, thump."

Her heart was beating so fast, faster and faster.

How could this be?

Jiang Wan felt somewhat distressed.

She estimated that she had only been inside for a short time.

But suddenly, she began to doubt: was it really that short?

Before entering, she had prepared herself, thinking that after a day's sleep, it would be over.

But now, images of her elder brother and father kept flashing in her mind.

What was in here that made her brother's hands bloody and her father reopen the wounds on his face?

Were there ghosts?

Impossible, outside was the Bodhisattva, the Buddhist temple, and the Jiang family ancestors: there couldn't be ghosts.

But she seemed to hear other sounds inside.

Someone was breathing, and the breathing was getting closer and closer.

Jiang Wan swung her arms, but hit nothing.

She covered her ears, but could still hear the sound.

She ran, hearing footsteps chasing her, hearing breathing, hearing heartbeats.

She remembered in her dream, when Concubine Lan was being executed, they placed a wet cloth on her face, then another, layer upon layer.

That's how she died.

Suddenly, it felt as if Concubine Lan was breathing in her ear.

No, it was just an illusion.

There was no Concubine Lan, she was in Ming County, nothing had begun yet, she was still in the Buddhist temple.

There was no breath, no one else's breathing, no one else's footsteps, no one else's heartbeat. From beginning to end, it was just her, only her.

She forcefully jabbed her palm with her hairpin, a precaution she had prepared before entering. If she went mad or was poisoned, she would use the jade hairpin to prick her palm: it wouldn't cause injury but would remind her to stay clear-headed.

Indeed, she came to her senses and found the meditation cushion, sitting down again.

She didn't know why she had been running just now, suddenly feeling as if there was someone else in this small space.

The room was tiny; she could easily bump into the walls.

So the muffled sounds of hitting the wall that were heard outside must have been from running and colliding with the walls.

Jiang Wan's thoughts gradually returned, and she tried to adapt to the darkness.

Even though she knew she was in a very small space, the inability to see or hear made her feel as if she were in an immense place, endless darkness, as if connected to the underworld.

First it was Concubine Lan, who then disappeared.

Suddenly, a man in a crimson official robe walked towards her. As he approached, she realized he had no head: he was carrying it in his arms. The head spoke to her, calling out affectionately, "Wan'er, Wan'er..."

Jiang Wan jabbed her palm with the hairpin again.

The headless official in the robe vanished.

Then, bizarrely, a pair of floating feet appeared before her eyes.

The feet wore beautiful embroidered shoes, exceptionally pretty, adorned with several large pearls.

She recognized those as Jiang Yu's feet. Jiang Yu, known as Little Fish, was the beloved concubine of General Meng, envied by everyone in the Capital City. It was said that she particularly loved shoes, all custom-made by General Meng himself. Even the Eastern pearls bestowed by the Emperor were used to embellish her shoes.

But now, the toe of the shoe was facing her, and the person was suspended in mid-air. She looked up and, in the endless darkness, saw Jiang Yu hanging there, sticking out her long tongue and making a grotesque face at her.

Jiang Wan screamed and pushed with her hands, actually touching a pair of feet. She quickly let go. It's all fake, fake, fake.

The jade hairpin pricked her palm again. This time when she pushed, it wasn't feet, just a pillar. She felt it - just a pillar.

Don't be afraid, don't be afraid. Didn't Jiang Changtian say he had been locked up many times? She had only been here for a short while. Yes, at most an hour or two. It's fine.

She was feeling thirsty now, wanting water.

Suddenly, she heard a voice calling, "Water, water."

It was her aunt's voice.

She saw her aunt lying in front of her, reaching out, asking her for water.

She panicked and accidentally spilled the water.

In her aunt's final moment, her hand tried to grasp the rope at the head of the bed but ultimately fell short and dropped.

Her aunt stared at her, asking for water.

Impossible. She had already been buried.

The noble ladies of the capital had watched the Empress Dowager's burial together.

Jiang Wan was confused.

In the absolute darkness and silent world, she became completely disoriented.

She couldn't distinguish between time, reality, and dreams.

Terrifying images in her mind came to life, replaying around her over and over.

Her aunt's hand didn't reach the rope, but it scratched her hand, tearing her skin.

Those long fingernail guards tore through her flesh.

There was a ripping sound.

Once again, the jade hairpin saved her.

Her palm was already bleeding.

The rounded head of the jade hairpin couldn't draw blood, so in a moment of crisis, she shattered it and used the broken edge to cut.

So it wasn't her aunt who scratched her, but she who cut herself.

She came to her senses, breathing heavily.

The endless darkness still surrounded her.

She didn't know how long it had been.

But it felt longer than the decades she had lived in her dreams.

Every breath was excruciating.

Had she been poisoned?

She didn't know why this was happening.

Soon after calming down, she felt she had endured it. She heard a dripping sound.

It was the sound of her blood dropping to the ground.

Jiang Wan broke down, pressing on her hand.

It's just a small wound, it's fine.

She tried hard to comfort herself. She still didn't know how much time had passed, but she felt her wound. It shouldn't have been long; the blood was still slippery and fresh. If it had been a long time, the wound would have scabbed over, and she would have felt hungry.

She repeatedly reminded herself, it's okay, just endure it.

She felt she had endured enough and could pretend to break down to get out.

Although she was already somewhat disoriented and breaking down, her intelligence remained.

She was grateful for those days and nights of dreams that allowed her to distinguish between dream and reality.

If she could get out, she would definitely seek revenge.

When the time came, she would act more pitiful, and everything would be fine.

She estimated the time.

A long time must have passed.

She heard footsteps.

The door opened, and light poured in.

She breathed deeply.

It's over, it's over. She wailed, crying like a madwoman.

Her hair was disheveled.

It's over. She crawled on the ground. Although in a wretched state, she had passed the test. It's over.

It's over. She had escaped. She looked back at the small dark room, like a bottomless abyss, staring back at her.

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