Chapter 11
Chapter 11: Obsession
Inside the cave, something strange held the crowd back. They hovered at the entrance for a while, then drifted away.
The moment Jin Sui saw Madam Jiang, she understood why.
The people outside—those who could still walk—looked sick.
Madam Jiang looked almost dead.
She was so thin she didn’t seem real, cheekbones sharp under stretched skin, eyes sunken deep. Dried blood stained her lips and chin. Beside the dried grass where she lay was a dark pool of blood.
It was clear she’d been vomiting blood for some time.
Even so, Jin Sui could see it—Madam Jiang must have been beautiful in her youth. Jin Sui’s face, the original owner’s face, resembled hers.
Jin An’s eyes were red. His voice shook.
“Mother keeps coughing blood. She’s been unconscious for two days.”
Jin Sui knelt and checked her. She took her pulse and felt her chest tighten.
Madam Jiang was already beyond saving.
Whatever illness gnawed through her—whatever hunger and cold had done—had pushed her past the line. Even with the pocket-space laboratory, Jin Sui couldn’t bring her back.
Still, she fed Madam Jiang glucose water.
When the last mouthful went down, Madam Jiang’s eyelids trembled. Slowly, she opened her eyes.
A faint color rose in her cheeks. Her gaze sharpened, as if the soul had returned for one last look.
Jin An thought Sister had fed her some immortal medicine. Joy broke through his fear.
“Mother! You woke up! Grandfather and Sister are here!”
Grandpa Ling’s breath hitched.
Jin Sui’s heart tightened.
This wasn’t recovery.
It was the last flare before darkness.
Madam Jiang’s eyes found Jin An. Tears spilled down her face at once. Her hand—dry, bony—lifted and touched his cheek with unbearable tenderness, as if every second mattered, as if every blink stole something she could never get back.
Jin Sui thought Madam Jiang would stare at her son until her final breath, but Madam Jiang only whispered, “From now on, listen to Grandfather. Study well.”
She tried to sit up. Her body failed her.
She turned that same fierce, clear gaze toward Grandpa Ling and forced out, “Father… forgive your daughter-in-law. I can’t rise to salute.”
Grandpa Ling stepped closer, voice rough.
“You’ve suffered.”
“Husband was framed,” Madam Jiang said. Her breath rattled. “He was made a scapegoat by his superior. That letter the constable found—it wasn’t written by him.”
She swallowed, and Jin Sui saw red stain her throat.
“My poor husband. Low rank. No voice. No backing. They used him and threw him away.”
Ling Chao—courtesy name Qing Feng—was Jin Sui’s father.
“After the case broke,” Madam Jiang rasped, “his superior hid that letter—and the deposed crown prince’s reply—inside the official documents. Then he had them sent overnight, straight into my husband’s hands.”
Her fingers clenched in the dried grass.
“Father… you must clear Husband’s name. You must avenge him.”
She sucked in air, eyes wet and furious.
“Huang Yi Zhong defected to the second prince. Not only did he keep his life—he got promoted.”
Her voice rose, thin but savage.
“And my husband… he died too wrong, too miserable—”
Jin Sui’s mind raced.
Grandpa Ling was nearly seventy, an old Daoist with a battered body. Jin An was eight, a child in chains. And she—she wore someone else’s face and was still on a wanted notice.
How were the three of them supposed to take revenge on an imperial court official?
Madam Jiang suddenly doubled over, coughing hard.
Blood sprayed.
Her whole body shook.
Jin An broke, sobbing, grabbing at her sleeve.
“Mother, don’t! I’ll avenge Father, I swear! Don’t get upset—please!”
Madam Jiang’s eyes flashed. She forced the words out anyway.
“Father,” she rasped, “take Little An outside. Daughter-in-law has a few words… for Jin Sui.”
Jin Sui’s heart skipped.
From the moment she entered, Madam Jiang hadn’t spared her even a glance.
In the original owner’s memories, there were only a handful of moments with Mother—Madam Jiang was always distant, always cool. She taught rules, needlework, obedience.
Nothing warm.
No wonder the original owner’s obsession had been “find Grandfather,” not “find Mother.”
So why—now, at the end—why keep Jin Sui?
Grandpa Ling looked confused too, but he didn’t question it. He pulled Jin An away, even as the boy resisted.
Madam Jiang’s gaze fixed on Jin Sui.
Jin Sui opened her mouth—Madam Jiang spoke first.
“You are not Jin Sui.”
Jin Sui’s blood went cold.
Madam Jiang didn’t give her time to deny it. She continued, voice soft, strangely certain.
“My poor Jin Sui came last night. She came to take me with her on the road.”
Jin Sui’s throat tightened.
She could have spun a thousand lies. None would pass a dying woman’s eyes.
She bowed her head.
“Yes. I’m not your daughter. I don’t know why… the me who died woke inside this body.”
She forced the next words out, as steady as she could.
“But I won’t harm Grandfather or Jin An. I’m not a bad person.”
Madam Jiang smiled.
Not fear.
Relief.
Blood stained her lips. Grief and hatred still filled her eyes—hatred for Huang Yi Zhong, grief for her husband’s wrongful death, reluctance to part with her son, bitterness at her fate.
“You are the one Jin Sui begged the gods for,” Madam Jiang said, voice firm. “You are not a wandering ghost. You are the Ling family’s savior.”
Jin Sui’s scalp prickled.
Savior.
That kind of weight could crush a person.
Madam Jiang’s hand shot out, gripping Jin Sui’s wrist with a strength that didn’t match her body.
“My daughter’s body has been given to you,” she said, each word scraped from breath. “Consider it a plea from mother and daughter. Please… clear Jin Sui’s father’s name.”
Her grip tightened.
“Clear Husband’s name. Otherwise, even in the underworld, I will not rest.”
Jin Sui swallowed.
“I’m not an immortal being. I’m just an ordinary person.”
She met Madam Jiang’s gaze and didn’t look away.
“But I promise you—I will do my best.”
That seemed to be enough.
Madam Jiang’s fingers loosened, slowly. Her voice softened, heavy with apology.
“Grandfather… and Jin An… I entrust them to you.”
She stared at Jin Sui as if trying to carve her face into memory.
“Good child. You are a good child. I will bless you from below.”
Jin Sui wanted to ask about the case—about evidence, about Huang Yi Zhong, about anything she could use.
But Madam Jiang’s eyes widened, filled with longing, and her breath stopped.
Jin Sui’s chest tightened. She reached out and closed Madam Jiang’s eyes with shaking fingers.
For a heartbeat, the world tilted. Jin Sui felt weightless, as if she were falling through empty air.
Then it was gone.
Her body shuddered as if she’d been plunged into cold water. A chill crawled through her bones.
And then—strangely—she felt lighter.
As if a veil had been torn away.
The world sharpened into brutal clarity.
The original owner’s obsession was gone.
But Jin Sui now carried something else.
A promise.