That instant, he felt a fear of death and a longing for life.
He regretted it at that moment.
However, the arrow was already on the bowstring, how could he turn back? His last memory before dying was of himself frantically struggling and crying on the floor of the Tribute Court, the dignity of a scholar utterly gone, as if laid bare for all to witness his dying struggle.
Who knew that upon waking, he would see nothing but white mourning banners and yellow paper, outside was the familiar panicked shouting of Official Hu, the poetry society members screaming in horror, amidst the chaos of chickens flying and dogs jumping, he stood in a black coffin, dressed in a brand-new long robe, looking blankly at the golden early morning sun overhead, as if reborn.
He had come back to life.
Wu Youcai looked toward Lu Tong.
