Chapter Twenty: I Am My "Sister"

“Wait!” A crisp, clear child's voice rang out from the crowd, drawing everyone's attention to its source.

Han Bingyan’s face was filled with fury—what was the meaning of this? After so many years of waiting, so many years of endurance, now I’m not even given the chance to be tested? When Han Liang announced the conclusion of this year’s Feathered Ritual, Han Bingyan was first stunned, then overtaken by rage.

“Why are you ending it like this? I haven’t been tested yet, and neither has Bingruo—” At that moment, Bingyan remembered Han Bingruo and scanned the crowd for him. What was going on? Where was Bingruo? There was no reason for him to miss such an important ritual. Yet, he had to admit, there was not a trace of Han Bingruo in the entire plaza.

Han Bingyan’s heart sank to its lowest depths. Why hadn’t he come? Had something happened? A multitude of troubling suspicions flooded his mind. Standing in the midst of the crowd’s focused gaze, Bingyan remained frozen for a long time, until several mocking voices roused him from his stupor.

“Haha, you? A useless weakling wants to be the Feathered Prophet?”

“Must have lost your mind! You’d better get lost!”

“Did you hear? He’s the martial arts failure from the inner family, the one expelled from the Han residence two years ago,” one person whispered to another.

“What, him? He thinks he’s got what it takes? He can’t even qualify to carry the Prophet’s shoes!” the other burst into laughter.

Different voices reached Bingyan’s ears, but most ridiculed him for overestimating himself. Han Bingyan paid them no mind, sneering contemptuously. To him, they were nothing more than a group of people who, having failed to be chosen themselves, wished no one else would succeed—selfish and petty, especially unwilling to see someone they had always regarded as beneath them rise above.

Han Bingyan’s sharp gaze remained fixed on the family head, Han Liang.

At last, Han Liang spoke, her deep voice dealing Bingyan another blow. “No. The Feathered Ritual is over—you need not hope any longer. I will not allow you to be tested.” Why? Han Bingyan’s heart burned with resentment, but the matriarch on stage seemed not to care about his feelings. She continued coldly, “Even if the ritual were still ongoing, I would not permit you to take the test, because you are not qualified!”

“Am I not qualified?” Han Bingyan asked calmly, less panicked, more composed. Han Liang and the others were taken aback. “When did Bingyan become so…?” Staring into his clear, untroubled eyes, their hearts skipped inexplicably.

Pushing through the crowd, Han Bingyan quietly left, his lonely figure receding. Those who had mocked him now felt a heavy oppression, wishing to speak but unable to find words.

“Brother—” Han Bingran tried to chase after him, but Han Liang caught her arm in a tight grip.

Outside the Han family gates, Bingyan stood silently for a while. After some time, a sly light appeared on his face. “Must I really have your permission to be tested?” A thought flashed through his mind, and a brilliant smile spread across his face.

Dusk was falling fast. In a corner of the Han family compound stood a wooden tower, heavily guarded, its architecture ornate, reminiscent of southern Jiangnan houses from the Ming and Qing. Several sentries stood dutifully at the main entrance, tasked with protecting Han’s greatest treasure: the Jade Plate of Creation.

Suddenly, a rustling came from the shrubbery ahead, immediately alerting the guards. They gripped their weapons tighter, their vigilance heightened.

“You, go check!” The leader ordered one of the guards, who obeyed, approaching the bushes.

A figure appeared before him. “Young Miss, it’s you!” The guard’s tension melted away as he recognized Han Bingran, the future head of the Han family. Yet, he failed to notice something was different about her.

Indeed, this “Han Bingran” was none other than Bingyan in female attire—a plan he’d devised back at the martial arena. He recalled how he’d once fooled Aunt Xiaoyun with this disguise; if he could deceive her, surely he could trick a few unfamiliar guards.

Thus, Han Bingyan had scaled the compound’s wall, first arriving at his sister Han Bingran’s room, convinced she would help him. Seeing her up close for the first time in years, Bingyan realized how much she’d grown—her once childlike face now hinted at charm, her petite figure showing early signs of maturity. She was only ten—already so precocious, Bingyan mused.

Sure enough, when Bingyan presented his plan, Han Bingran agreed enthusiastically, guiding him to the Jade Plate’s hiding place and promising to cover for him afterwards.

However, Bingyan noticed a peculiar excitement on her face—she hadn’t seen her brother in female dress for a long time and was eager to witness it again. Bingyan’s mind flickered, and he dismissed the thought.

From his sister, Bingyan learned that Han Bingran had not been at the family residence for the past two years, but taken elsewhere for secluded training. Now it made sense why she hadn’t come to visit him at school.

“Han Bingran” cleared her throat before the guards, adopting a serious manner. “Ahem… My grandmother asked me to remind you to stay vigilant—the Jade Plate is of immense importance to the Han family. There must not be the slightest mistake.”

“Rest assured, Young Miss. What the family head has entrusted to us, we remember well. We’ll maintain the highest alert at all times. Please convey to the family head that she can be at ease,” the guard replied solemnly.

Bingyan secretly laughed. “If I were grandmother, I’d hardly be at ease! With someone right under your noses, you didn’t even notice.” He felt fortunate that only he and his sister knew how identical they looked in female attire.

“I trust you all, but my grandmother might not. You know how much she values the Jade Plate.” The guards nodded in agreement at “Han Bingran’s” words. “So, it would be best for you to go to her and pledge your loyalty—show her your dedication. It’ll certainly benefit your future standing in the family.”

The guards seemed convinced. Yes, it was wise to show themselves before the matriarch—to let her remember their faces would surely help their prospects. “But… what about guarding here?” the leader asked hesitantly.

“No worries, I’ll watch the place for you. Nothing will go wrong!” “Han Bingran” assured them confidently.

“Thank you, Young Miss. If you ever need anything from us, please let us know.” With their gratitude expressed, the guards headed toward Han Liang’s residence.

“Well, time to get to work,” Bingyan said, clapping his hands once the guards had gone, feeling both excited and expectant.

Entering the wooden tower, he found the surroundings quiet. His large eyes moved restlessly in the darkness. He approached the altar where the Jade Plate was kept, his gaze fixed on the object still covered in red silk. “This is it.” Bingyan reached out, slowly removing the silk. Instantly, countless golden rays burst from the Jade Plate, forcing him to close his eyes against the brilliance—the darkness made it even more dazzling than in the martial arena.

Summoning his courage, Bingyan slowly brought his hand toward the Jade Plate, inch by inch, uncertain what awaited him—was it disappointment, or…