“Wait, wait a moment!”

Sha Qiuzi had no idea what to say for a moment, and could only desperately beg Ziqing to wait.

This wasn’t right!

Was this woman even still a woman?

No—the real question was, was this woman even still human?

She’d been ruined like this, her entire face destroyed!

And yet she showed not the slightest reaction. Looking at herself in the mirror, shouldn’t she at least be frightened enough to shatter the mirror? At least frightened enough to lose her mind and order everyone out?

At the very least, shouldn’t she scream, or weep, or cover her face?

But she did none of that. And not reacting at all wasn’t even the strangest part—she had turned and smiled at him, so brilliantly, so confidently, that it seemed almost absurd how beautiful he found that smile.

Sha Qiuzi could hardly trust his own senses anymore. Torn between conflicting feelings, he paced back and forth, scratching his head and ears like an agitated monkey.

It took him a good while before he finally blurted out, “Han Ziqing, have you no shame?”

No… shame?

The moment he said it, the medicine boy beside him was frightened out of his wits—Master, if Prince Yao ever heard you say that, you’d be a dead man, even if you were treating Princess Yao’s face!

And the entire Reverse Scale Mercenary Corps drew their swords in unison, furious!

Ziqing frowned and looked over at Sha Qiuzi, who only then realized he’d misspoken, growing even more uneasy. He was about to explain himself, but to his surprise, Ziqing suddenly smiled.

“Of course I have none. That’s exactly why I can’t wait to go find the antidote, and to… take my revenge.”

She bit down hard on the word “revenge.”

A woman’s face mattered so much to her.

But for Han Ziqing, it wasn’t enough to reduce her to tears, to make her want to die, to make her give up on herself.

She never cried.

As long as Jun Beiyue didn’t find her repulsive, she wouldn’t shed a tear—not even for this face, not even if it cost her life.

Back on Liuxian Island, she had said as much: unless Jun Beiyue died, she would never cry again.

Fall down, and you still get back up before you cry.

Besides, she didn’t consider herself to have fallen at all.

With that, Ziqing walked out—openly, without a mask, without a veil.

At the Flower Queen banquet on New Year’s Eve, she had once thought Jun Beiyue simply loved beauty, never imagining that he had prepared the phoenix crown and ceremonial robes for her at that very event—that he intended to propose to her in front of every noble in the realm.

Had Bingchan not reported everything to her in full detail, that man, given his nature, might never have explained so much to her.

Nor would he have explained the fear in his eyes that New Year’s Eve.

If he didn’t find her repulsive, why should she bother caring what others thought?

She would go, openly and unashamedly, wearing this very face, to find Yelu Chenyi, to find Yanzi and take her revenge.

She wanted to tell Jun Beiyue: don’t worry about her, don’t waste effort trying to hide it for her—she wasn’t afraid.

Though he wasn’t by her side, his warmth had never left her.

Perhaps that warmth, given to her at the very edge of death, that support, could warm her, could carry her, for a lifetime.

Ziqing walked on, openly, her small hand unconsciously rising to touch her face again. She would never forget that feeling.

A large, slightly callused hand, gently stroking, ticklish, soft, so very tender.

Strong, powerful hands, holding her arms, lifting her up, so incredibly strong.

Lost in that warmth, she suddenly stopped short—Sha Qiuzi, chasing after her, was too late to catch up!

She stood at the entrance of a dim corridor, and in the distance, in the brightly lit hall, saw someone sitting against the wall in the corner.

Purple robes, silver hair, a face deathly pale, his long, narrow eyes closed tight. He leaned against the wall, breathing softly, giving off an air of quiet fragility—like a fallen immortal, gravely wounded, hiding in some corner of the mortal world, or a dying spirit, hiding here alone to eke out his last breaths.

It was Xuanyuan Lige.

Ziqing’s heart gave a slight start. She remembered clearly—in the secret chamber, this man had chosen to work with Yanzi. It must have been his idea for Yanzi to go to Yaoshun Island in the first place.

“Why is he here?” Ziqing murmured. Bingchan’s report earlier hadn’t mentioned this man at all.

“Baili Weisheng brought him. My lord has also been searching for him. This subordinate heard that when my lord and Princess Situ interrogated Xuanyuan Zhaoxi, he said this man had also been on the ship, but my lord never found his body—no one knows how he escaped.”

That was all Bingchan could report. After the incident on New Year’s Eve, they had remained on standby in the capital, and once Prince Yao returned from his sea voyage, he had ordered them to accompany him to Xijing.

As for the search, as for that sea battle—they knew the broad strokes, but not the details.

“Baili Weisheng…” Ziqing murmured to herself. That man had helped them once in Nanzhao and hadn’t shown himself since. Could it be he was the one who had rescued Xuanyuan Lige?

If she had once felt some lingering sense of debt toward Xuanyuan Lige, then from the moment he’d sided with Yanzi, they had become absolute enemies.

His choosing Yanzi wasn’t wrong, and she didn’t blame him for it—they had always been on opposing sides, each bound to pursue their own greatest interests.

Perhaps, if anything, this had only strengthened whatever reluctance still lingered in her heart.

“What are you doing here? Are you badly injured?” Ziqing said flatly.

Just then, Sha Qiuzi suddenly rushed up from behind her, dashing straight to Xuanyuan Lige and striking one of his major acupoints!

Only then did Xuanyuan Lige’s eyes snap open, glaring furiously at Sha Qiuzi!

Thanks to Baili Weisheng’s extraordinary care along the way, all his wounds had fully healed, his martial arts fully restored—his old illness posed no further hindrance.

That faint, labored breathing moments ago, seemingly so fragile, had actually been him straining to break free of the sealed point.

“Young Master Xuanyuan, Baili Weisheng entrusted you to my care. If you leave, how am I supposed to explain that to him?” Sha Qiuzi said, displeased.

Xuanyuan Lige had no patience to bother with him and turned his head away—but just then, he caught sight of Ziqing standing not far off.

He recognized that face at a glance!

How was she here? Hadn’t Jun Beiyue brought her into the city? Was she awake?

He had no idea he had feigned surrender to Yanzi, no idea he had done so right in front of Ziqing—he only knew that in protecting this woman, he had come within a hair’s breadth of losing his life.

Thankfully, he hadn’t miscalculated—the merfolk had come to save her, and although her face had been ruined, at least she still stood before him, whole and alive.

The weight on his heart finally lifted, and Xuanyuan Lige’s most immediate reaction was joy, delight—he instinctively opened his mouth to call out to her. But at that moment, Sha Qiuzi suddenly spoke up gravely. “Han Ziqing, let me say this now—I’ve already reported this fellow to Prince Yao. Until Prince Yao writes back, you’re not to touch a hair on him. Whatever else, he’s still my patient.”

“What illness does he have?” Ziqing’s tone was ice-cold, as if the person before her were not once her only friend, A’Li, not the mentor who had once taught her the zither hand by hand, but an enemy less than a stranger.

Xuanyuan Lige’s heart lurched—only then did he remember the misunderstanding still standing between them, only then did he remember that when he’d risked his life to save her, she had been unconscious the entire time.

Sha Qiuzi only knew that the crown prince of Dongqin and Prince Yao and his wife were bound to be mortal enemies. Worried Han Ziqing might act too rashly and ruin whatever scheme Prince Yao had planned using Baili Weisheng, he said hurriedly, “Princess Yao, he’s gravely ill—he won’t live past thirty. You don’t need to kill him, he’ll die on his own regardless.”