In truth, it wasn’t only Ziqing who thought this way.
Everyone present thought the same — that Jun Beiyue would very likely give up on the lost island. If the lost island truly held value, given Jun Beiyue’s temperament, he would surely defy even Nanzhao to find it.
But as things stood now, the lost island was something Nanzhao had concealed for the sake of Longyuan’s very safety.
Given the current situation — the Eastern Qin empress waiting at Great Zhou’s northern border, both waiting and threatening at once — Jun Beiyue had ignored her entirely.
The Nanzhao king had sent letter after letter, and Jun Beiyue hadn’t answered a single one.
Now that his revenge was more or less settled, and Ziqing had been found, one way or another, Jun Beiyue had to deal with these two matters.
After all, this concerned Great Zhou itself!
He was the ruler of Longyuan. If he didn’t act, no one else would dare act rashly either — he could even dictate the course of wars between other nations, such as the imminent war between Western Jing and Western Chu.
But none of this meant he could do whatever he pleased. Provoking Nanzhao wouldn’t drive them to actual war within these next few years — but there was one thing beyond even Jun Beiyue’s control.
Nanzhao might not raise arms itself — but it could still aid other nations!
If Eastern Qin, Western Jing, or even Western Chu — hoping to seize the chance to turn its fortunes around — learned of this, any of them might race to reach the Nanzhao king first, seeking an alliance.
The matter of the lost island, though secret, was no secret at all among the royal houses of the various nations. Everyone had long wanted to exploit it, to drive a wedge between Jun Beiyue and the Nanzhao royal house — and every attempt had failed.
But now, Jun Beiyue himself had slipped up over the black merfolk affair — how could the other royal houses not seize the opportunity, fearing no longer that their scheming might backfire on themselves instead?
They would be only too eager to lay every shred of evidence openly before the Nanzhao king, no longer hiding anything, no longer holding back out of caution.
And if the other nations formed an alliance with Nanzhao, Great Zhou would undoubtedly find itself isolated.
By every measure of reason and principle, the time had come to be honest with Nanzhao — even to join forces with them in guarding the secret of the lost island, sparing no lost-island survivor who posed any threat to Longyuan’s safety.
Everyone understood this. But no one wanted it.
Yingzi glanced at Ziqing’s bowed head, and felt an unbidden pang of tenderness.
However bad, however flawed — it was still one’s own home, wasn’t it?
A child never resents its mother, never resents its home.
Yingzi hesitated a moment, then finally spoke. “Master, Prince Baxian has sent letter after letter, saying that once you’ve settled things here, you should hurry back — the matter with Eastern Qin still needs to be resolved.”
At this, Situ Haonan, standing nearby, chimed in as well. “Beiyue, just let Nanzhao wait a while longer — worst case, have Jiao Cha hold the line there for now. Let’s go strike Eastern Qin, drive their troops north to guard against the Xiongnu! We can’t let this opportunity slip away!”
Jun Beiyue didn’t bother arguing the point with him, instead saying seriously, “Situ, take Yelu Qianqian to lie low at my Liuli Pavilion for now. Don’t let her run off — that would ruin everything.”
“You’re joking — like she’d run!” Situ Haonan laughed helplessly. He understood, of course, that Jun Beiyue wanted him to guard against Yelu Chenyi, and was about to press his point further, but Jun Beiyue simply waved a hand, signaling him to go make preparations.
“Beiyue, actually, this whole matter could still be…”
Before Situ Haonan could finish, Jun Beiyue took the antidote and, leading Ziqing by the hand, walked off ahead of everyone else!
For a moment, neither Situ Haonan nor Yingzi dared say another word. Ziqing walked silently to the doorway, then turned back to cast the two of them a grateful glance before following after him in silence.
They walked the whole way without speaking, and it wasn’t until they reached the door of their room that Ziqing finally spoke up on her own. “Where do you think Baili Weisheng went?”
Sha Qiuzi had said Baili Weisheng had entered Akbachu — that man never showed up anywhere without good reason, so he must have gone there because of Mingsha Mountain too.
But where was he now?
If Yanzi, this guardian, was an accident — someone beyond the Nanzhao royal house’s control — then Baili Weisheng was something else entirely: a marvel. This man seemed tangled up in every thread of this whole affair, and yet remained utterly impossible to pin down. No one could figure out why he’d come at all.
“Even the shadow guards can’t find him. He’ll show himself whenever he wants to.” Jun Beiyue said flatly, though a flicker of confident coldness clearly passed through his eyes.
“He seems to know Sha Qiuzi quite well?” Ziqing asked again. Anyone who could track down Sha Qiuzi had to be an old acquaintance of his!
At the very least, Sha Qiuzi should know something about him!
But Jun Beiyue avoided the question entirely, saying only, “Go on inside. Let’s get the medicine on you quickly, before the poison spreads further into your body.”
Ziqing seemed about to say something more, but held it back, nodding instead as she went inside. As for the matter of going to Nanzhao — she couldn’t find a single reason within herself to try to stop him.
Applying the medicine looked simple enough, but was in truth a delicate, painstaking task.
“I’ll do it myself. Could you step outside?” Ziqing said flatly — if she let him apply it, wouldn’t he see everything?
“I can do it with my eyes closed!” Jun Beiyue said with a laugh, and true to his word, he actually closed his eyes. Without waiting for Ziqing’s agreement, he gently removed her blindfold.
Ziqing tensed slightly, staring at his tightly shut eyes, noticing how astonishingly long his eyelashes were, casting a faint shadow beneath them. His large hand slowly reached toward her, and Ziqing lowered her eyes, watching.
He was so gentle. His touch traced lightly across her cheek, slowly circling up to her forehead — a soft, feather-light contact, as if a butterfly were dancing across her face, and gradually, the gloom that had settled over Ziqing’s heart began to lift, like clearing skies.
Gently, his touch circled back down to her cheek, lingering, trailing all the way to her jaw, tilting up slightly — his hand seemed to hold some kind of magic, drawing Ziqing under its spell, and for a moment she forgot everything else, her thoughts following wherever it led. An indescribable, wondrous feeling flowed from every place his hand touched, spreading toward her heart, gathering there, gathering — Ziqing felt her own heartbeat quicken, faster and faster.
Gently, without meaning to, she tilted her chin up — and just then, a familiar warmth drew suddenly closer, and soon after, an even more familiar touch followed, and came to rest.
Cool, soft — pressed gently against her lips, so tender that Ziqing startled, and slowly opened her eyes to find him close before her.
He was kissing her lips. His thin lips barely moved; the large hand that had been lingering on her face slowly slid to cradle the back of her head, pressing her gently backward, and just then, his lips began to move against hers in slow, deliberate strokes. Ziqing couldn’t find words to describe the feeling in that moment — only that it was beautiful, as if every soft press of his lips bloomed a flower against hers.
Slowly, he let her settle back down, and only then did his lips finally still, though they remained pressed almost hungrily to hers, and he murmured low, “I’ve missed you. Missed you so much I couldn’t sleep at night.”
Hearing this, the force gathering within Ziqing’s chest seemed to burst all at once, flooding through her entire body. She didn’t know what had come over her — only that it felt wonderful, as if every part of her was receiving the gentle caress of his tender gaze.
“I… missed you too.” She murmured, her small hands curling around his neck, longing for the safety of having him near, longing for the security of falling asleep held in his arms every night, longing for the feeling of him unconsciously reaching for her hand, longing for how, with him there, she feared nothing at all.
“I want to have you.” His voice suddenly turned rough and hoarse; she could feel the heat radiating from him.
But she knew — she couldn’t.
His kiss lingered, unhurried, over her once-ruined cheek — his eyes remained closed throughout, yet his touch felt far more real, far more vivid, than sight ever could. He didn’t seem to mind that at all. The kiss came to rest, obediently, against the collar of her robe, and he murmured, low, “We’re going to Nanzhao. I’m going to give you a gift.”