Baili Weisheng’s anguished cry immediately drew everyone’s attention.
Neither Jue Mingzi nor Jun Beiyue could bring themselves to leave Ziqing’s side, but Xiong Xiaobao, off to the side whipping Mi’er, was startled enough to come dashing over at once. “Uncle Scholar!”
Xiong Xiaobao had never told anyone about the previous time Baili Weisheng’s head had started hurting like this—and yet, even now, thinking back on it, he still felt a lingering chill of fear!
He couldn’t feel that pain himself, but he could see, plainly, just how excruciating it must be!
Otherwise, how could a grown man like Baili Weisheng possibly cry out in such utter distress!
“Physicians!”
Jun Beiyue barked furiously, and the physicians, who had all frozen in place, finally snapped back to their senses, hurrying toward Baili Weisheng.
But the moment Xiong Xiaobao reached out to touch him, Baili Weisheng flung himself into a violent struggle, rolling hard and slamming straight into the wall!
“It hurts…”
He cried out, utterly unable to bear it. Amid the pain, countless fragmented scenes flooded together in his mind, and in his ears, Xuanyuan Lige’s voice grew closer and closer, as though the man himself were murmuring right beside him.
Xiong Xiaobao didn’t know what to do, and neither did the physicians—they couldn’t even manage to grab his wrist to take his pulse!
Baili Weisheng thrashed violently, his entire back slamming against the wall again and again, mercilessly.
“Bang bang bang! Bang bang bang!”
Xiong Xiaobao was nearly in tears, and steeling himself, pressed his own body against the wall, letting Baili Weisheng slam into him instead!
For a moment, the entire dungeon descended into chaos!
Amid the excruciating pain, Baili Weisheng seemed to still retain some flicker of consciousness—he didn’t throw himself against Xiong Xiaobao at all, but instead began pounding at his own head with tremendous force, “Bang bang bang! Bang bang bang!”
“No!”
Xiong Xiaobao let out a loud wail, throwing himself forward, clinging tightly to Baili Weisheng.
But Baili Weisheng simply couldn’t hold back!
The pain in his head was unbearable—he needed some other pain to distract from it, if only barely!
He wrenched free of Xiong Xiaobao’s grip, both hands coming down like hammers, pounding at his own skull with all his strength.
The physicians abandoned any thought of taking his pulse, all rushing in to hold him back instead, but who could possibly restrain Baili Weisheng’s strength at a moment like this?
“Knock him out!”
Jun Beiyue shouted. If this continued, before his memory was even restored, he might well beat himself senseless!
At once, the guards all rushed forward.
But to everyone’s surprise, Baili Weisheng’s face suddenly twisted with a sinister malice, as though some demon had crawled up straight from the depths of hell, and he said coldly, “Whoever comes near, I’ll kill them! I’m about to remember! I’m about to remember my little Qingqing!”
At those words, everyone froze.
This Baili Weisheng?
This Baili Weisheng bore no resemblance at all to the scholar they knew—he looked, if anything, like an outright demon.
And yet, he’d said—my little Qingqing.
That cold, sinister voice was so utterly unfamiliar, and yet the words “little Qingqing,” coming from his mouth, felt so, so achingly familiar!
Just as everyone stood frozen, at a loss for what to do, Baili Weisheng seized the moment to fling Xiong Xiaobao aside!
Clutching his own head with both hands, he suddenly slammed his skull straight down against the ground—”thunk!”
After that resounding impact, Baili Weisheng fell utterly silent, and along with him, the entire room fell silent too, even Jun Beiyue and Jue Mingzi turning to look.
Baili Weisheng knelt on the ground, his head bowed low against the floor, his slender frame looking utterly desolate and alone, as though he might collapse at any moment.
Xiong Xiaobao, having fallen to the ground himself, clenched his teeth, tears streaming down his face, not daring to watch any longer, terrified that the scholar might collapse, might never get back up.
In the silence, Jun Beiyue’s hand remained on the dagger lodged in Ziqing’s abdomen, his other arm wrapped around her neck.
He gazed from a distance at Baili Weisheng’s forlorn, solitary figure, and for the very first time in his life, found himself genuinely stunned on account of another man.
Just then, he suddenly noticed something wet on his hand, as though something had stuck to it.
His heart trembled faintly, and instinctively he turned to look—only to find… only to find his own hand wet with tears!
It was Ziqing!
Her eyes, faintly open, had long since brimmed over with tears without his noticing, streams of clear tears washing over her pain-stricken face, trickling down onto Jun Beiyue’s hand.
In that moment, she truly didn’t know why she was crying!
Perhaps it was for the Xuanyuan Lige that Mi’er had spoken of; perhaps it was for her husband, nearly driven mad with worry beside her; or perhaps it was for Baili Weisheng before her, suffering so terribly and yet still finding it in him to tease her with a lighthearted remark.
“My little Qingqing…”
So familiar, so intimate, as though time had rolled back to before, as though nothing had ever happened, back to that chance encounter in the Liwei Mountains.
He’d smiled then, as bright and vivid as mountain flowers in bloom, telling her earnestly that he’d take her home.
But now…
Now he suffered so terribly, so utterly wretched, on the verge of collapse.
Tears fell without end, wetting Jun Beiyue’s hand, and wetting his heart as well.
Amid the chaos and fury, his gaze finally returned to Ziqing’s face, and he realized this woman had been trying to tell him something this entire time.
“It’s all right. Don’t worry, nothing bad will happen.”
He hurriedly reassured her, though in truth, even he had no idea whether Baili Weisheng would ever lift his head again, or simply collapse for good.
“Don’t worry, I promise you, nothing will happen! Nothing will happen to anyone, not to you either! It won’t happen!”
A promise, made for the first time, without any real certainty behind it.
Seeing her lips part, Jun Beiyue quickly leaned in close.
“Beiyue… this whole lifetime, I’ve made you worry so much.” Ziqing’s voice was so faint it was almost inaudible.
Jun Beiyue strained to listen, his hand gripping the dagger’s handle trembling constantly.
“Beiyue, can you… do one more thing for me… help me… help me find out clearly… what Ali left for me… help me… save… save the scholar. Please… please…”
“Yes!”
Jun Beiyue agreed without a moment’s hesitation. “Hold on. I’ll find out for you! I’ll go ask for you now. You have to hold on!”
Jun Beiyue released the dagger, laid Ziqing gently down on the ground, and hurried toward the near-death Mi’er at once.
But to everyone’s surprise, even at death’s door, Mi’er still refused to let Ziqing be.
She knew exactly what Jun Beiyue had come to ask—she could see it plainly!
Before Jun Beiyue could even get close, she summoned every last ounce of strength and shouted furiously, “Han Ziqing, Xuanyuan Lige left you nothing at all! I lied to you! You’re far too full of yourself—Xuanyuan Lige hated you, hated you to the bone, how could he possibly have left anything for you? Han Ziqing, when it comes to Xuanyuan Lige, you have absolutely nothing!”
Mi’er was consumed with hatred!
She had never imagined the young master would die, would die because of this woman!
She had followed the young master for so long, and nearly every night, he would play the blood zheng for her. She couldn’t hear a single note of what he played, but she could see with perfect clarity that every single fingering he used, every time, was exactly identical—which meant that every single day, the young master had been playing the very same piece, over and over.
She knew—the young master had been longing for someone, and that was why he played for her.
But she was never that woman, and that was precisely why the young master had destroyed her hearing, so that she could never hear anything at all.
In truth, the young master had kept her by his side not because he needed a maid who could keep secrets, but because he needed a woman who could “listen” to him play.
Thinking of this, Mi’er’s hatred and resentment only deepened, and she shrieked furiously, “Han Ziqing, I curse you! I curse whatever man you love in every lifetime to come, to die a wretched death!”