Suddenly there was no one in front of Jing Hengbo.

Flying Hawk in his crazed state pounced forward.

Yu Chun was greatly alarmed and desperately tried to rush up.

Xia Zirui silently blocked in front of Jing Hengbo.

The crystal hairpin behind her head sparkled—Jing Hengbo had given her this hairpin after the last incident.

Jing Hengbo suddenly pulled out her hairpin and threw it forward.

“Look what this is!” she called out loudly.

The crystal gleamed brilliantly in the sunlight, so bright that even Yu Chun closed his eyes.

Flying Hawk’s charging figure suddenly stopped. He looked up, his gaze also seemingly illuminated by the crystal hairpin. He suddenly raised his hand and caught the hairpin. After just one glance, he clutched it tightly in his palm.

Then he looked up at Jing Hengbo with uncertainty and suspicion.

“It’s for you,” Jing Hengbo smiled. “I think you’ll like it.”

Flying Hawk stared blankly at the hairpin in his palm, then at Jing Hengbo. The killing intent in his eyes subsided, replaced by faint confusion, but his body trembled more and more, foam increased at the corners of his mouth, and his facial muscles kept twitching, making his features appear increasingly fierce.

“Epilepsy!” someone suddenly shouted. Everyone was shocked and retreated like a tide.

“Bang.” Flying Hawk collapsed to the ground, limbs convulsing.

Everyone stepped back, but only Jing Hengbo stepped forward, crouching down to examine him.

“Be careful!” Both Tie Xingze and Yu Chun moved forward to stop her.

Jing Hengbo shook her head, stood up, and casually kicked the guy. “Drag him inside and find a physician to look at him.”

“Your Majesty!” Both Yu Chun and Zirui called out softly, their expressions disapproving.

This person was too dangerous, too abnormal.

Jing Hengbo waved her hand—she had her own thoughts.

Flying Hawk was dragged inside like a dead dog, still clutching the crystal hairpin tightly even while unconscious.

The disturbance subsided, and the queue at the entrance had grown as long as it could get. Yong Xue brought out firecrackers to set off—the auspicious time for opening was approaching.

Jing Hengbo looked at the crowd and entered the courtyard. Inside had been renovated, preserving the deep ambiance while adding some bright touches. The previously somewhat gloomy atmosphere had been transformed—at a glance, thousands of bamboo stalks created deep green shadows, elegant yet cool.

Tie Xingze praised it endlessly while Jing Hengbo listened with a smile. “I never thought I’d have such an atmospheric establishment.” She looked at Tie Xingze’s complexion. “Were you injured earlier?”

Tie Xingze casually wiped away a trace of blood from the corner of his mouth and smiled cheerfully. “It’s nothing.”

“Zirui.” Jing Hengbo’s eyes turned. “Young Master Tie was injured protecting me. As my personal female official, you should take good care of him for me.”

This logic was rather strange. Yu Chun, who had been escorting Flying Hawk to a guest room and returned just in time to hear this, had an odd expression.

Zirui understood completely, her face flushing as she softly agreed.

Tie Xingze glanced at Jing Hengbo, his expression somewhat embarrassed.

“Alright, alright,” seeing she’d achieved her goal, Jing Hengbo smiled and pulled him along. “I promised to paint you a portrait. Come, sit here.”

“This is too valuable…” Tie Xingze declined.

“Rather than using it to make money, better to give it to someone I like.” Jing Hengbo waved dismissively.

She didn’t have much photo paper left and had planned to sell each piece at an astronomical price, make a killing, then quit. One more or one less didn’t matter.

Tie Xingze beside her suddenly stiffened, and Zirui also looked up. Jing Hengbo paused, noticing their strange expressions, and thought before understanding.

“Don’t overthink it. My ‘liking’ just means finding you agreeable—good friend meaning.” She quickly explained.

Before, she wouldn’t have cared about such things, but now was different—she didn’t want any unnecessary misunderstandings.

Tie Xingze seemed both relieved and slightly disappointed, while Zirui lowered her head again.

All the idle people in the room had withdrawn. Jing Hengbo gestured to Tie Xingze. “Come, choose your own angle and pose—I’ll take one for you.”

Tie Xingze’s expression still seemed to want to decline. Jing Hengbo looked at him strangely. “Eh, you’re usually the most straightforward person—why so resistant today?”

“I’m just sorry about your money. You put so much effort into this portrait studio—it must serve an important purpose.” Tie Xingze thought for a moment and finally agreed. “I have some modest wealth. For your studio’s opening, I should send a congratulatory gift—please don’t refuse.”

“Only a fool wouldn’t take money offered.” Jing Hengbo waved with a smile.

Tie Xingze walked to the window and casually stood facing her. “Like this.”

Jing Hengbo picked up a box with an opening—she had already modified the Polaroid to avoid its overly sophisticated appearance raising questions.

“By the way,” she joked while finding the angle, “my portrait technique has miraculous qualities. Have you heard?”

“What?” Tie Xingze seemed to be looking out the window and asked casually.

“They say people with bad character come out blurry,” Jing Hengbo laughed.

Tie Xingze turned back. With the light and shadows under the window unclear, his expression couldn’t be seen clearly, but his tone was mildly curious. “Really? Then I suddenly feel nervous.”

Jing Hengbo laughed heartily, increasingly interested. “And also, it can capture everyone’s inner nature.”

“Now I don’t believe it.” Tie Xingze also laughed, pointing at her hands. “My Queen, hurry up and paint. If you keep shaking like this, it really will come out blurry. Would that mean my character is good or bad?”

Jing Hengbo couldn’t stop laughing and quickly composed herself, steadied the Polaroid, and was about to press the shutter.

Suddenly there was commotion in the courtyard, and simultaneously, Tie Xingze by the window suddenly turned his head in alarm. “What happened!”

“Click.”

The shutter sound.

“Oh no!” Jing Hengbo was annoyed—the moment she pressed the shutter, Tie Xingze had turned his head, so this shot was probably ruined.

The photo paper slowly emerged. She pulled it out and looked. “Eh!” she exclaimed happily. “It’s fine!”

Tie Xingze said in surprise, “It worked?” and came over to look.

In the photo, bright sunlight streamed through the window, gleaming on Tie Xingze’s forehead. Fortunately, the sudden head turn hadn’t blurred the photo—his handsome side profile was clearly visible. He leaned by the window, face slightly raised, with a trace of surprise, his gaze distant.

“I find side-view photos all have special charm.” The more Jing Hengbo looked, the more satisfied she became. “This one doesn’t even look quite like you—it has a sort of…” she tilted her head thinking, “especially distant, especially mysterious feeling… like suddenly gaining another soul.”

“Your Majesty’s words make me shudder,” Tie Xingze laughed and reached for the photo. “I find Your Majesty’s box quite mysterious.”

Jing Hengbo was just handing him the photo when their fingers touched. Jing Hengbo felt nothing, but Tie Xingze’s fingers paused before he quickly took the photo.

“Indeed special.” He clicked his tongue in admiration. “I shall treasure it.”

“Really, don’t lose it.” Jing Hengbo instructed him. “This thing of mine is practically unique—if lost, it’s gone forever. When I no longer have this thing in the future, I might come ask to look at it if I remember. Don’t tell me you lost it then.”

“How could I bear to.” Tie Xingze smiled as he put away the photo.

“What was that commotion earlier? Let me go see.” Jing Hengbo handed the box containing the Polaroid to Yong Xue.

She had already taught Yong Xue how to take photos. To avoid too many people seeing the Polaroid, she had devised a photography method—a room divided by thin boards with a person-height opening for the Polaroid, showing only the lens. People coming for “portraits” sat opposite while Yong Xue clicked from inside, then made the outside person continue waiting half an hour before delivering the photo, avoiding inexplicable amazement.

The photo customers were actually predetermined—the first three in line: a Grand Commandant from the Floating Water Tribe, a Director from the Censorate, and a former Ceremonial Minister with the title of Sage. The rest were all extras.

Jing Hengbo had Tie Xingze help maintain order while she walked to the courtyard center, indeed seeing Flying Hawk running out from the room with Yu Chun leading people to block him.

Jing Hengbo pushed through the crowd and casually beckoned to Flying Hawk. “Follow me.”

The guy clutching the crystal hairpin with bewildered eyes hesitated, then silently followed her.

Yu Chun, full of vigilance, lowered his weapon, his expression also somewhat dazed.

He was beginning to realize that the carefree, lazy Queen was actually the most domineering one.

Her fearless dominance was deeply hidden, only occasionally shining at critical moments, and wherever she passed, her presence reigned supreme.

Jing Hengbo led Flying Hawk into the east side room, ignoring Yu Chun who had followed to protect her, and slammed the door shut—the door panel nearly hit Yu Chun’s nose.

Turning around, Jing Hengbo faced Flying Hawk, looked at his complexion, and said, “Awake?”

The guy looked somewhat listless, clutching the crystal hairpin without speaking.

“Like this thing?” Jing Hengbo stared at his expression.

Flying Hawk immediately looked up, his eyes eager. “Yes! Do you have more?”

“Yes,” Jing Hengbo shrugged, “but not many. This was originally unique.”

Flying Hawk nodded. “True, I shouldn’t be too greedy.”

Jing Hengbo smiled and walked over to sit beside him.

“You don’t find me repulsive?” Flying Hawk turned to look at her. Only now did Jing Hengbo notice his pupils were slightly dark purple—he didn’t seem to be from Dige.

“Why should I find you repulsive?”

“I’m a… madman.” He bent down, hands thrust into his hair. “I said many things I shouldn’t have earlier, didn’t I? I can’t control myself before each episode…”

“You’re not a madman.” Jing Hengbo said. “You’re a pitiful person whose fate was twisted by wrong perceptions instilled from childhood.”

Flying Hawk suddenly looked up at her, his eyes fierce.

“I’m not pitiful!” His tone carried killing intent.

“You are pitiful.” Jing Hengbo didn’t even look at him.

Flying Hawk’s suddenly raised fingertips were already approaching her throat. This half-righteous, half-evil person’s killing intent was so sharp that Jing Hengbo’s throat skin rose in goosebumps.

Damn, does he have to be so serious!

Jing Hengbo moved one leg back, preparing to teleport at any moment, while clenching her fingers and still saying casually, “You’re pitiful not because people see you as a mad villain, but because for so long no one could understand you.”

The fingers about to touch her throat stopped.

“Ha! Understand me?” After a long moment he laughed coldly, utterly desolate. “Understand this disgusting, abnormal, parent-killing, neither-male-nor-female person?”

He stood up and spread his arms wide.

“Understand this monster who was female from childhood but suddenly became male when grown?”

“Understand this monster who originally didn’t want to be a woman but later wanted to be one but couldn’t?”

“Understand this monster who was chased and beaten from childhood and had to desperately learn martial arts for self-protection?”

“Understand this monster who was still a woman one day but the next day was tied into a bridal chamber to sleep with women?”

“Hahaha…” his dark purple eyes shot with madness. “Monster! Monster!”

“You’re not a monster.” Jing Hengbo stood up and still casually patted his shoulder. “The fault lies with your parents, not you. They assigned you the wrong gender from the beginning. During your formative years, you were repeatedly told you were female, and over time, you believed it. The power of psychological suggestion is strong—you’re completely normal; only the perception was wrong.”

Flying Hawk’s tense muscles gradually relaxed.

“All these years… you’re the only person to say this to me.”

“So I have done you a favor.” Jing Hengbo continued smoothly.

Flying Hawk turned around and couldn’t help but smile. “You really are a wonderful person.”

“So are you.” Jing Hengbo sat on the bed as if chatting with an old friend. “Have you thought about what to do in the future?”

“Do you know what vow I made?” He didn’t answer but asked instead.

“Hm?”

“All these years, I’ve traveled many places and met many people. Some were good to me at first, but after learning about my problem, they all showed disgust and avoidance, avoiding me like a pile of filth.” When Flying Hawk calmed down, his temperament was serene. “Some called me brother, then abandoned me in a flash; some received my kindness but turned to bring people to kill me, for no reason except thinking that as a man who believed himself a woman, I was a monster who shouldn’t exist in this world. So,” he wiped the corner of his mouth and smiled savagely, “I killed them too.”

Jing Hengbo shrugged unsurprisingly. This guy had heavy killing intent, neither clearly righteous nor evil—doing such things wasn’t strange at all.

But she always felt that compared to so-called righteous people full of virtue and morality, ambitious villains who acted on their emotions were more trustworthy. Even vindictive true villains were more comfortable than hypocrites.

“So I abandoned my name and renamed myself Tian Qi. Heaven abandons me, I abandon heaven.” Flying Hawk curled his lips. “So I made a vow: in this lifetime, if anyone truly doesn’t find me repulsive and is willing to associate with me after knowing everything about me, I will definitely repay them.”

“I knew you would definitely repay me.” Jing Hengbo rested her chin on her hand, smiling as she looked at him.

People with inner scars particularly longed for and valued fairness and warmth. To say this would make him prostrate himself in loyal service was too fantastical, but developing goodwill and lending a hand at crucial moments was possible.

She had spent so much effort talking precisely for this. The moment she saw him shatter the crystal case and display his ghostly martial arts, she had decided.

“I don’t like you.” Tian Qi turned to look at her with the jealous, disgusted gaze women gave other women. “You’re too beautiful, too clever, seemingly casual but actually scheming—this type of woman is most detestable.”

Jing Hengbo thought this sounded like calling her a green tea bitch or scheming bitch. Surely not?

“But I always do what I promise.” Tian Qi stood up and said coldly, “You treating me this way, regardless of sincerity, is still commendable. So, what do you want? Speak up.”

Jing Hengbo blinked, finding this guy very interesting with his changeable temperament. Initially when beaten by Tie Xingze, she thought he was a sleazy character like Yi Qi. Then he suddenly became a bitter, down-and-out wanderer. When discussing serious matters, he was proper and straight-backed, suddenly becoming a master with his own bearing.

“You asked earlier who the person in that portrait was.” Jing Hengbo said slowly. “Do you still want to know?”

Tian Qi’s eyes immediately brightened. Clearly he truly admired Gong Yin’s type, but looking at Jing Hengbo’s expression, he shook his head.

“This person must be very important to you—you wouldn’t give him to me.”

“Who said anything about giving him to you? Could you handle it?” Jing Hengbo laughed heartily. “Here’s what I’m asking you to do—it won’t be difficult and it’s something you’d enjoy. I’ll tell you where this person is, then you go protect him.” She smiled and wiggled her finger. “Think about it—such a beauty, you could see him every day, admire his beauty daily, and when necessary you could even play the hero saving the beauty. Maybe the beauty would smile at you. Having the immortal from the painting come before you—wouldn’t this lifetime be worthwhile?”

“I could just kidnap him.” Tian Qi was dismissive. “There’s nothing in this world I truly want that I can’t get.”

“NO NO, I advise you not to entertain that thought.” Jing Hengbo shook her head vigorously. “If you really did that, then I don’t want your repayment—just leave smoothly. I’ll tell you honestly: if you kidnap him, you’ll die horribly. I don’t want to waste your life.”

“Though this person is only glimpsed in a portrait, I feel his temperament suggests he’s practiced a special martial art.” Tian Qi said. “I believe what you say, but if he’s so strong, why would he need my protection?”

“Because I’m suddenly worried, because I think even the strongest people have weak moments, because I think he’s been strong too long, endured too long, and when such people finally relax and collapse, the consequences can be severe. I hope that day never comes, but I must prepare for its arrival.” Jing Hengbo’s eyes suddenly brightened. “You could tell from the portrait that he practiced special martial arts? Do you know what taboos that martial art has?”

“Prajna Snow, right?”

“Right!” Jing Hengbo stood up—she’d had questions for a long time. “Prajna Snow! Tell me, is this martial art supposedly one that requires cutting off emotions and desires, perhaps even self-castration?”

The way the great god behaved when moved wasn’t right—she’d noticed long ago and had doubts. She’d wanted to ask Yi Qi before but felt it inappropriate. Unexpectedly, Tian Qi seemed to know too.

“What are you talking about?” Tian Qi looked at her strangely. “Prajna Snow originally came from Buddhism—it’s one of the most sacred and difficult martial arts to practice in the world. Originally called Prajna Lotus, it was later improved by the martial master Snow Ancestor, practicing the world’s purest and coldest energy, becoming the gateway to all methods and schools in the world. When the complete technique reaches a higher level, it’s renamed Prajna Snow. This is legendarily the strongest heart-protecting and qi-cultivating martial art, capable of suppressing and cleansing all worldly filth and evil. An ice-snow body, untainted by dust. But aside from the reportedly painful initial cultivation and extremely strict, high requirements for practitioners, I’ve never heard of needing to maintain a virgin body for practice. You should know that Snow Ancestor himself married three wives and had four children—if castration was required, where would the children come from?”

“So that’s how it is…” Jing Hengbo let out a long breath and couldn’t help but smile brilliantly. “Then I’m relieved.”

Her smile was radiantly beautiful, and Tian Qi immediately turned away jealously.

“I’ll consider your proposal.” He said slowly. “I’ll go take a look first to see if this person is worth protecting. If I’m in a good mood, perhaps I’ll act.”

“Just don’t let him discover you.” Jing Hengbo instructed, casually drawing a route map to Yuzhao’s Jing Ting for him.

She wanted to find Gong Yin a bodyguard unknown to anyone, hidden in the shadows.

She knew he possessed supreme martial arts and had thousands of guards, but those were ultimately forces in the open, and anything in the open could be countered. Perhaps Gong Yin also had secret guards, but she still felt that a hidden guard unknown even to himself would be most effective at crucial moments.

The palace was full of treacherous schemes and crises. Gong Yin had always protected her—she wanted to protect him once too.

“Give me that portrait of him.” Tian Qi actually made another demand.

“No way.” Jing Hengbo immediately refused—she wouldn’t give this transvestite Gong Yin’s photo for daily fantasizing.

“I have many portraits of him. Each time you do something that satisfies me, I’ll let you see one.” She coaxed him. “When you save his life, I’ll consider giving you one.”

Tian Qi pulled back his hand, gave her a look, and mocked, “Petty!”

Jing Hengbo smiled, not ashamed at all of her calculating and possessiveness over her boyfriend.

“Go on, go do what you should do.” Seeing this male-bodied person constantly displaying feminine mannerisms was quite unbearable for her too.

Tian Qi turned to leave, suddenly stopping at the threshold.

He didn’t turn back, but when he spoke again, his tone was suddenly somewhat wistful.

“You must… love him very, very much.”

Jing Hengbo was stunned.

Tian Qi’s figure had already disappeared at the other end of the courtyard, while she remained dazed, looking down at the sunlight filtering through a clump of solitary bamboo, casting mottled shadows on her long dress.

Every moment without him by her side, the daylight seemed so endlessly long.

After a long while, she slowly took out the jade box Gong Yin had given her from her bosom. She looked at this thing every day, and had even specially tucked dried flowers she’d made into the box’s crevices.

She gently pressed her cheek against the jade box, murmuring, “Love very, very much… really?”

…

Moments later she heard loud commotion outside again. Running out to look—good heavens, another fight had broken out.

“Why won’t you let us in!”

“Why only paint three families!”

“We queued all night—at least let us have a look!”

“It’s just because they have money and power—we have money too! Someone go home and get silver to crush them!”

Chaos erupted outside the main gate. Listening, Jing Hengbo knew what was happening. Sure enough, the three-portrait rule had angered these customers who’d been tantalized and waiting so long.

Originally Cui Jie and others had been explaining and clearly stating there were only three spots, but people are like this—they won’t give up until they hit the wall, always thinking money is omnipotent, not believing that someone would refuse money at their door. None would disperse, wanting to wait until the first three families finished their portraits to have a look, or at least enter to see, making their long wait worthwhile. Later they saw the three families with portraits emerge, indeed looking amazed and satisfied, carefully carrying the exquisite boxes the portrait studio gave for the portraits—clearly the results were extraordinary.

The nearby residents were mostly government officials and nobles. Nobles always pursued luxury, high-end exclusivity, and being different. They couldn’t stand having something others possessed that they lacked, falling behind. Immediately they swarmed forward, demanding Cui Jie add more customers.

Originally with Yu Chun and his guards present, this wouldn’t have caused major trouble, but Tian Qi had emerged. This guy acted purely on whims, was currently in a bad mood, and seeing the entrance blocked by crowds—a bunch of ugly women and ugly men obstructing his view of the beauty—immediately flew into a rage and kicked a whole bunch of people away.

This caused real trouble. Those blocking the entrance were either wealthy or noble—who would let this slide? Tian Qi ignored everything and strode away, leaving the others to cause trouble.

“Bring out the shopkeeper! Bring out the shopkeeper!” The crowd clamored and surged forward. Cui Jie stepped out trying to say she was the shopkeeper, but before she could stand steady, she was pushed over by the crowd. Yu Chun quickly helped her up and pulled her behind him, shouting with Tie Xingze, “Quiet! Quiet!”

But more and more people gathered. Nearby common residents also crowded over to watch the excitement, three layers deep inside and out. Not only were Jing Hengbo and her group trapped inside, but even the three families who’d gotten portraits were blocked, with people constantly pulling at them to “let us see the portraits.”

“Call out the shopkeeper!”

“Who made these stinking rules! Come out so grandfather can teach you a lesson!”

“If you don’t come out we’ll crush you with silver! Don’t you know who young master is…”

“ALL—OF—YOU—SHUT—UP!”