West Puyang was a district where the poor lived, with densely packed houses and crisscrossing alleys. This area occupied one-fifth of the entire city but housed nearly two-thirds of the city’s population—the crowding and complexity were imaginable. Therefore, among these ordinary-looking common people, there might be hidden bandits, roaming flower thieves, and more often, low-class thugs and petty thieves who engaged in base trades in the city. It was a mixed bag of dragons and snakes with various faces, accordingly breeding more hidden gambling dens, brothels, fighting arenas, and secret establishments. Some of the darkest and most stimulating activities could only flourish here, so this was mostly territory controlled by Puyang’s gangs. Even the authorities turned a blind eye to this place. Occasionally, some young masters, tired of the refined music in the upscale districts, would come here seeking thrills and usually end up as fat sheep to be slaughtered.

In such complex territory, the people were naturally not simple either. There were many secret prostitutes here who naturally couldn’t operate openly like brothels. Some households opened side doors and cleared out several rooms as makeshift inns for these street walkers to solicit clients. They hung small red lanterns at their doors to indicate secret establishments welcoming customers.

The Zhao family in Crotch Alley was in this business. Their house was slightly larger than others, so they cleared out a small courtyard, hung red lanterns, and when street prostitutes solicited clients in the alleys, they would come here to sleep. The Zhao family was very business-savvy—rooms could be rented short-term, even calculated by the hour. Though this worked out more expensive than others’ whole-night rates when calculated carefully, installment payments seemed cheaper. Those aging prostitutes mostly bought an hour or two, with several batches coming and going in one night. The Zhao family didn’t mind the trouble.

Tonight, Boss Zhao was in a very good mood because he’d landed a big deal—a prostitute had actually rented a room for three whole days and prepaid half the rent. Boss Zhao cheerfully fingered the silver coins while humming opera, thinking that while the prostitute’s face wasn’t much to look at, her figure was truly alluring. Presumably her bedroom skills were exceptional—otherwise she couldn’t be so wealthy. He also thought about the young master she’d helped in, who looked rather weak. He wondered which family’s young master had come here seeking thrills. Three days and nights? Tsk tsk, wasn’t he afraid of dying from exhaustion?

Boss Zhao squinted at that room. The room had no back window, but there was a brick that could be pulled out. Later he could peek at the romantic activities… Boss Zhao had pulled this trick many times before.

The door to that room suddenly opened. The prostitute with the alluring figure but unremarkable face leaned against the doorframe, raising her pinky finger coquettishly, “Innkeeper, do you have any extra clean clothes? This client of mine wants to change clothes.”

Boss Zhao wasn’t surprised—all sorts of strange people came here for pleasure, and cross-dressing hardly counted as anything. He repeatedly said, “Yes, yes, yes,” went back to his room to find some clean old clothes, and when eagerly handing them over, quietly pinched the prostitute’s hand.

Seeing her this close, that figure was enough to make one’s nose bleed—under that half-concealed peach-red bodice, two suns could practically burst forth!

Boss Zhao felt his legs go weak after just one glance.

The prostitute smiled as she took the clothes, her red lips opening and closing as she lightly spat a sunflower seed shell onto Boss Zhao’s face, then turned and closed the door.

Boss Zhao touched his face in infatuation, picked up the shell to sniff it, and whispered with a lewd smile, “Beauty’s saliva—soul-stirring, soul-stirring indeed…” He swayed away.

Once the door closed, Jing Hengbo pulled at the peach-red chest garment with annoyance.

Damn it, these stolen clothes just didn’t fit properly. Why was this bodice made so short? It could cover the chest but not the stomach, and the outer layer was gauze—was this for belly dancing?

Looking up at the person on the bed, her expression grew even more troubled.

Gong Yin indeed had problems.

During their escape, she had felt his true qi draining away. That speed was alarming—even the endless waters of the Yellow River were no comparison. She didn’t know how much true qi a person could have to withstand such loss.

It shouldn’t have been this severe originally. His true power was like a dam about to burst, and that final palm strike against the assassin who broke through the wall had instantly washed away the last boulder blocking the flood.

In this situation, finding a doctor was useless. She needed a master to help protect and regulate Gong Yin’s true qi, gathering his scattered internal breath. But she had already lost her Bright Moon Heart. Yelu Qi and Pei Shu were in the city, but unfortunately they were scattered. With martial law in the city, guards every three steps and sentries every five, it was already difficult for her to protect Gong Yin—where could she find her people in such a short time?

She had left secret markers, hoping they would discover them and find her quickly.

She chose to take refuge here partly because she discovered the main city was uninhabitable. She had successively entered a medical clinic and an inn, both times encountering soldiers head-on. The large army outside had entered the city. Prince Li had brought twenty thousand troops for his border inspection, but these troops weren’t that efficient. Currently, the main search force in the city consisted of city soldiers, constables, and city guards under Prefect Lei’s jurisdiction. Prince Li had died in the prefectural office, so Prefect Lei, to clear himself of guilt, had mobilized all forces at his disposal to cooperate with the army in rapid searches. If not for her extremely fast teleportation, she would have been caught many times already.

With no choice, she moved toward complex and marginal areas. Also, she had inadvertently heard that this place was a mixed bag with many extraordinary people. Reportedly, there was even a small temple with a traveling Taoist priest whose healing hands could work miracles, especially skilled at treating internal and external injuries. He was a great patron that local gangs dared not offend—everyone relied on blood and flesh battles for survival, so naturally they wanted to worship such capable people like gods.

Because this place was complex and poor, there weren’t even decent inns, only semi-residential places for prostitutes to live. To find lodging, one had to do as locals did.

She had stolen a set of some prostitute’s new clothes—gaudy colors with “thin, transparent, and bright” as basic features. While dressing, Jing Hengbo sighed, feeling that her experience as Female Sovereign was rich and strange enough to write three legendary books and support ten thousand people in a “Jing Hengbo Research Center.”

She carelessly applied makeup to match the clothes, becoming a woman with bright red lips, prominent cheekbones, dark eye sockets, and blue eye circles—clearly showing excessive indulgence. She looked like an aging beauty past her prime. Looking at herself in the room’s broken mirror, she giggled for a long time before turning to change Gong Yin’s clothes.

Gong Yin looked drowsy, continuously sweating after losing his true power. This person had always seemed made of ice and snow—she couldn’t remember ever seeing him sweat before. Now all these abnormalities represented bodily collapse, but she dared not think about it.

A loud cry came from outside, sounding surprised—it was Boss Zhao’s voice: “Ah! Why is my face swollen!” Jing Hengbo listened and smiled.

Did he think taking advantage of her was so easy? That sunflower seed shell was poisoned. Spitting it from her mouth was merely misdirection—her sunflower seed techniques had been perfected in her modern life.

This Boss Zhao’s gaze was too disgusting. Let him swell up so he couldn’t see!

The bed in this kind of place was very dirty. Jing Hengbo removed all the bedding and spread Gong Yin’s outer robe, which wasn’t yet soaked with sweat, on the bed boards. She quickly stripped off his sweat-soaked inner garment—after all, they already had a child, so seeing him a few more times wouldn’t cause another pregnancy.

But as she undressed him, the corners of her lips curved in a smile, and her cheeks flew with a touch of charming red. Though she had rolled with him in pine forests and battled in carriages, these had all been in dark environments when she was taking the initiative. Being her first taste, she was naturally somewhat shy. In her memory, he had well-proportioned muscle tone and a tall, upright figure. In the darkness, her mind always held images of cold jade and snowy moonlight—smooth and crystalline, as if his muscles and bones were transparent, truly cast from ice and snow. Now, covered in sweat, that ice and snow became water-dissolved moon—moist, shining in the dim candlelight. The statue became a real body, the touch under her fingertips elastic and slightly cool. A slide would slip into his firm abdominal muscles. He was naturally such a clean person, unstained by worldly dust. Even profuse sweat didn’t seem dirty but had a kind of pure, lotus-like radiant beauty. Jing Hengbo’s gaze was slightly dizzy, her breathing gradually quickening. She had never known that purity and carnality could interweave so perfectly. Like now, with his dark hair scattered messily on the pillow, so quiet, yet her heartbeat thundered like drums, heat rising within her body in waves, making her want to pounce on him.

After being dazed for a while, she still sighed and quickly dried his body. Reaching through his outer garment to untie his waist sash, she also removed his undergarment and soaked everything in a basin. The basin was ready-made, but she found it dirty, so she used a small knife to scrape off the entire outer layer of wood, then soaked and washed it three times before drawing fresh water from the small well outside to prepare washing his clothes.

She always carried medicine with her. Having encountered many situations, both she and those around her often had injuries and illnesses, so she didn’t dare put on the airs of a noble Female Sovereign. Like martial artists, she carried plenty of silver and medicine. The premium thousand-year ginseng she had taken from Prince Luoyun’s palace last time wasn’t finished yet. She took it out, cut slices for him to hold in his mouth—this thing was most precious for replenishing qi and weakness. Especially thousand-year ginseng was priceless. Sure enough, after a while, his sweating gradually stopped and his whole body slowly cooled down.

Only then did she put his clean outer robe next to his skin, then wrapped him in the clean coarse cloth clothes Boss Zhao had just sent over. Boss Zhao probably often had to accommodate various strange requests—the clothes were indeed very clean, but Jing Hengbo didn’t dare put them directly on Gong Yin’s skin. She feared he couldn’t handle it when he woke up.

She had never done these things before and was quite clumsy, muttering while dressing him, “Why are men’s clothes so troublesome… In the future, I’ll just put him in a bell-shaped robe…” Finally she tied his sash in a pretty butterfly knot.

The basin soaked his undergarments, which wasn’t convenient to wash outside, so she washed them in the room until she was sweating profusely. While washing, she suddenly stopped, tilted her head thoughtfully, and couldn’t help giggling. In her past and present lives, this seemed to be the first time she had washed clothes for a man. Back at the research institute, she was beautiful and alluring with no lack of men courting her. Forget washing men’s clothes—those men would have loved for her to bestow her black stockings on them to wash. After arriving in the Great Wilderness as Female Sovereign, others only served her. Now with her hands soaked in soapy water, she suddenly felt somewhat dazed, as if this really was her life—ordinary household, common housewife, simple dwelling, man lying dead tired after a day’s work while she cursed and washed his clothes and cooked… Such life had always been distant from her. She had never carefully imagined it before, but today she experienced it like playing house. Though Gong Yin’s condition behind her wasn’t good, her heart felt full, real, and warm at this moment. This state of “pure life” was something she had truly longed for. Even if this moment was brief, she could feel that sense of having something to depend on.

Yes, dependence. She and Gong Yin had always faced constant twists and turns, spending little time together and often separated, rarely having quiet domestic days alone together. So whenever such opportunities arose, she found herself particularly immersed.

Sighing, she smiled bitterly, thinking that if such life always required sacrificing Gong Yin’s health in exchange, she was truly ill-fated.

After washing the clothes, she carefully sniffed them before standing up satisfied, finding a bamboo pole to hang them inside the room. She also opened the window to let the cross-breeze quickly dry the clothes. There weren’t any decent clothing shops nearby. Gong Yin’s outer clothes could be replaced, but not his underwear. For someone like him, going without underwear wouldn’t work, and wearing others’ underwear would make him want to commit suicide.

As soon as she opened the window, she heard laughter and voices in the corridor, along with the crisp clatter of wooden clogs. Many local prostitutes loved wearing wooden clogs because the ground was dirty and slippery—high wooden clogs could keep them relatively clean and add style. From the sounds, midnight-working prostitutes were going out to solicit clients again.

Some were going in, others coming out. One going in said, “Oh, sister Chunxi, did you buy two hours today?”

The one coming out spat and said, “That old goods was all thunder but no rain. Two hours, but I don’t know if he managed even a quarter hour of real business—just fumbling around uselessly. Might as well go home and suck his mother’s milk!”

Another giggled, “Speaking of a quarter hour, there really was one. Last time sister Juhua had a client who, from pickup to finish and exit, didn’t even take a quarter hour. Sister Juhua had bought one hour and regretted it for ages, saying she lost money!”

All the women laughed wantonly. Jing Hengbo propped her chin, muttering, “What hours?”

The group of prostitutes was approaching. Afraid of being seen, Jing Hengbo slammed the window shut. Outside went quiet momentarily, then another burst of dissolute laughter: “Oh, this one even closes her window—playing some new trick? Teach it to us sisters too!”

Through the window, Jing Hengbo laughed hoarsely, “This is little sister’s special skill, called ‘Purple Bamboo Rod Night Flute Playing.’ If sisters want to learn, help little sister buy thirty-six hours.”

“Ha! Asking such a big price for such a small trick. Sister here can do ‘Old Cow Gazing at Moon’ and ‘Flying Swallows in Pairs’! Little sister, want to pay seventy-two hours to learn from sister?” Another burst of lewd laughter, and the crowd clattered away.

Jing Hengbo chuckled, her stomach rumbling. She opened the door again and called to Boss Zhao, “Innkeeper, bring some vegetables, a stove, and a pot—this young master wants to play something new with me!”

Outside burst into laughter. A woman shouted back, “No need to ask what vegetables—cucumbers! Eggplants! Cucumbers should be fresh, eggplants not too soft or hard, smooth and long!”

Someone laughed, “Loofahs work too.”

“Too thin!”

Another burst of laughter, someone shrieked, “I heard this one bought three days’ worth!”

Another laughed, “I say, the longer you buy, the worse the goods. One quarter hour at most!”

More laughter. Jing Hengbo also laughed, looking back at Gong Yin—fortunately, he seemed to be sleeping deeply.

The temporary inn at this secret establishment indeed had high service standards. Boss Zhao with his swollen face asked nothing and quickly brought a stove, pot, and spatula. Indeed there were loofahs, cucumbers, and eggplants. Jing Hengbo took them and peered outside, “Sounds like there’s noise outside. Nothing’s wrong, is there?”

“What could be wrong?” Boss Zhao said dismissively. “Master Black Third protects this territory. As long as you pay your protection money, even if the Heavenly King comes, it won’t concern you.”

“True,” Jing Hengbo said, finger propping her chin, eyes flowing, “but that’s good and bad—what if someday Master Black Third gets wiped out by the authorities…”

Boss Zhao laughed as if he’d heard a joke.

“Authorities? Which authority and which local boss doesn’t wear the same pants?”

Jing Hengbo widened her eyes, “Could Master Black Third also have connections with our Prefect?”

“What’s a prefect?” Boss Zhao actually looked disdainful. “Don’t look at our place being dirty and chaotic, with those high officials covering their noses when passing by, as if standing here would dirty their feet. Heaven knows how many nobles change clothes after nightfall to come here for pleasure from Puyang and surrounding cities.”

“Here?” Jing Hengbo looked up at the spider-webbed, dusty broken eaves and asked in surprise.

“The secret establishments here are dirty and few want them, but there are many interesting things. Some businesses that can’t operate openly thrive here. There’s even a secret port where many rare items from neighboring tribes and countries that can’t be seen in regular markets are available. So when it comes to the most complete and fastest information, even counting through all of Meng Kingdom, it’s right here. Don’t underestimate Master Black Third—he appears to be a local boss, but even if Prefect Lei wants to search his territory, it’s not something he can just enter.”

“Bragging!” Jing Hengbo scoffed and slammed the door.

After this brief chat, she could confirm this den of vice was indeed deep waters. In such a place of intertwining power, any outsider would be particularly conspicuous. It might be difficult for Yelu Qi and Pei Shu to enter, but similarly, it would be difficult for authorities to openly search here. This place was temporarily safe.

She didn’t want to risk taking Gong Yin out. Obviously he couldn’t fight, and if they encountered pursuers, forcing himself to act would harm him. She could only wait for her people to rendezvous.

Closing the window, she began cooking. She didn’t dare eat the food supplied here—she also found it dirty—so she had to do it herself.

Poor Female Sovereign Jing, whose ten fingers had never touched spring water and who had always stayed far from the kitchen—where had she ever handled such technical work? Should cucumbers be sliced, shredded, cubed, or cut into strips? How should eggplant be stir-fried? How to deal with loofah skin?

Little Cake used to make cucumber and meat slices, loofah and egg soup, but this poor secret establishment couldn’t afford meat, so she had to eat vegetarian.

“Chop, chop, chop.” The apprentice virtuous wife was practicing cutting vegetables. From the chopping sounds, one could tell she was clumsy enough.

“Ouch.” A low cry—Her Majesty tearfully raised her finger. It hurt so much, her heart ached. Her beautiful, delicate fingernail had been cut off a small piece.

So the cucumber was cut into uneven chunks and thrown in the pot—the largest like potatoes, the smallest like chess pieces. When it hit the pot with a loud sizzle, she screamed—oil splattered on her hand.

After stir-frying for ages without cooking through, she simply added water to make soup.

She did know loofahs needed peeling, but her small knife work was not only bumpy but kept breaking. After losing another beautiful fingernail, she angrily pushed all the loofah into the cucumber soup.

She did remember how to make eggplant. She chuckled wickedly for a while, peeled some garlic, flattened the eggplant, added some sauce, plated it, and steamed it in the pot. Later she’d mix it with oil and it would be ready.

This was good, this was simple.

After finishing, looking at the bubbling loofah-cucumber soup and the steaming eggplant puffing hot air, with men’s underwear hanging on the bamboo pole, she satisfactorily touched her face, “Virtuous wife, truly a virtuous wife…”

Then a scream: “Ah, so spicy!”

When peeling garlic, improper technique got garlic juice under her nails, and she hadn’t washed her hands after peeling garlic…

A moment later, she tearfully checked the pots, frequently lifting lids, wanting to know if the eggplant was done steaming.

“Wait a quarter hour. Don’t keep lifting the lid—it releases heat and slows cooking.” The voice suddenly came from behind. Jing Hengbo paused, then turned with delight, “Ha, you’re awake?”

Gong Yin had somehow already opened his eyes and was leaning against the headboard. His face was slightly pale, but his eyes were brilliantly dark in the room’s mist and steam, gazing at her through the vapor. Somehow, she felt this gaze seemed to contain a slight smile, warm and caring.

For that moment she thought of the four words “worldly smoke and fire.”

He had felt this moment’s warm comfort the instant he awoke.

Gong Yin quietly observed Jing Hengbo. He had never seen her dressed this way. Honestly, calling it gaudy was too polite—peach-red bodice and onion-green skirt. The bodice didn’t embroider mandarin ducks or flowers but actually embroidered spring palace scenes, and the spring palace man and woman were quite ugly—the man’s belly sagged with loose flesh, the woman’s thighs thick as pigs. The skirt was thin and transparent, showing her thighs faintly. The shawl fabric was cheap, wrinkled and rumpled with no graceful flowing quality, more like a rag hung around her neck. Yet it still had to be trimmed with crudely made yellow butterfly decorations that looked like two just-bloomed loofahs hanging there. Combined with her deliberately darkened face, it was ugly enough to anger both humans and gods.

Yet he felt she was beautiful enough to mesmerize the entire universe at this moment.

The brilliance she displayed before the world belonged to all of the Great Wilderness. At this moment in this humble room’s steam, the woman willing to lower herself to dust for him belonged to him.

Inferior clothing and cosmetics adorned true human love.

She could share wealth and hardship alike. In brocade halls or muddy hovels, the same national beauty would bloom.

Meeting his gaze, Jing Hengbo just smiled casually without any embarrassment or concealment. She knew she looked ugly at the moment and also knew he certainly wouldn’t mind her ugliness.

She rinsed the bowls and plates repeatedly with hot water, served her really unattractive-looking food, placed the room’s only stool in front of his bed with the food on it, and smiled naturally, “Want to try my cooking?”

Gong Yin also naturally took the bowl and served her a bowl of rice. While serving rice, he glanced at the rice pot, pushed aside the whitish rice on top, then pushed aside the burnt rice at the bottom, selected rice from the middle section to serve her, while casually serving himself some of the top rice.

Jing Hengbo didn’t notice these details. She had been busy for so long and was already hungry, so she shoveled a mouthful of rice and praised, “The vegetables aren’t great, but the rice is perfect!”

Gong Yin slowly picked up a grain of rice with his chopsticks and suddenly said, “One ‘zhong’ is one hour.”

“Ah?” The topic changed too quickly—Jing Hengbo couldn’t connect.

Gong Yin glanced at her and added, “You know I last more than a quarter hour—even ten quarter hours wouldn’t be enough.”

“Ah?” Jing Hengbo opened her mouth. Gong Yin ignored her and lowered his head to eat.

It took Jing Hengbo a while to realize—this guy had been awake earlier!

This guy had heard her conversation with the prostitutes!

This guy was shamelessly hinting that his stamina was very long!

She wanted to spray a mouthful of rice in his face. Between spraying and not spraying, she suddenly heard him leisurely ask another question: “What is ‘Purple Bamboo Rod Night Flute Playing’?”