Meng Wanyue had taken Lige away for good…
The moment Ziqing said this, Yu Xiaomeng froze, her whole body going rigid as though struck by lightning, staring blankly in shock.
Ziqing sniffed, forcing herself to stay in control of her emotions. She told herself simply that she’d come here today to release them—nothing more.
“Someone, unlock their cells and let them go.” Ziqing said flatly.
But before the guards could even step forward, Yu Xiaomeng cried out in shock, “Han Ziqing, what did you just say?”
Ziqing said nothing, silently stepping back.
Now that Ali was gone, whether she saw someone still foolishly waiting for him, or someone weeping for him in grief, it all pained her equally, her whole heart aching as though being torn apart.
“Take them out of here.” Ziqing waved her hand, but the moment the guard unlocked the cell, Yu Xiaomeng lunged forward, seizing Ziqing’s collar, shouting furiously, “Han Ziqing, what did you just say!”
“Let go of my mommy! Let go!”
Xiong Xiaobao wouldn’t stand for it, immediately reaching to grab Yu Xiaomeng’s hands, while Jun Beiyue seized her wrist directly, saying coldly, “Let go. Don’t make me say it twice.”
Yu Xiaomeng’s wrist was nearly wrenched off, but before she could release her grip, Ziqing pushed her away first, saying flatly to Jun Beiyue and Xiong Xiaobao, “It’s fine. Leave it be.”
However unwilling father and son were, they had no choice but to step back.
Yu Xiaomeng didn’t come at Ziqing again either, leaning back against the iron bars, her whole body slumping as though all the air had gone out of her, staring at Ziqing with hollow, empty eyes.
Ziqing kept her head lowered, appearing calm, and said flatly, “That he left, that he turned against Meng Wanyue—that was my fault. Go on, then.”
“Go?”
Yu Xiaomeng suddenly laughed. “Go? Go where? Where would I even go to find Xuanyuan Lige? Han Ziqing, tell me! Tell me!”
The more Yu Xiaomeng demanded, the more agitated she grew, until suddenly she lunged at Ziqing again!
Xiong Xiaobao rushed forward too, only to be held back by Jun Beiyue.
Jun Beiyue knew that ever since Ziqing had learned this news, she’d never once truly let it out. He knew she’d been quietly grieving all this time, and under his comfort, she always seemed to recover quickly enough.
But how could a wound like this possibly heal so easily?
Fine, then—let her be, so long as she stayed within his sight, that was better than her running off alone again like last time.
Facing Yu Xiaomeng’s aggressive onslaught, Ziqing didn’t fight back, didn’t retort at all.
Yu Xiaomeng grabbed hold of Ziqing’s collar again, slamming her hard against the wall, shouting furiously, “Selfish woman! You selfish woman! It’s all your fault, all of it your fault!”
“Han Ziqing, he’d already fled to the northern desert—why did you still have to go bother him there?”
“He’d already given up everything—why did you still have to show up?”
“Han Ziqing, do you even have a heart at all? He was so, so good to you—couldn’t you have just given way for him, just once? That barren wasteland of Xichu, what did it even mean to Da Zhou—couldn’t you have just yielded that much to him?”
…
The more Yu Xiaomeng shouted, the more she broke down sobbing. “If you’d just yielded, none of this would have happened! None of it! Why couldn’t you just yield?”
“Han Ziqing, do you know—we were all still waiting for him to come back. Why did you have to come disturb our peace? Why?”
“I would rather have waited for him my whole life, guarded this place my whole life, my whole life!”
…
Yu Xiaomeng’s sobs grew more and more violent, until finally her grip loosened and she collapsed onto the floor, her mind a complete blank. How desperately she wished this were all just a dream—that once she woke, Young Master Xuanyuan would still be out in the northern desert, and none of this would ever have happened.
“There’s no need to wait any longer. Go on, both of you.”
Ziqing’s voice remained just as calm, so calm that it made Jun Beiyue, Baili Weisheng, and everyone else behind her wince inwardly—they’d almost have preferred to see her wail and rage and curse like Yu Xiaomeng was doing.
But it was never in her nature to be that kind of woman.
“Someone, escort them out!” Ziqing said flatly, putting particular weight on the word “escort.”
Yu Xiaomeng offered no resistance, allowing the guards to pull her up, but suddenly she turned to demand of Ziqing, “Han Ziqing, will you regret this?”
“The only thing I regret is ever having met him in the first place.”
Ziqing said flatly, gesturing for the guards to lead them away.
Regret?
What exactly was she supposed to regret?
Should she regret that once she’d fallen for Jun Beiyue, she’d cut Xuanyuan Lige off from even friendship, telling him flatly, in no uncertain terms, that they could only ever be enemies?
Should she regret going to the northern desert? But she hadn’t known Xuanyuan Lige was there, hadn’t known she’d end up losing consciousness either.
Should she regret standing her ground against Xuanyuan Lige over the war with Xichu? But no one had known the matter with Yelu Qianqian was merely a demonic sound illusion!
Should she regret not simply killing Meng Wanyue with a single stroke? That was Jun Beiyue’s own birth mother—however much she hated and resented her, Ziqing could never bring herself to kill her own “mother-in-law” with her own hands, and even less could she accept Jun Beiyue killing his own mother.
The only thing she regretted was not personally escorting Meng Wanyue back to the Dream Clan in the first place.
But that regret, she kept locked away in her own heart—she would never speak it aloud, because Jun Beiyue was standing right there.
Since Meng Wanyue’s death, Jun Beiyue had never once brought it up, not even a single word.
With things already having come to this, Ziqing had no wish to hurt him further, and certainly wouldn’t allow anyone to blame him, the son, over what had happened to his mother.
In the past, she’d loved fiercely, hated fiercely, unafraid of any consequences!
Now, it wasn’t out of pretense or weakness—it was because she understood that while Jun Beiyue had always shielded her, she needed to shield him in return, too.
Not mentioning it, never breathing a word of Meng Wanyue.
If she truly had to name a regret, it would be regretting their meeting in the first place—wishing, if anything, that life could have simply remained as it was at their first encounter.
Hearing Ziqing’s words, Yu Xiaomeng grew even more furious, her jaw clenched so tight that if the guards hadn’t been holding her back, she might well have torn Ziqing apart on the spot.
A flicker of pity crossed Ziqing’s eyes. “Send her to the northern desert.” she said flatly.
Meanwhile, Mi’er, who had remained silent this entire time in her cell, was now being led out by the guards.
Deaf but not mute, and though deaf, she could still read lips clearly enough to have followed every word of Yu Xiaomeng’s tirade.
Held firmly by the guards, her clear, penetrating eyes remained fixed on Ziqing, and unlike Yu Xiaomeng’s raw fury, she seemed, if anything, even calmer than Ziqing herself.
No one truly understood this mute girl. Ziqing avoided her gaze. “Send her out too.”
But to everyone’s surprise, Mi’er suddenly spoke, asking a question entirely without warning, “Consort Yao, before the young master left, did he give that thing to you?”
At those words, Ziqing startled. “That thing?”
And behind her, Baili Weisheng, who had been standing silent this whole time watching everything unfold, suddenly seemed to be struck by something, clutching his head without warning.
What thing?
No one noticed the change in Baili Weisheng—everyone’s attention was fixed entirely on Mi’er.
Ziqing’s heart skipped a beat. After all, Ali had left absolutely nothing behind when he’d gone—not even his remains had been left…
“What thing!” Ziqing demanded urgently.
Yet Mi’er, unhurried, let out a small sigh and said, “Consort Yao, the young master had been preparing something to give you all along—he said he meant to give it to you on your next birthday. This was the young master’s secret. Come closer—I’ll tell you, and you alone.”