Broken shoe?
For a woman, there was no greater insult than those two words — nothing else carried quite the same weight of degradation.
But Ziqing didn’t care, not really. To be precise, she didn’t care in the slightest that those words had come from Chu Feiyan’s mouth. The only thing she truly cared about was the man she loved.
She knew exactly where her own limits lay — if those words had ever come from the mouth of the man she loved, she thought, she would truly be shattered beyond repair.
But right now, in this world, at least on this continent of Longyuan, there was no one who could shatter her like that — was there?
Ignoring Chu Feiyan’s continued taunting behind her, Ziqing’s lips curved into a faint, cold smile, and she stepped forward once more.
But to her surprise, Chu Feiyan suddenly darted forward, blocking her path with one arm.
“Han Ziqing, what are you so afraid of? Why rush to flee? Am I wrong about anything I said?” Chu Feiyan taunted. Ziqing had provoked her so thoroughly earlier, set her up so deliberately, won the negotiation through such underhanded means!
She wasn’t about to let her simply walk away like that!
As the peace envoy, so long as she hadn’t left this room, the negotiation wasn’t truly over — everything remaining could only be settled through words. Today, she was going to thoroughly humiliate this woman, and settle the old score from before as well!
Ziqing didn’t look at her, didn’t raise a hand, simply sidestepping her arm and continuing on.
Jun Beiyue had made it clear — everything was to stay within the bounds of a war of words, no violence permitted. Otherwise, the moment Chu Feiyan had spat out that word “broken shoe,” Ziqing would already have slapped her across the face.
That she didn’t care when she herself said such things didn’t mean Chu Feiyan was free to say them however she pleased.
Ziqing couldn’t strike her — and neither could Chu Feiyan strike Ziqing. She blocked Ziqing’s path, retreating step by step as Ziqing advanced, until her heel struck the threshold, and she braced both arms against the doorframe, holding her ground stubbornly.
“Han Ziqing, what’s the rush? Surely you can at least sit down and share a cup of tea with your peace envoy, exchange a few pleasantries? Or does your Da Zhou not even know proper hospitality?” Chu Feiyan sneered coldly.
Call her shameless, call her mad, whatever — the outcome of the negotiation was already settled. She was simply using this last chance to thoroughly humiliate this woman.
If she didn’t make Han Ziqing cry today, she absolutely would not back down.
If Han Ziqing had the nerve, let her strike her — the moment she did, she’d be violating the shared rules governing peace negotiations across the continent of Longyuan, and once word got out, Da Zhou wouldn’t gain a shred of advantage from it!
She wanted this Han Ziqing to understand — securing Western Chu’s seal came at a price.
Ziqing watched this arrogant, insufferable woman before her in silence, fully aware of every stake involved. Chu Feiyan wasn’t just seizing the chance to humiliate her — this was her last desperate gambit, trying to provoke Ziqing into striking first.
Ziqing didn’t press forward. Her clear eyes watched Chu Feiyan in silence. If she wanted to make a scene, Ziqing would humor her to the very end.
She’d already swallowed the words “broken shoe.” What else could possibly provoke her now?
“Han Ziqing, stop staring and go sit down. Let’s have a nice, leisurely chat,” Chu Feiyan said with a laugh, bracing herself against the doorframe, resolved not to budge an inch.
Ziqing suddenly smiled — a display of remarkable composure — and turned back into the hall, gracefully gathering her skirts to sit, dignified, in the seat of honor, resting both arms on the armrests, fingers interlaced before her.
She sat there smiling faintly, the very picture of poise and grace.
Chu Feiyan wanted nothing more than to humiliate her, to see her lose her temper — as if Ziqing lacked that much self-control!
Seeing Ziqing’s composed bearing, Chu Feiyan gave a mocking, cold laugh at once. “Han Ziqing, truly, I can’t compare to you. I really can’t.”
“Do you know why?”
Ziqing didn’t answer, maintaining her remarkable patience and grace, meeting her with only a smile. Since striking wasn’t an option, why bother working herself into a fury just to give someone else the satisfaction?
“Because I’m not as shameless as you! Ha!”
At those words, Chu Feiyan fell quiet, watching Ziqing coldly, waiting for a reaction. But to her surprise, Ziqing’s smile remained exactly the same, saying nothing at all — which only made Chu Feiyan look, in the end, like a clown performing to no audience.
Unable to contain herself any longer, all of Chu Feiyan’s mockery transformed into pure rage. “Han Ziqing, you really are far too capable — clever, quick-witted, skilled in both letters and combat. Then tell me — why doesn’t Jun Beiyue actually want you? You’re his most capable aide, but what exactly are you as Princess Yao? A real Princess Yao would be cherished, held close, kept safe in a golden house, treasured beyond measure. What are you? Nothing but a whore he can drag out into public whenever it suits him! That’s exactly why he married you — because he doesn’t care one bit that you’re a broken shoe!”
With that furious outburst, Chu Feiyan glared straight into Ziqing’s eyes, utterly certain those words would finally wound her.
But to her surprise, Ziqing merely smiled, and spoke. “Princess Imperial, by that logic, if Prince Yao doesn’t want you either, then you’re worth even less than a whore. Is that right?”
“Han Ziqing!”
At those words, Chu Feiyan snapped entirely, lacking anywhere near Ziqing’s composure. She lunged forward in a single bound, right up to Ziqing, and swung a hand up to slap her.
Ziqing looked up, still smiling. If this woman wanted to sting her into tears, she’d show her exactly how it felt to laugh someone else into tears instead.
“Go ahead! Princess Imperial, hit me if it pleases you!” Ziqing’s smile only widened, tilting her face up deliberately, using her own provocation right back at her — Chu Feiyan was still far too green for this game.
Chu Feiyan’s raised hand trembled in midair, her sanity teetering on the edge of collapse, her mind reduced to a single thought — she wanted to tear that smiling face apart.
Insulted, humiliated like this, how could this woman still smile? How could she not be furious?
What on earth was this woman’s heart made of?
“What’s wrong, Princess Imperial — losing your nerve? Understandable, really. Even used as she may be, Ziqing is, for better or worse, still Jun Beiyue’s woman. He’s made it clear — anyone who dares lay a finger on me answers to him. You know that, don’t you?” Ziqing said, smiling with genuine satisfaction — this was likely the first time in her entire life she’d ever felt this brazenly fearless, and the thing backing her up wasn’t her own ability, but a man.
“You! You think I really don’t dare?” Chu Feiyan snarled, her raised hand rising higher still.
“You clearly don’t dare. And how could you possibly not be as shameless as me — you traveled a thousand miles, threw yourself at my husband offering marriage, and got publicly rejected by him in front of everyone. If that’s not shameless, what is?”
Ziqing shot back. She’d never been one to strike first — her only principle was to return whatever treatment she received in kind.
Sharp tongue, cutting words — she had those too.
“Han Ziqing, I’ll kill you!”
At last, Chu Feiyan couldn’t hold back any longer, trembling with fury from head to toe, the bells on her clothing jingling wildly, and without warning, she drew a short blade!
She gripped it tight, raised it high, directly over Ziqing’s head — one thrust, and it would be a fatal blow.
Yet Ziqing remained seated just as composed, just as poised, not even sparing the blade a glance, still smiling — sweetly, even — though her words were nothing but pure provocation. “Princess Imperial, how about a wager — I bet you don’t dare use that blade!”