Nothing?

How could that be?

Situ Xin’er shook her head repeatedly, refusing to believe it. “Beiyue-gege, look again, more carefully—it’s impossible, that thing has to be hers!”

Jun Beiyue scoffed coldly. “This king’s word carries no weight, does it? Very well then, take this to someone else to sort out!”

With that, he took Ziqing’s hand and turned to leave.

“That’s not it! That’s not what I meant, Beiyue-gege—you saw her kick me, and I’m still hurt from it!” Situ Xin’er hurried to stop them.

Failing to find the evidence had clearly dampened much of her earlier bravado. Had she had solid grounds, she could have leaned on the Situ Family’s backing and fought this out to the very end with Han Ziqing.

But without concrete proof, her father and brother might not necessarily stand by her side when facing Jun Beiyue!

Those two had always sided with what was right over blood ties, without fail!

Jun Beiyao hurried over as well, chiming in. “That’s right, Fourth Brother. Why would Fourth Sister-in-law… she should have been helping us, not causing more trouble! Whatever personal grudge there might be, surely this wasn’t the time to take advantage of the chaos!”

Jun Beiyao spoke with such an air of helpless bewilderment, but Jun Beiyue simply acted as though he’d heard nothing at all, asking flatly, “Xin’er, why exactly did you come out here, with no reason at all?”

“The Seventh Prince told me there was treasure here, so I wanted to come take a look. Thank goodness the Seventh Prince was here, or I’d surely be dead by now!” Situ Xin’er explained hastily.

“Treasure up ahead?” Jun Beiyue asked, brow furrowing. He’d already found this puzzling when he’d checked earlier. Hearing this now, even though he didn’t believe Han Ziqing would harbor hostility toward Situ Xin’er without cause, he trusted even less that Jun Beiyao had any good intentions here.

The matter of finding an antidote in Nanzhao still depended on the Situ Family’s help—he didn’t want to offend this girl.

Besides, he had no wish for his relationship with Situ Haonan to sour over two women’s quarrel.

And yet Situ Xin’er, of all people, insisted on pursuing this further.

He had only one principle, no matter what: his princess consort was not to be wronged.

Before Jun Beiyao could even explain, Situ Xin’er jumped in first. “Beiyue-gege, don’t you remember? There were supposedly all sorts of weapons buried there! I saw it myself—go check if you don’t believe me!”

Only then did Jun Beiyue recall the matter, an inward cold smile forming—this was exactly Jun Beiyao’s style, so meticulously planned, leaving no trace behind, clearing himself of all suspicion entirely.

“Ziqing, then what about you? Why were you here?” Jun Beiyue finally turned to address this question directly.

“If I told you, would you believe me?” Ziqing asked flatly.

“I would,” Jun Beiyue answered without hesitation.

Ziqing thought to herself—even if I lied to you, you’d still believe me?

“I happened to be passing through this way, and I saw the assassins attacking. When I saw the Seventh Prince couldn’t hold on any longer, with all those blades about to come crashing down, I panicked and had no choice but to kick Miss Situ out of the way, to keep her from getting hurt,” Ziqing explained flatly.

The moment these words left her mouth, the whole clearing froze, falling silent at once.

No one had expected such a reasonable, coherent explanation to exist at all.

And indeed, given the situation just moments ago, had Situ Xin’er not been kicked out of the way, she might well be lying dead beneath those blades right now.

Looking at it this way, not only was Ziqing entirely free of suspicion, she was in fact Situ Xin’er’s savior!

Situ Xin’er couldn’t possibly accept this, backing away repeatedly, shaking her head. “You’re lying, that’s impossible!”

This outcome was, without question, exactly what Jun Beiyue had been hoping for.

“Xin’er!” Jun Beiyue frowned at her. Situ Xin’er still refused to accept it. “That sounds so convincing—so why didn’t she say so earlier?”

“You searched me and confirmed the dart wasn’t mine, and you still don’t believe me—why would I have bothered explaining myself before that? I don’t care for wasting words,” Ziqing said coldly.

“You—!” Situ Xin’er found herself speechless again, her already swollen, reddened face flushing even redder with fury, looking more and more like some indignant folk hero.

“If there’s nothing else, I’ll be going now,” Ziqing said coldly, turning to leave.

But Situ Xin’er refused to let it go. “You stay right there! This isn’t over so easily!”

At once, Jun Beiyue snapped angrily, “Situ Xin’er, don’t make this king stop showing your father and brother the courtesy they’re owed!”

The moment these words left his mouth, Situ Xin’er froze at once, falling immediately silent—a clear testament to just how much weight Jun Beiyue’s words carried!

“Apologize,” Jun Beiyue said coldly.

Situ Xin’er clenched her fists, but under Jun Beiyue’s cold gaze, she had no choice but to step forward, saying stiffly, “I’m sorry, I misjudged you.”

With that, she moved to leave ahead of Ziqing, only for Jun Beiyue to stop her again. “Thank her.”

Situ Xin’er’s face couldn’t have looked more sour, and in her mortified fury, she stamped her foot outright. “Beiyue-gege!”

Jun Beiyue paid her no mind, simply watching coldly.

“Beiyue-gege, Xin’er doesn’t want to, Xin’er doesn’t want to!”

She said this, immediately looping her arm through Jun Beiyue’s again, putting on her most coquettish voice, her tone thick with tears, her wide, watery eyes brimming with tears, utterly pitiful. “Beiyue-gege, for my brother’s sake, please don’t hold this against me—you know Xin’er just doesn’t know any better!”

Ziqing watched coldly, her gaze lingering on the arm looped through Jun Beiyue’s, unable to look away.

She didn’t even know herself why she’d saved that girl. Perhaps it hadn’t been about saving her at all—perhaps she simply hadn’t wanted to let Jun Beiyao succeed.

She had no need for that thanks. She had no wish to watch this girl put on such a display of pleading and coyness any longer either.

Before Jun Beiyue could even speak, Ziqing said nothing at all, simply turning and walking away. She had no idea how Jun Beiyue reacted, only faintly hearing Situ Xin’er’s wailing grow louder and louder behind her.

Just how useful a woman’s tears could truly be—Ziqing would only fully understand that many years later.

Jun Beiyue didn’t come after her, nor did he press the matter of the thank-you any further. Ziqing supposed Situ Xin’er’s tears had proven useful after all.

It was Hongyi who caught up with her instead, not daring to bother Ziqing further, simply hurrying along quietly behind her, sniffling every now and then—which Ziqing could hear perfectly clearly.

Not until they’d cleared the underbrush did Ziqing come to an abrupt stop, turning around without warning to find Hongyi sniffling yet again.

Ziqing looked at her silently for a long moment before finally saying flatly, “Does your face still hurt?”

Hongyi shook her head quickly. “It doesn’t hurt, it really doesn’t!”

Ziqing reached out a hand, then drew it back, murmuring softly, almost to herself, “You two are the only ones who’ve ever truly cared for me…”

Hongyi, still shaken from the chaos of what had just happened, had been so afraid her mistress might do something to land herself in serious trouble that she hadn’t quite caught what she’d said, and was about to ask—but Ziqing had already slipped away, vanishing from sight.

“You two”—if not Hongyi and Shiliang, then who else could it possibly mean? Who else was there?

She had never been one to express herself easily, but the care and concern shown to her in everyday moments—she’d seen it all, remembered every bit of it.

Across two lifetimes, they were the only ones who had ever truly cared for her. Even at the cost of her own suffering, she would never allow either of them to be harmed.

Late that night, once all was quiet, Ziqing finally returned to camp, soaking in the bath, tilting her head back, eyes closed—yet she couldn’t shake the memory of Chu Feiyan’s furious outburst at the government hall that day, nor the scene of Jun Beiyue’s search, replaying over and over in her mind.

She thought about it, turning it over and over until her head ached, without even knowing why she kept dwelling on it at all.

She thought—Jun Beiyao’s scheme, so meticulously covered up yet so clumsily executed in the end—Jun Beiyue had probably seen through it all along, which was exactly why he hadn’t bothered holding it against her, why he’d made it so easy for her to slip past unscathed.

And it was exactly then that voices suddenly rose outside the door—Hongyi, trying to stop someone from entering!

The one who had arrived was none other than Jun Beiyue.