“My lord sits at his place… chatting and laughing… with all the officers and soldiers…”

Finally, Hongyi couldn’t continue, because Ziqing’s hand had settled on her shoulder, and with every word, the grip was gradually tightening.

The dramatic scene she’d just described so vividly had never actually happened at all—no toast, no shoving, no falling—every bit of it had simply been Hongyi’s own invention.

At the actual banquet, Situ Xin’er sat below Jun Beiyue’s left, chiming in now and then amid the lively conversation, drawing laughter from the crowd.

Being the only woman present, she was naturally, inevitably, the center of attention in the easy conversation.

Once Hongyi fell silent, the grip on her shoulder finally eased. Ziqing’s expression remained blank as she watched the joyful festivities before her, lingering only a moment before turning to leave.

“My lady, you clearly care so much, and you’re still pretending you don’t!” Hongyi blurted out. She could see exactly how special the lord’s attention toward her mistress was, and she could see just as clearly how much her mistress cared for him in return—she simply couldn’t understand what had gone wrong between the two of them.

She’d thrown caution to the wind now, no longer worrying about overstepping.

The moment these words left her mouth, Ziqing’s brow furrowed sharply, and she was about to speak when Hongyi rushed to cut her off. “My lady, you refuse to accept the investiture, but you’re still the Prince Yao’s consort—that seat rightfully belongs to you. Walking away like this only costs my lord his dignity. You clearly do care—that’s exactly why you’re avoiding it, not because you don’t!”

Ziqing’s brow furrowed tighter and tighter, still saying nothing.

“My lady, if you don’t go, that just means you’re jealous—it means you’re afraid of Situ Xin’er!” Hongyi pressed on, using every tactic she could think of to provoke her mistress into action.

Just as she was about to say more, Ziqing finally raised a hand, signaling her to stop.

“My lady…”

“Enough!”

The moment Ziqing spoke, she suddenly turned and strode purposefully toward the banquet.

Hongyi froze, then, after a long moment, let out a delighted cry and hurried after her.

She’d succeeded! She’d genuinely managed to provoke her mistress into action! Let Situ Xin’er keep up her arrogance now—there was quite a show ahead!

The instant Ziqing drew close, all the laughter and chatter came to an abrupt halt, every eye turning toward her. Ziqing walked forward with easy, natural composure toward Jun Beiyue—even she herself wasn’t entirely sure why Hongyi’s provocation had worked on her so easily. Perhaps Hongyi was right, after all—she was the Prince Yao’s consort; she should rightfully be there.

In full view of everyone, she walked forward with unhurried grace, coming to a stop directly in front of Jun Beiyue.

Situ Xin’er’s smile froze on her face. Seeing Han Ziqing absent earlier, she’d been secretly gloating for a while now—confident in her own abilities, she’d been certain she could turn tonight’s feast entirely into her own stage, and had even been looking forward to seeing what Beiyue-gege looked like drunk.

She never expected this woman would walk away, only to turn back and come right back!

Jun Beiyue’s hand, holding his wine cup, paused faintly for a moment, but his expression remained blank, entirely ignoring her, continuing to drink on his own.

Seeing this, Ziqing felt a faint, aching sting in her palm, and the whole gathering fell into complete silence. Situ Xin’er’s lips curled into a cold, satisfied smile, her earlier faint worry now shifting into anticipation.

She’d only just managed to find Beiyue-gege herself—who knew what this woman had done to anger him so; she deserved to be left out in the cold.

In the silence, Ziqing bowed gracefully, saying flatly, “Your Highness, this subject arrives late.”

Only then did Jun Beiyue raise his eyes, saying flatly, “In this camp’s victory feast tradition, anyone arriving late must first punish themselves with thirty cups.”

The moment these words left his mouth, the whole gathering erupted into an uproar. Situ Xin’er, gleeful at the misfortune, couldn’t help but laugh out loud, hurriedly covering her mouth. Even Jun Beiyao gave a cold chuckle—this was entirely unexpected; no one had anticipated Han Ziqing would actually turn back, and even less that Jun Beiyue would finally show this woman such ruthlessness.

“My lord, that camp rule only applies to soldiers, surely!” Imperial Physician Gu couldn’t help but murmur quietly—a healer’s heart worried over his patients, and today’s wine was all strong, potent liquor. Thirty cups of hard spirits, forced down in one sitting, would be more than most men could bear, let alone a woman!

Not to mention that the enchanting fragrance still lay dormant within Han Ziqing’s body, and wine had always been the perfect catalyst for such aphrodisiac poisons!

If the charm-scent poison were triggered, what then?

Amid the uproar, Imperial Physician Gu tried to argue further, but Jun Beiyue’s cold, sharp gaze swept toward him at once, and he flinched back in alarm.

He knew that icy, forbidding look all too well—he’d seen it countless times over the years, and whenever their lord wore that expression, it meant fury on the verge of killing.

The tension between these two the night before had clearly gone far beyond whatever had happened in the tent—their lord had been gone all night, which meant something else must have happened as well; otherwise, having tolerated Han Ziqing for so long already, he wouldn’t be flaring up so severely only now.

That icy gaze swept slowly across everyone present, starting with Imperial Physician Gu. At once, the uproar died down entirely, no one daring to make a sound; even Jun Beiyao instinctively looked away, unwilling to meet those dark eyes head-on!

In this moment, those eyes looked like the eyes of some demon straight out of hell—anyone unfortunate enough to lock gazes with them risked being consumed entirely by the flames of his fury!

Situ Xin’er slowly lowered the hand covering her mouth, utterly stunned into silence. She’d known Beiyue-gege since childhood, but this was the first time she’d ever seen him like this—right there beside her, and yet so cold she didn’t even dare look at him.

At last, the whole gathering fell into complete silence, Jun Beiyue’s icy gaze settling on Ziqing.

Why was he so furious? He’d sat in a tree on the back hill all night, and from there he’d seen this woman spend the entire night on that hilltop, together with Xuanyuan Lige.

“Well?” Jun Beiyue asked, raising an eyebrow, his stern lips curved with something coldly wicked—in this moment, he was nothing short of a demon.

Everyone else sat while Ziqing alone stood there, isolated. An inexplicable, sharp ache surged through her heart without warning, and she suddenly felt the urge to turn and look at Hongyi.

Why look at Hongyi at all, she didn’t even know herself.

“Very well,” she answered, almost reflexively, without a moment’s thought, struck by how strangely familiar this scene felt, as though something like it had happened once before, in some past life.

Ah, right—her past life. Before crossing over into this world, hadn’t she once infiltrated a banquet to gather intelligence, only to end up publicly punished with several rounds of forced drinking, in front of everyone, just like this?

Was there really any difference? None at all. She should be well practiced at this by now.

“Bring the wine!” Jun Beiyue said coldly.

Before long, three enormous jars of strong liquor were carried in, ten cups arranged in three rows. Just as the servant moved to pour, Ziqing suddenly stopped him, a faint, composed smile curving her lips. “No need for that.”

With that, she gripped the mouth of one jar with one hand, braced herself, and lifted it high with a single motion, raising it with the other hand as well, offering it toward Jun Beiyue. “Your Highness, three jars makes thirty cups—might as well take it jar by jar, so as not to keep everyone waiting, and to show my sincere apologies as well.”

With that, she raised the jar straight to her lips without a moment’s pause, and tipped it back, drinking without the jar even touching her mouth, the pale liquid pouring straight down her throat.

Everyone present watched, utterly dumbfounded.

Such a small, delicate woman, standing alone amid so many men, carrying herself with such easy, natural grace, as though the whole world contained only her—standing tall and unbending, bold and unrestrained, transcendent, radiating splendor beyond measure.

An entire massive jar of liquor, gone without a single drop wasted, drained in one unbroken breath.

With a resounding “thunk,” Ziqing set it down, eyes composed and steady, and immediately lifted a second jar, smiling as she offered it to Jun Beiyue once more…