An entire jar of liquor now sat right before Jun Beiyue. A flicker of something dark crossed his eyes as he watched coldly, saying nothing further.

Ziqing offered it to him, then immediately tipped her head back and drained it—another full jar, gone in one breath!

With a sharp crack, the second jar hit the ground, empty!

Every eye in the gathering fixed on the shattered fragments littering the ground—two entire jars of strong liquor, gone without a drop remaining, drunk with such urgency, and yet this woman remained entirely composed, not the faintest flush touching her exquisite face.

What would happen once she drank the third jar?

By now, Ziqing had already lifted the third jar, still calm and dignified, gracious as ever, offering it to Jun Beiyue.

“She’ll definitely be down before the time it takes to finish a cup of tea! Let’s make a bet!”

“There’s no way she finishes this third jar—this stuff’s strong, and it hits fast. Drinking like this, she’ll collapse on the spot, and won’t wake up for three whole days!”

“Goodness! First time I’ve ever seen a woman drink like that!”

“You know why she’s drinking so fast, right? If she slowed down, once the liquor really hit her, she wouldn’t even be able to lift the jar anymore!”

…

Whispered murmurs rippled through the crowd, and by now the third jar of strong liquor was pouring steadily into Ziqing’s mouth like flowing water, spilling over to soak her cheeks and collar.

Finally, with a sharp crack, the third jar shattered violently on the ground!

At once, every eye slowly lifted from the shattered fragments scattered across the ground, fixing on Ziqing’s face, everyone watching intently, waiting for the moment she would finally collapse.

Situ Xin’er’s eyes went wide, both hands clamped over her mouth, already counting down in her head—she refused to believe Han Ziqing’s tolerance could possibly be this high, counting down from ten, ready to cheer the instant Han Ziqing finally toppled over.

Jun Beiyao could barely contain his gleeful smirk—let Jun Beiyue and Han Ziqing fight it out, let them make a scene; whichever side ended up embarrassed, both of them would suffer for it either way!

If word got out that the Prince Yao’s consort had collapsed drunk at her own victory feast, it would surely become a laughingstock. Of course, what he was really hoping for was that Han Ziqing wouldn’t simply collapse, but end up thoroughly drunk instead, spouting nonsense, perhaps even growing wild and unrestrained in front of so many men—now that would really be worth watching!

All the murmured discussion cut off abruptly, the entire gathering falling into a silence so complete it felt almost like ringing in the ears, the sound of the shattering jars still seeming to echo faintly.

Everyone was so fixated on Ziqing that no one noticed Jun Beiyue had, at some point, risen to his feet, his stern, handsome brow furrowed tight, his sharp eyes fixed directly on Ziqing, terrifyingly serious.

Suddenly, Ziqing moved, taking a step forward!

For a moment, everyone’s heart seemed to stop in unison. What was happening—was she losing her footing?

Even Jun Beiyue’s hand, resting on the table, couldn’t help but clench tight.

But to everyone’s astonishment, Ziqing paused briefly, then took two more steps forward, her stride perfectly steady, still moving with the same easy, natural grace, bowing calmly, her small face composed, showing not the slightest hint of intoxication—more clear-headed, in fact, than anyone else present. “Your Highness, this subject has completed the thirty cups of self-punishment.”

“Impossible!”

“Good heavens, did I see that right?”

“Was that actually wine?”

“That’s absolutely incredible!”

At once, no one gave any thought to Jun Beiyue’s presence at all, the whole gathering erupting into astonished chatter. Jun Beiyao’s heart lurched—he found himself, to his own surprise, grateful Han Ziqing had drunk those three jars so early on; had he unwittingly provoked her into drinking on some other occasion instead, things could have gone very badly for him.

A flicker of pride, one he himself wasn’t even fully aware of, crossed Jun Beiyue’s stern eyes. His clenched hand finally relaxed, silent and unnoticed, and he gestured toward the seat beside him, saying flatly, “Come sit over here.”

“Thank you, Your Highness.” Ziqing bowed slightly, then walked over with measured, graceful steps, seating herself with poised, proper posture—further proof, once again, that she wasn’t the least bit drunk.

“The princess consort certainly can hold her liquor!”

“Not just capacity, but composure too—thirty cups of punishment, and not so much as a word of protest!”

“We’re honored the princess consort could join us today!”

At once, praise rang out from every direction. The three Tiger generals stepped forward together, and the White Tiger general, taking the lead, raised his cup respectfully. “Princess consort, in this campaign, it was thanks to your successful mobilization of the western border troops that we were able to await His Highness’s personal arrival. The three of us offer you this toast—drink as you please.”

Three full cups were offered before her. The White Tiger general meant no ill will toward Ziqing at all—this was entirely sincere. “Drink as you please” meant simply that all three of them would drain their cups fully, leaving it entirely up to Ziqing whether she chose to drink at all, and how much.

Even though Ziqing had already downed three full jars, she could have easily gotten away with just a small sip now. Instead, she rose, filled a full cup for herself, and returned the toast to all three Tiger generals!

Filling the cup completely was already a considerable show of respect!

All three generals were delighted, draining their cups together in one go—only for Ziqing to follow suit immediately, draining her own cup to the last drop as well!

The three generals froze, utterly unprepared for such a display of proper courtesy from her, and the entire gathering couldn’t help but marvel.

This woman’s composure and bearing surpassed even that of most men present—truly worthy of being Jun Beiyue’s chosen consort!

Once the three generals had returned to their seats, Ziqing sat back down as well, her expression composed, her smile perfectly measured—there was no denying that, in this moment, she had entirely outshone even Jun Beiyue himself, let alone Situ Xin’er, seated below him.

Jun Beiyao, who had been about to offer his own toast, immediately withdrew his hand at the sight of this—he couldn’t be entirely certain Han Ziqing wouldn’t take the opportunity to make a fool of him too; judging by how things stood now, this woman’s drinking capacity was clearly well beyond his own.

But no sooner had Jun Beiyao withdrawn his hand than Situ Xin’er, apparently oblivious to the danger, suddenly stood up, hoisting an entire jar of wine from nearby.

“Sister Ziqing, I never expected you’d have such an impressive capacity! What a rare opportunity—tonight, Xin’er won’t stop until she’s properly drunk. Here, let me toast you first with this entire jar! I’ll drink it all, and you drink as you please!”

The moment these words left her mouth, nearly everyone’s expression changed at once—those unaware were stunned by Situ Xin’er’s sheer audacity; those in the know, like Imperial Physician Gu and Yingzi, could only marvel at her sheer suicidal courage.

Jun Beiyue’s sharp, piercing gaze bore down on her, but Situ Xin’er simply pretended not to notice—today, she was determined to see Han Ziqing thoroughly drunk, no matter what. This woman had already downed three jars; she refused to believe she could manage three more.

“Your Highness, should Ziqing yield to her?” Ziqing asked quietly. She thought to herself—if Jun Beiyue said even a single word of “yield,” she would absolutely make sure this girl left the feast flat on her back.

Jun Beiyue didn’t answer, simply ladling a bowl of clear broth for Ziqing in silence.

Seeing Ziqing show no reaction, Situ Xin’er assumed she was simply too intimidated. She immediately tilted her head back, mimicking Ziqing’s earlier stance, pouring wine down her throat—but before she’d even gotten through half the jar, she couldn’t manage any more, the liquor spilling freely from her mouth, nearly half the jar wasted before she finally managed to “finish” it.

“Crack!” She smashed the jar viciously against the ground, waiting for Ziqing to follow suit.

Given Ziqing’s temperament, she should have returned the toast with a jar of her own—but to everyone’s surprise, Ziqing simply raised her cup, took the lightest sip, not even bothering to stand, then picked up the bowl of clear broth Jun Beiyue had ladled for her, sipping it unhurriedly.

Someone offering “drink as you please” and receiving a modest toast in return was simply a matter of courtesy and respect on Ziqing’s part, not an obligation.

This approach of Ziqing’s was masterfully understated—easily deflecting Situ Xin’er’s provocation while simultaneously, publicly, clarifying the nature of their relationship. This girl, going on and on about “Beiyue-gege” this and “Beiyue-gege” that, clearly held no real significance to their household at all—not someone who warranted much attention.

And Situ Xin’er, having boldly declared she wouldn’t stop until thoroughly drunk, now found herself, in full view of everyone, caught in an impossible position she couldn’t back down from.

Ziqing sipped her broth in silence, glancing sideways at Jun Beiyue, thinking to herself—go ahead, punish me with thirty cups again next time.