Ziqing truly couldn’t leave.
The next day, one after another, people began arriving at Prince Yao’s mansion under the guise of paying respects and recommending renowned physicians.
Within just a few days, Emperor Tianhui arrived personally, accompanied by Consort Yi and Jun Beichen. Ziqing turned them away as before, citing the severity of the prince’s injuries as reason to decline any visits.
“Is Physician Gu here at the mansion? I must personally ask him just how serious this injury really is!” Emperor Tianhui said earnestly.
Ever since returning to the palace from the Court of Judicial Review, he had finally regained full clarity of mind. Recalling everything that had happened that night filled him with sudden resentment, yet also relief that matters hadn’t escalated to the very worst outcome!
“Physician Gu has gone out searching for medicine. He specifically instructed that no one is to disturb the prince until he returns.” Ziqing answered flatly, unwilling to say more.
Her gaze deliberately lingered on Consort Yi—the seductive incense within her own body had come from this very woman. One day, she would absolutely make sure Consort Yi tasted the full effects of that aphrodisiac herself.
Even facing Emperor Tianhui directly, Ziqing no longer showed her former deference, her attitude instead cold and detached. The sky over Da Zhou had already changed entirely; she needed to maintain the proper bearing, on behalf of Jun Beiyue, on behalf of Prince Yao’s mansion.
Emperor Tianhui seethed inwardly but didn’t dare act on it. Unable to glean any useful information, he chose not to press further, saying only flatly, “Ziqing, the mission to Nanzhao has long since been decided. Now that Beiyue is gravely injured, we’ll simply need to send another envoy instead. In my view, Old Two would actually make quite a suitable choice!”
Ziqing’s brow furrowed slightly, appearing deep in thought. Situ Haonan, standing nearby, couldn’t help but feel a flicker of admiration—throughout the entire history of the continent of Longyuan, this was surely the first time a ruler had ever felt compelled to consult a mere woman before making a decision, seeking her approval no less!
Of course, Ziqing had no intention of agreeing.
“Nanzhao specifically invited Prince Yao. If the Second Prince goes instead and, heaven forbid, gets sent back, wouldn’t that bring shame upon all of Da Zhou?”
The moment Ziqing said this, Jun Beichen’s expression immediately darkened, and he was about to erupt in anger when Consort Yi quickly grabbed his arm to stop him. Even Emperor Tianhui’s expression turned distinctly unpleasant.
“If we’re to change envoys, I will naturally inform the King of Nanzhao myself.”
“Then I’ll trouble Your Majesty to inform the King of Nanzhao that Prince Yao has suddenly fallen ill, and that the princess consort will be going in his stead.” Ziqing said this as though it were the most natural thing in the world.
Emperor Tianhui was so furious he nearly injured himself internally. “Ziqing, throughout all of history, envoys between nations have never once been a woman traveling alone. Why don’t we have Beichen accompany you, so you’ll have someone to look after you?”
“No need. Prince Yao had already arranged beforehand for Young Master Situ to accompany me. I wouldn’t dare presume to alter Prince Yao’s own wishes—Young Master Situ shall accompany me instead.”
Ziqing paused, then finally turned her gaze directly toward Jun Beichen, saying flatly, “If the Second Prince has nothing else pressing to attend to, perhaps the northern frontier could use…”
Before she even finished speaking, Consort Yi cried out in alarm, “No, no! Chen’er is terribly busy already, in fact I was just about to report to Your Majesty about it—didn’t Your Majesty already assign Chen’er to review the Ministry of Internal Affairs’ annual accounts? That’s been delayed ever since last autumn’s hunt!”
Jun Beichen didn’t dare argue at all, nodding hastily. “Yes, this son truly has no free time.”
If Han Ziqing sent him off to the northern frontier, it would be no different from exile—there, no one would even recognize him as an imperial prince, and he might not even survive to keep his own life!
“Father Emperor, do you have any other candidates in mind?” Ziqing asked earnestly.
Emperor Tianhui had no interest in pursuing this further, saying quickly, “No, none at all. If Beichen truly has no time, then you and Young Master Situ shall go. You’ll need to depart within a few days—please make whatever preparations are necessary.”
How could Emperor Tianhui not fear Han Ziqing secretly reaching some private agreement with the King of Nanzhao? Two-thirds of Da Zhou’s power already rested firmly in this woman’s hands. If she managed to win the recognition of all the kingdoms across the four regions, who among them would still recognize him as their emperor?
He frowned, glancing toward Consort Yi—of all his former advisors and strategists, some dead, some gone, only Consort Yi remained by his side.
Ziqing nodded, saying nothing further. After some perfunctory pleasantries, her attitude grew colder and colder, until finally Emperor Tianhui himself couldn’t bear to stay any longer and took his leave voluntarily.
The moment he left, Situ Haonan burst out laughing. “Ha, woman, if Jun Beiyue’s ice-block face could see how thoroughly old Tianhui just got put in his place, he’d definitely be laughing right now!”
Ziqing silently glanced at him, saying nothing, and turned to walk away.
Situ Haonan sheepishly covered his mouth, seemingly realizing it was best not to mention Jun Beiyue at all—this woman was already cold enough by nature, and any mention of Jun Beiyue only made her colder still, refusing to even respond.
Word arrived from Yingzi that everything was proceeding smoothly, the journey progressing faster than expected, just waiting now to set sail. Once they set sail, news would no longer arrive so promptly.
Situ Haonan hurried after her. “Han Ziqing, once we’ve settled on our own departure time, I’ll need to make arrangements—we’ll definitely need to pass through and stay overnight at Situ City!”
Unfortunately, by the time he reached the winding corridor, Ziqing had already vanished without a trace.
Situ City sat right on the border between Da Zhou and Nanzhao—an entire family controlling an entire city, belonging to neither Da Zhou’s nor Nanzhao’s jurisdiction, existing instead as an independent power within the martial world, presided over by Situ Haonan’s father, Situ Chengtian, who had already served three consecutive terms as leader of the martial world alliance.
Situ Haonan searched everywhere for her but couldn’t find any trace, so he had no choice but to handle the arrangements himself. With so many visitors coming so frequently, once they actually departed, Prince Yao’s mansion would need to be heavily guarded, and they would need someone to serve as a decoy, lying in the sickbed in Jun Beiyue’s place.
Yet when Situ Haonan set about arranging this himself, he discovered that Ziqing had already taken care of everything.
He had originally assumed that, well, women being women, she would need some time to grieve and mourn. He never expected Han Ziqing to be so entirely different from other women in this regard!
With nothing left for him to busy himself with, he found himself instead brooding over how to handle that wretched girl Situ Xin’er. Given everything that had happened with Jun Beiyue, there was absolutely no way to keep it from his parents. If Situ Xin’er’s situation wasn’t handled properly, forget about passing through Situ City—even finding news of the seductive incense’s antidote would become extremely difficult!
Thinking of this, Situ Haonan’s face fell into a troubled frown. He leapt up onto the rooftop and lay sprawled on his back, utterly vexed!
Staring up at the sky, deep in his troubled thoughts, Situ Haonan suddenly caught the faint sound of a zither. He immediately sat bolt upright, and the sound grew even clearer.
The melody was mournful and low, plaintive as a lament—though not quite crying, it evoked the very feeling of sorrowful weeping. Situ Haonan found himself instantly drawn in, no longer concerned with who might be playing.
At the high pavilion on the hill behind the East Garden, Ziqing sat leaning against the railing, her head tilted back against a stone pillar. Her pale hands hung limply at her sides, her ten fingers plucking through empty air—her hands never once touching the strings, and yet the sorrowful, desolate melody continued to emerge.
The music came from that mysterious stringless zither resting on the stone table within the pavilion.
Once, her hand had needed to remain three inches from the strings; now she could play from a distance far greater still, so skillfully that even she herself hadn’t noticed just how rapidly her musical skill had been progressing.
She appeared languid, listless, yet in truth she felt weak and despondent, her fingering painfully slow—and yet somehow it still formed a coherent melody, one that drew listeners in against their will, utterly captivated.
Not far away, a figure in purple had been standing for quite some time, finally approaching slowly.
“Girl, playing ‘Sorrow of Parting’ like this will kill the very heart of the musician who plays it. Best not to do so.”
Xuanyuan Lige said flatly, his slender fingers gently pressing down upon the strings of the stringless zither. At once, the music came to an abrupt stop.