There was a loud clatter as that precious dagger was flung violently to the ground, nearly snapping in the process.

That was how furious this man was!

What was Han Ziqing thinking—her leg was still wounded!

“I just… couldn’t bear it. That’s all.” Ziqing was utterly serious. She’d known he would be angry, but she hadn’t expected him to be this angry.

But she hadn’t wanted this either. She simply couldn’t bear the alternative.

She knelt before him, the wound on her thigh, even after treatment, still raw and bloody. “Beiyue, here—Imperial Physician Gu cut into me no fewer than ten times. Could you… could you have done that?”

This wasn’t about trust. She was someone with such strong principles—she had already given him her heart. How could she not trust him?

It was that she couldn’t bear it.

Hearing this question, Jun Beiyue felt something in him nearly break. He couldn’t help but look down, but the instant he saw the wound, his heart clenched like a knife had been driven through it, and he quickly looked away. If there was one thing in this life he feared, it was this woman’s wounds.

The poison had to be cured—there was no question of that!

The poison master’s words just now only confirmed that insisting on the cure had been the right call.

But did it have to happen this way, did she have to endure the addiction alone, was she so cruel as to make him sleep through it all, oblivious to everything?

Han Ziqing, wasn’t this a bit too much?

“How do you know I couldn’t have?” he demanded angrily.

If it truly had to be done with a blade, then it should have been him, and no one else, wielding it. He would never allow anyone but himself to cut her.

“I don’t want that!”

Ziqing finally cried out, her voice clearly breaking. “I don’t want it! I don’t want it! I just don’t want you to be the one to do it!”

She had finally, after everything, found such a good man—finally had someone to love her, cherish her, protect her, someone who let her be spoiled and willful without a single care for what other women might think.

She couldn’t bear it!

She couldn’t bear to lose him, and even more, she couldn’t bear the thought of hurting herself—of being wounded by this man’s own hand. Even the smallest wound, even one with good reason behind it, she wouldn’t accept.

“I don’t want you to do it. Jun Beiyue, everyone else in the world can, but not you—never you!”

Ziqing didn’t even know how these words had come pouring out of her. No matter how much pain, how much suffering she had to endure, she could grit her teeth and get through it.

Making him wield the knife would be cruelty to him—and even crueler to herself.

“Jun Beiyue, you’re only allowed to spoil me, cherish me, protect me, love me. The whole world can wrong me, but you—there’s no reason, none at all, that you’re allowed to hurt so much as a single hair on my head!”

She couldn’t bear to be hurt by him!

Jun Beiyue froze, still struggling to process it all, when Ziqing suddenly threw herself at him with force. “Jun Beiyue, why are you so fierce? I said I don’t want it—I don’t want it!”

She came at him with such intensity, and yet she didn’t even hit him—wasn’t a proper tantrum supposed to come with a few good punches?

She didn’t know how else to express it. She simply threw herself hard into his arms, hurting herself in the process, and just stayed there, sniffling over and over—but not crying.

Jun Beiyue’s chest tightened with an ache that made it hard to breathe. Holding this battered, exhausted woman, all his anger had long since drained away, replaced by heartache, helplessness, and self-reproach—he even found himself hating this state he was in.

And yet, this was simply how it was.

Ziqing, still in his arms, kept rubbing against him stubbornly, insisting all the while, “I don’t want it, I don’t want it!”

He had to admit, this woman was too foolish for her own good. The rubbing genuinely hurt him, and he couldn’t help but pull her closer. “All right, all right. I promise—I’ll spoil you, cherish you, protect you, love you. The whole world can wrong you, but I won’t—there’s no reason, none at all, that I’m allowed to hurt so much as a single hair on your head.”

Those earnest, gentle words made Ziqing go completely still. She looked up unconsciously, as if only now realizing what she’d just said.

“This time is the exception. I’ll remember it,” Jun Beiyue said seriously, feeling both proud of Ziqing and heartbroken for her. Whether or not something like this would happen again in the future, he wouldn’t be so careless again, and he certainly wouldn’t be so harsh with her again.

The two of them had so much in common, and yet so much that set them apart. In truth, they hadn’t spent all that much time together, and misunderstandings were inevitable. He realized just how little he truly knew about her.

Ziqing said nothing, simply staring at him, her clear eyes red-rimmed, unreadable.

“I really do remember,” Jun Beiyue added.

But Ziqing only continued to stare, looking so pitiful and yet still so stubbornly defiant that Jun Beiyue had no idea what to do with her.

“I’m not angry anymore, so don’t be angry either. From now on, whatever happens, let’s not shout at each other—let’s just talk it through properly, all right?” he coaxed gently.

Ziqing still stared blankly at him. Finally, at a loss, Jun Beiyue said, very seriously, “You know… that rubbing just now really did hurt.”

That worked instantly. Ziqing’s face flushed with embarrassment, and she immediately threw herself back into his arms, rubbing against him hard once more before finally settling down, her arms wrapping around his waist.

Jun Beiyue couldn’t help but laugh, though even in his laughter, the heartache was plain to see.

All of this had started because of the Charm Fragrance—the Isolated Isle needed to be found, and soon.

Inside, the room had fallen quiet once more, Ziqing curled up safely and warmly in his embrace, her small face no longer visible. And at that moment, the two figures on the roof finally lifted their heads, brows furrowed, both lost deep in thought.

A trace of heartache and sorrow lay hidden in Xuanyuan Lige’s eyes as he silently watched the man in black, who wore a faint smile of his own—equally aching, though unlike Xuanyuan Lige’s sorrow, his was more one of helpless resignation.

A pair of clear, bright eyes—however young they looked, there was, inexplicably, a sense of fated inevitability lurking beneath that helplessness.

Their eyes met, and suddenly the man in black snapped back to himself, launching abruptly backward through the air. Xuanyuan Lige was no fool either—his first move was to slip silently off the rooftop as well.

Jun Beiyue had already woken, after all—if there was any disturbance on this roof, even the slightest sound, he would surely notice.

The moment the man in black withdrew, he flung out a hidden weapon straight at the roof tiles.

“Despicable!” Xuanyuan Lige scoffed coldly, catching the projectile in his hand—it was an exquisite pearl. Under normal circumstances, he would have immediately noticed its extraordinary smoothness and roundness, but this time, the instant he caught it, he flung it back with a burst of wind-blade force. The man in black dodged it just as effortlessly, without retaliating, and turned to flee.

Xuanyuan Lige pursued relentlessly, determined to uncover this man’s identity—he clearly knew too much.

But the man in black had gained a head start, and no matter how hard he chased, Xuanyuan Lige couldn’t close the distance. The two of them kept a steady gap between them the entire way.

“Not even brave enough to show your face—what kind of hero is that?” Xuanyuan Lige said coldly.

“Oh, and you’re a hero, are you? Give it up already. Look how devoted they are to each other—cherishing her, protecting her, loving her—could you ever do that? You’re the type who could only wrong her, not the type who’s forbidden to. Understand?” The man in black’s tongue was remarkably quick, the words tumbling out fast and tangled, and yet every one of them landed with perfect clarity.

“Shut up!” Xuanyuan Lige snapped, immediately drawing the demonic zither from his back. Seeing this, the man in black turned and fled at once.

“If you’re not a hero, are you not even a man?” Xuanyuan Lige called out, and with a resounding twang, he struck the strings hard—the very first note alone was enough to send a pang of pain straight through anyone who heard it.

The man in black didn’t even turn back, didn’t even have time to retort—this time, he truly fled, vanishing from sight in an instant.