That night, in the main hall of the Dragon’s Roar Palace, the lamps burned bright until dawn.

The entire hall was ringed by black-clad guards standing watch; without permission, no one could approach.

Seventh Prince Jun Beiyao, clad in black, lay on the couch, his face-covering already torn away. He was drenched in cold sweat, his complexion the color of iron, and he hadn’t dared move since he’d returned.

A roomful of physicians and maidservants stared at the blood pooling beneath him, utterly at a loss, frozen with shock.

“What are you all standing around for? If this prince is left without an heir, none of you will live either!”

Furious as he was, Jun Beiyao’s voice remained deliberately hoarse and low — he still had a voice-altering insect hidden in his throat, one he hadn’t had time to remove. It was a trick used among the martial world to conceal one’s identity; no matter who used it, the voice that came out sounded the same.

The moment he spoke, the maidservants all shrieked and fled in panic. An injury like the Seventh Prince’s — even if it healed, everyone present today would surely be silenced for good. Not to mention, from the look of things, there was no healing this at all.

What in the world had happened, that the Seventh Prince had fallen to such a state?

Not only the maidservants but even several of the physicians scrambled to flee and save their own lives. But hearing the sounds of killing outside, they exchanged glances and dared not act rashly.

“Anyone who doesn’t want to die, get over here!” Jun Beiyao roared, though his whole body was weak and drained — it was clear he was shouting with everything he had left.

He’d made careful inquiries and learned that Jun Beiyue had been summoned into the palace by the Emperor for the night and wouldn’t be returning. He’d finally found his chance to sneak into Prince Yao’s estate — only, he hadn’t even made it inside before running into Han Ziqing!

What a formidable woman. No wonder Jun Beiyue was willing to marry her even knowing he’d wear a cuckold’s horns. He certainly remembered her final warning — only, at this moment, he had no mind or mood left to dwell on it. He glared furiously as the physician crept forward, timid, to examine him.

Just how much it hurt, he himself knew best. He had to admit — even now, both his hands wouldn’t stop trembling from sheer terror.

In truth, one glance at the wound was enough to tell the physicians everything they needed to know, yet none of them dared say it. They only tended to the injury with trembling hands, then all withdrew to the side, shaking.

“Speak!” Jun Beiyao bellowed again.

No one answered.

“You! Speak!” Jun Beiyao raised a hand, only for it to drop back down at once, his whole body limp.

The physician immediately dropped to his knees. “Spare me, Your Highness — this humble one is powerless to help. This humble one deserves ten thousand deaths — please, spare me!”

At once, all the physicians knelt, begging for mercy over and over.

Jun Beiyao’s pale face turned to stone. He let out a strangled sound and collapsed onto the couch, all strength gone.

There was no saving it… truly, there was no saving it…

That same night, in Prince Yao’s estate, the lamps in Ziqing’s West Garden also burned bright until dawn.

Ziqing had originally thought her kneecap would be shattered, but it turned out she’d overestimated the force of the black-clad man’s punch — though it was a severe injury, it was nowhere near broken. After being hurt, she hadn’t moved at all, and with prompt treatment, by the afternoon of the following day she could reluctantly stand and walk.

Once the envoy arrived, a banquet would be unavoidable, and the autumn hunt was approaching. If she told Jun Beiyue that a passerby had struck both her knees, leaving her unable to ride — would he even believe that?

The room was silent. Ziqing kept her head down, quietly practicing, steadying herself against the table as she walked, stopping, walking again. It hurt, but still within what she could bear.

Suddenly, the door burst open with a bang, and Hongyi rushed in, anxious. The moment she saw Ziqing out of bed, she cried out in alarm, “Mistress, why are you up? Be careful, you’ll worsen your injury!”

Ziqing shot her a look of displeasure and kept walking, head down, ignoring her.

Hongyi looked put out but still lowered her voice. “Mistress, I came to tell you — the envoy from Western Chu really is coming. His Highness has been waiting at the city gates on behalf of our Great Zhou for a long while now.”

Ziqing stopped in her tracks. Of course she knew the envoy was Prince Xiang of Western Chu, Chu Tiange — a man whose name carried as much weight as Jun Beiyue’s. Still, it puzzled her. Great Zhou’s national strength was nowhere near that of Western Chu, and the autumn hunt envoy exchange happened every year; it was hardly a major event. Was it really worth Chu Tiange personally making such a long journey?

There had to be another purpose behind this mission.

“Mm,” Ziqing acknowledged, and asked nothing further.

“Mistress, I heard His Highness has already been waiting a full two hours. The whole city is buzzing about it — saying Western Chu’s Prince Xiang hasn’t even arrived yet and he’s already dealing our prince a blow to his dignity!” Hongyi added.

“How amusing, the people of the capital — boosting another man’s spirit while dampening our own.” Ziqing gave a cold snort.

“Mistress… should I and Shiliang go take a look?” Hongyi asked timidly.

At this hour, with Jun Beiyue still waiting and Chu Tiange putting on such airs, Ziqing paid it no mind at all. She instructed flatly, “Send someone to the palace to ask around — where the Seventh Prince has been since last night.”

“The Seventh Prince?” Hongyi didn’t understand and hesitated, not moving. Their prince was being humiliated at the city gate and their mistress didn’t care, yet she was asking after some other man.

“My lady, why do you ask about the Seventh Prince—”

Before Hongyi could finish, Ziqing’s face darkened, and she said sharply, “The first rule of the West Garden: my word is law, to be obeyed without question. No more talk.”

“Yes! This servant will go find out at once!” Hongyi left without another word.

Ziqing kept her small face composed and continued practicing. She couldn’t care less what happened to that scoundrel Jun Beiyue — if he ended up so furious he fainted, all the better; he wouldn’t be able to attend the autumn hunt.

By evening, Hongyi had returned.

“Mistress, after court the Emperor summoned all the princes to the imperial study — except the Seventh Prince, who never showed. They say he suddenly fell gravely ill. This servant asked around — the Seventh Prince hasn’t left the Dragon’s Roar Palace all day. They say the Tenth Prince wanted to visit him, but couldn’t even get in to see him!”

Hearing this, a shadow fell across Ziqing’s eyes. So it really was him!

If she hadn’t overheard the Tenth Prince mention a “beauty that could topple nations” that day, she might never have suspected him at all.

Why would he go to such lengths to hide his identity and play cat-and-mouse with her? What was his purpose — did he mean to use it as leverage against Jun Beiyue someday, or did he have some other scheme in mind?

Ziqing didn’t care about any of that. All she wanted was his life!

Just then, Shiliang rushed in, anxious. “Mistress, they say His Highness is still waiting at the city gate! A great crowd has gathered to wait alongside him, all wanting to see how our prince handles Chu Tiange!”

Hearing this, Hongyi worked up her courage again. “Mistress, why don’t we let Shiliang go take a look?”

Both she and Shiliang thought the prince and princess made a fine match — what a pity that between the two of them, neither felt anything for the other.

Ziqing wasn’t foolish enough to put stock in rumors. It made no sense for Prince Yao to personally go out and receive the envoy rather than have the envoy come to him. But no matter what, Jun Beiyue would keep waiting — and knowing that man’s temperament, with Chu Tiange putting on such airs and making him wait so long, there was no way he’d simply let it go.

Two heroes under heaven, war gods of two nations, meeting blade-to-blade for the first time — tonight, at the city gate, there was bound to be quite a show.

“Ready the palanquin. Let’s go have a look too,” Ziqing said flatly.