In that moment just now, death had come so close, so terribly close to Ziqing. In that instant, she’d thought of so many people—Jun Beiyue, her A’Li, that annoying scholar Baili Weisheng, even Hongyi, Guxi, Yelu Qianqian!

Yet, for some reason, she never once thought it would be him—Situ Haonan!

Her hand trembling, she gently wrapped it around Situ Haonan’s neck, her fingers—numb from countless hours at the qin—trembling softly as she searched for the pulse at his throat!

She knew exactly what she was doing. To determine whether someone was truly dead, this was the most reliable way.

Her trembling fingers pressed gently down.

Warm. Pulsing!

Thank goodness!

He was still alive!

Ziqing’s tears nearly spilled over—Situ Haonan was alive, this blow hadn’t taken his life!

She slowly released her hand and smiled.

She didn’t even know why she was smiling—but somehow, amid the blood covering her face, a smile bloomed, pure and radiant, so very beautiful.

“Haonan, do you concede?”

She asked, smiling, surveying the dead and wounded scattered across the ground.

“Situ Haonan, are you truly, wholeheartedly convinced now?”

“Situ Haonan, do you concede? Will you still seek revenge?”

…

Ziqing kept smiling, murmuring these questions, while Situ Haonan, clutching the wound at his chest, turned to look at her. Blood still poured from his lips, yet he smiled too, the curve of his lips achingly handsome.

It was as if they’d been transported back to when they’d first met, when he always smiled with that rakish, careless air, as if nothing mattered at all.

“I concede!”

Situ Haonan spoke with utter sincerity—no explanation was needed, they both understood, both of them knew.

She held no hatred, no grudge—her fury had long since dissipated into thin air.

And as for him, he had finally made it in time. No more hatred, no more self-blame, no more regret!

For both of them, it had all worked out in time. Between them, there had never truly been a grudge to begin with—a single smile washed everything away!

“I concede! Wholeheartedly, completely convinced—Han Ziqing, you’re incredible!”

Situ Haonan held one hand to his chest, raising the other in a thumbs-up. His admiration for this woman was entirely genuine.

Before he’d ever schemed against her, he had sworn to himself: as long as she could survive, could fight her way out, he would hold nothing against her!

As long as she could pull through, he, Situ Haonan, would defend her for the rest of his life, unconditionally, no matter what!

Not out of love, but out of friendship—even if this woman was entirely, utterly in the wrong, he would still defend her unconditionally.

The two of them exchanged a smile, and just then, Madam Situ finally snapped out of her daze and rushed forward. “Haonan, are you all right? What happened, where are you hurt?”

Only now did she think to care about her son?

A bit too late, wasn’t it?

“I’m fine. You should go—this isn’t a place for you to stay.” Situ Haonan said flatly, never once looking at his father throughout.

It wasn’t that he lacked filial devotion—it was simply that he’d been too disappointed for too long.

He’d always been looked down upon, always considered not good enough. Fine, then—he would leave.

The day they grew too old to move on their own, he’d come back to fulfill his filial duty. But not now.

He had his own world, his own friends, his own dignity.

Many of the wounded from Nangong City, including the Elder Madam Nangong, watched all of this unfold, none daring to say a word.

But Ziqing coldly swept her gaze over the crowd and demanded sharply, “All of you—do you concede or not?”

The moment her words fell, the entire scene went silent, save for the howling wind. No one dared speak.

Watching Situ Haonan’s resolute, unyielding expression, Patriarch Situ couldn’t help but burst into loud laughter, sheathed his longsword, and turned to walk away, while Madam Situ, panicking, hurried after him.

“My lord! My lord! Enough!”

“This old man has no such unfilial son. If he wants to marry into Xijing’s royal family, let him do as he pleases!”

That was clearly what Patriarch Situ truly cared about. No matter how Madam Situ tried to persuade him, he never once turned back, and soon the couple had walked far into the distance.

Situ Haonan didn’t look back either. He took a deep breath and personally helped the Elder Madam Nangong to her feet. “Grandmother, I’ve been unfilial. Please, go home.”

The Elder Madam Nangong, panting hard, though thoroughly convinced by Han Ziqing’s display, said nothing out of stubborn pride, took her cane and steadied herself, and said coldly, “Back to the estate!”

Supported by several young masters for a stretch of the walk, she turned back once more, pointing her cane at Ziqing. “Girl, you just wait! As long as Nangong City still stands, someone will come to deal with you!”

A warning? A threat?

Ziqing wasn’t the least bit afraid—she hadn’t feared what stood before her; why would she fear something yet to come?

“I’ll be waiting anytime you please!” Ziqing answered seriously, word for word. Only once they’d all walked far into the distance did she finally exhale a long breath, turning to look at Situ Haonan!

Blood still flowed from the wound at Situ Haonan’s chest. He looked back at her too, shaking his head unconsciously, smiling all the while!

“Well played!” Ziqing praised him.

“You flatter me, you flatter me.” Situ Haonan was quite humble.

“Truly—you even fooled Jun Beiyue.” Ziqing smiled too. Who else besides the people closest to him could possibly have fooled Jun Beiyue?

“He’s probably going out of his mind right about now. Let’s go—this young master is off to plead for forgiveness, bearing thorns on his back!” Situ Haonan said, extending a hand toward Ziqing.

But Ziqing looked at him, looked and looked, smiling and smiling, and then suddenly her legs gave out and she collapsed to the ground!

So tired, so exhausted!

She wanted nothing more than to lie down and sleep right away, wanted nothing more than to never wake up again.

Only now did she truly begin to feel the pain—countless sword wounds crisscrossing her entire body, many of them overlapping, all erupting at once as if they’d made a pact together, the pain so intense it seemed to reach into her very skull.

Yet the most painful of all were her hands, especially her right hand, the one she used to play the qin—her fingers stiff, unable to open and move nimbly anymore.

What was she going to do? What was she going to do about these hands?

She hadn’t even played Lishang all the way through yet—she hadn’t even uncovered the secret of that totem in Lishang yet!

Seeing Ziqing collapse, Situ Haonan finally gave out too, because he was exhausted as well—he’d sprinted here like a madman, faster than anyone in this world had ever run.

He collapsed too, sitting down beside Ziqing, gasping for breath, not even noticing the strange state of her hands.

Both of them were utterly wretched, too exhausted even to speak, wanting only to rest a while, rest a while before moving on.

Even now, neither of them had any attention left to spare for their surroundings.

The wind howled so fiercely, like crashing, terrifying waves.

The sand atop Mingsha Mountain, undisturbed for a hundred years, had in fact already begun to stir, a thin layer at the surface silently shifting…

Neither of them knew this.

And unbeknownst to them both, not far behind them beside Mingsha Cave, a blood-red venomous lizard poked its head out, slowly flicking its crimson tongue, as if preparing to savor something delicious, its bulging eyes fixed intently on Ziqing’s back.

“Finally found her… my, my, the little girl’s quite something—wounded this badly and still not dead! Truly a body suited for raising a human gu, ahahaha!”

Beside the blood lizard came a low, sinister cackle—who else could it be but Nanny Gu?