“I’m sorry. It was my mistake.”

Jun Beiyue said those two words, “I’m sorry,” again and again, each time so earnest.

And yet — was any of this truly Jun Beiyue’s fault?

He had never once betrayed her, never once deceived her.

Back then, he had waited for her with such joyful anticipation, giving up an enormously important peace summit entirely just to wait for her. When she failed to appear, he had gone half-mad, rushing straight to the summit and, in full view of everyone, on West Jing’s own territory, disregarding Longyuan’s diplomatic protocols and every consequence, killed one of West Jing’s generals outright, then furiously demanded the West Jing emperor return her to him.

When the storm hit, everyone else fled south — yet he alone had charged straight into the eye of the storm, heedless of his own life.

Had Jun Beiyue done something wrong?

In the middle of that storm, he had thrown away even his own vital energy, exhausting every last ounce of strength to save her. Others might not have seen it, but he had been gambling with his very life.

And now, because of one mistake, one misunderstanding — was he to be condemned for it?

He had never betrayed her, never deceived her, had always doted on her without reservation — he had never once, in all their time together, even had cause to feel guilty toward her before this.

For all his exalted status, for all his unrivaled nobility, he had never once cared about her origins, her bloodline.

It wasn’t that he’d lacked the ability — in the middle of that storm, he had already had her firmly in his grasp; if she and Situ Haonan hadn’t told him the buried figure was the gu master, killing Bai Mengmeng then and there would have posed no difficulty at all.

This man had never deceived her, never treated her harshly, never betrayed her, had never once made demands of her. Though not a god, he was hardly incompetent either — his abilities were plain for all to see across the entire Longyuan continent.

One could only say this single mistake had led to grave consequences — not that Jun Beiyue’s error was some unforgivable, catastrophic failing.

Was she really going to condemn her husband as useless, incompetent, over one misunderstanding?

That simply wasn’t something Han Ziqing could bring herself to do. She would rather blame herself for being too helpless to save herself.

If she demanded her husband be some flawless god who never erred, never faltered — if she wished to remain forever a child hiding beneath a god’s wings — then she would no longer be Han Ziqing.

Even if, someday, Jun Beiyue became the most perfect god on all of the Longyuan continent, she, Han Ziqing, would still refuse a god’s protection. She would stand shoulder to shoulder with him instead.

What had troubled her was never that Jun Beiyue failed to pull her from the tornado — what had always troubled her was the matter of Bai Mengmeng.

And now that the misunderstanding had been cleared up, how could she possibly accept his repeated apologies?

“Silly man, you have nothing to be sorry for. You don’t! You don’t!!”

Ziqing choked the words out. If he truly had done something worth apologizing for, then what use would explanations be, what use would an apology be!

He hadn’t. He didn’t need to apologize. And she wouldn’t accept it.

If Ziqing had accepted his apology, Jun Beiyue might perhaps have felt some relief — her refusal to hold it against him didn’t mean he wasn’t holding it against himself, didn’t mean he wasn’t condemning himself.

And yet Ziqing’s refusal to accept it let him see, once again, this woman’s magnanimity, her breadth of heart, her singular, irreplaceable nature.

To have a wife like this in this life — what more could a man ask for?

Jun Beiyue smiled faintly, then abruptly pulled Ziqing into his arms, pressing a light kiss to her forehead.

Only now did the words he’d wanted to say since the moment they met finally spill out, murmured against her ear. “Woman… I’ve missed you so much. Every day… I’ve thought of nothing else…”

A pang struck Ziqing’s heart, and her thoughts flew at once to their son — this man surely had no idea.

She missed him — but their son, ever since he’d been old enough to understand, had thought of his father every single day too, hadn’t he?

Wondering what kind of man his father was, what he looked like, wondering when he might finally meet him, when his father might finally hold him.

“Beiyue, we…”

Just as Ziqing was about to speak, Xuanyuan Lige’s voice suddenly cut in from behind them. “Jun Beiyue. This is the second time.”

“This is the second time.”

A handful of words, meaningless to everyone else — but Jun Beiyue understood at once.

This was the second time he had lost Ziqing. The first had been the matter with Yanzi; this time, it was the Poison Beast World. He still didn’t know why Ziqing remained unchanged, hadn’t turned into a human gu — but even amid his relief, guilt lingered, because this time had been far more dangerous than the last.

But none of that was anyone else’s concern.

Ziqing looked toward Xuanyuan Lige, with no idea of the suffering he had endured searching for her — traveling all the way to Nanzhao, digging through sand with his own hands, hanging on by a thread, tracking down the Meng Clan elders, nearly dying just outside the palace. Of all of this, Ziqing knew nothing.

Ziqing exchanged a glance with Jun Beiyue, and only then did they both notice something different about Xuanyuan Lige — his purple robes and silver hair sweeping in the wind, his whole bearing far more vigorous and steady than before, seven parts of his former frailty gone, replaced by a sharper, colder edge.

For a moment Ziqing didn’t dwell on it, not quite grasping what Xuanyuan Lige meant by “the second time.” She furrowed her brow, about to speak — but Jun Beiyue drew her protectively to his side and said flatly, “It is. But it has nothing to do with you.”

This man was not Ziqing’s father, nor her elder brother. Whatever there was between him and Ziqing, he had no right to interfere in it, nor did he owe him any explanation.

True, the man had saved Situ Haonan, had searched for the Death Barrier alongside him — for that, gratitude was owed.

But even though it was Xuanyuan Lige alone who had come to save Ziqing today, Jun Beiyue still had no intention of explaining himself to him.

Man to man, expecting Jun Beiyue to believe Xuanyuan Lige’s feelings for Ziqing were nothing more than friendship, mere companionship — that was simply out of the question.

Set aside matters of state across the Longyuan continent entirely — he and Xuanyuan Lige were destined to be rivals regardless.

And when it came to matters of the heart, there was no room to speak to Jun Beiyue of magnanimity, of generosity. There was no room for negotiation at all.

“And if, from now on, I insist on making it my concern?”

Xuanyuan Lige’s voice was cold. Why had he given up before, after all?

He had said it himself, long ago — he had never claimed to be some man of noble virtue. If he truly loved a woman, even if she married and bore children, he would still fight for her.

But before, he had never actually fought for her at all — he had only quietly watched over her, doing his best to preserve what friendship they had.

It wasn’t virtue that had held him back. At heart, he had simply been afraid his own short life would end up dragging Ziqing’s whole life down with it. He’d believed himself incapable of what Jun Beiyue could achieve.

But now — things were different!

The Five Elements Seal had given him a second life. Aside from Old Fifth Meng and himself, no one else knew where his fatal weakness lay. He was only just past twenty, still young — his whole life was only just beginning!

How could he possibly let go now of someone he’d once been forced to release?

From now on, I, Xuanyuan Lige, will insist on making it my concern.

Hearing this, Jun Beiyue couldn’t help but let out a cold laugh. “Xuanyuan Lige. Is this a declaration of war against this prince?”

“It is,” Xuanyuan Lige said, equally cold.

“A bit late, perhaps — but very well. This prince will grant you your chance!” Jun Beiyue laughed broadly. A true powerhouse never feared a challenge.

Standing to the side, Ziqing had been on the verge of speaking, but hearing all this, her brows drew even tighter, and for a moment she had no idea what to say.

The very thing she had once most hoped to see — Xuanyuan Lige finding his fighting spirit again — had come to pass, and yet at the very same moment, the very thing she had most dreaded had arrived as well.

Ah Li — whatever happens, I remain grateful to you. But still… my heart belongs to him.