There were people running about, people moving tables aside, people crying out. But the expected terrible sound of crashing into the pillar never came.

Immediately after, the maidservants hurriedly lit the candles, restoring light to the hall.

Everyone looked over with barely settled hearts, only to see Xu Kouyue sitting disheveled on the ground beside the pillar, already wrapped in an outer robe.

No one had seen exactly what happened in that instant.

Madam Gantang couldn’t care about anything else and stumbled over to embrace Xu Kouyue, already sobbing uncontrollably.

Wanyan Jun’s face darkened, about to lose his temper, when Xie Queshan frowned and said: “Lord Wanyan was only joking. Second Sister is making such a tearful scene—it’s quite spoiling the mood. You should take the princess to change clothes.”

Madam Gantang fled with Xu Kouyue in her arms.

Xie Queshan nonchalantly picked up his wine cup and loudly congratulated Wanyan Jun: “Lord Wanyan, don’t mind these women. Let’s continue drinking. Congratulations on bringing Master Song under your command—the shipbuilding matter now has a solution.”

The gloom on Wanyan Jun’s face immediately dispersed, and he laughed heartily along with Xie Queshan’s words, raising his wine cup: “Master Song, join us?”

But Song Muchuan still refused to touch the wine in his cup.

“Master Song?”

Song Muchuan stood up with a wooden expression and cupped his hands: “This commoner cannot handle wine well, and I must return to organize books and blueprints to contribute to Lord Wanyan’s endeavors. It’s not suitable to drink more today. This commoner takes his leave.”

His gaze fell on the untouched sweet soup at the table’s edge, then he looked deeply at Xie Queshan. To others, this seemed like a resentful look—if not for today’s host, how would he have fallen into such a dilemma?

But this glance made Xie Queshan’s fingers tighten around his cup.

Wanyan Jun didn’t stop him, only assigned two attendants to “escort” Song Muchuan in the name of protection.

Xie Queshan rotated the wine cup in his hand and brought it to his lips, the vessel hiding most of his contemplative expression.

If not for that look Song Muchuan gave him, he wouldn’t have understood so quickly how today’s events had suddenly developed this way.

His performance was flawless, but precisely because it was too perfectly calculated, Xie Queshan could see that Song Muchuan was also acting, performing his weak scholar image to perfection. Only under such circumstances would his agreement to work for the Qi people be more believable than voluntary submission—no one would suspect him.

If he truly didn’t want to take over the Bureau of Ships, he would have found every way to have him sent away. But only now did he realize that Song Muchuan was willing.

He understood his old friend too well. This scholar full of learning appeared gentle and weak, but when he decided on something, he had unshakeable determination. As long as he didn’t want to, even under Wanyan Jun’s intense pressure, he still had ways to refuse.

Such as dying to prove his integrity. This was something he could do.

But not only did he not do this, he continued to endure humiliation in this game. Unless… Song Muchuan had deliberately entered this trap in the guise of prey.

Xie Queshan’s gaze darkened.

Song Muchuan was determined to enter the game. He had already transformed completely, with grand ambitions, and when facing his old friend, he had ultimately lost his composure and been manipulated.

Xie Queshan drained his cup, a bone-piercing pain stabbing into his brain. He frowned and lightly rubbed his temples. His gaze casually swept across and fell on the young woman by the window.

She leaned over to close the window, secretly pulled out the sleeve arrow embedded in the window frame, and hid it back in her sleeve. Stealthily looking back, she met his gaze directly.

Her eyes immediately dimmed, filled with confusion and resentment, but she quickly concealed her emotions and returned to her seat as if nothing had happened.

It seemed even she thought he had conspired with the Qi people to force Song Muchuan into compliance.

Well, that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.

——

In the inner room, Madam Gantang heartbrokenly lifted Xu Kouyue’s skirt hem. Her delicate ankles had been worn raw by the heavy iron chains, leaving a circle of bloody marks.

What a spirited young woman she had once been, running among the glazed tiles of the imperial city, her skirt hem like a kite in the sky, fluttering with her steps.

Her heart ached terribly as she called: “Yaoyao…”

Hearing this familiar yet distant call, a trace of genuine sorrow finally appeared on Xu Kouyue’s hollow, vacant face.

Madam Gantang wanted to apply medicine to the wounds on Xu Kouyue’s feet.

“Aunt…” Tears fell like broken beads. Xu Kouyue raised her hand to stop her. “He won’t let me put medicine on my wounds. If he sees…”

Madam Gantang was stunned, her expression shifting from surprise to heartbreak to anger. In that instant, thousands of words swept across her tongue, yet she was speechless with emotion.

She cupped Xu Kouyue’s face and murmured: “Yaoyao, don’t be afraid.”

But she was powerless—how could she make her not afraid? She didn’t dare look into Xu Kouyue’s eyes anymore, only sadly pressed her forehead against hers, trying to transmit some meager strength.

“Aunt will find a way to kill that beast and rescue you. Wait a little longer for Aunt, will you?”

Xu Kouyue’s heart was like dead ashes: “Aunt, don’t throw eggs at rocks. My life is already like this, and I’m even fortunate…”

At this point, she choked up again.

Madam Gantang naturally understood what kind of fortune she meant. Most of the imperial family were either dead or captive, living in darkness in Great Qi, while Xu Kouyue had been brought to Li Du Mansion—at least she had returned to her homeland, at least she had food and clothing…

“As long as you all can be well, I have no other wishes.”

“It’s not time to give up yet!”

Madam Gantang’s words were so resolute that even Xu Kouyue was startled.

“Live.”

Xu Kouyue murmured as she looked up: “Just now, Xie… Xie Queshan also said something to me.”

Madam Gantang was stunned.

“Just now… what exactly happened?”

In the darkness, Xu Kouyue had resolutely rushed toward the pillar, expecting the next second to bring a bloody head wound, but instead crashed into a warm embrace.

He quickly draped his robe back over her, and amid the surrounding chaos whispered two words in her ear—”Live.”

Only then did she recognize this as Xie Queshan’s voice.

“I had thought that with his current high position and power, he would seek personal revenge and kick me while I was down.”

Madam Gantang knew this old story. Between Xu Kouyue and Xie Queshan, though they had never met, there was a not insignificant grudge.

After Xie Queshan passed the provincial examination, he could participate in the metropolitan examination in his first year. Originally, there would have been no problems, but his essay happened to be seen by Xu Kouyue.

At that time, Xu Kouyue was a talented woman who studied under a great scholar of the dynasty. Her learning was famous throughout the Eastern Capital. When she accidentally saw Xie Queshan’s essay, she greatly admired it, but upon inquiry learned he had rebelled against orthodoxy and broken with his family. Her attitude immediately did a complete reversal—she believed this person had talent but no virtue, was disloyal and unfilial, and unfit to enter court. She ordered his name struck from the spring examination candidate list, forbidding him to take the test.

This forced the proud young man to wait another three years. Later, it was the Song family parents and Madam Gantang who mediated, giving him another chance to take the metropolitan examination three years later.

But he entered the examination hall and, before waiting for results, fled to distant lands.

After his defection, Xu Kouyue would occasionally hear his name from others. She despised this turncoat minister, believing her judgment back then had been completely correct.

Young, arrogant, and utterly pampered as she was then, how could she have understood the principle of leaving room for others?

Now seeing Xie Queshan with their positions reversed, she both feared and dreaded him. Their old grudge had become a sword hanging over her head, ready to make her already unbearable situation even worse at any moment.

But she hadn’t expected that this man, who in her mind had turned ethical principles upside down and acted with ruthless calculation, would save her and preserve a measure of her dignity.

“Chao’en still has Xie family blood flowing in his veins,” Madam Gantang’s words interrupted her thoughts. “But often, I can’t see through him either. Sometimes I vaguely have the illusion… that Third Brother is still that same Third Brother…”

“His position in Great Qi is very high…” Xu Kouyue still poured cold water on Madam Gantang’s hopes. “Wanyan Jun trusts him completely. They’re both under Great Qi’s Prime Minister Han Xianwang.”

Madam Gantang sighed. The situation of internal and external troubles made it difficult for her to see even a glimmer of hope.

At this moment, someone knocked on the door outside.

“Princess Lingfu, the banquet has ended. Lord Wanyan is returning to the mansion.”

Despair at returning to her cage rose again in Xu Kouyue’s eyes. She didn’t dare delay even a moment and immediately stood up.

“Aunt, don’t worry about me,” she said quietly.

Don’t care whether I live or die—as long as free people can live well, that was now her greatest wish.

——

The wind chimes at the four corners of the carriage swayed with the rapid movement, their sound drifting through the empty nighttime streets like soul-summoning music from the underworld.

Wanyan Jun and Xu Kouyue sat together in the carriage, with Xu Kouyue shrinking as far into the corner as possible.

Wanyan Jun was in excellent spirits, showing no intention of holding anything against Xu Kouyue. There was even a hint of smile in his eyes as he lazily pulled her over and into his embrace.

His tone was gentle: “What did your aunt say to you?”

Xu Kouyue nervously shrank back and shook her head.

Wanyan Jun crouched down in front of Xu Kouyue and lifted her skirt hem to examine the wounds on her ankles.

Seeing that the wounds hadn’t been treated with medicine, he showed a satisfied smile.

“So obedient.”

The usually arrogant Wanyan Jun crouched so good-naturedly before Xu Kouyue, taking a small jar of medicinal paste from his sleeve and patiently applying it to her wounds: “Really, why did you take tonight’s playacting so seriously?”

Xu Kouyue didn’t dare speak. She couldn’t fathom Wanyan Jun’s temperament—sometimes he was brutal toward her, but other times he could be very gentle, even apologizing to her.

“Are you unhappy? Shall I call Zhang Zhicun over to keep you company?”

Xu Kouyue’s pupils suddenly dilated. Hearing this sentence felt like receiving a tremendous humiliation.

Wanyan Jun said carelessly, his tone hiding extremely cruel mockery: “He’s particularly obedient now, like a dog I’ve trained.”

“I don’t want to see him!” For the first time, she showed such intense emotion.

Zhang Zhicun was Xu Kouyue’s husband—or rather, her former husband from the Yu Dynasty.

Since they were captured and taken to Great Qi, all concepts of marital propriety and filial duty had been trampled underfoot by the Qi people. These noble imperial family members didn’t even have a shred of dignity left.

“Oh? Don’t you think about him every day?”

“I… don’t…” Xu Kouyue could only shake her head tremblingly, unable to speak a complete sentence.

As Wanyan Jun spoke, his tone grew dark between the words. He slightly rose, his shadow looming over Xu Kouyue.

He gripped her chin, forcing her to look at him: “You wear a mourning face all day and show me no kindness. If you’re not thinking of him… then what are you thinking about?”

Without waiting for her answer, a predatory kiss descended like a violent storm.

The carriage had already reached the mansion gates, but its occupants hadn’t yet emerged. The curtains swayed as a woman’s broken voice came from within the carriage.

The guards were accustomed to this, keeping their heads down as they waited outside the carriage.

After a long while, Wanyan Jun finally emerged from the carriage, adjusting his belt as he strode into the mansion.

Only after his figure had disappeared behind the screen wall did a trembling voice come from the carriage: “Please… bring me some clothes… if you would.”