Jing Hengbo walked toward the stall selling wontons and spicy stir-fried rice cakes.

This was the simplest stall, with only three people, two of whom were women who could be directly eliminated. No matter how Gong Yin disguised himself, he could never pretend to be a woman.

Her gaze couldn’t help but focus intently on the worker ladling wontons.

That worker sat in an inconspicuous corner of the stall, tending a steaming hot pot. Steam from the pot not only obscured his face but even made his figure unclear.

Only now approaching closely did she discover with surprise that the worker was fat, absolutely not Gong Yin’s build.

Her heart sank to the bottom—this one wasn’t him either. Had the divination pearl been wrong? Or had she made a mistake?

Suddenly she thought—Gong Yin’s health might not be good. Could his appearance have changed?

She didn’t stop walking, slowly approaching. Behind that person, she reached out and pulled out the divination pearl.

With just one glance, she stared wide-eyed in amazement.

The blood thread in the divination pearl was moving!

No longer the bent tip from before, but beginning small-scale subtle movements, like a small snake winding along that central line, though she couldn’t make out the direction of movement.

Yet the worker facing away from her sat there lazily, tilting his ladle to cook wontons without moving at all!

Jing Hengbo’s heart instantly turned ice-cold. She spun around abruptly, looking in all directions.

People surrounded her on all sides—pedestrian traffic bustling back and forth, everyone either laughing or serious or tired or composed. Those varied faces with different expressions flowed past her sides, around this stall, becoming countless unfamiliar currents, clamoring back and forth. Everyone was moving, everyone was talking, voices creating confusion, human streams roaring past. She stood in this lively center yet suddenly felt she’d become an isolated island.

People passing the stall all looked with surprise at this woman suddenly standing stupidly in the middle, rigidly upright. In the crowded marketplace, people constantly squeezed past her, bumping her unsteadily, or glaring at her for being in the way, yet she seemed completely unaware, just staring blankly at the crowd. Her expression was completely blank—bewildered and lonely blankness.

The wonton maker worked at the left cutting board, the rice cake stir-fryer at the right cutting board, the wonton ladler close behind her back ladling wontons. In the rising steam, each person did their own work.

The divination pearl clenched tightly in her palm, blood and mud covering her hand, fine grit grinding against her skin, making her slightly alert. She suddenly heard someone loudly say, “Why isn’t my ordered elbow here yet!”

Another said, “I ordered before you and mine’s not here either, what’s your hurry? Didn’t you hear the worker say they just sent someone to Heavenly Fragrance Residence to perform elbow-slicing for some young master? Not enough hands!”

Jing Hengbo looked up abruptly.

There was still one person!

Among these three stalls, one person had just left!

Looking up, she saw Heavenly Fragrance Residence’s signboard just dozens of steps away, and immediately ran toward it.

Behind her, the young woman stopped her stir-frying ladle, the old woman glanced at her retreating figure, then tossed the wontons in her hands into the pot.

In the curling steam, someone seemed to sigh softly.

Before Jing Hengbo could reach Heavenly Fragrance Residence, the crowd ahead blocked her.

A large group of people who looked like household servants and guards blocked the street in front of Heavenly Fragrance Residence, preventing entry or exit. Several men in brocade robes stood at the front. Someone spotted her running over and immediately pointed at her, shouting, “That’s the woman! That’s her, she injured Young Master Yu!”

Behind her, several people supported the bloodied Young Master Yu as he approached. Those men in brocade, their faces dark with malice as they stared at her. The leader said, “Seize her!”

Jing Hengbo heard but didn’t listen. Her figure flashed, already bypassing these people and rushing into Heavenly Fragrance Residence. But the restaurant was already empty—customers had been scared away, only the innkeeper standing at the door with a bitter expression. Jing Hengbo grabbed the innkeeper and asked, “The person who came earlier to slice elbow—where is he?”

The innkeeper was startled and shook his head—Heavenly Fragrance Residence had people coming and going daily. Who would notice one vendor selling snacks?

Jing Hengbo had to ask again, “Those young masters who ordered elbow slicing—where are they?”

The innkeeper pursed his lips with a half-smile, “Miss, looks like they’re searching for you too.”

Jing Hengbo turned back to see those men in brocade who’d blocked the road now walking toward her.

Her gaze swept through the crowd, confirming that among this group there was definitely no elbow-slicing worker. Standing on Heavenly Fragrance Residence’s steps and looking toward the stall area, she saw those cloth banners had been taken down, the stalls empty—all had closed and left.

Taking out the divination pearl again, the blood thread stood straight and rigid like an indifferent eye.

In that moment, disappointment and loss flooded her heart like ice-cold tide suddenly rising over her head. Even the sunlight above seemed to dim suddenly, and she could barely stand, leaning against a pillar by the shop entrance.

With such great hope came such great disappointment. After searching and waiting for more than half a year, finally seeming to touch the hem of his garment, only to brush past him in an instant.

Her heart felt empty, riddled with holes in that moment, each hole blown by cold wind into desolate melodies, sweeping across earnest blood.

She stood on the steps, almost forgetting where she was, what she was doing, where she was going.

Those men in brocade, originally full of anger and ready to press forward, now saw her suddenly bewildered and pale as if she’d lost her soul, and couldn’t help but stop in their tracks, stunned.

Jing Hengbo slowly walked down the steps, slowly parted the crowd, walking outward.

“Stop!”

She heard but didn’t listen.

If she couldn’t hear his voice, then all worldly clamor was merely wind passing her ears.

A hand blocked her path—she numbly pushed it aside.

Not him, not him, then let no one appear before her.

“Stop her!”

Footsteps clattered as people charged forward, seven or eight hands reaching for her shoulders.

She flashed away, already a zhang distant.

She was very tired, unwilling to deal with all worldly troubles. Her heart was tied in thousands of knots, all tangled in that person’s hands. If he wasn’t there, she could never untie herself. Where would she find the leisure to worry about human grudges?

Something seemed to sweep overhead, casting a shadow. She didn’t look up. With a “swish,” someone landed before her. Amid cheers from all sides, he smugly raised his eyebrows at his lightness skill, raised his hand, and a silver chain scattered into a circle on the ground.

Dazed and confused, she was about to step into that circle. That person showed a smug expression, slightly raising his hand, preparing to wait for the chain to bind her ankle, then immediately give her a hard fall, making this crazy woman who dared strike royalty understand her status and crimes.

“Whoosh.” A human figure swept over like wind, grabbing Jing Hengbo’s hand and pulling her sharply aside, saying coldly, “Blockhead!”

Jing Hengbo looked up to see a tall white figure, the approaching wind carrying a cold, sharp aura that reminded one of endless snowy plains.

The extended hand was slightly cool with distinct knuckles.

She slightly lifted her face, breathing in those somewhat familiar sharp scents, and slowly closed her eyes.

“Get lost!” The newcomer was Nan Jin, who kicked up that chain. The chain head sprang up like a snake, snapping across that man’s face with a crack, making him cry out in agony and quickly retreat.

Having driven off that man, Nan Jin’s usually flat face still seemed angry as she heavily pulled Jing Hengbo, saying, “What’s wrong with you…”

Her words suddenly stopped.

Before her, Jing Hengbo still stood with closed eyes, as if sensing some atmosphere in the air. Her long eyelashes were slightly lowered, growing moist inch by inch in the sunlight, sparkling with tiny crystalline light.

The expression on her face was hard to describe—seeming joyful yet empty, tired yet helpless. Even Nan Jin, who knew nothing of worldly affairs, was stunned by it.

For a long while she didn’t know what to say. Around them seemed to be an extremely oppressive atmosphere, weighing heavily on the heart, preventing speech. She could only stand there stunned, helping Jing Hengbo deal with those who kept coming to pester and obstruct them.

During breaks from fighting, she heard Jing Hengbo murmur, “Nan Jin, just now when you rushed over, for a moment I almost thought it was him. I almost thought he’d changed his mind and was willing to see me.”

Nan Jin looked back at her—who was this “he”? The address so intimate, yet the tone so desolate.

“But immediately I knew it wasn’t.”

“Yet how I wish such an illusion could last longer, just a bit longer…”

“One year, one month, and ten days—we’ve been separated for one year, one month, and ten days. When will you finally appear before me? One year? Two years? Three years? Ten years? The divination pearl burns because of you, yet you let my heart gradually grow cold.”

Nan Jin felt the fingers in her palm were ice-cold, colder than family members who’d practiced Prajna Snow technique.

When she looked back again, Jing Hengbo had already opened her eyes and even smiled at her. Her eyes were clear and penetrating like a still pond reflecting the vast sky. The earlier scattered tears had left no trace like morning dew.

Nan Jin’s fingers tightened.

Her heart seemed cut with a blade, dully aching, making her unable to help thinking of her own life—beyond her control, never having a self, with an unknown future.

Ming Zhu, Ming Zhu—such a brilliant name, yet her radiance was destined only to illuminate others.

She was a top-level guard cultivated by the Longying noble house, generations loyal only to the family head.

From birth, she should have remained beside the next generation’s family head, growing up with him, always ready to dedicate everything for him.

Her identity, martial arts, the true qi she practiced, her youth, body—everything was only waiting for the family head’s use.

In a sense, she was the best medicine vessel the Longying house had cultivated over many years, for the family head to drain in one gulp when needed. Only by maximizing her function could successive family heads reach their peak. The family head’s peak would also mean her peak—as long as the family head was willing, from then on she would become a master of the Longying house like the family head.

But she was also the only exception among all such top-level blood guards in Longying house history.

Because this generation’s heir had disappeared shortly after birth, she became a medicine vessel without a master, gradually cooling in a lonely cup.

She wasn’t of the Long family, yet waited to become part of the Long family, by whatever means.

This wait lasted over twenty years.

When the Longying family finally waited for their heir’s return, she’d missed her chance with the family. Once again passed by the master she was destined for.

Today in the marketplace, she’d finally seen him for the first time, received his first command.

He said: From now on, you will protect her.

…

Beside her, that woman continued murmuring, “Are you planning to use your entire life to abandon me?”

Nan Jin silently gazed at Jing Hengbo’s slightly pale face.

No, she said lightly in her heart, he uses his life to love you.

…

The tumultuous street gradually quieted, but pedestrian traffic didn’t decrease. People swarmed over, staring dumbfounded at two women strolling leisurely through the marketplace, moving slowly forward—one with a cold expression, one absent-minded. People constantly pursued them with knives and spears, trying to capture both, yet those people without exception went flying out. No one could even see their moves, only seeing the human cluster following them grow larger, with dancing human forms constantly flying out from within, landing with thuds all over the ground.

Gradually, as more suffered losses and fewer gave chase, Nan Jin and Jing Hengbo continued heading out of the city without looking back. Ten steps away, Yelu Zhe stopped companions who still wanted to follow.

“No need to chase,” he said coldly. “These two women are formidable—force won’t stop them.”

“So we just let the matter of the Third Prince being beaten go?” someone asked unwillingly. “He’ll blame us for incompetence when he wakes!”

A cold glint flashed in Yelu Zhe’s eyes.

“Of course we can’t let it go.” He said coldly, “Tonight outside the city, there will be major action. Then I have ways to make them die very cleanly.”

Everyone fell silent, all showing understanding expressions.

Yelu Zhe’s face remained calm, but he smiled coldly in his heart.

The Yelu family’s eldest son had been caught up in Imperial Song’s upheaval, sentenced to exile, and was now in the escort convoy. The Yelu family had long planned to rescue the eldest son in Linzhou without leaving any evidence for the queen.

He was the supervisor of this matter, personally coming from Yu Kingdom’s capital to oversee and plan. That Yu family young master—Yu Kingdom’s Third Prince—had come along, ostensibly visiting relatives but actually supervising and helping to avoid leaving loose ends.

So now outside the city, elite troops lay in ambush. In the coming crisis, making anyone die would be very easy.

He smiled slightly.

For instance, that eldest son they were supposed to rescue—amid military chaos with many people and dark night, if he accidentally died at the hands of two female assassins, that would be quite nice too.

He smiled while turning around, thinking that waste like the eldest son needn’t be rescued by the family. Time for a replacement.

Halfway through turning, he suddenly froze. Simultaneously, the Linzhou noble descendants beside him also made surprised hushing sounds.

Behind them, somehow tall and short figures were standing there.

These people looked somewhat familiar.

The burly man rolling up his sleeves, the old woman with perfectly arranged silver hair, the pretty young woman, and a pile of tall workers all wearing clean white clothes.

All dressed like common marketplace people, yet each had calm, indifferent expressions—indifferent as still water, making one’s heart grow cold.

Each person seemed ordinary, yet looking closely, each was very special.

But his gaze directly passed over these people, landing on the very back of the group.