She knew she would die within moments. Below, people were frantically shouting; above, people were desperately reaching. But she hung in mid-air between heaven and earth, and people couldn’t even see her clearly—no one could save her.
In her chaotic consciousness, she didn’t feel too much unwillingness. Gong Yin had already slept with someone else, so living seemed to have lost much of its vigor. Her only regret was not knowing until death how the assassin had managed it—truly too frustrating…
“Whoosh.”
The sharp sound of tearing air roused her dying will. The wind around her suddenly seemed to gather into a stream, or as if the universe had torn open a black hole. She felt a great force crash into her from the opposite side. The next instant, with a “bang,” it seemed like a human body had violently collided with her, knocking her toward the cliff edge. Then something—someone’s knee—heavily struck her feet from below, launching her upward.
She was flying upward, so the rope around her neck immediately loosened. This flight carried her directly over the mountain cliff. Above her head came another “whoosh” as the taut rope loosened, and she began falling downward.
A group of Dragon family disciples immediately rushed over on the cliff, throwing themselves down one after another. The foremost one caught her knee just before she would have fallen off the cliff again.
She lay half-sprawled on the cliff face, beneath her the ice-cold, wet, slippery mountain stone. It was so slippery that her body continued sliding down slowly. Suddenly her mind flashed with understanding of how the assassin had struck at her.
That net-like vine!
The net-like vine was tied to a person!
Someone had bound themselves in advance under the protruding cliff stone, wearing wet, cold, rigid clothes, using vine-woven net ropes the same color as the cliff stone to tie themselves in place. With thick clouds and mist at the darkest hour, even face-to-face at close range, she couldn’t detect them.
When she slipped forward and grabbed that net-like vine to support her body, she had actually grabbed the rope binding that person. Ridiculously, by grasping that rope, she had bound her only useful hand. After that, this assassin with supreme concealment skills only needed to choose a moment when her hands and feet were all inconveniently positioned to strike.
No wonder she’d always felt someone’s presence. Thinking of how busy she’d been under the cliff stone while someone watched grimly from right above her head, all her hair stood on end.
This thought flashed by, then she unhesitatingly drew her knife. Taking advantage of being half-suspended below the cliff, she struck backward repeatedly at where she remembered the cliff stone’s underside to be!
Since the person was bound and in that position, unable to escape on their own, they could await her revenge!
The knife tip first struck the cliff stone with metallic clanging. After several strikes—”squelch.”
This was the sound of blade entering flesh. Jing Hengbo was delighted and stabbed frantically in that direction, each strike penetrating flesh. The person below truly had patience, remaining silent throughout.
The Dragon family disciples watched dumbfounded as Jing Hengbo hung half-inverted below the cliff, wildly hacking at something they couldn’t see, thinking she’d gone mad with joy from escaping death.
After several vicious strikes, estimating she couldn’t cause further damage, Jing Hengbo let the Dragon family disciples pull her back up the cliff, where she lay gasping on the ground.
The Dragon family disciples scrambled over to examine her neck, seeing the deep purple strangulation mark confirming that mere moments more would have cost Jing Hengbo her life.
The arrogant Dragon family disciples exchanged glances and all sighed in unison.
After gasping for a long time, Jing Hengbo suddenly felt brightness before her eyes. She opened them to meet an intense light, sat up, and turned to see clouds retreating, darkness withdrawing, and a line of pale dawn gradually spreading across the horizon. Within that extremely bright white light, deep red and purple clouds burst forth like a giant clam at the sky’s edge opening its mouth, swallowing cloud rainbows and spitting flying mists, producing a brilliant golden sun-pearl of light.
Dawn had come.
Dawn came suddenly, instantly banishing darkness. Under the bright brilliant sunlight, the moment of darkness and death seemed like a dream. Jing Hengbo reached under the cliff and felt a hand covered in dripping blood, confirming that everything just now had been real.
Then she looked up to see Yélu Qi untying ropes on the opposite cliff three zhang away, while Pei Shu flipped up the cliff and untied the rope around his waist.
Yes, it was them.
Earlier, that cliff had been too straight and dark to find footing, and not knowing where the trap lay, Yélu Qi and Pei Shu had chosen not to appear openly but quietly ambushed on the opposite cliff—one controlling the rope, one tied at the waist, ready to swing across for rescue at any moment.
When she was suspended swaying in mid-air, only someone breaking through the clouds from the opposite cliff at equal height could accurately pinpoint her position.
Battle-hardened people made supremely precise choices, far surpassing the inexperienced Dragon family disciples. Previously, whether on top of this cliff or below it, they would have been powerless to save her.
Her heart filled with joy as she waved to them. Yélu Qi waved back in response, but Pei Shu turned his back.
This wasn’t like him, though Jing Hengbo knew why—last night’s kiss had been truly awkward, and Pei Shu’s heart must be equally complicated.
At this point, she told the Dragon family disciples about the assassin hidden under the cliff. The disciples were shocked and immediately had someone carefully feel their way down the cliff. Sure enough, they found a person, cut the vine ropes, and hauled him up—but he was already dead.
The person had knife wounds but only on the thigh, not fatal. The cause of death was poison. Only then did Jing Hengbo understand why there had been no reaction despite being stabbed so much—the person had committed suicide after failing the mission.
That person had indeed been bound under the cliff by sturdy net-like vine ropes. Hook rings had been driven into both sides of the protruding cliff stone beforehand, with vine ropes threaded through the rings to secure a person. In the darkness and cloud mist, who would see iron rings on the cliff sides?
The person’s clothing was exactly as Jing Hengbo had guessed—iron-black and rigid, feeling identical to rock. Even his face wore an iron mask with only tiny holes for breathing and observation. When Jing Hengbo removed the mask, underneath was indeed an unremarkable stranger’s face. Searching the entire body revealed no identifying marks whatsoever.
Like all previous hidden hands they’d encountered, the opposition had acted cleanly without leaving clues or traces to follow.
Jing Hengbo sighed and gestured toward the opposite side, indicating descent. After coming down the mountain, she saw the Dragon family disciples had surrounded Doctor Sun, their eyes dangerous like a pack of wolves closing on prey.
Doctor Sun was trapped in the center, clutching the jade box, protesting with an aggrieved expression: “It wasn’t this old man! It wasn’t this old man!” Seeing Jing Hengbo descending, he urgently called: “Miss, this old man didn’t harm you! This old man also didn’t know assassins were ambushed above!”
“Nonsense!” A Dragon family disciple angrily shouted. “It was you, old thing, tricking people into picking medicine! Besides you, who else knew everything about this cliff to make arrangements in advance?”
Doctor Sun looked bitter, hemming and hawing for a long time: “…This old man truly had no intention of harming the miss. This old man still has requests of the miss…”
As the Dragon family disciples were about to scold more, Jing Hengbo waved her hand: “The old gentleman indeed had no need to harm me, because if you’d set the trap, why would you trap yourself too? But old gentleman, trying to completely clear yourself won’t work. Can you deny that from the beginning, you were looking specifically for me?”
Doctor Sun was speechless.
“Your conditions could only be met by one person under heaven—you came specifically for me.” Jing Hengbo touched her neck, her expression annoyed.
Anyone with such consistent bad luck wouldn’t be in a good mood.
Doctor Sun sighed and suddenly took out a whistle to blow. The sharp whistle sound carried out, and moments later many figures emerged from the mountain cliffs.
These people either climbed rocks or were secured by ropes, continuously emerging from this side of the cliff crevices, silently standing behind Doctor Sun.
“Miss, please observe,” Doctor Sun pointed to these people. “If this old man truly intended harm, these people would have been sufficient to cause you trouble earlier. But looking at their positions, you can see this old man arranged them there to protect you as much as possible.”
Jing Hengbo examined the positions and nodded. Those people were positioned in the cliff gaps where they could indeed work together to catch her if she fell, but their positions couldn’t cause her harm.
“But you having no ill intent doesn’t mean others don’t.” Jing Hengbo said. “Let me ask—who provided you with information that I could help you?”
Doctor Sun’s expression changed, only now beginning to understand as he said in alarm: “Indeed someone provided information, saying there was a person who could help me pick the Void Flower who had already arrived nearby, telling me to find a way to locate them. They described your appearance and abilities, but I never saw this person—they communicated by arrow-delivered letter.” He produced a paper that was indeed as he said, with crooked writing done with the left hand.
Another clue severed. Jing Hengbo sighed again, unsurprised.
“Then let’s each fulfill our promises,” she said listlessly.
But Doctor Sun blocked her steps, suddenly bowing deeply. Along with all the large men behind him, they all performed the same respectful bow.
Jing Hengbo stopped, her lips curving—things had become interesting.
“Your Majesty the Queen,” Doctor Sun stepped forward to meet her half-smiling gaze. “Court physician under the great king of Meng Kingdom pays respects to Your Majesty. I respectfully convey my great king’s respect and greetings to Your Majesty. The great king commands this subject to thank Your Majesty for extending aid and sincerely invites Your Majesty to visit Meng City.”
Jing Hengbo silently observed him for a while, then crossed her arms and smiled: “Finally confirmed I’m the Queen?”
Doctor Sun bowed.
“You were looking for the Queen?”
Doctor Sun bowed again.
“Helping with medicine-picking was false—your great king wanting to meet me was true?”
“Picking medicine was genuine business.” Doctor Sun said sincerely. “The great king suffers from serious illness. The Void Flower is indeed an extremely important spiritual medicine in the prescription, something we’ve long been unable to obtain. We also vaguely knew Your Majesty possessed supernatural abilities but couldn’t be certain until receiving that mysterious person’s arrow-delivered letter confirming you were in the western slums, so we adopted this method.”
“How could you be certain I’d take the bait?”
“The mysterious person’s letter said that as long as I mentioned I knew blood exchange methods, you would definitely agree.”
Jing Hengbo snorted coldly: “He knows me like a tapeworm in my stomach.”
“Regardless,” Doctor Sun said, “my great king bears Your Majesty absolutely no ill will but has urgent matters requesting Your Majesty’s aid.”
Jing Hengbo spaced out briefly, then said flatly: “Your great king is gravely ill, but his son isn’t filial—possibly even usurping power. Hearing I’ve come, he seeks my help to resolve his son problem, right?”
Doctor Sun showed an expression of “you’re also a tapeworm” amazement.
Jing Hengbo smiled. At this point, many things could be figured out—like how Black Third Master could possess such great influence and operate such prohibited establishments, he must have royal noble backing. The purple-cloaked figure he’d accompanied earlier should be that royal noble’s representative, very likely some highness. Like that masked person who’d emerged from the silver passageway, vaguely representing royal interests but not aligned with the purple cloak and being a eunuch, he could only come from Meng Kingdom’s court, from beside the great king. Meng Kingdom’s great king’s throne was under threat. Conveniently hearing of this ominous star’s arrival in Meng Kingdom, this was luring the snake—no, luring the phoenix from its hole. On one hand, picking medicine for himself, on the other finding the person.
As for that letter-writer who’d tipped off Meng Kingdom’s great king, he was the one with truly ill intentions, wanting to take her life amid the chaos. After killing, blame it on Meng Kingdom, letting Marshal Pei’s fury burn through Meng Kingdom—killing two birds with one stone, excellent.
None had good intentions—all were no good!
At this time, Yélu Qi, Pei Shu and others had all caught up. Jing Hengbo asked where the others were, and Yélu Qi answered they were nearby—last night they’d feared too many people would be discovered, so only he and Pei Shu had come over.
With her own people present, Jing Hengbo’s heart settled. She smiled without warmth while making small talk with Doctor Sun, requesting he first fulfill his promise to perform blood exchange surgery on the Dragon family disciples.
Doctor Sun now had requests of the Queen. Seeing her insincere expression, he knew she was in a bad mood and immediately agreed wholeheartedly. The group headed toward the slums.
This mountain was on Puyang City’s east side, the slums on the west. Yesterday at midnight, crossing through the city center hadn’t been problematic. Walking again during the day, they discovered the entire city filled with troops—sentries every five steps, checkpoints every ten steps, with a tense atmosphere. However, inspection of travelers wasn’t strict, and when Doctor Sun led their group through inspection checkpoints, they passed through easily just by offering some money.
Watching this behavior, Jing Hengbo first confirmed that the so-called Black Mountain Division troops avenging the departed king had ulterior motives. Additionally, the royalty Doctor Sun served seemed to have lost effective control over part of the military, no wonder Meng Kingdom’s great king had paradoxically thought to seek help from her, the famous royal terminator.
All the way back to that Zhao family courtyard in the west city. For safety, the Dragon family had long since rented the entire courtyard, driving out the landlord Old Zhao. Jing Hengbo’s steps had originally been quick, but from afar, across half an alley, seeing the courtyard’s blackened half-wooden door, she suddenly felt a “timid about approaching home” sensation, her steps immediately slowing.
She was afraid.
She feared that at this moment Gong Yin and Nan Jin had already…
She feared Nan Jin appearing before her with shy timidity.
She even more feared Gong Yin refusing to accept Nan Jin and choosing some decisive method.
Her heart in chaos, not knowing what choice to make, she wanted to turn and flee again. Not seeing, not hearing, not knowing, pretending ignorance would be better than facing injury.
Her steps faltered as she awkwardly said, “I seem to have forgotten something…” Before finishing her words, she suddenly heard a muffled sound from within the courtyard.
After the muffled sound, silence for a moment, then a man’s agonized wail—only half a sound before being desperately suppressed.
Jing Hengbo immediately forgot what she’d been about to say. Her figure flashed as she shot into the courtyard.
Then she froze at the room’s doorway.
The door to Gong Yin’s room stood open. At the doorway, Long Zhai supported himself against the doorframe, this old man whose back was straight as a spear now trembling all over, hunched like someone in their declining years.
He blocked that narrow door. Jing Hengbo couldn’t see clearly what was in the dark interior, only seeing near the door’s edge a thick, deep red liquid silently gathering, forming a pool of glaring bright red under the threshold.
That amount of blood…
Jing Hengbo’s mind “buzzed” as she screamed “Ah!” and frantically rushed over, shoving Long Zhai aside. She forcibly knocked Long Zhai into a tumble and charged into the room.
She was too shocked to remember she could teleport, running so fast she tripped over the threshold in a heavy fall that sent her straight to the bedside. Her chin struck the bed edge hard, causing tears of pain, but she desperately grasped the white clothing sash hanging over the bed edge, her heart pounding as she wanted to look up but dared not.
Suddenly a slightly cool hand cupped her chin and gently rubbed it for her. Gong Yin’s light voice sounded overhead: “Hengbo, I’m fine. Don’t be afraid.”
Jing Hengbo’s tears gushed forth but were instantly forced back. She heard the weariness and desolation in Gong Yin’s voice. The wild joy of wanting to throw herself at him was frozen by this bleak tone. At the same time, catching the thick bloody scent at her nose, she remained wooden for a long while before gritting her teeth and slowly turning her head.
On the other side of the bed, beside Gong Yin’s knee, Nan Jin lay sprawled at the bed edge in the same position as herself, eyes wide open staring at her.
Only today did Jing Hengbo realize Nan Jin actually had such large eyes. At this moment, those pupils’ divine light was fading, yet the pupils were extremely black and deep, staring at her with such flowing dark light that in a trance she also thought of bright pearls.
So this pale, rigid woman actually had a pair of eyes with flowing, flying radiance—but before, she hadn’t paid attention, no one had paid attention.
She watched as the divine light in those pearl-like eyes gradually scattered.
Behind her, it seemed people were crying and wailing, begging, desperately pulling Doctor Sun forward. She clearly heard Doctor Sun’s sigh: “…Her chest and lungs have already burst, her organs are gone—how can she be saved!”
Jing Hengbo’s gaze slowly moved down. Not wanting to see but unable not to see—half the wooden bed was bloody, and Nan Jin’s body pressed tightly against it. Under the wooden board’s concealment, what shocking sight would there be?
Shivering with cold, she asked: “Why is it like this? She… did she want to transfer power to you like last time…”
Nan Jin was a woman with self-respect. She never wanted to climb into his bed while Gong Yin’s heart belonged elsewhere—that would be an insult to him and to herself. Jing Hengbo remembered last time she’d rather sacrifice herself transferring power than spend a spring night with Gong Yin.
But she’d never imagined such tragic consequences.
How could power transfer result in this? With such results, had it succeeded or not?
“No,” Long Zhai’s pained voice came. “She couldn’t forcibly transfer power this time—the family head couldn’t withstand it. Only… only physical union was possible…”
“Then why is it like this…”
Nan Jin’s body slowly retreated like a blood-stained fallen leaf covering the ground. Only now did Jing Hengbo see that from her chest to abdomen, everything had burst open, looking like internal explosion—a ghastly death.
Chun Shui wailed and rushed over, covering her body with clothing.
Jing Hengbo stared blankly at Nan Jin’s face. Even in death, her face remained peaceful, her lip lines relaxed, but her eyes held an expression both tragic and resolute. At the moment of dying, she must have made a decision both heroic and liberating.
Supporting herself against the wooden bed, Jing Hengbo stood up in bewilderment. Her gaze wandered aimlessly around the room, just unable to settle on Nan Jin’s corpse.
Facing this woman’s silent yet determined death, she suddenly realized her own selfishness.
Her avoidance, euphemistically called “letting go,” had actually pushed the most difficult life-and-death choice onto Nan Jin.
Nan Jin had previously experienced preferring sacrifice over physical union. She should have realized Nan Jin would again choose death to preserve her and Gong Yin’s dignity.
Or perhaps, to preserve the most pure emotion in that woman’s heart.
She had heard Long Zhai’s words, knowing this time there was no choice. Gong Yin’s condition wasn’t like before—if Nan Jin wanted to sacrifice herself, it would only be meaningless sacrifice. Unable to accept this result, unable to witness it, she’d distantly avoided it, never thinking to ask Nan Jin what she actually wanted to do, never thinking to help Nan Jin. She’d thrown all the troubles of human love and life-death difficulties in front of her.
Nan Jin had preserved Gong Yin for her, while she had pushed her into the abyss of death.
She suddenly felt very cold, trembling in the pool of blood. Those bright bloodstains were like mirrors where she saw her own distortion and pallor.
That strange woman who only ate white rice and water, washing food with heavenly wind—she’d never enjoyed worldly blessings in life, yet suffered the ultimate human suffering. How could fate give her such a tragic ending?
Jing Hengbo slowly leaned against the wooden bed, covering her face with both hands… This was her debt, hers and Gong Yin’s lifelong debt. How could they compensate… how to compensate!
A pair of hands grasped her shoulders as Gong Yin gently pulled her into his embrace. Jing Hengbo struggled free forcefully—at the very least, at this moment, she couldn’t immediately throw herself into Gong Yin’s arms in front of Nan Jin, immediately enjoying the warmth of the lover this woman had exchanged with her life.
Gong Yin changed his motion, patting her back and saying softly: “Don’t cry. Her last words were ‘no regrets.'”
No regrets—even having lived this life for others, suffered for others, died for others, ultimately no regrets.
But was it truly without regret? Such a life?
At the final end, perhaps she had no regrets about dedicating herself to Gong Yin, but didn’t she also regret her own existence and arrival, wishing she’d never had this life?
“Bury her in your Dragon family cemetery…” she murmured.
Gong Yin paused, then said: “Good.”
No one objected to this decision. Nan Jin would be the only outsider buried in Dragon family ancestral graves without marrying the family head.
Jing Hengbo didn’t understand what this meant for the Dragon family, but she didn’t want to care either. Nan Jin had preserved a complete Gong Yin for her—nothing was more important than that, not even status.
The Dragon family people silently carried out the corpse. Jing Hengbo struggled to stand—she wanted to send Nan Jin on her final journey, wanted Nan Jin to go cleanly and beautifully. That woman who required even rice and clear water to be washed by heavenly wind before entering her mouth would surely not want to depart unclean and bloody.
In the adjacent small room, Jing Hengbo took out all the cosmetics she carried with her, for the first time in her life applying makeup to the deceased.
Under the oil lamp’s miserable glow, she carefully traced the woman’s features with her fingers, concealing the deathly pallor, applying powder and color. Only today did she discover that Nan Jin possessed equally exquisite features.
She should have grown freely in the countryside—spring balsam flowers dyeing her fingernails, winter plum blossoms making fragrant powder, carefully dressing in her own little room, dreaming all the dreams adolescent girls dream, finally becoming a delicate girl like a bright pearl. Perhaps poor, perhaps simple, but able to enjoy the freest life in her best years, marrying the most suitable person at the most appropriate age.
Dark eyebrows, red lips—the final stroke outlining the upturned eye corners, yet unable to recreate those pearl-like eyes.
As she finished, a teardrop fell on Nan Jin’s cheek, flowing under the lamplight like pearl radiance.
Jing Hengbo sat quietly cross-legged on the ground, watching the Dragon family disciples carry Nan Jin out. They would first cremate her, with ashes buried in the Dragon family cemetery.
The lamp oil gradually burned out. Someone quietly entered and in the moment before darkness arrived, embraced her.
Jing Hengbo silently leaned against his shoulder, feeling his slightly warm body temperature. At this moment, her heart felt both desolate and grateful, only able to silently tighten her embrace around his shoulders.
Gong Yin gently stroked her hair. The room still retained a faint bloody scent. He thought of how to stop Nan Jin’s recklessness, he’d held her tightly, pressing her shoulder well acupoint, yet she’d been so stubborn, actually adopting such a method to force an unavoidable solution…
This life, ultimately owed her too.
The two sat embraced on the ground, nestling together under the moonlight.
In the darkness, light, quiet conversation gradually arose.
“Are you truly recovered?”
“Yes.”
“Completely recovered?”
“Mm.”
“Then why…”
“Hengbo, for Nan Jin’s sake, don’t ask anymore.”
“…I won’t ask again, but promise me—for Nan Jin’s sake, to not disappoint her sacrifice, no matter what, you must live well.”
“…I promise.”
“Gong Yin.”
“Mm…”
“Let’s go. Back to Tortoiseshell, back to Black Water, back to your Dragon family ancestral lands—anywhere is fine. Let’s not concern ourselves anymore with these Great Wilderness rights and wrongs. Meng Kingdom, Di Ge, pleas for help, rejection—these heavy burdens we never had to bear originally. I’m tired, weary, and sick of seeing sacrifice and death, even more afraid of the sacrifice and death of those around us. Let’s abandon all this, go far away with the most important people beside us, and live the simplest days. Is that alright?”
“…Alright.”