A tearful beauty, two people alone in a carriage, tender and affectionate gazes, gentle and earnest confession.

What would normally happen?

Under normal circumstances, it would be rolling around and rolling some more, until they rolled out a little one.

More subtly, it would be feigned resistance with mutual advances, back and forth for three to five rounds before hitting a home run.

Even more subtle? There wouldn’t be any. Men, you know how they are.

Jing Hengbo was very confident in her charm. Her eyes, movements, body language, expressions—all had been practiced!

The magic mirror had told her ten thousand times: You will dominate the battlefield of men and never admit defeat!

Moreover, according to Chapter 3, Section 18 of her “Manual for Controlling Men,” noble, proud, germophobic men were often skilled at disguising themselves as hypocrites. The more noble they appeared, the more depraved they were. The more they seemed like moral exemplars following rules on the surface, the more their hearts were like wolves—dissolute as thieves and prostitutes!

She just needed focused eyes, flirtatious posture, passionate and bold expressions with hints of invitation…

One, two, three…

The white-clothed man moved.

He lifted his hand, picked her up, and examined her up and down like dried salted fish, saying, “Such a broad frame should be sufficient.”

Huh?

Broad frame?

Jing Hengbo blinked, taking quite a while to realize he was talking about her.

What? This old lady has a broad frame?

This old lady’s figure is fiery with protruding front and curved back, proud measurements, graceful curves yet still slender—this naturally beautiful explosive figure of mine, you dare call it broad? And frame?

Broad your sister!

“Broad your sister!” She cursed as soon as she thought it.

Gong Yin flipped his wrist and turned her around with a smack. Jing Hengbo’s face pressed against the carriage window, her entire body flattened against it, blocking the window. Just as she was about to struggle, there was a sliding sound behind her, followed by a thud as a hard object pressed heavily against her buttocks. From the feel of it, it should be the small table he had been leaning against.

Cold wind whistled against her face, blowing her eyelashes wildly. It took Jing Hengbo quite a while to realize that this unromantic guy had used her to block the window!

Her figure perfectly filled the window, not letting through a single wisp of wind.

No wonder he said it should be sufficient!

Sufficient indeed!

Wasn’t it just lusting after beauty and confessing? Was it necessary to hang her outside to block the window for all to see?

Pressed tightly from behind, unable to move, Jing Hengbo saw Cui Jie in the ox cart pointing at her and shouting, the little maid looking bewildered, and Jing Jun no longer appearing ill—sitting upright like she’d seen a ghost, staring at her. That ghost-seeing bird lifted its feet and walked back and forth on the crossbar, loudly reciting poetry: “White robes stripped by daylight, the Yellow River flows to the sea, a pair of large breasts, just like a flower cow.”

…

Jing Hengbo felt indignant for a while, then stopped feeling indignant.

Beauties were always harder to handle.

High-ranking, powerful beauties especially so.

She used one second to forgive the beauty and made plans for the next step of persistent pursuit (flirtation). The next second, she heard a light “boing” sound.

“Whoosh.” An arrow suddenly shot out from roadside bushes, its dark gleam like lightning, aimed straight at her forehead!

“Help—”

“Swish.” A hand from behind yanked her from the window edge while another hand caught the arrow.

The carriage lurged forward and stopped.

Footsteps clattered toward the carriage, instantly surrounding it—the guards from outside.

Jing Hengbo lay on the small table, still shaken, hearing the thin man’s urgent report from outside: “Master, someone used silk rope to connect bows and shoot arrows from the left side. From the traces, there appear to be three or four people, all experts.”

Gong Yin nodded, picked her up, tossed her aside, took a snow-white cloth, and wiped his hands and table repeatedly while casually glancing out the carriage window.

“So it is.” He paused, then added, “This time, go.”

The thin man received his orders and left. Hoofbeats clattered as a large group rode past the carriages.

Jing Hengbo thought for a moment and decided not to teleport away for now—there were bandits nearby, making it unsafe.

She thought some more and vaguely understood. When the horse was startled earlier, it was just the enemy’s probe. The enemy wanted to lure the tiger from the mountain, trick away most of the guards, then attack the carriage with insufficient protection. But this seemingly indifferent yet cunning fellow hadn’t fallen for it, only sending two people to investigate. Later, hanging her at the window indeed drew the enemy’s attack, exposing their true intentions, which was when he ordered the main force to pursue and eliminate them completely.

In other words, this guy had guessed she was the target and deliberately hung her out there?

Truly a ruthless, treacherous, fierce, cruel, and heartless cold beauty!

What personality—sister likes it!

Gong Yin paid her no attention and continued examining maps and charts. Jing Hengbo thought about these inexplicably appearing enemies, concluding that if they weren’t mountain bandits, they must be enemies of Palace God. Either way, it wasn’t her concern.

Seeing the man beside her with fingers like jade, a snow-white sleeve revealing a wrist that was thin but not bony, exquisite as bamboo in snow, the way he held the chart edge with two fingers was both firm and composed—no matter how she looked, her heart itched. She once again slowly approached, lazily sprawling on the small table he had just cleaned, raising one eyebrow with a smile as she flipped through his charts. Seeing the bright red small seal script on them, she tilted her head to decipher: “…Palace…Meat?”

The corner of Gong Yin’s eye seemed to twitch.

Jing Hengbo noticed something seemed wrong and tried deciphering from another angle: “…Lu…Meat?”

Gong Yin’s eyebrow trembled.

“…Zhou…Moon?” Jing Hengbo tilted her head, finding this calligraphy truly marvelous—viewed horizontally it becomes a ridge, viewed sideways it becomes a peak, appearing different from near and far, high and low.

“Snap.” The atlas closed as slender fingers pushed her chin away. “Gong Yin!”

“Oh!” Jing Hengbo beamed. “Little Yin Yin! What a nice name!” She grabbed his finger with her other hand. “Shall I read your palm? Wow, you seem to have a broken palm line…”

Gong Yin flicked his finger, striking her chin with a thud. Jing Hengbo cried out—it hurt a little. After the pain, she suddenly felt an itch, and from the corner of her eye seemed to see something burrow into her chin.

Jing Hengbo quickly tried to grab it, but her skin was completely smooth—how could she catch anything? She stared blankly at her raised finger, discovering a bit of fine golden thread stuck to her fingertip, like silk yet like mucus, appearing from who knows where.

“What is this?” She felt somewhat uneasy.

Gong Yin withdrew his hand and pulled down another snow-white cloth from the carriage roof, slowly wiping his fingers before throwing it away.

A row of crossbars on the carriage roof held about ten such cloths, already half used. The usage rate had increased dramatically since Jing Hengbo entered the carriage.

“Soul-Fixing Spider.” He said. “Your Majesty seems to possess strange skills? However, these strange skills would be better left unused from now on. Soul-Fixing Spiders are born in pairs, each with its own host. They share thoughts and are invisible and shadowless. Now one spider is with me, one spider is with Your Majesty. If Your Majesty leaves more than ten feet from my side, my Soul-Fixing Spider will warn me, and yours will release poison, emitting toxic gas all the way to guide me to find you. If Your Majesty doesn’t wish me to find only a corpse, you’d better behave.”

He pulled the displaced small table back over, placing it before himself, his fingers tapping on the black lacquered surface, the reflection like jade bamboo.

This was the first time Jing Hengbo heard him say so much, but listening made her heart turn half cold. Touching her chin and thinking about a spider hidden inside, she immediately felt chilled to the bone.

“You’re lying to me, right?” She said, staring earnestly into his eyes. “What Soul-Fixing Spider, what curses and strange arts—those are all stories made up by wandering performers from ghost and spirit novels to deceive people, right?”

Gong Yin glanced at her indifferently. “Perhaps.”

With this answer, Jing Hengbo’s remaining half-heart also turned cold.

It was over—her skill points were useless. How would she survive the days ahead?