“What is it?” Yelu Xunru keenly noticed Yelu Tan’s disturbance.

Yelu Tan didn’t speak, hesitation and slight shock passing across his face. After a long while he shook his head: “I can’t be certain.”

Yelu Xunru gave a cold snort but didn’t press him. She took the paper packet and glanced at the thin piece of flesh, shaking her head.

The real younger brother was also a foolishly devoted person.

“I won’t make it difficult for you, but you must help me write a letter to that old codger.” Yelu Xunru spread paper for Yelu Tan. “Have him come help me examine this thing. And lend a hand while he’s at it.”

“How would I know where he is?” Yelu Tan turned his head away, unwilling to bring up Master Ziwei.

Master Ziwei had originally been with them, but after the snow mountain people appeared in this area, he had fled like a rabbit, claiming that Yelu Tan’s snoring and smelly feet were too much for his delicate constitution to bear.

Yelu Xunru crossed her arms and stared at Yelu Tan until he had to turn back, lower his eyes, and pick up the brush to begin writing.

A light flashed in Yelu Xunru’s eyes.

The two were still in contact after all, and the old codger hadn’t actually gone far. This old fellow—clearly caring about her, so why wouldn’t he stay here?

She raised her eyes toward that distant large compound, snorting coldly in her heart.

“What should I write?” The Third Young Master had grown increasingly docile after staying with Yelu Xunru for so long.

“You write…” Yelu Xunru continued staring at that compound, suddenly hearing in her ears the fox song he had once sung so leisurely that year.

How many otherworldly sects in this world could cultivate a disciple like Master Ziwei? And what woman in this world would be qualified to become the Nine-Tailed Fox that Ziwei could never forget?

Her lips slowly curved in a strange smile as she spoke slowly, word by word: “The Lady has taken Yelu Xunru hostage and demands to see him.”

…

“Is it you…”

The low question in the dark room was more like a helpless murmur.

The skylight above was open, the night wind forest-cold. Without looking up, she knew that fellow had definitely fled.

She sat up, elbows on knees, hands supporting her chin in a thoughtful, contemplative pose.

In the darkness, her eyes sparkled like autumn water under sunlight.

Some things, when slowly considered up to now, could finally be understood.

She understood that he truly didn’t want to see her. Regardless of his reasons, he was unwilling to enter her life again, unwilling to face her again.

He was just that kind of lonely, cold, solitary person who would rather keep to empty walls alone, waiting for time to silently tear his life to pieces, than let those he cared about witness his dissolution and decay with their own eyes.

So the more effort she made, the closer she came, the further he withdrew.

She stared blankly for a long while, appearing empty and lost, yet her heart was solidifying inch by inch.

Some things—she knew what she should do now.

Having decided, she leisurely lay down on his bed, crossed her legs, and took out the white bone she’d never had time to study properly to examine it.

She was now certain this bone couldn’t be Yelu Qi’s. What was worth wondering about was Yu Guangting’s attitude toward this bone—such tension suggested some unspeakable secret.

The bone she’d dug up was just a short section, part of a hand bone. She wiped it clean with white cloth and examined it carefully, finding no wounds or marks that might identify its owner.

She suddenly made a sound of surprise, extending her finger to compare. This hand bone seemed too long even for a man.

Long fingers? That barely counted as a distinguishing feature. She filed this away in her memory.

She rummaged in her chest and pulled out a small vial, looked at the color, then put it back. After doing this several times, she finally selected one vial, turned away, and fiddled with it for a while.

The courtyard was completely quiet, as if that master and servant pair had already fallen asleep.

Then she put the bone away and suddenly cried out “Aiya!” sharply, as if stabbed by the bone.

No movement came from the room door, but there seemed to be some sound in the courtyard.

Jing Hengbo pushed with her hand, and the bone fell to the ground with a “clap.” In the moonlight it actually gleamed with an eerie blue-green color. Her wrist fell limply, fingertips dripping bright red blood that silently soaked into the bone.

Wind seemed to blow from the distance but stopped near the door.

Jing Hengbo began rolling on the bed, clutching the quilt and gritting her teeth as if enduring tremendous pain. The bed boards creaked from her kicking. She rolled over into the inner part of the bed, finally seeming unable to bear it and letting out low moans.

“Bang!” The room door burst open. A figure swept over like wind, so fast that the pearl curtains swayed and flashed with dazzling light and shadow.

The next instant, a white shadow was at the bedside, reaching out to press her acupoints.

But the person on the bed had vanished, and laughter came from behind.

The white shadow reacted quickly too, shaking the white silk in hand and hooking it toward the skylight again.

How could the same thing happen twice? This time Jing Hengbo didn’t use her blade or try to embrace him. She simply lunged before that white silk, stretched her neck toward it, and nimbly tied a knot.

Now if he insisted on tightening the silk, he would have to strangle her first.

That figure wanting to leap up using the silk indeed paused, raised his hand, and let the silk slip down.

Before the white silk could fly toward the door, Jing Hengbo had already grasped it with both hands, looped it around his neck, and pulled him toward herself.

This pull seemed casual but used all her strength, so it was anything but seductive—rather through gritted teeth.

At this moment, scenes from “Tomb Raider Notes” suddenly flashed through her mind. It seemed like this was probably how one lassoed a zombie…

Wasn’t this unromantic, stubborn, unreasonable wooden block exactly like a zombie trying to kill her!

“Bang!” He was ultimately physically limited and unprepared for her sudden, fierce movement, falling onto her chest.

He fell absolutely stiff and rigid.

Jing Hengbo immediately extended both arms to hold him tight, like an octopus clinging to a tree. The moment she embraced him, she wanted to laugh toward heaven, wanted to beat him to death, wanted to stick her tongue in his mouth and bite him so he could never escape again. Yet ultimately she did nothing.

Small impatience ruins great plans. Indulging momentary satisfaction would ruin lifelong strategy. She had already decided how to act from now on. No more passive searching, no more helpless bewilderment. She would seize the initiative and overturn this cold fellow’s entire scheme.

Thirty years east of the river, thirty years west—it was her turn to become master!

She tightened her arms around his waist, exerted force with her legs, and flipped over to pin him beneath her.

The next moment she felt bone-penetrating cold. If she wasn’t mistaken, his true force would immediately send her flying a thousand li away.

“Snap!” She drew her blade—transparent thin steel pressed cold and cruel against his carotid artery.

This movement was so abrupt that the man beneath her froze completely.

He had imagined a thousand, ten thousand possible actions—that she might laugh toward heaven, might climb up with hands and feet, might pummel him crazily, might stick her tongue in his mouth… But no matter how strange his thoughts, none shocked him as much as her current action.

He was so stunned he stopped moving entirely, lying straight beneath her. His dark pupils dilated, and in the cool autumn night, like still water under moonlight, they reflected her murderously glinting reddish eyes.

“Bang!” The door was struck open again. That young woman and Nan Jin rushed in one after another, saw these two in this position, and froze together.

Four people in the room—three wore expressions of disbelief.

“Get out.” Jing Hengbo didn’t even look at those two, her voice ice-cold.

The young woman stared at the blade on his neck and stepped forward urgently. Jing Hengbo’s knife immediately pressed in slightly without mercy. The incredibly sharp blade scraped the skin, and a thread of blood slowly seeped out.

“Get! Out!” Jing Hengbo forced each word through her teeth. “Go outside! Don’t come near!”

Nan Jin suddenly pulled the young woman back, and both quickly retreated.

The door closed again. Jing Hengbo smiled coldly.

Only the two of them remained facing each other on the bed.

Dark pupils reflected in each other.

Jing Hengbo stared at him, using all her strength to suppress the surging blood and emotion in her chest. Using all her strength to maintain this position, forcing herself not to look at the blood mark on his neck, not to tremble, not to avoid his gaze. Right now, right here, with a blade at his throat, meeting his gaze, walking into those long-separated eyes.

He looked no different from a year ago, except slightly thinner, his dark hair somewhat disheveled. Between the disheveled strands, his eyes remained crystal clear—not even the brightest cold star on the horizon could match the clarity and distance in his pupils. His lip line was so distinct, though his lip color was paler than before, like frost-touched soft flower petals waiting for spring wind to gently kiss away the ice.

His expression had recovered from initial shock to calm composure. That composure carried three parts scrutiny—examining the current situation, examining her expression, examining this entire bizarre turn of events…

She stared into his eyes, struggling to recall all the negative aspects of her life: that inexplicable transmigration, the humiliation of being a puppet queen, the desolation of that snowy night in Di Ge, the anger when she saw that exile decree after returning to Di Ge… thinking of those rejections, escapes, betrayals, thinking how no matter how real her love, those hurts existed equally, and even today he still wouldn’t give her an answer… Waves of cold, resentful emotion surged up, flooding her gaze. Her eyes hardened further, her hand grew steadier.

Success or failure hung on this moment. If she couldn’t deceive his heaven-gifted wisdom, all her efforts would be wasted.

Since meeting him, she had always lost. But at this moment, she must win!

Only by winning could there be opportunity, could there be a future!

“Who are you?” she asked hoarsely, not relaxing her grip on the blade handle. “Yu Guangting’s lackey? Heh…” She laughed contemptuously, nudging his thigh with her knee. “Can a cripple like you detain me?”

His eyes flew wide open.

She had never seen Gong Yin with such an expression. At this moment her mood was incredibly elated—she almost wanted to laugh aloud.

She quickly pinched her palm, narrowed her eyes, and tilted her head to study him. “Don’t tell me you’re mute too?”

“How do you…” He spoke half a sentence then stopped, frowning slightly as he studied her carefully.

From his expression she knew he didn’t believe her and was still very suspicious.

Jing Hengbo knew amnesia was melodramatic, but sometimes melodrama worked. He hadn’t seen her for a year—whatever had happened in between, just as she didn’t know his situation, he might not be clear about hers either. Amid war and political intrigue, she could have been secretly attacked and lost part of her memory, couldn’t she?

Without complete certainty, she was gambling that he didn’t know her exact circumstances this past year, gambling on his uncertainty.

She smiled lazily, one dagger still pressed to his carotid artery while her other hand drew another hidden dagger from her leg to press against his chest. Her tone grew even more casual: “Such a weakling…” The dagger sliced downward with a “rip”—his clothing tore open.

Moonlight illuminated his collarbones, jade-like skin gleaming.

Her gaze swept over with a half-teasing, half-casual expression, like encountering any handsome man in a brothel.

“Nice body though. Who would have guessed—clothes make you look thin, but you’re well-built underneath…”

Though talking nonsense, her eyes quickly scanned his upper body. She couldn’t see where he was injured—why couldn’t he move? His true force remained but he couldn’t move? Was it real or fake? What could render such a master immobile?

The amazement in his eyes had faded, his gaze deeper and darker. Those deep black pupils reflected her smile, bottomlessly deep. Her heart felt unsteady, and suddenly anger surged up. She leaned down, grabbed his collar, her fingers seemingly accidentally brushing his earlobe, watching with satisfaction as that earlobe immediately reddened like coral on white jade.

“Handsome…” she smiled, “you look a bit familiar. Have I seen you before?”