“Do you want to marry me?”

Cracking sunflower seeds.

“I only ask this once.”

Cracking sunflower seeds, arranging a row of shells, nodding her chin, indicating he should count how many times himself.

“Fine, so I’ve asked a few times, but do you understand how many women begged for just one glance from me?”

Cracking sunflower seeds.

Old stories, how embarrassing to bring them up. Before? Before, when she was at the research institute, all male creatures between fifteen and eighty were prostrate subjects under her skirt.

“You’re fairly outstanding, and I’m naturally a dragon among men. You and I are well-matched—a perfect match made in heaven. Our meeting in Tianhui Valley, evenly matched opponents, precisely foretells an extraordinary fate between us.”

Cracking sunflower seeds.

More like an ill fate?

Sunflower seed shells floated in a layer. Jing Hengbo changed positions several times, occasionally swatting away faces that appeared before her—don’t interfere with my scenery viewing.

“Jing Hengbo!” Pei Shu finally exploded, dragging over a stool to block her way, sitting with legs spread, hands braced on the stool surface. “Listen to me properly!”

“I heard.” Jing Hengbo spat a sunflower seed shell at his face and took a closer look. Hey, this kid’s gray mouse color had faded quite a bit more recently.

Rarely seeing him from such a close angle, only today did she discover that Pei Shu truly had a handsome face. Not Yelu Qi’s mysteriously charming beauty with hidden depths, nor Gong Yin’s deep snow, cold moon, crystal-clear beauty, and different from the Seven Kills’ vivid, down-to-earth human beauty. His beauty was flamboyant, as arrogant and unrestrained as his personality. That sharp, sword-like brilliance was written at his particularly dark, thick, soaring eyebrows, written in his distinct, bright, clear eyes, written on his well-defined, full, bright red lips. Even his nose bridge was higher and straighter than ordinary people’s, like a jade peak overlooking the mortal world.

The gray faded from his face first. Now there was still a faint layer of gray on his face, but it didn’t look ugly—instead, it tempered his overly sharp temperament, making him appear somewhat softer. Jing Hengbo couldn’t imagine what he’d look like completely restored to his original skin. Legend said Jade White Gold Shu—he was the “jade white” part. When dominating battlefields in his youth, wind and sun couldn’t darken him. His skin was lustrous as a woman’s. If he weren’t so intimidating-looking, he’d probably be another Lanling Prince who had to wear a mask to battle to intimidate opponents.

Jing Hengbo noticed that even his hair was blacker and thicker than others’. In the valley, it had nearly all fallen out, but now growing back, though not as much as others, it was particularly black and eye-catching. This truly was a man flamboyant to the details, constantly reminding others of his specialness and beauty.

Jing Hengbo felt that if all these men appeared in one room, Gong Yin might be the first to make people notice his presence, though the first glance wouldn’t be at his face but his temperament and presence. But everyone’s first visual landing point would likely still be Pei Shu—no help for it, too flamboyantly beautiful.

Yelu Qi might be discovered very late, not because he was the worst-looking, but because he had a deeply hidden temperament, unwilling to steal attention. His posture in darkness, slightly revealing half his face, was like moonlight illuminating embroidered curtains and window frames, making one’s heart flutter at a glance—wind stirring curtains, jade producing light smoke, flowers scattering like mist and wind.

Jing Hengbo sighed—beauties, she loved beauties most. If she’d had so many beauties before, she’d laugh in her dreams, but now it was the wrong time.

“What’s wrong with you?” She grabbed a handful of sunflower seeds and stuffed them in his hands. “Why propose marriage out of nowhere? Want to hang yourself on one tree so early? What about all those warblers and swallows who’d die for you? If they all commit suicide, wouldn’t that be on my head? No way!”

Yong Xue walked past carrying pastries, looking straight ahead: “Fake!”

Pei Shu didn’t understand, but Jing Hengbo knew perfectly well. Master Yong Xue said Pei Shu wasn’t truly in love!

“Because I want to regain my reputation!” Pei Shu was quite straightforward. “I’m not dead, I’m back. Once I, Pei Shu, return, how can I remain obscure? I must gain maximum fame in the shortest time, let everyone know Pei Shu is back. I can’t be bothered waiting for you to slowly rise…”

“So you plan to marry me to become famous overnight?” Jing Hengbo’s willow eyebrows stood on end as she poured sunflower seeds over his head with a crash. “What am I in your eyes? A stepping stone? A megaphone? A loudspeaker?”

This kid actually had such calculations. Right, though she, Jing Hengbo, was unlucky, regarding recent fame in Dahuang, if she claimed second place, no one could claim first. After all, she was a former queen. If such a legendary figure suddenly married the equally legendary Pei Shu, it would indeed shock Dahuang instantly.

“You woman, you really don’t know what’s good for you.” Pei Shu brushed off the sunflower seeds, his eyebrows raised higher than hers. “How am I not good enough for you? I’m not casual about marriage either. How many women climbed into my bed—did I want them? I just think you’re acceptable, barely worthy of me, so I’m giving you a chance. With your reputation matching my grace, it’s truly a heavenly match…”

“Match your sandy pig!” Jing Hengbo kicked his shin. “Pei Shu, do you understand what love is?”

“I do!” Pei Shu answered righteously. “I think whoever’s suitable, I marry them, and they should be grateful and develop love for me!”

“What about yourself?” Jing Hengbo really wanted to take a knife and scar that pretty face, see what he’d base his belief that proposing was a favor on.

“A real man gallops across battlefields, achieving eternal glory. He only needs to bestow women with status and position. How can he waste thoughts on women?” Pei Shu spoke with conviction.

“Great ambition!” Jing Hengbo clapped. “Then prepare mentally to be a bachelor for life!”

“What do you women really want then? Love? Do you understand it?” Pei Shu looked sideways, seemingly very dismissive of this foreign concept.

“Emotion,” Jing Hengbo pointed at his nose, “involves no charity, no condescension, and no servility. Those who look up from the dust shouldn’t expect to bloom; those who look down from clouds shouldn’t expect to see sincerity. Emotion is always between two people—mutual giving, mutual support, mutual effort because of each other’s existence. Thinking of her warms you, and galloping battlefields for eternal glory is just to share with her. Understand?”

“Don’t understand!” Pei Shu’s voice was even louder than hers. “I only know you women are hypocritical, I only know you’re the most false. You talk about true feelings, but your eyes only truly light up seeing jewelry. You say you only love me, but when I was imprisoned, everyone said they didn’t know me. Usually so proper and reserved, but seeing someone talented and handsome, you immediately stick to them shamelessly. You say you only want a sincere heart, then turn around asking what rank of nobility I’d get if I became your husband… Haha, this is women’s character—don’t blame us men for looking down on you!”

Jing Hengbo propped her chin, watching his righteous indignation. Had he been badly hurt by women before? Right, he became famous young with unparalleled glory, inevitably pursued by women, then later falling into disgrace, he must have seen countless examples of fickleness.

Life with great ups and downs was just that tragic.

“You’ve only seen that type of woman,” Jing Hengbo patted his shoulder. “Then go marry them. You give what you can give, they get what they want—isn’t that perfect? Everyone’s happy?”

“But I think only you barely deserve me!”

“But I think a sandy pig who doesn’t understand emotion doesn’t deserve me.”

“Jing Hengbo, I can give you face and publicly court you!”

“How precious!”

“Jing Hengbo, if I marry you I’ll definitely be faithful for life. I have many subordinates scattered across Dahuang who’ll become your powerful supporters. In the future we’ll share the world!”

“No deal!”

“Jing Hengbo, if I get the treasure boat blueprints, will you marry me?”

“…We’ll see!”

…

Pei Shu kept his word—the courtship really began.

The group had now reached Zhanyu Tribe’s capital, Tianlin City. The deeper into Dahuang they went, the fewer acquaintances. Dahuang had many swamps with clear boundaries between nations and tribes. Except for merchants, few traveled among various nations and tribes, so everyone no longer needed to hide their tracks. They rented a large courtyard at Tianlin City’s best inn.

Along the way, Jing Hengbo left one or two contacts in each major city, mainly wounded veterans from the titled school officers’ retinues whose combat effectiveness was reduced. She gave them money to make a living locally—opening tea houses, wine houses, brothels, whatever establishments with high foot traffic and information sources. Additionally, according to her requirements, Xuanyuan Yan would arrange his family’s local stewards to assist from the side, helping these military men who only knew fighting but weren’t good at business to quickly expand their operations.

These people would continuously send her news from various places, helping her know world affairs while secluded in Blackwater Marsh, providing feasible plans for her future path. Also, if anything happened, she could advance to attack or retreat to defend.

After the Imperial Song palace coup incident, she began understanding the importance of resources and manpower. Status alone was a tree without roots, water without source. If thrones lacked strong power to support them, they’d eventually fall from the clouds.

She planned to steal the treasure boat blueprints and best craftsmen in Zhanyu, then go to Seven Peaks Mountain for healing and martial training, before finally going to Daimao Tribe.

The poison in her body occasionally still flared up, mostly at night and less severely than before. Under that poison’s grinding, she felt her endurance and qi cultivation methods were constantly improving.

Sometimes hardships were rare opportunities.

Because they needed to first contact Pei Shu’s old flame, who reportedly lived reclusively and was currently in seclusion, the group temporarily waited while learning about Zhanyu Tribe’s situation.

Like all vassal powers, Zhanyu Tribe also had power struggles. Tribal Chief Zhan Xin’s most beloved legitimate youngest son Zhan Jue died in Da Yan’s Nameless Valley, causing upheaval in Zhanyu’s power structure—just another round of bloody competition.

Precisely because of this, Pei Shu’s old flame, reportedly due to her sensitive status, hadn’t appeared for a long time.

With nothing else to do, Pei Shu busied himself trying to court Jing Hengbo. Jing Hengbo was too lazy to pay attention, busy practicing martial arts and learning various techniques from the Seven Kills. Pei Shu wasn’t discouraged either. Reportedly he also approached Zirui and Yong Xue. Who knows what Yong Xue told him, but the next day when Jing Hengbo got up and opened her door—

“Whoosh.” A bouquet of dew-covered fresh flowers suddenly descended before her eyes.

Jing Hengbo stared at the flowers—where did flowers come from in deep winter? Greenhouse-grown? She couldn’t identify what flowers they were, very bright, red and yellow, but their patterns looked somewhat like ghost faces, making her inexplicably shudder. Moreover, something seemed to be slowly writhing in the flower sepals…

“Fresh flowers for a beauty.” A figure suddenly hung upside down from the roof, bringing a bright, dazzling face close to hers, rustling the flowers in his hands. “Do you like them?”

When the flowers were shaken, whatever was in the sepals whooshed out. Jing Hengbo opened her eyes to see a long black thing, instinctively sensing danger and flashing aside.

Just then Tian Qi emerged, eyes bright with joy: “Ah, such beautiful flowers in winter… Ah!”

The latter cry became a scream as Tian Qi fell backward. Jing Hengbo flashed back to look—oh my, why had this guy’s mouth suddenly become sausage-shaped?

Then she saw a long black insect crawl out of Tian Qi’s mouth and fly away on wings. That thing clearly looked like a poisonous insect. Jing Hengbo quickly looked for something to swat it when suddenly a shout came from outside: “Damn it! Who stole my devil flower for cultivating seven-star centipedes?”

Jing Hengbo froze and quickly jumped back.

My goodness, that sounds so sophisticated.

“Ah ah ah, my flower is here! My little darling is here! You little thief! Dare steal from me, give me your life!”

A fight broke out outside with crashes and bangs. Pei Shu was roaring: “It’s just pulling one bunch of broken flowers, old bastard, how dare you nag!”

“Little bastard, you’re tired of living!”

“Old turtle, today is your death day!”

…

Crash crash bang bang. Jing Hengbo sadly discovered she’d have to pay for house repairs again. The destructive power of explosive dragons was no less than the fools…

After fighting outside for a while, at the cost of half the roof tiles and half a window, Pei Shu finally drove the old fellow away. As he left, the other party cursed furiously, seemingly because Pei Shu’s flower-stealing had ruined some crucial moment in his poison insect cultivation. Jing Hengbo, dodging spittle, grabbed sausage-mouthed Tian Qi and crashed through the crooked window shouting: “Hey you, leave an antidote for this poison!”

“The poison insect isn’t mature yet. You pulled the flower and ruined it—where’s the poison!” The old fellow cursed, leaving her with his back. “Just a little poison gas. Wipe with white wine and it’ll be fine! Eight generations of bad luck meeting you! Don’t let me run into you again!”

Jing Hengbo snorted, glancing at Pei Shu’s ugly expression by the window. Her long finger poked his forehead hard before slamming the window shut with a bang.

Outside, Pei Shu angrily stomped around in the wood debris, trampling that precious devil flower to pulp.

Inside, Jing Hengbo used white wine to wash Tian Qi’s mouth. The black-purple went down, but the sausage mouth got bigger.

When the Seven Kills arrived and heard about this, they nearly split their sides laughing. Jing Hengbo kicked each one demanding quick detoxification. But Si Si said after examination that originally seven-star grass could detoxify, but using white wine made seven-star grass ineffective. While white wine could remove part of the toxicity, it would also cause some toxins to accumulate in the wound. Nothing could dissolve it short-term—it could only heal naturally. In other words, Tian Qi, this beauty-loving, quiet girl, would have to walk the world with sausage lips for at least half a month.

Tian Qi awakened from the heavy blow, spent half an hour digesting the bad news, then got up and went out without a word.

Then sounds of fist winds, blade winds, angry roars, and fighting came from outside, mixed with Pei Shu’s shouts: “I didn’t do it on purpose…” and Er Gouzi’s gloating recitation: “Cooking beans burns bean stalks, beans weep in the pot, a pair of little idiots, why torment each other so urgently?”

And for Tian Qi: “All rivers flow east to sea, when will they return west? Tian Qi’s sausage mouth, Pei Shu grieves in vain.”

“Damn bird, wait till I pluck your feathers!” Pei Shu could still curse while fighting, obviously having improved a lot recently.

Er Gouzi made cackling sounds, preparing to retreat from behind the window. Feifei silently crept in, grabbed it, and flung it out the window.

Several colorful feathers immediately flew out the broken window hole, mixed with Er Gouzi’s screams.

“Great desert mountains like snow, Yanshan moon like hooks, born thief Feifei, screw your mother!”

“A pile of big idiots, screw your mothers.” Jing Hengbo held her forehead.

…

After the flower incident, Pei Shu was quiet for a few days. So-called grievances have sources and debts have owners—he attributed his flower-offering failure to the flower-growing old man. Why did he grow poisonous flowers! Why cultivate poison insects in poisonous flowers! How hard was it for Master Pei to find a bunch of fresh flowers? If the flowers hadn’t gone wrong, Jing Hengbo would already be his! Such a good thing was all ruined by that old bastard!

Harboring vengeful fury, he went out daily to trouble that old fellow—mainly because he couldn’t stay in the inn. Tian Qi had announced to the world they were irreconcilable enemies.

Reportedly the old man lived in a valley thirty li outside Tianlin City. Who knows how Pei Shu found the place. The first day he went to cause trouble, when he returned at night hiding from the lights, Jing Hengbo intercepted him.

Jing Hengbo asked with a wicked smile if he’d gone smoothly? Vented his anger? Beat that old fellow until smoke came from his seven orifices?

“Naturally!” Pei Shu answered proudly. “I pulled up all his poisonous grass, trampled his poison insects to death, burned his flower garden, beat him bruised and swollen all over until he knelt begging for mercy. I fought so intensely that I only returned when it got dark!”

Then he went into his room bruised and swollen all over…

He still went daily afterward. Fortunately the bruises gradually lessened, and the various insect stings also decreased. Then one day Jing Hengbo was suddenly amazed to discover the faint gray on this guy’s face had completely disappeared.

This was when he returned at night. Jing Hengbo was eating dinner under the lamp, secretly picking her favorite dishes from the bowl left for him while eating. Suddenly looking up, she felt her eyes hurt.

Blindingly bright!

She pounced forward and grabbed Pei Shu’s face, looking up and down, marveling—saying this guy was truly jade white wasn’t exaggerating at all, wasn’t even adequate. Jade wasn’t as white as him! Jade had more flaws than him!

Under lamplight that face was like a painting—one glance was enough to take one’s breath away.

“Hey, what skincare products have you been using lately? Share some experience with your sister!”

“How about it?” Pei Shu rarely didn’t swat away her claws, grabbing her hand triumphantly. “Now that I’ve recovered my appearance, you should agree, right?”

“This face is valuable!” Jing Hengbo acted as if she hadn’t heard him, instead grabbing his fingers and beginning to calculate aloud. “Selling to a male brothel would definitely be worth a lot. This grade should count as second-rate? About a thousand taels of silver…”

“Jing Hengbo! Don’t you have eyes!”

…

Jing Hengbo quickly discovered that for someone like Pei Shu, recovering his appearance was worse than not recovering. Because his confidence grew exponentially—he was already arrogantly explosive before recovering, and after recovering he practically wanted to be dragged up to heaven.

His arrogance was actually fine, but using her for fame wasn’t so good.

The second day after this guy recovered his appearance, he hung a banner on the inn’s roof. It read: “I am a peerless great man, you are an unparalleled beautiful lady. Once we meet in this fateful encounter, three lifetimes we pledge as mandarin duck partners.”

Below was a line of small characters he’d written himself: “Bo! I’m willing to marry you, do you dare marry me?” followed by the character “Shu.” The Shu character was written wildly and beautifully, much larger than the Bo character.

The banner was very eye-catching—red silk background with golden brocade characters, decorated with some glittering stones (so-called crystals, worthless in Dahuang but sparkling in sunlight), flying high and attracting all passersby to stare up stupidly.

Two flags were planted on either side of the inn roof. Left side: “Bo, none but me.” Right side: “Shu, peerless under heaven.”

When Jing Hengbo was invited to take a morning stroll on the roof while eating breakfast, she looked up and was slapped in the face by the ostentatious, flashy flags.

A crowd had already gathered below the inn, pointing up and commenting. Jing Hengbo immediately moved to tear down the banner and burn it, but Pei Shu had anticipated this, posting two subordinates to strictly guard the flags and banner, requiring them to defend the banner and flags like defending a position—the banner lives, they live; the banner dies, they die!

Jing Hengbo couldn’t let people commit suicide over this. These gray people were pitiful enough already. Originally all were renowned generals dominating their regions, at minimum school officers. After five years in the poison valley, living in daily fear for survival, barely hanging on, except for the odd Pei Shu whose spirit remained unbroken and defiant, the rest had become lackluster, withdrawn men afraid of light, sun, and crowds. They’d probably need quite a while to readjust.

She had to pretend not to see it, slinking back to her room and deciding not to come out and embarrass herself unless on official business.

The banner fluttered leisurely under the blue sky, causing a sensation throughout the city. Some people traveled dozens of li from outside the city just to see the novelty, all speculating what kind of great man this “Shu” in the marriage proposal banner was, daring to seek marriage so shockingly? And what kind of beautiful lady was this “Bo,” able to make that peerless handsome man disregard public opinion for such a flamboyant gesture?

Crowds streamed back and forth, the street in front of the inn was packed tight, even the city gates were more crowded than usual. When a gray-robed man entered the city, his steps leisurely, no one noticed.

He walked while drinking, and when finished, he’d extend his hand. Two attendants beside him would immediately take the empty pot, hand him a full wine pot, then take the huge wine pouch he carried and refill the empty pot for ready replacement.

The wine pot replacement was quite frequent—in just one short street, he’d changed three times.

Ahead, crowds bustled and blocked the road. The drinking gray-robed man looked up and saw the ostentatious flags flying on the inn roof.

He first laughed heartily, then suddenly his gaze swept to the “Shu” character on the flag, his eyes brightening.

“Ha! Could it really be that kid? Matches his style!” He muttered to himself, tossing the wine pot to an attendant. “Come, let’s take a look!”

But he couldn’t move his feet—someone pressed his shoulder.

He turned back and under that deep bamboo hat, saw a pair of familiar eyes.

“You…” He was startled and immediately shut his mouth, glancing around. “How did you come? What about him…”

“The Grand Commander please slow your pace,” that person said quietly, nodding toward a side alley.

The two disappeared into the crowd, entering an empty side alley.

After a while, the gray-robed man emerged from the alley. He still held a wine pot but wasn’t drinking.

His steps seemed changed too—previously lazy and shuffling, now each step was planted extremely solidly.

People around saw this man and somehow felt intimidated, unconsciously avoiding his path.

He acted as if nothing happened, looking up at the flags on the roof.

On the rooftop, flags flew with huge “Shu” and “Bo” characters dancing. The banner rustled and shook, golden light dazzling.

That man glanced once, then turned his gaze away.

“Crack.” A fissure suddenly appeared in the flagpole of the roof’s “Shu” character flag.

…

Imperial Song.

Sunlight washed over Quiet Court, but the study windows were tightly closed and covered with a layer of light black gauze, making the room’s lighting extremely poor—you might not even see people clearly across from you.

The ministers coming to discuss matters were quite used to this, because since the beginning of last winter, reportedly the State Preceptor had developed eye problems and couldn’t see light, so Quiet Court’s rooms grew increasingly dark.

The lighting had gradually dimmed over two months, so even though recently it was so dark you could barely see faces, everyone had adapted.

Everyone knew the State Preceptor never liked heat or brilliant sunlight. His martial arts were of the ice and snow school, so this was normal. Few could think that disliking brilliant sunlight and liking darkness were actually two different things.

In the dim light, the State Preceptor on the upper seat silently read documents, occasionally pressing his fist to his lips and coughing lightly twice.

He spoke very little, his voice slightly hoarse as if unwell. The ministers didn’t dare ask much, only briefly stating their urgent matters. The State Preceptor mostly nodded slightly, and when there were difficult decisions, he’d have the documents left behind for later review.

Today two documents were left behind.

One was Xuanyuan Jing’s sick leave request. The other was from various old noble families jointly recommending Yelu family’s eldest son Yelu Yang to succeed the Left State Preceptor position.

Dahuang’s State Preceptor succession wasn’t selected from officials. Generally one was designated by the current ruling State Preceptor, the other jointly recommended by founding noble clans. Noble clan recommendations also had their own rules—basically taking turns. For example, if the previous generation’s State Preceptor was from the Xuanyuan family, this time it was the Yelu family’s turn. This ensured maintenance of noble family interests and basic balance and fairness.

Someone noticed that when the recommendation document was submitted, Grand Leader Meng Hu, attending on the side, flinched slightly.

The State Preceptor heavily placed the document on the left side—meaning it was withheld for consideration.

The ministers withdrew.

Curtains were lowered layer by layer. In the pale black, hazy light and shadow, the silent State Preceptor turned his head to look at the Grand Leader.

…

After the banner flaunted on the roof for a day, it was finally flash-grabbed by Jing Hengbo at night. The several guards watching the flags were so ashamed they immediately wanted to commit suicide before Pei Shu. Jing Hengbo only sneered coldly.

“Pei Shu, if you have the face to let them die over such a thing, you’ll never regain the glory of Dragon City’s Young Marshal!”

Pei Shu’s kicking foot stopped mid-air. After a long while he cursed loudly: “Who wants them dead? Useless!” He kicked his several subordinates out of sight and went to sleep angrily.

Jing Hengbo laughed heartily, patting those gray men climbing up from the ground. “See, your Young Marshal still cares about you. In the future, feel free to disobey his nonsensical orders—he won’t kill you!”

“Miss,” the gray men climbed up from the ground with bitter faces, “that won’t do. We just received the Young Marshal’s orders to go work.”

“Huh?” Jing Hengbo followed them out and saw a pile of gray men all busily moving wooden boards and stones, looking like they were setting up an arena.

What? Was Pei Shu eager for fame, wanting to perform on the street, defeating all opponents to quickly spread his reputation?

Or did he have some other ridiculous plan?

Jing Hengbo watched for a long while without understanding, feeling this guy was up to no good but unable to tear down his stage now, so she went to bed reluctantly.

She didn’t sleep very peacefully that night.

She lived on the inn’s second floor. The weather was still cold, so she kept her windows tightly shut. At midnight, she suddenly sensed wind.

It was a sensation, not hearing. In her drowsiness, she felt clothing and moonlight flowing gracefully in the wind on her roof.

That feeling was too strange—she felt she could even see the large yellow moon on the roof, its edges tinged with faint red, while gray clouds condensed around the moon like a relief carving.

She didn’t know when it started—perhaps from when she swallowed that pill from Xiang Kingdom’s alchemy room—but her perception had become much more acute than before. In the deep of night when her mind was clear and empty, she had a feeling like opening a celestial eye, able to see the world without opening her eyes.

But this ability only worked in extremely quiet, clear, and spiritual states. The slightest movement, even opening her eyes, would make it disappear.

The figure on the roof had flowing robes and was extremely tall. Her mental awareness could only sense a vague human shape, unable to distinguish features, only faintly feeling this person seemed to have no malicious intent.

She thought this was a passing guest, then with a light wind sound, the next moment he landed in the room.

Like a cloud blown by wind, not even blocking the moon shadow through the window.

Her heart jumped in alarm. She wanted to get up but found she couldn’t move—consciousness blurred, body stiff, like the legendary ghost pressing on the bed.

Even now she didn’t know if this was dream or reality—everything was as illusory as looking through gauze.

That figure approached.

Her heart began pounding.

A faint scent came—not fragrance, but making one feel very refreshed and clean, with a power to bring peace. For some reason, she suddenly wasn’t nervous—someone with such a scent wouldn’t harbor ill intentions.

But why had this person who felt completely strange to her come creeping at midnight?

For nothing at all.

She felt him walk to the bedside, stop, seemingly bending slightly to gaze at her intently.

Then he seemed to reach out, wanting to touch her, but stopped his hand halfway, letting it fall beside her temple.

He seemed to brush away a stray lock of hair from her forehead, then his fingers began moving downward.

She became a bit nervous again, but his fingers stopped at her quilt, pulling up the covers she’d pushed down to her chest.

Then his fingers fell on her hand resting outside the covers, fingertips lightly touching her wrist pulse. He paused, then put her hand back.

All movements were very light, light as spider silk falling on skin. All sensations were very hazy, like looking at the world through frosted glass or walking in a swaying dream, so this series of actions was just her speculation, impossible to confirm.

Even her breathing remained calm. No matter how strange her inner feelings, her body seemed frozen at this moment.

Bright moonlight by the window, pure white.

He was serene in the moonlight, clearer than moonlight itself, his gaze like a wisp of cloud gently enveloping the woman on the bed.

She tilted her head slightly, dark hair curled by her ear, breathing peaceful, her cheeks showing a rare rose color. Different from her bright daytime beauty, now she was a pure sleeping beauty.

Wind squeezed through gaps in moonlight, blowing his hair, carrying a trace of early spring flower fragrance.

…

Dawn came!

Jing Hengbo opened her eyes, sitting up with a whoosh. The piercing sunlight made her immediately bend her arm to shield herself, then she heard the outside bustling to death again—hawking voices, traveling voices, shoulder-pole creaking voices, and gong and drum sounds.

Such lively human sounds rushed hotly through the window. Jing Hengbo, just struggling out of deep, mysterious dreams, was dazed for quite a while, feeling like she was in another world, momentarily unable to remember where she was.

She sat on the bed in a daze, feeling lazy and unwilling to move or think, but was annoyed by the increasingly noisy sounds outside until she couldn’t sit still. She angrily got out of bed, dressed, and rushed downstairs like the wind.

A pile of people were eating breakfast, all looking up at her. Jing Hengbo walked over and sat down, asking Tian Qi: “Did you hear any commotion last night?”

“No!” Tian Qi answered decisively. “What happened?”

Jing Hengbo frowned. Tian Qi’s room was closest to hers—if anyone should have heard something, it should be him. With his sharp ears and eyes hearing nothing, had she really been dreaming?

Her body showed no changes. When she woke in the morning, the quilt was still pushed halfway down, suggesting it was a dream.

She asked the Seven Kills, and the seven fools giggled, saying: “Yes, yes!”

“Last night Old Five was dragged to hell screaming—Buddha said he secretly ate meat and had to have his tongue pulled out!”

“Last night Si Si was poisoned stupid by his own medicine and danced seductively!”

“Last night Shan Wu went to exorcise ghosts but brought back a beautiful female ghost!”

“Last night Qi Yi slept with Little Seven—he kept struggling!”

…

Jing Hengbo sighed—asking them was worse than asking Er Gouzi.

Er Gouzi was reciting poetry: “Spring has cool wind, summer has snow, literature has peerless Master Er Gou.”

Jing Hengbo turned and left—better go see the excitement outside.

“What’s happening outside?”

“Pei Shu’s arena matchmaking!”