Jing Hengbo blinked—so much information!

A son wanting to marry his stepmother? The stepmother seeking help from an old lover? The old lover dragging her in as a fiancée, now waiting for this fiancée’s approval?

What kind of mess was this?

“That…” she pointed at Yin Wuxin, “isn’t Zhan Xin your… How can he be so shameless?”

A nominal son was still a son. How would Zhan Xin explain marrying his stepmother to his subjects?

“Could everyone please go inside to discuss this?” Being questioned so carelessly by these unrestrained people, even Yin Wuxin’s well-like face couldn’t help but flash with embarrassment and anger.

“Then let’s go in and talk. After talking, I still need to fight. Daring to stay beside the woman I’ve chosen—I’ll let you live a bit longer.” Pei Shu seemed particularly hostile toward Ying Bai. Glancing at him, he turned and entered the door first.

Jing Hengbo turned to look at Ying Bai, who was also staring at Pei Shu’s back, his gaze bone-deep cold. Seeing her look over, he met her eyes, smiled, and raised his wine pot.

For a moment, Jing Hengbo seemed to sense killing intent, making her think one of these two might strike, but Ying Bai’s nonchalant expression made her wonder if she was being overly nervous.

The group entered and sat down as host and guests. Yin Wuxin, fearing Pei Shu’s direct mouth might say something embarrassing again, simply explained the situation herself first.

It turned out she came from a branch of a reclusive sect, most skilled in spirit communication and preserving youth. Through the former, she became Zhanyu Tribe’s court shrine maiden, later becoming the previous tribal chief’s consort. The latter allowed her to maintain her youth, gaining favor.

Jing Hengbo couldn’t help interrupting: “May I boldly ask your age?”

“Forty-eight,” Yin Wuxin said lightly.

Jing Hengbo’s eyes lit up, feeling she should build a good relationship with this woman. Ancient times weren’t like modern times with so many beauty techniques and cosmetics to conceal age. Ancients generally looked older than their actual age. Someone like Yin Wuxin, nearly fifty but looking twenty, was truly rare.

“But I wish I looked like an old woman—even that would be better than being harassed by that beast!” Yin Wuxin’s expression was very unpleasant.

As they say, blessings and misfortunes are intertwined. Yin Wuxin had the art of preserving youth, her elegance and temperament surpassing Zhan Xin’s other consorts. In earlier years, Zhan Xin hadn’t harbored improper thoughts—he had plenty of concubines and wouldn’t risk universal condemnation for a nominal stepmother. But as years passed and his body gradually failed, with few children and fewer capable ones, his most beloved legitimate youngest son Zhan Jue died last year in Da Yan’s Nameless Valley, causing him to have a fierce quarrel with Yelu Qi. After losing his youngest son, he worked even harder to propagate, wanting to spread his lineage, but became increasingly powerless. Then someone suggested that Yin Wuxin’s Celestial Maiden Sect possessed the world’s strange art of youth preservation. After long cultivation, precious essence grew within the body that could nourish male vitality. Union with such a woman could restore masculine vigor and produce a son.

Zhan Xin was immediately tempted, harassing and testing Yin Wuxin in every way. For this reason, she deliberately moved to this corner cold palace to retreat. She had some unique methods and avoided many of Zhan Xin’s harassments. Unable to succeed, Zhan Xin simply had people negotiate with her, saying he’d first send her away to change her identity, then properly marry her back with the most honorable status. With negotiations reaching this point, if she didn’t agree, Zhan Xin would definitely turn hostile. Previously Yin Wuxin could protect herself because Zhan Xin still hoped she’d be willing—supposedly this would have the best effect when they were together. If she continued resisting, he’d definitely use force. How could a weak woman escape in the deep palace?

With no choice, Yin Wuxin thought to seek powerful external help, falsely claiming she’d already given her body’s precious essence to this man, asking him to help her leave the palace. Of course, this man would face Zhan Xin’s fury, so his martial prowess had to be off the charts.

Where could she find such a man? With Zhan Xin’s deadline only three days away, Yin Wuxin was extremely anxious. Then she heard about the marriage proposal banner and arena matchmaking, including that “Shu” character. Understanding Pei Shu, she felt this seemed like something he’d do. Though she found it absurd, she wanted to try, and naturally was delighted by the result.

Hearing her delicate explanation, Jing Hengbo glanced at Pei Shu standing with arms crossed and an impatient expression, thinking this must be very unpleasant for this guy. Using her fingers to think, she knew this was trouble. He must owe Yin Wuxin considerable favor and couldn’t refuse due to pride, so he dragged her in—was he hoping she’d help him refuse?

Speaking of which, that sentence “I’ve been kidnapped, save me” was actually true—I’ve been morally kidnapped, come rescue me!

She blinked, thinking why rescue him? Wasn’t this a good thing? Playing lovers with a woman like Yin Wuxin, then still being able to fight—wasn’t this what Young Marshal Pei loved most?

“Hey, don’t sell me out,” Pei Shu immediately saw her scheming thoughts, pointing at her nose. “Otherwise don’t expect me to help you.”

This referred to the treasure boat matter. Jing Hengbo chuckled: “If you don’t help with this favor, you can’t help with that favor. Don’t you understand this logic?”

Pei Shu fell silent, his expression gloomy.

Without resolving Yin Wuxin’s matter, how could they find a way to get the treasure boat blueprints? With Yin Wuxin’s status, she very likely knew about the blueprints and would definitely use this as a condition for exchange.

“I have a question,” Jing Hengbo smiled sweetly at Yin Wuxin. “Since Zhan Xin is determined to have you, why didn’t he monitor your movements closely? Why let you bring Pei Shu in? Isn’t he afraid of being cuckolded?”

Yin Wuxin hadn’t taken her seriously before, but now seeing two obviously expert men clearly following her lead, her attitude improved slightly. Looking at her, her face reddened slightly: “Come here.”

Jing Hengbo approached in confusion. Yin Wuxin pulled her to turn around, guiding her hand to touch her lower abdomen, saying softly: “He doesn’t care who I find now. He’s always suspected I have a lover, deliberately giving me opportunities to bring someone so he can catch them all. He… he locked me up…” Her voice became inaudible at the end.

Jing Hengbo’s fingers touched something cold and hard, somewhat like iron or chains. She was stunned, taking a while to react before her eyes widened in disbelief.

Could it be a chastity belt?

She never expected to see such a legendary thing that tormented women here!

Jing Hengbo’s inner universe burst into flames—she most hated all patriarchal society’s trampling and oppression of women!

Among the research institute’s four-person group, the most unrestrained and freedom-loving her and the coldest, most domineering and proud Taishi Lan were the most loyal defenders of feminism. She was slightly better than Taishi Lan’s “stepping on all men in the world while overlooking all heroes” attitude, but absolutely couldn’t tolerate such disgusting humiliation.

Almost immediately, she decided to sell out Pei Shu!

“Say no more!” She grabbed Yin Wuxin’s hand, declaring righteously: “Zhan Xin is worse than a beast! Everyone should eliminate him! Pei Shu has always had heroic bones and a tender heart—he’ll definitely be willing to help you!”

“Huh?” Pei Shu’s eyes widened.

Heroic bones and tender heart? About whom?

This damned woman—did she know he most hated such disgusting words?

A faint smile seemed to appear at Ying Bai’s lips as he took a sip of wine.

Yin Wuxin showed no joy. This woman’s emotions were very light—perhaps this was also required by their sect’s mental techniques. Pure heart and few desires, avoiding great joy and sorrow, to preserve beauty longer.

She withdrew her hand, saying lightly: “There are no gifts from heaven, only exchanges of interests. Speak—what do you need?”

Jing Hengbo grinned, declaring righteously: “Shameless villains deserve everyone’s condemnation! Just a small favor…”

Yin Wuxin’s expression remained unmoved: “If you truly have no requirements, I’d be even more afraid to trust you.”

“Oh, I want treasure boat blueprints and the best craftsmen Zhanyu can find,” Jing Hengbo replied quickly.

“The treasure boat blueprints are locked in Zhan Xin’s bedchamber. To get them might require a detailed, thorough plan,” Yin Wuxin said. “As for the best craftsman… that’s me.”

“Ah?”

“Zhanyu court shrine maidens were mainly treasure boat master craftsmen. Having served so many years, with nothing to do in the deep palace, I learned from each of them extensively. My sect’s mental techniques emphasize pure heart and focus, making learning concentrated and most likely to succeed. Finally, all techniques merged into one, surpassing the masters. It’s just that others haven’t known this all these years.”

This was an unexpected joy for Jing Hengbo. Suddenly remembering her several mentions of her sect, she couldn’t help asking: “Your sect seems very mysterious. Is it Nine Heavens Gate?”

Pei Shu suddenly turned his head.

Ying Bai’s hand raising the wine pot paused.

Yin Wuxin’s eyes widened slightly in surprise: “You actually know of Nine Heavens Gate.” She then shook her head: “No, how could we qualify? But my sect does have some connection with Nine Heavens Gate. My sect’s founder was originally a fire-tending servant in Nine Heavens Gate. Later, for merit in some matter, he became a registered disciple, but failed the next year’s registered disciple assessment and was expelled from the Gate. He then founded our Celestial Maiden Sect.”

Speaking of this, she seemed not at all ashamed that her sect’s founder was their lowest-level discarded student. Her expression even showed pride in having some connection with Nine Heavens Gate.

Jing Hengbo was secretly amazed. A fire-tender from the Gate, after learning for a year or two there, could come out and independently establish a sect that stood for many years with descendants becoming palace shrine maidens and sect techniques pursued by the world. What about official Nine Heavens Gate disciples, or the sect’s elders and masters?

From Yin Wuxin’s tone, the Gate was unattainably high even in the eyes of these reclusive sects.

“How impressive must that be…” she murmured. “At this level, if the Gate Master acted, wouldn’t Dahuang be destroyed?”

“The Gate Master hasn’t entered the world for many years,” Yin Wuxin said. “The Gate doesn’t always have a Master. Their Master selection is extremely long and harsh, even preferring vacancy to inadequacy. I hear the finally chosen must experience three hells and eight tribulations, cross yin-yang life-death, sever worldly emotions, cut blood lineage roots. Nearly cruel. Each generation, the Gate selects countless elite disciples as Master candidates, but in the long testing process, countless are eliminated or even die. The Gate never stops due to selection’s cruelty—this is also why Nine Heavens Gate isn’t famous. Too many disciples die, too much internal consumption. I hear the previous Master hasn’t appeared for thirty years, very likely dead. Now they’re still in the long selection process, or perhaps already chosen but not announced. Nine Heavens Gate’s Master is emperor of all Dahuang’s reclusive sects. Small sects like ours have no qualification to know such secrets.”

Pei Shu listened with burning eyes, a contemptuous sneer at his lips, seemingly wanting to drag out that mysterious, eternally glorious sect for a beating. Ying Bai kept drinking, facing the window, seemingly indifferent to everything—heaven and earth existed only in his cup.

“Nine Heavens Gate is just a bunch of pretentious frauds who think they’re God’s spokespersons!” Pei Shu suddenly sneered. “Massive organizations breed internal parasites over time! Continuing so high and mighty, self-important, they’ll eventually self-destruct! Just like the former Longying family—how powerful were they then? The first family predating Dahuang’s imperial power. Even the founding Empress was once their household slave. After founding her dynasty, she couldn’t grant them first position. All founding generals and noble families had to dismount before their gate. If their branch disciples emerged, tribal chiefs would kneel in welcome. Their daughters—even royalty didn’t dare propose randomly, feeling their bloodlines too inferior to defile them… Such majesty, such nobility, such lofty heights? What happened later? Didn’t they just disappear…”

“Pei Shu!” Yin Wuxin’s frown deepened until she couldn’t help interrupting: “Stop! You clearly know this is forbidden! Speaking of it means nine familial exterminations!”

“So what if I speak? Will you report me? Or will you, Jing Hengbo?” Pei Shu sneered, completely unconcerned.

“Great, great,” Jing Hengbo loved hearing secrets, her eyes bright. “Say more—I need complete evidence to report you.”

“Enough. Don’t joke about this,” Yin Wuxin immediately said. “Pei Shu, I know you’re not afraid. But I say this is forbidden not just because of court taboos. You know that people who publicly mention the Longying family mysteriously end up with bad fates. Just for this, no one’s been willing to mention that mysteriously vanished family these years. It’s an ominous family. You finally escaped suffering—why contaminate yourself with ill fortune again?”

“Hmph.” Pei Shu sneered dismissively. After a while he laughed: “Ill fortune isn’t something you avoid by fearing contamination! To avoid ill fortune, first become someone no one dares approach!”

A breeze rose leisurely. Jing Hengbo saw Ying Bai by the window, legs propped up, wine pot resting on his knee, gazing out the window while his black hair fluttered, covering his profile.

“This person…” Yin Wuxin’s gaze fell on Ying Bai. With her considerable experience, she felt this person’s bearing seemed even above Pei Shu’s.

“Ying Bai,” Jing Hengbo answered with a grin.

Pei Shu jumped up instantly.

“Ying Bai!”

“You don’t want to fight now, do you?” Seeing his adrenaline surge, Jing Hengbo felt alarmed.

Pei Shu had already answered Jing Hengbo with action. His hand rose, already holding a blade. The next instant, that heavy sword forged from Tianhui Valley’s black steel was already chopping at Ying Bai’s head.

“Take my blade!”

“Crack”—the roof split open, letting in pale moonlight. Dust fell rustling, instantly scattered by powerful winds. Immediately no figures were visible across from them. Jing Hengbo only saw Ying Bai’s wine pot pierce through the smoke, becoming indigo flowing light before disappearing. Two figures shuttled like lightning—seeming about to collide yet always brushing past each other’s armor, seeming to brush past yet often crashing together thunderously. Each collision made the entire courtyard tremble. Jing Hengbo’s ears rang, feeling her heart might crack too. She wanted to watch the masters’ duel and learn some moves, but Yin Wuxin pulled her outside the courtyard, saying very calmly: “What are you watching? Don’t you know he can fight anytime, anywhere? Don’t you know he never considers others when fighting? When I saved him that time, he was chasing deserters obsessively, running alone into deep mountains, consecutively challenging sixteen of my sect uncles, nearly destroying my sect. Finally my sect’s patriarch used a great formation to capture him. When I was leading him to escape, he tore up all the undergarments in my patriarch’s chest, making my patriarch too embarrassed to come out the next day. While being chased, he threw me out as bait three times, then rescued me three times. To this day I think saving him was the worst thing I ever did.”

Jing Hengbo laughed—Pei the Madman!

The small courtyard trembled and shook with continuous chi-chi sounds. Each sound split another crack in the outer wall. Brick fragments flew and bounced, hitting the courtyard walls with dull thuds. The house walls kept slowly deforming as if a strongman inside was continuously pounding walls, trying to reshape the house into something bizarre.

“Such commotion—won’t it alarm Zhan Xin?” Jing Hengbo was somewhat worried.

Yin Wuxin glanced toward the palace center, her lips curling in a cold smile.

…

At the palace center, Zhan Xin stood by his window, watching that dust-filled corner.

Countless guards surrounded him, ready for battle, awaiting his command to capture whoever dared cause such commotion in the palace.

Zhan Xin narrowed his eyes, a cold smile slowly forming at his lips.

“Nice martial arts… and more than one… Let’s see how many come. Kill one who comes, kill a pair who come!”

He waved his hand.

“No need to interfere—let them fight! Haven’t you heard when two tigers fight, one must be injured? We’ll clean up afterward!”

…

Jing Hengbo felt like she was watching a Hollywood blockbuster’s special effects.

Watching the commotion gradually decrease while the atmosphere grew heavier, the house continued collapsing in silent fashion, like ghosts quietly dismantling from within. Windows turned to ash, the roof moved away, walls collapsed section by section. Fist marks protruding from walls made one suspect the walls weren’t brick but flour and mud.

When the house almost completely disappeared, with a thunderous crash, a figure burst through and flew out. Mid-air, his hair tie snapped, long black hair scattered, then suddenly fell in neat sections, a layer of black on the ground.

With a slap he crashed at Jing Hengbo’s feet. Without looking, she knew it was the frequent loser Pei Shu.

This guy somehow, though clearly strong, always encountered masters who countered him.

Precisely because of this, this naturally rebellious person, after five years of hatred, didn’t go on a killing spree for revenge upon emerging—such consecutive defeats would inevitably impact even the most arrogant person, making them cautious and doubtful about current circumstances.

Across from them, Ying Bai emerged from the smoke. Through the pale yellow haze, his bearing was composed and noble, his eyes showing neither joy nor sorrow.

Watching him at this moment, Jing Hengbo had a strange feeling—she felt Ying Bai should be laughing loudly and drinking quickly now.

Pei Shu rolled several times on the ground but couldn’t immediately get up. It seemed Ying Bai hadn’t held back.

He thought Jing Hengbo would help him, but this woman was smiling sweetly with folded sleeves, just watching him.

“Pei Shu,” she said, “this is the tenth match. You lost again. From now on, you formally belong to me.”

Pei Shu gritted his teeth and spat, but said nothing.

He had fought decisively and lost straightforwardly. Besides, since Jing Hengbo could produce so many masters, following her wasn’t shameful.

“Zhan Xin really didn’t come,” Jing Hengbo looked toward Yin Wuxin.

“Zhan Xin is cunning and arrogant,” Yin Wuxin said lightly. “He said he’d give me three days, so he’ll give me three days. But I must trouble you all to wait with me for three days.”

“Where will we stay? The house is gone.”

“I still have my own chambers from when I served as shrine maiden. Since Zhan Xin has an open attitude now, let’s stay there openly.”

“Why wait three days? We could just take you away directly. Why give Zhan Xin time to prepare?”

“Because Zhan Xin always carries the treasure boat blueprints with him. No one knows where he hides them. To get the blueprints, he must appear and we must get close to him,” Yin Wuxin said. “I also hope he loses the blueprints and Zhanyu Tribe falls dramatically. For this, I’m willing to wait three more days.”

“Excellent! Then we’ll wait three days… Wait, what’s with your bedchamber layout? How are we supposed to sleep…” Following Yin Wuxin to her shrine maiden residence, Jing Hengbo’s eyes widened at first glance.

It looked like a small courtyard but actually had only two rooms—an outer and inner chamber. The outer room was filled with various strange instruments, the inner room was a bedroom.

One bedroom was fine, but there was only one bed.

One bed was fine, but there was also a rope hanging from the ceiling. She suspected it was for hanging underwear.

A rope was fine too, but the bed had a peculiar design—seemingly jade but not jade, with bumps and hollows. Looking at those curves, they seemed to follow human body contours.

The strange bed was fine, but this was clearly a double bed with two obvious sleeping positions.

What did this mean?

“Sorry, I didn’t want to return to my former bedchamber, so I came back to where I lived as a shrine maiden,” Yin Wuxin looked at the room somewhat sadly. “This was actually my training place. The outer room was for studying divination and spirit communication, the inner room for practicing youth preservation arts. This bed was specially made for my cultivation—carved from natural warm soft jade, warm and nourishing, very beneficial for skin and meridians, with some detoxifying effects too. You can try it.”

At these words, the three exchanged glances, all looking somewhat awkward.

Try? How to try? How could three people sleep in a double bed? No one would sleep well.

“Hehe, you sleep alone. We’ll just meditate,” Jing Hengbo laughed dryly, wondering if she should ask the Seven Kills to send in another bed.

“My techniques are complete now. I no longer need it,” Yin Wuxin flipped and lightly leaped onto the rope. Jing Hengbo almost thought she was recreating the Little Dragon Girl pose, watching eagerly for the beauty to lie horizontally on the rope, but Yin Wuxin flipped and hung upside down.

Jing Hengbo made an “uh” sound, nearly choking on her own saliva.

“That bed is very good. Don’t waste it,” Yin Wuxin said. “All three of you have some ailments. This will benefit you.”

Jing Hengbo looked at Ying Bai—he had ailments too?

But then again, what martial artist didn’t have old injuries?

“You say you cultivated alone, so why is it a double bed?” Jing Hengbo looked up at Yin Wuxin, who looked like an upside-down white bat with glass-like pale eyes facing people’s lower bodies. Jing Hengbo felt deeply uncomfortable.

“I’m afraid you’ll have misgivings if I tell you,” Yin Wuxin said casually. “That’s not a double bed—it was originally a coffin. They carved human shapes from a whole block of warm soft jade, inserted treated corpses, preserving bodies for a thousand years without decay. Warm soft jade isn’t easy to find. I dug countless tombs to find this. Then I opened the coffin and converted it into a bed.”

Jing Hengbo trembled. This bed had held dead people and others—she’d better just meditate.

But Ying Bai suddenly grabbed her hand: “This bed is extremely beneficial for you. Go sleep.”

Jing Hengbo was startled by his grip.

Ying Bai also seemed to finally react, stiffening slightly.

Her hand in his palm was soft as boneless, but he could delicately feel some new calluses at the tiger’s mouth—she must have been practicing martial arts diligently recently. Those calluses pressed hard against his palm, seeming to press into his heart’s depths, creating a slightly rough sensation.

She felt his palm was warm, skin smooth and delicate, the knuckles seeming especially hot.

After a moment’s shock, both simultaneously withdrew their hands.

Ying Bai coughed, seeming to want to drink wine to cover his embarrassment, but his wine pot had long since disappeared.

Pei Shu suddenly snorted, strode over, grabbed Jing Hengbo and pushed her onto the bed: “Why worry so much? If it’s beneficial, go sleep.”

Jing Hengbo was still thinking about that moment’s sensation, letting him push her down in a daze. Lying down with an “ow,” she felt quite embarrassed—this coffin-bed was originally carved with human body contours to encase corpses, so it had concave and convex surfaces matching body curves. Now lying down, her bottom sank into a hollow, giving her the illusion of becoming a trapped corpse. Worse, the jade seemed to have suction—after squirming twice, she momentarily couldn’t get up.

Pei Shu sprawled beside her casually, stretching his limbs and sighing with closed eyes: “Not bad, this bed is really comfort…”

Before he could finish “comfortable,” Ying Bai had already floated over, reached out to lift him up, and threw him to the ground.

Pei Shu rolled like a wild donkey and got up, his hair already standing on end: “Ying Bai, don’t go too far…”

Ying Bai had already lain down next to Jing Hengbo, turning his face to coldly crook his finger at him: “Winners and losers—the defeated only deserve to sleep on the ground.”

“Dare to fight another round,” Pei Shu punched the ground, creating a deep crater with a thunderous sound.

Jing Hengbo immediately got up—she didn’t want their only shelter destroyed, leaving them camping in the palace for three days.

“Stop fighting! I’ll sleep on the ground. You two can share the bed.”

At these words, her hair stood on end, feeling something might be wrong.

Imagining it, her eyes suddenly lit up wolfishly.

Great idea!

Jade White and Gold Shu sharing a bed! What a bromantic combination, what a bromantic scene! What a setting to make fujoshi blood boil!

Hey hey, thinking about Ying Bai and Pei Shu as a pair was already full of bromance. Famous throughout the world, long acquainted in spirit, appreciating each other, regretfully missing chances. Already a legendary setup! Years later when he revived, one immediately traveled thousands of li upon hearing news to meet, the other immediately pounced to fight upon hearing the name… So passionate!

Her excited expression seemed to leak important information. The two men looked at her and spoke in unison for the first time.

“Shut up!”

“Then you two can take turns, one hour each sleeping beside me…” Jing Hengbo thought good things should be shared fairly. Since the bed benefited both their injuries, they should naturally share.

“Shut up!”

Two stubborn, ungrateful men!

Jing Hengbo sulkily lay down to sleep. Love it or leave it—anyway, with four people in this room, the bed was actually wide enough. It didn’t matter who slept beside her.

“She has a slutty scent—I don’t want to get close to her!” After Pei Shu and Ying Bai stared at each other for a long time, they gave up again. Finding an excuse, he muttered, grabbed a blanket, spread it on the ground and meditated.

Jing Hengbo was getting drowsy and too lazy to bother with them. She closed her eyes to sleep. This bed was indeed different—though it had no bedding, lying on it felt warm. Surrounding her was a faint ash-like scent, weathered and ancient, vaguely tinged with medicinal smell. Not pleasant, but reassuring.

The man’s breath beside her was also reassuring—a warm scent, though unfamiliar yet substantial. She vaguely thought that without drinking, Ying Bai’s alcohol scent wasn’t so strong anymore, while quickly sinking into dreamland.

She seemed to dream—in it, a snow-white figure sat distantly with knees drawn up, towering mountains behind him with nine-story palaces hidden in deep clouds.

A voice said softly: “At the horizon, or before your eyes?”

She mumbled drowsily: “Everywhere.”

Someone in the distance chuckled.

She suddenly opened her eyes, feeling she hadn’t slept long and had just had a crucial dream, but in just a moment she couldn’t remember any of its content. Opening her eyes in darkness for a while, thinking someone was sleeping beside her, but now that presence was gone. She tilted her head slightly.

Cold moonlight by the bed—that person was truly gone.

Startled, she was about to get up when she saw Ying Bai enter from outside, covered with cold frost as if he’d been outdoors for a while.

Why had Ying Bai gone out at this hour? To relieve himself?

The other two in the room breathed calmly, but she knew they were definitely awake too.

Pei Shu meditated by the door, Yin Wuxin hung upside down from the rope—both could see outside clearly. In other words, Ying Bai’s exit definitely involved nothing suspicious, or these two would have acted.

Jing Hengbo felt that sometimes the people around her were all shrouded in mystery, full of riddles.

Ying Bai returned and lay beside her nonchalantly. She smelled alcohol on him—ah, he’d gone out to drink.

But Ying Bai always drank anytime, anywhere. Why deliberately go outside?

Thinking this, she fell asleep again.

Opening her eyes again, it was already dawn with no one beside her. Rich food aromas wafted over.

The food’s fragrance carried a faint strange smell, then she heard Pei Shu’s angry cursing: “What’s wrong? What’s that smell?”

Jing Hengbo identified the scent, her eyes brightening as she called: “Feifei!”

A pale purple furball jumped onto her knee. The little monster blinked its large eyes innocently and tenderly as always, its fluffy tail rubbing against her face.

Jing Hengbo was delighted. She’d left Feifei at the inn yesterday, never expecting it to find its way here. When had Feifei developed a dog’s nose?

That familiar smell lingered in the air, growing stronger as Pei Shu approached. Lifting Feifei with one finger, Pei Shu’s handsome face approached menacingly, full of suspicion as he stared at the little monster: “Why do I have a strange musky smell? You didn’t do this, did you?”

Feifei innocently blinked its purple eyes slowly, raising a paw to scratch its face, indicating it knew nothing.

Jing Hengbo grinned—Feifei had several types of body fluids, magically producing various effects according to its needs. One type had a faint musky scent like a skunk’s spray that lasted days. Others smelled it faintly while the bearer smelled it strongly. The more you moved, the stronger it got, enough to make people vomit.

Better yet, this scent had a bewitching effect on people—ordinary people without martial arts, that is.

Jing Hengbo was very satisfied with the “fragrantly aromatic” Pei Shu, feeling she and the little monster were truly telepathic. Just last night Pei Shu had called her slutty, and this morning he was covered in musky scent himself. Truly gratifying!

Food had been delivered. Zhan Xin, whether from arrogance or showing indifference, had breakfast sent early from the palace kitchen—abundant portions with four sets of bowls and chopsticks provided.

But everyone seemed unconcerned. No one was shocked by the Zhanyu tribal chief’s sinister display. The palace servant delivering food stood aside without leaving, seemingly wanting to see if they dared eat. Jing Hengbo frowned—she didn’t care about courage, but having someone watching while eating was truly annoying.

Pei Shu glanced at her, grabbed a plate and slammed it on the eunuch’s head.

“I hate people watching while I eat! Do you think you’re a dog? Get lost!”

The servant covered in steamed buns scrambled away. Suddenly quiet on all sides, Jing Hengbo laughed heartily—evil people need evil people to control them. Except for the wild and unrestrained Pei Shu, others really couldn’t do such things.

Pei Shu plopped down beside Jing Hengbo, grabbed a spoon, pulled over her bowl, and said very casually, naturally, and righteously: “Fiancée, let me serve you porridge. Do you like it thick or thin? Hey! Touched? I’ve only been this accommodating to you in my life… Hey! Damn cat!”

Feifei suddenly passed before him, flicking its tail. A hair fell into the porridge bowl.

Before Pei Shu could angrily shake his hand to throw the bowl, Feifei flashed white and disappeared.

“What kind of chaotic evil cat are you raising!” Pei Shu’s temper was always bad. He immediately lost interest in being attentive, angrily serving himself porridge, deliberately taking all the creamy essence, leaving only thin broth.

Just as he raised the bowl to eat, white flashed again. Feifei reappeared, leaping over his head, scratching its bottom. A purple hair from its tail’s tip, also reeking with musky scent, fell into Pei Shu’s bowl again.

“Damn cat!”

Pei Shu rushed out chasing Feifei. White and purple shadows flashed chaotically around the courtyard.

Jing Hengbo giggled uncontrollably with delight. This was her first time seeing Feifei deliberately antagonize someone. The little monster was sly—never proactively offending people. She’d never seen it toy with Pei Shu like this before. What was going on?

While laughing and watching the show, she quickly divided the remaining good food, giving Ying Bai a plate of black sesame syrup cakes and calling the still-hanging Yin Wuxin down for porridge.

Yin Wuxin floated down gracefully, looked at the table, and pushed aside a plate of snowflake pastries: “This has flower cores—it’s good for removing the strange smell from Pei Shu. Save it for him.”

Jing Hengbo nodded while gnawing crispy bones, glancing at her from above her bowl—very attentive to Pei Shu. Any hidden story? A forty-eight-year-old woman with youth-preserving arts and a twenty-something proud and arrogant handsome man—what untold story might they have?

A hand reached over, blocking her gossiping gaze. A voice sounded lightly by her ear: “Bite.”

Jing Hengbo unconsciously crunched down, her mouth full of sweet fragrance. She nodded, mumbling: “Mm, not bad, Gong Yin, you eat too—”

She suddenly stopped, her whole body turning cold.

The hand reaching toward her mouth also froze.

Yin Wuxin looked up in amazement, staring at them both with strange eyes.

The air seemed to freeze at this moment.

Only after a long while did Jing Hengbo slowly turn her head. She turned so carefully, as if afraid turning would break her neck, or afraid she’d see a ghost.

Some habitual actions penetrate to the bone, unable to be forgotten during long wandering, reappearing in an instant, obeying only the heart’s call.