That hand, gentle yet resolute, held her back.

Jing Hengbo paused.

Lifting her head, for a moment she nearly wept with joy—not easy! Not easy at all!

How many roads of pursuit, how much scheming, how much humiliation endured, lowering herself, taking by force and cunning, pestering relentlessly… finally today he took the initiative once.

This feeling was too precious and cherished to let go. She stopped for a moment, deliberately letting that emotion linger a while longer in her heart, before petulantly trying to shake off his hand.

She couldn’t shake free, and instead was pulled backward by the force behind her, falling into his embrace.

The familiar elegant, cool scent—mountain snow that today was finally tinged with a trace of sunlight.

Before she could take the initiative, he had already encircled her with both arms. Her heart sighed deeply: in over three years of knowing each other, how many times had he held such a posture?

Ultimately it was her recent real and fake mad acts that made him suspicious. No longer willing to avoid contact with her, yet unwilling to let her truly give herself to another man, he somewhat clumsily held her close, then didn’t know what to do next, as if by doing this, he had captured her entire world.

Her head naturally wanted to lean on his shoulder. Thinking about it, she stopped herself—she still had to play the madwoman to the end, until he was at a complete loss, before she could possibly get her way.

She giggled and cupped his face, saying in a soft voice: “Handsome guy, you went out and came back so quickly? Hey, let’s play a game!”

“I…” Before Gong Yin could voice his denial, Jing Hengbo lowered her head and pressed against his lips.

Still that familiar touch and taste. Each encounter could awaken accumulated emotions. Because the longing was too deep, the love too deep, the obsession too deep, no matter how much rejection showed on the surface, once they were close they could never let go again. When she touched his cool fragrance her whole body went soft, while he naturally generated heat. Almost without thinking, he transformed from passive to active—teasing, entangling, invading, sucking… Gradually panting sounds came from inside the large carriage. Though Jing Hengbo hadn’t fully succumbed to the fire snake’s heat, she had absorbed some of it. Now with lips and teeth sucking together, she deliberately engaged in extensive interplay of fluids with him.

Whether it was that bit of transmitted drug taking effect, or the body having its own memory, having tasted marrow and knowing the flavor while automatically seeking more, his body gradually grew heated too. Where his torn clothing exposed his chest, even his skin glowed slightly red. Her hands quickly explored downward—his belt was already broken, even his outer robe and inner undergarments were torn, making it convenient to take advantage. She didn’t really know what she should do, only greedily savoring the warmth there and the soft, resilient feel. His skin was like warm jade, like hot springs, with a silk-like smooth transparency, yet one could feel the infinitely deep power hidden beneath that skin. Like a volcano under ice springs, or ice springs under a volcano, there was a strange pleasure from alternating cold and heat that excited her so much that before doing anything, she was already trembling with excitement, unable to help grasping and arching and kneading there. While grasping and arching and kneading, she hummed and laughed, vaguely hearing him seemingly gasping, seemingly suppressing reactions, his body slightly arching. Suddenly his hand slid into her hair, the subtle tingling from five fingers threading through her hair made her shiver repeatedly. Suddenly she trembled, feeling his hand very naturally slide from her nape down her spine, continuing downward… downward…

She giggled and lay on his lower abdomen. Her clothes already had tears—with a little rubbing, they ripped with a tearing sound. She lay on his chest, first blowing on his earlobe, then nuzzling his cheek, finally licking his chest, her tongue drawing two small circles. He suddenly gripped her waist tightly, his strength somewhat uncontrolled, but she smiled silently in the darkness, her eyes flowing with light.

This was a rather unfair seduction. For her, having already experienced romance, knowing his sensitive spots, already prepared and waiting for sweet rain’s nourishment. For him, thinking this was their first time together in life, he should treasure it, cherish it, be careful and gentle, knowing her pain and joy. With desire rising in his heart, finally willing to indulge with her, yet not knowing where to begin, only following his heart’s desire. But she was too perfect, too precious—delicate and exquisite, smooth and soft, like beautiful jade or fine porcelain. Wherever he placed his hands felt like destruction and defilement, yet because of masculine instinct, encountering such a human treasure, his blood boiled with factors craving destruction and defilement. He wanted to knead forcefully, wanted to caress desperately, wanted to carefully rub everything about this woman into his embrace. But when his hands fell, they were gentle, soft, meticulous. His fingers still wandered uncertainly when she suddenly slightly raised her shoulder, and his hand automatically slid down her smooth skin, suddenly reaching her waist dimples.

They say a woman’s most beautiful feature is her waist dimples. They say only the most beautiful women have waist dimples—two wonderfully soul-stirring indentations three parts below the waist, only achievable by the perfect figure where gaining a bit would be too fat, losing a bit too thin. Those small waist dimples perfectly accommodated his finger. But she seemed somewhat ticklish, somewhat impatient, giggling and unconsciously twisting her waist like a fairy. A dancer’s waist was extraordinarily flexible. His hand somehow reached above her abdomen. Lifting slightly, he felt heavy pressure on his arm—hot, warm, soft, plump, two clusters of snow-white doves that seemed ready to fly from his hands at any moment…

He trembled, his carefully maintained restraint suddenly beyond control. Flames burst from their cage, accumulated snow flew down from peaks. Somehow his body roared and surged inside. With several snaps, buttons scattered—her garments had also torn.

In the panting sounds they somehow tumbled together. Disheveled clothing was gradually tossed onto the brocade carpet. It was unclear who was undressing whom, no care for discussing who was more passionate. Young man and woman, loving hearts, long-suppressed desires overlapping together—usually dormant, but when erupting all the more fiery. She certainly didn’t seem like herself, but he also didn’t resemble that coolly abstinent mountain disciple who even buttoned his collar to the neck. Without lamplight in the carriage, skin’s bright glow dimly showed in the darkness, those undulating body lines carved by shadows into the most wonderful silhouettes.

Vague low conversation drifted out.

“…Let me be on top… let me be on top…”

“Nonsense… no… preposterous…”

“You’re not very convenient… don’t be embarrassed… anyway…”

“Anyway what?”

“…Anyway I’m thick-skinned… mm-hmm…”

“Don’t move… I seem to be somewhat…”

The small palace on the carriage seemed to quiet for a while, then vaguely had some soft sounds again. Though unclear what they were, they seemed to echo the night’s whispered voices—noisy yet intimate, mysterious and secretive, like blood pulsing in vessels, or like insects in grass quietly rubbing antennae, discussing matters of life and desire. Someone was inhaling with a long sound, someone sighing with slight laughter.

Suddenly “click”—the carriage shook slightly with a low cry.

“A mechanism!”

“It’s fine.”

“Oh my, this mechanism is interesting… how about we try using this?”

“This…”

“This way, it’s not me on top, and doesn’t make things difficult for you, right?”

“…”

The entire carriage swayed slightly with vague clicking sounds. Fortunately this carriage palace was huge and solid, only the tree it leaned against shook with continuous rustling, thick fallen leaves covering the ground.

Suddenly another “bang” with giggling laughter: “So fierce… it broke!”

Vaguely a man’s low voice: “But I suddenly seem better!”

Then came laughing yet surprised exclamation: “Oh my!”

Outside the carriage, hanging drapes swayed, pearl curtains chimed rapidly. A hidden incense burner in the corner was knocked over. Fortunately the carpet was thick so it didn’t catch fire, but the ambergris scent became even stronger, mixed with some ambiguously unclear fragrances. The giggling gradually lowered, replaced by deep low moans. After one gentle wind came a new storm, and in the storm’s center they saw light.

Wind sounds grew louder, seawater filled the sky, waves surged onto the shore. All the body’s meridians seemed both connecting and contracting. That storm grew fiercer—those struggling within it suffered yet rejoiced. At this point life gained power, destroying everything to achieve everything. Heaven and earth vast and wide, she rode the wave crests as white giant waves surged onto the beach.

The small palace gradually quieted.

She lay lazily with a pillow under her waist. This position was uncomfortable, and Gong Yin’s gaze was quite puzzled, but she didn’t plan to explain. Women’s childbearing matters—what business was it of his?

After the storm calmed and human nature returned to normal, Gong Yin seemed somewhat unable to accept it. First he wouldn’t light the lamp, then rapidly dressed in the darkness. Heaven knew whether his clothes, after several rounds of ravaging, still had any function of covering the body. Then he was knocking at something, making clicking sounds. After tinkering for a long time, Jing Hengbo was dead tired and only wanted to sleep, but the noise prevented sleep, so she had to ask: “What are you doing?”

Gong Yin coughed without answering. Jing Hengbo propped herself up to look and couldn’t help but giggle.

Originally there was a mechanism on the carriage wall for restraining people. Earlier when the two were passionate, they accidentally triggered the mechanism and this frame popped out. She had a flash of inspiration and used it as an adult toy. Later when Gong Yin could suddenly move again, this naturally wasn’t needed. Who knew their activity was so vigorous that this thing got damaged and wouldn’t retract.

Jing Hengbo covered her stomach wanting to laugh. The Great God’s expression right now must be quite something.

“Click.” A crisp sound—that frame actually fell down. Unable to retract the mechanism, Gong Yin simply dismantled the iron bars and threw them away.

Inside the magnificently beautiful carriage palace, it now looked like it had suffered a catastrophe. The carpet was messy, incense ash covered the floor, most curtains were torn, ornaments scattered everywhere. Now the wall had an additional large hole with soft satin brocade torn to shreds.

Jing Hengbo felt that such a carriage having gone through world war could never be restored no matter how much cleaning. When Yu Zhi returned he would immediately understand what had happened… Well, might as well burn it later.

An awkward silence filled the carriage. The two people each in a corner, neither speaking. No gentle tender affection after ordinary lovers’ intimacy, no soft pillow talk, because there was too much to consider—they really didn’t know what to say.

Gong Yin’s eyelashes slightly lowered, sitting cross-legged to one side, seemingly contemplating something with grave expression. In the darkness he seemed like a statue suddenly removed from human warmth.

Jing Hengbo silently watched him, sighing in her heart. Even at this point, was he still unwilling to speak of his unspeakable difficulty?

Would he rather play dumb, not pierce through the pretense, than give her clarity?

Between her and him, sometimes it felt like there were no obstacles—one could step right across. But that transparent barrier was there, impossible to cross no matter what. Worse still, she had never been certain what exactly that barrier was.

Across from her, Gong Yin suddenly took out a small bottle from his chest and placed it on the ground.

Jing Hengbo’s gaze contracted. Without speaking, she expressed her question with her eyes.

But Gong Yin also seemed unable to speak, turning his face away. His face was bathed in half-moonlight from the window, snow-white and bloodless.

“A great mistake has been made…” he said. “This is… a remedy.”

Jing Hengbo’s eyebrows shot up sharply.

What did he mean!

In his view, was consummating their marriage bond truly a great mistake?

Even setting aside this bastard statement for now—what did “remedy” mean?

She absolutely dared not think this was fertility medicine. Under normal circumstances, this was probably equivalent to a modern scumbag pulling out a check after the deed or offering a morning-after pill—flowering was fine, but bearing fruit wasn’t his responsibility.

He dared say this!

He dared be such a scumbag!

Jing Hengbo felt her hair standing on end. That incredible, unacceptable feeling made raging fire suddenly blaze in her chest. She sat up abruptly, grabbed the pillow and threw it, smashing it into his face with a bang.

Gong Yin didn’t dodge. The pillow hit his face with a dull thud. Fortunately Yu Zhi enjoyed luxury—this was a long round soft pillow, not a porcelain one, or Jing Hengbo would have ruined his face with this blow.

Gong Yin’s fingers sank deeply into the pillow—Jing Hengbo wasn’t a hysterical person. She rarely solved problems through tantrum-throwing like smashing things. This blow was delivered without any restraint, showing extreme rage.

He opened his mouth wanting to say something, then suddenly turned his face away again.

Jing Hengbo had already stood up, staring at him intensely with burning eyes, not saying a word but pressing with her gaze.

But that person—that person’s heat had receded, returning to the cold and hardness of distant mountains and deep snow. His averted face showed no expression, with elegant and resolute lines.

He didn’t want to speak.

He wouldn’t speak.

This realization flooded Jing Hengbo’s mind, and in that instant she nearly despaired.

Why? Why were things that came naturally and smoothly to others so difficult and inexplicable for her?

Meeting someone so full of secrets, awkward and reserved—had she, Jing Hengbo, hit Heaven with stones in her previous life?

The carriage was silent as death, only the echo of two people’s breathing—one slightly suppressed and rapid, one desperately suppressed and drawn out.

This silence was like a cage, making one want to punch through barriers, kick apart shackles, grab all those frustrations and smash them hard into Dahuang’s swamps.

Jing Hengbo’s rapid, scattered breathing took quite a while to slightly settle. She bent down and picked up that bottle.

Gong Yin didn’t look, didn’t move. A flash of bitter pain crossed his eyes.

Weighing the bottle in her palm and looking at it, Jing Hengbo chuckled coldly and flicked her finger.

The bottle flew out the window, shattering on stone with a crisp crash.

With a “whoosh” the curtain was yanked up fiercely, then heavily dropped. Jing Hengbo’s figure had disappeared.

Gong Yin remained sitting motionless.

Dawn’s first light had quietly crept up the carriage window.

His profile bathed in morning light, his eyes, floated with scattered crystalline glints.

…

After running several li at high speed, Jing Hengbo finally somewhat calmed the anger in her chest.

At this time the sun began to rise, light spreading from the horizon. Watching darkness swept away inch by inch, grass tips lit one by one by sunlight, that golden light igniting from the edge of vision, connecting with the gorgeous to wild red dawn clouds at the sky’s edge.

This was a beautiful to magnificent scene, most capable of cleansing the heart’s dust, yet it couldn’t sweep away the gloom in her heart.

She wandered aimlessly in circles on the wilderness, unwilling to return to camp, unwilling to see anyone. In the distance she could always see that magnificently huge and shocking carriage palace, stabbing her eyes, impossible to remove or wash away.

That was truly the memorial of her and him being together, and at the end he had given her the worst possible conclusion.

Her mind blank, she circled around in confusion over and over, then suddenly stopped.

Ahead, under an old tree, stood a straight figure.

Jing Hengbo only needed a glance to confirm that was Nan Jin. The Dragon family’s bearing was very distinctive.

She had been circling in this area, and hadn’t seen Nan Jin before, so Nan Jin had been in the tree all along?

When had she come?

Jing Hengbo’s heart jumped. She flashed to nearby, hiding in the long grass, and saw Nan Jin covered in dew, even her hair wet.

She had been facing the direction of that carriage palace all along.

Jing Hengbo finally understood—Nan Jin had been here all night, in this tree, guarding that carriage.

She should be protecting Gong Yin, right? Under such stars and such night, standing in wind and dew at midnight for her lord.

While Jing Hengbo secretly had a headache that everything last night had been seen by this woman, she began to be curious about the true relationship between this woman and Gong Yin.

She had originally thought they were cousins, but could cousins go this far?

The long grass suddenly rustled. Jing Hengbo narrowed her eyes. In the direction of the rising sun, a figure suddenly appeared, parting grass to find the path.

Nan Jin’s back obviously straightened more—this was an instinctive reaction of alertness or respect.

Jing Hengbo crouched lower. She had a feeling the other party was Dragon family.

Since Gong Yin had returned to the Dragon family, Dragon family members should be nearby. If she wanted to know Gong Yin’s secrets, perhaps she could start with these people.

With the tree blocking and Nan Jin in the way, she couldn’t see who the other person was, only sensing it was an elderly man with a deep voice and slow speech.

The two first exchanged a few sentences—indeed Dragon family members, all mutual greetings. Then that elder asked about Gong Yin.

“How is the family head?”

“Well.” Nan Jin answered emotionlessly, making Jing Hengbo doubt her own suspicions again.

“Why are you here?”

“The family head is nearby.”

The elder’s gaze fell on the carriage, taking several long looks at the carriage’s gorgeous and alluring decorations. “Why is he in the carriage?”

Nan Jin always answered flatly yet righteously: “Don’t know.”

The elder seemed unable to do anything with her, pausing before saying: “Last time I told you to kill that woman—why didn’t you succeed?”

Jing Hengbo’s gaze jumped.

Nan Jin didn’t answer.

The elder’s tone grew cold, saying icily: “You’ve followed our Dragon family for years, most understanding of priorities and consequences. How can you be so foolish!”

Nan Jin still didn’t answer, slightly turning her head to look at that carriage.

This seemingly hard woman only at this moment had gentle, moist eyes, faintly gleaming with crystalline light.

Jing Hengbo saw such a gaze and was shocked.

The elder’s voice grew angrier.

“This matter is not up to the family head, nor up to you indulging the family head! You’ve also gone mad—don’t you know this equally concerns your life!”

Jing Hengbo frowned. Concerns lives? What matter? Also, what did “equally” mean?

Nan Jin remained silent throughout. This woman was worthy of the Dragon family—at crucial moments, using silence to resist all questioning, offering no explanations.

The elder pointed at that carriage: “Who was he with last night?”

“…”

“No matter who, kill her!”

Nan Jin finally spoke: “Go tell the family head yourself.”

“You!” The elder choked with anger, paused, then after a long moment suddenly sighed heavily, softening his tone.

“Mingzhu, I know you appear proud but are actually kind-hearted, unwilling to make things difficult for others or create more killing. But this matter is ordained by Heaven—willfulness isn’t allowed. The consequence of willfulness is equally harming the family head. You’re not unaware that we’ve spent twenty years tempering your bloodline and can almost confirm that if you and he are together, future offspring very likely won’t inherit our disease. You should know how important this is! Whether the Dragon family continues or revives depends on you! Remember, he can only be with you. For the Dragon family to continue healthy bloodlines and escape the century-long bloodline nightmare, he can only choose you! Your concession means conceding the family head’s life, your life, and my entire Dragon family’s future—given how much more toxicity and torment the family head has endured, if he doesn’t choose you and is with anyone other than you, future bloodlines will all be tragedy!”

Jing Hengbo’s eyes suddenly widened.