A torrent falls straight down thirty inches, a stomach full of acid waters splashes on robes and boots.

The acid water vomited by Her Majesty the Queen splashed simultaneously onto the boots of the three “future royal husbands,” and the three men reacted very differently.

One man stepped back with large strides, reacting agilely. His red robe flashed and he was already three zhang away.

Pei Shu glared at this man most fiercely.

One man didn’t move at all, letting the acid water splash and dirty his pristine white clothes, standing like a stone sculpture without any feeling.

Pei Shu’s gaze turned to this man with three parts mockery and three parts coldness.

The last one wore comfortable apricot-colored robes, and his actions were also gentle. He neither jumped away abruptly nor stood motionless, but slightly turned his body to shield Jing Hengbo from the wind, smiling: “There’s wind here, Your Majesty must not catch cold.”

Then he offered a handkerchief—light blue in color with a faint pleasant fragrance. Jing Hengbo found the scent very comfortable. She never coldly refused kind gestures, so she reached out to take it, but Pei Shu suddenly blocked her, frowning: “What scent is on this handkerchief?”

The Fushui tribe members all felt somewhat embarrassed, but the other party remained smiling and composed, saying gently: “Yes. It’s scented with kudzu flower juice. Kudzu flowers are sweet and mild in nature, awakening the spleen and stomach, harmonizing the five qi. It should be beneficial for Your Majesty at this moment.” He paused and added with a smile, “I am a renowned physician.”

The Fushui Grand Minister beside them hurriedly introduced: “Master Si Rongming is the descendant of our Fushui tribe’s Medical Saint. Your Majesty and Young Marshal have surely heard of our Fushui Medical Saint. Master Si has profound family learning, practices medicine throughout the world, has a benevolent physician’s heart, and has saved countless lives. He is the new generation Medical Saint revered by everyone in our Fushui tribe…”

Jing Hengbo was still retching, supporting herself with both hands on her legs, while thinking that she seemed to have heard of this Medical Saint’s reputation. It was probably mentioned when discussing Fushui tribe’s gurgling disease. Though Fushui tribe’s “Void Marsh” had strengthening effects, it conflicted with some people’s constitutions, especially those with superior living conditions who ate too well, making them more prone to gurgling problems. Fushui nobility suffered greatly from this. It was probably this Medical Saint who spent his life studying intensively, changing gurgling into hiccupping, rescuing the Fushui nobility from dire straits, thus earning great reverence and high status in Fushui.

Jing Hengbo felt this invention really needn’t have been made—gurgling was at least confined to one’s own stomach, but hiccupping meant others had to smell it…

That young Medical Saint truly seemed like a gentleman. Seeing she was still vomiting, he immediately took out a pill from his sleeve pouch and offered it gently: “This is an anti-vomiting pill, specially for regulating stomach meridians, containing ginseng, white atractylodes, licorice, dried ginger, cloves…”

He seemed afraid Pei Shu would ask again, so this time he listed all the ingredients. But it was useless—Pei Shu’s hand reached over again in a vicious gesture ready to knock the pill away.

But Jing Hengbo’s shoe suddenly stepped hard on Pei Shu’s boot. Her ladyship was currently wearing her high heels, and this step penetrated three inches into wood. Pei Shu’s handsome face suddenly twisted.

Taking advantage of his twist, Jing Hengbo had already raised her head and quickly took the medicine, smiling: “Thank you, Master Si…”

Just as she opened her mouth and saw that man’s face clearly, she couldn’t help but be startled.

The man opposite was tall and gentle, with elegant bearing. When he smiled, the feeling was somehow three parts familiar.

Jing Hengbo blinked and looked at the other two. The youngest wore red robes—the one who had jumped away quickly and gracefully earlier. He had jet-black hair that could reflect images and equally jet-black eyes, so black they seemed slightly blue, with a face of distinct angles. At first glance, he actually seemed somewhat familiar. Jing Hengbo turned to look at Pei Shu, whose expression became increasingly displeased—nothing looked right to him.

Jing Hengbo seemed to understand, feeling somewhat amused and somewhat annoyed. Looking again at that ice sculpture-like motionless man—dressed in white brocade, with a snow-white face and pointed chin, eyes of a pale color, facial lines that seemed overly tense and thus appeared somewhat artificially stiff, but still undeniably a very outstanding handsome man.

Of course, compared to that prototype, he fell far short.

Jing Hengbo sighed—did even the hiccupping Fushui tribe now know about her romantic history?

Though all three faces were unfamiliar, their manner, dress, and temperament vaguely resembled Yelu Qi, Pei Shu, and Gong Yin. Of course, in front of the real people, there was no comparison—they only had a hint of that charm. For instance, that red-clothed youth whose expression and temperament somewhat resembled Pei Shu was obviously much more immature than Pei Shu, even having a pimple on his chin.

Fushui tribe had clearly put in effort, but they didn’t know that this might not please her, but was more likely to first anger a certain demon lord.

That red-clothed youth had initially been quite imposing, but when truly confronting Pei Shu with his battle-tested bloodthirsty aura and overwhelming killing intent, that deliberately assumed arrogant air seemed insufficient. His gaze darted left and right, dodging uncertainly.

That white-clothed man also hadn’t grasped the true essence of being an “iceberg,” only knowing to stand there stiffly selling his looks, occasionally glancing at Jing Hengbo with a hint of greed in his eyes. Jing Hengbo felt like she’d swallowed a fly. She disliked people imitating Gong Yin, and even more disliked this degraded imitation.

If Gong Yin’s grace could be easily cloned, then she, Jing Hengbo, would be free—why would she be so unable to let go?

Her gaze finally turned to Si Rongming. To be fair, he was the most pleasing to look at among the three. His appearance had the least connection to Yelu Qi, his looks could only be considered average, and his temperament was far from Yelu’s mysterious elegance, but his tone and attitude when speaking always reminded her of Yelu.

Most importantly, he knew medicine.

Across from her, the Fushui Grand Minister’s smile carried some hope and some unease as he said again: “These three… hic… are our Fushui’s carefully selected… hic… most carefully chosen outstanding men. There are none better than them…”

Jing Hengbo met his expectant gaze and suddenly understood.

My goodness, they had come out fifty li to meet her and were rushing to present the best handsome men from their tribe to prevent her from actually entering Fushui!

Look, Your Ladyship is here to select a harem. Now the best are all presented here for you, so please don’t bother coming in!

Who knew what unseemly business Fushui tribe was currently engaged in—perhaps busy digging pits to bury people, afraid of being trapped by this professional troublemaker?

Jing Hengbo had always been a good-tempered woman. The greatest advantage of good-tempered women was not deliberately opposing others. Honestly, she currently had no mood to go to Fushui tribe either—she seemed to have stomach problems lately and couldn’t handle either gurgling or hiccupping.

The Grand Minister across from her was still smiling expectantly, looking rather pitifully hopeful. Jing Hengbo chuckled and said: “Since the best are all here, I need not go to Fushui tribe for now… These three outstanding gentlemen…”

Seeing the flash of delighted surprise in the opposing ministers’ eyes, Jing Hengbo’s feeling of “there’s something fishy here” became even stronger, but her stomach was really uncomfortable at the moment, so she had no mind to speculate.

“…are all quite good, but not quite suitable for me, so…”

Before she finished speaking, she saw Pei Shu’s raised eyebrows and the sudden tension in the Fushui ministers’ expressions.

Only then did Jing Hengbo remember that people were being cautious of her. If she didn’t accept any of them, they would feel uneasy, probably worrying she might sneak in to cause trouble like before. Why torment these seemingly honest old folks?

So she very kindly looked again at the three men. Pei Shu’s sidelong glance watched her eyes. Seeing her glance quickly past the red-clothed youth, his expression immediately brightened somewhat.

Seeing her show no reaction to the white-clothed man either, Pei Shu’s brow suddenly furrowed.

Finally, Jing Hengbo pointed at Si Rongming and smiled: “Master Si is skilled in medicine. My forces are precisely lacking such talent, and I would like to request Master Si’s assistance.”

With these words, the Fushui tribe greatly relaxed, their faces showing joy.

The Queen had finally accepted one!

The Queen’s first prospective royal husband was from Fushui tribe—this was tremendously significant!

The Fushui ministers were overjoyed, just preparing to respectfully escort the Queen to her carriage and send her away, when the Queen suddenly gazed toward the distant Fushui mountains and waters, saying wistfully: “Actually, I still very much yearn for Fushui tribe’s wonderful scenery. I hear Fushui’s ‘Void Marsh’ is quite magical…”

The smiling faces immediately turned to crying faces.

The Fushui Grand Minister, who had just exhaled in relief, almost couldn’t catch his next breath.

He had no choice but to turn back again, carefully attending to her, repeatedly hinting. The Queen’s face remained full of longing for Fushui’s mountains and waters, making the ministers sweat profusely with endless hiccupping. Finally, under the quietly earnest inquiries of the suddenly inspired Grand Minister, the Queen finally indicated that if she could receive Fushui tribe’s court’s unconditional strong support, funding assistance for the vigorous development of women’s chain shopping centers in Fushui’s royal capital and throughout the realm, unconditional development and utilization rights to Fushui’s ‘Void Marsh,’ and a promise not to obstruct any future mutual trade requirements between countries and tribes for women’s shopping centers, she might be satisfied and no longer disturb the respected royal family of Fushui.

Two hours later, Her Majesty the Queen finally departed with a beaming face, leading her vast procession, waving reluctantly as she walked. The Fushui ministers lined the road to see her off, their fake smiles unable to hide their dark expressions—Her Majesty the Queen was truly shameless!

Important things bear repeating three times.

Shameless! Shameless! Shameless!

…

They detoured toward Luoyun.

Because it was a sudden change of route, Jing Hengbo feared encountering the same situation as with Fushui—being met dozens of li away and facing the same dilemma of whether to proceed or leave. If everyone used this tactic, would she even be able to continue her inspections? So this time she simply didn’t notify Luoyun tribe, planning to knock on their door upon arrival.

She now had a clear understanding of her reputation—even before retaking Dige, she had gone everywhere causing trouble, getting countless people killed. Now as Queen, she still hadn’t changed her ways. Upon reaching Yu Kingdom, she had gotten Yu Guangting killed, and this time just brushing past Fushui, she had ruthlessly fleeced them again. Probably as soon as she turned around, another entry would be added to the Queen’s evil reputation—Jing the Skin-Peeler.

Jing Hengbo counted on her fingers, calculating the possibility of realizing that grand plan in the future, and silently sighed.

Dahuang’s structure was unique. For so many years, though the Six Kingdoms and Eight Tribes formally submitted to Dige, paying annual tribute and acknowledging vassalage before the throne, they were actually politically independent. After years of development, they had become nations unto themselves. To fight meant facing fourteen hostile forces; not to fight meant watching helplessly as the country became scattered sand. In the long run, with accumulated problems becoming irreversible, “unification” was definitely not an easy matter.

Such a self-limiting structure was very disadvantageous for Dige’s rulers, but provided opportunities for others lurking in the wilderness. The founding Empress had established such a structure entirely because she knew her throne couldn’t be passed to her children—future queens wouldn’t be from her family. So she sent her children away from Dige to lie dormant and wait, using this nation-splitting strategy to isolate Dige and weaken the power of successive queens and state preceptors, lest some generation produce true capable rulers and her family descendants could never fight their way back into Dige or reclaim the throne.

Of course, though her arrangements made it possible for the periphery to surround the center, with so many nations developing over generations, whether things would go as she wished after many generations, whether the periphery could still feasibly defeat the center, were all unknowns. But the founding Empress was confident—how could her descendants fail to reclaim the Dahuang she had single-handedly created?

The founding Empress was a remarkable person with far-sighted plans that extended hundreds of years into the future. But humans were still human—how could she have calculated that hundreds of years later, a Jing Hengbo would fall from the sky?

This woman who wasn’t her descendant had miraculously walked the path she had planned—from center to periphery, then from periphery back to center, grasping real power before infiltrating from center to periphery again, aiming for true unification of Dahuang.

Perhaps fate had its own omens. For instance, that imperial diagram on silk that had once made the Empress vomit blood—many years later, it might make her vomit blood again…

Regarding unification concepts, Jing Hengbo had previously discussed this issue with Gong Yin. They both felt that if not adopting the hardline policy of conquering one nation after another, they would need to make the Six Kingdoms and Eight Tribes militarily constrained, economically dependent, and politically checked, gradually bringing control of powerful military, economic, and political forces back to Dige.

Gong Yin’s original hostage system was actually a preliminary measure for political constraint. If Jing Hengbo hadn’t come and he had successfully become male emperor, perhaps unification would have followed. But Jing Hengbo came, the great enterprise was shelved, love and hate became entangled, and his life’s trajectory was ultimately changed for her. He abandoned that massive chariot of Dige, no longer caring where it would head.

And she had taken up the reins controlling the horse, once also wanting to abandon them and leave. Finally, she understood that power was life’s guarantee.

Sunlight was fragmented by the swaying carriage, rippling golden light across her face. Jing Hengbo sat very steadily—she could now sit steady wherever she was.

The vomiting from a few days ago had immediately disappeared after those Fushui ministers left, which firmly convinced her that she had been completely nauseated by those tonsils. Therefore, she declined Master Si’s requests to take her pulse and prescribe medicine.

Within a few days, her life became lively. Seven Kills had arrived, accompanied by Feifei, Er Gouzi, and Yong Xue. Since the Queen was openly touring, various favorites could now be brought along openly.

Jing Hengbo’s days immediately became unbearably annoying. Every day she either heard Seven Kills competing for favor, or Er Gouzi reciting lewd poetry, or Feifei violently beating Er Gouzi—screams harmonizing with bird songs, premium companions and weirdos all the same color.

Noisy as it was, it was also lively. Jing Hengbo had been somewhat drowsy lately. Once she collapsed on her bed, she let them make noise as they pleased. She heard that Yi Qi and Pei Shu had found common ground and established a “Talent Show Review Committee,” swearing and cursing to collect all of Dahuang’s most outstanding men for the Queen to accept (kill) into (off completely) her harem.

Sounds outside suddenly became clamorous. Jing Hengbo lifted the curtain to look—indeed, they were approaching Luoyun tribe’s border. Not wanting to be too ostentatious, she ordered the four thousand guards to stay behind the carriages at some distance, with the other carriages carrying attendants in front.

The carriage couldn’t go much further before stopping. Seven Kills chaotically jumped down from the carriage, joyfully saying: “Blocked! Blocked!”

Jing Hengbo poked her head out to look—crowds of people swarmed ahead in clusters, doing who knows what.

Seven Kills always got excited when encountering crowds. After a frantic squeeze, Wu Shan approached with a solemn expression: “Amitabha, Luoyun tribe’s men are setting up arena matches, competing for the right to go to the capital for talent selection. Praise be, what a group of crooked melons and cracked dates.”

Jing Hengbo uttered an “Ah?” and stared dumbfounded at the noisy crowds outside—was it really necessary?

Only after sending people to inquire did she learn that Luoyun tribe was also selecting future royal husbands, but using a progressive screening system. Because Luoyun tribe assumed the Queen would visit Fushui tribe first, they weren’t in a hurry and calmly ordered each prefecture and county to conduct preliminary selections. They also didn’t limit numbers, which made things big. Crowds surged, prefectures and counties were overwhelmed, and since these people gathered for the same purpose, disputes and conflicts were inevitable. Large and small fights broke out constantly. Near Luoyun’s border, one prefecture with particularly fierce local customs frequently had bloody incidents. Finally, the prefect helplessly ordered a limit on the number going to the capital—only three from this prefecture. No arena would be set, these “talents” would compete privately among themselves. Except for no maiming or killing, everything else depended on ability. Whoever finally stood before the prefect would be sent to the capital!

This was law of the jungle. It immediately caused a massive brawl that left everyone badly injured, secretly pleasing the prefect—local customs were fierce with many martial artists who were difficult to manage, causing headaches for years. Now that a batch had been beaten down, it saved much trouble—long live the Queen!

Fighting to the end, these “future royal husbands” also couldn’t take it anymore. A great local hero stepped forward to mediate, agreeing to stop fighting. Each person would set up displays to show their skills, with local people voting. The top three vote-getters would stand before the prefect. This gained most people’s approval.

Now was the new round of performing and vote-soliciting stage. Those clusters of crowds were individual talent display circles, busy campaigning for votes.

Hearing this, Jing Hengbo became interested and immediately got down from the carriage to take a closer look. She used a low-key carriage without displaying Queen’s ceremonial procession, and dressed normally. Those displaying talents and soliciting votes were all sweating profusely—no one noticed her.

Jing Hengbo looked around. Most were displaying martial arts. She kept shaking her head—what use were martial masters?

A few circles displayed other things, but had noticeably weaker popularity. Among them, one hung a banner for “Master of Apricot Grove Medicine.” Jing Hengbo’s eyes lit up as she squeezed into that circle, seeing a man about thirty with a goat beard, thin long face, half-closed eyes, and an air of being an expert.

Jing Hengbo immediately felt respectful—though a bit ugly, he really looked like a medical master!

She momentarily forgot that people were performing for votes to become her husband, and hurriedly joined the queue. She saw a bunch of aunties and grannies ahead describing various ailments and hidden pains with tears streaming down. That man remained expressionless throughout, half-opening and half-closing his eyes, seeming to listen but not listen. When finished, he neither prescribed medicine nor explained medical principles, just grabbed something from a porcelain bowl beside him, wrapped it in white paper, and handed it over, saying indifferently: “Medicine will cure the disease,” then waved them away.

Jing Hengbo’s eyes shone as brightly as the aunties’—this attitude was different from others, truly having the bearing of a divine physician. But why did everyone get the same medicine? And why did the stuff in that bowl look like incense ash?

Finally her turn came. Jing Hengbo smiled politely, hadn’t even sat down to describe her symptoms when that doctor who had been looking at people sideways suddenly opened his eyes wide.

A clump of eye discharge stuck to his eye corner fell down with his effort to open his eyes wide.

Pei Shu stood far away with crossed arms, saying to Yi Qi: “This kind of trash dares to participate? Is he insulting the Queen or insulting us? Later we’ll make him eat eye discharge!”

“And foot skin!” Yi Qi righteously declared.

“Let’s go soak our feet!” Seven Kills whooshed away.

Before they finished talking, Jing Hengbo suddenly jumped up, raised her foot, and with a crash kicked over that “famous doctor’s” stall.

“This kind of trash dares to participate! Insulting! Insulting! Yi Qi…” She turned to see Yi Qi, rolling her eyes while still thinking of punishment methods. Yi Qi had already quickly said: “Make him eat eye discharge mixed with foot skin, plus one tael of arsenic and one tael of crane’s crest red!”

“Thumbs up!” Jing Hengbo angrily strode away, muttering something as she walked. Yi Qi heartlessly went to prepare foot skin, while Pei Shu quietly followed.

Then he heard the Queen walking and angrily cursing.

“Quack doctor!”

“Idiot!”

“Thought he actually had some ability!”

“Damn it, actually said I’m a virgin!”

…

Thunder struck Young Marshal Pei from the sky.

The Young Marshal froze in place for a quarter hour, not even noticing when the Queen walked away.

After a quarter hour, he jumped up like being pricked by needles, slapped his ear hard, and strode back.

“Fought too many battles when young, damaged my ears. I mishear everything!”

…

Jing Hengbo angrily walked out and suddenly stopped.

Ahead under a willow tree, there was actually another solitary stall, but since there wasn’t a single person in front of it, she had overlooked it.

A local villager walked past her. Jing Hengbo grabbed him and asked: “Old sir, why doesn’t that one over there have any fans?”

The other person probably understood her meaning, looked over there, and his expression immediately became somewhat fearful, vigorously shaking his head: “Unlucky, unlucky, can’t touch, can’t touch!”

After speaking, he broke free and ran, deliberately avoiding that stall. Not only that old man, but other villagers also stayed far away from that stall, avoiding it like the plague.

Jing Hengbo looked at that fellow—though dressed as a scholar, his clothes were shabby and somewhat dirty, his hair messily tied up, face pale and thin with prominent cheekbones, looking completely down and out, though not very old.

Looking at the sign hanging above his head, Jing Hengbo almost laughed out loud.

“Reading qi and divination, finding dragon veins and auspicious sites, medicine and astrology, astronomy and geography—all matters under heaven, all mysteries of the universe, are within my breast.”

Such boastful words!

Saying “Unrivaled in Apricot Grove” or claiming “I know all astrology,” Jing Hengbo might still believe, but this fellow’s bragging was a bit too much, wasn’t it?

Each of these studies was vast and profound, requiring a lifetime of dedicated study to glimpse their depths. A young brat dared to boast that all were within his breast—was that breast 42F?

Like that previous “famous doctor,” was he desperate enough to trick old ladies to fill his stomach? Tricking old ladies was one thing, but wanting to trick her, the Queen? Would the half-jin of foot skin plus arsenic feast that Seven Kills prepared be enough?

Jing Hengbo felt inexplicably irritated—one after another, inferior goods dared to covet her harem!

She laughed mockingly and strode over. Before taking two steps, someone stopped her: “Miss, can’t go, can’t go there!”

“Why?” Jing Hengbo blinked.

“Unlucky, that person is unlucky! On his first day sitting there, he looked at three people, and three people… all died!”

“Oh?” Jing Hengbo smiled even more happily. Interesting.

“Is that so… Thank you, old sir, then I’ll…” She turned around, then turned back with a charming expression, “definitely have to go see!”

Whoosh—she appeared in front of that desolate stall.

That fellow was looking down, muttering to himself, seemingly calculating something. Jing Hengbo vaguely heard: “Due south, favorable for nobles, great fortune.”

She looked back—due south was a row of willow trees with not a single shadow.

Great fortune? She smiled showing white teeth. Soon he’d know how unreliable his fortune-telling skills were.

There were two stools in front of the stall. She dragged one over to sit down, knocked on the table: “Hey, Master, tell a fortune.”

That person looked up as if awakened, casually glanced at her, suddenly frowned: “Eh, your qi…”

“Purple qi comes from the east?” Jing Hengbo smiled, thinking if he really came up with this line, she’d slap him hard.

“No.” That fellow was shaking his head. “I can’t see your life qi…”

Jing Hengbo twitched her mouth corner—all fraudsters were like this, the more mysterious they sounded, the more they could fool people.

“You can really read qi?”

That fellow quickly glanced at his sign, and his pale face suddenly flushed red, stammering: “Ashamed… I actually only know how to read qi…”

“Then?” Jing Hengbo looked at that sign listing many skills.

“A friend’s suggestion…” That fellow hung his head even lower, almost under the table. “Really haven’t had a full meal in several days…”

Jing Hengbo was somewhat surprised—this fellow was quite honest. Giving him a full meal later wouldn’t hurt, but no matter how honest, trying to trick people into being her royal husband was unacceptable.

Seeing this chaotic “talent show,” she was already prepared to properly discipline these overreaching fellows, otherwise facing such “handsome men” daily would tire her to death if not anger her to death.

“So what did you see?” Jing Hengbo curled her lip.

“This…” That fellow looked even more ashamed, taking a long while before saying: “Actually, what I’m best at is reading life and death…”

He seemed very shy. Except for the first glance at Jing Hengbo, he never looked at her again.

“How do you read life and death?”

That fellow’s expression was quite dejected.

“That is, I can clearly distinguish between people’s life qi and death qi. Those with short lifespans have blue-black qi above their heads. Those with serious illnesses have blue-black with white. My luck was bad—on my first day here, I encountered three consecutive people who all had blue-black head qi. When I spoke out, they smashed my stall. Turning back, all three died. Now it’s worse—no one pays attention to me anymore…” He smiled bitterly.

Jing Hengbo thought he was making it sound real—fine, let her hear more of his nonsense.

“What does life qi mean?”

“…I can also see overlapping life qi. Simply put, I can tell if women are pregnant…” Before that fellow finished speaking, he suddenly pointed ahead, saying with some nervousness: “I see another blue-black death qi!”

He was somewhat emotionally unstable, his voice a bit loud. Jing Hengbo turned back to see several carriages stopped behind that row of willow trees due south.

The people in the carriages seemed to have heard the noise here but made no movement. All those carriages were silent. That qi-reading fellow stared at the carriages, suddenly sweating profusely.

“I must be ruined, I must be ruined…” he said in panic. “So many carriages with so many people, all have blue-black with white qi! But their life qi is very vigorous! How can there be so many seriously ill people near death! How can seriously ill people near death still have vigorous life qi? I must be wrong. Ten years of study, all wasted, all wasted…” He babbled almost neurotically, quickly standing to pack up his table and stools, his emotions severely agitated, nearly tripping over his own stool.

A pair of hands gently pressed his sleeve. This poor scholar looked up to see Jing Hengbo gazing at the carriages in profile.

At this moment he noticed this woman’s eyes were very strange—cold laughter, joy, excitement, unease… all combined. That expression seeming somewhat disgusted yet slightly excited, with excitement containing several parts melancholy and helplessness, while her eyes emitted cat-like bright light, quite moving.

He stared somewhat dumbfounded, then heard Jing Hengbo say: “Don’t lose heart yet. Perhaps… you’re right.”

He was startled, then saw the curtain of the first carriage lift and someone get out.

Just one look at that person left him stunned.

Another look at that person’s bearing and divine grace, and he was stunned again, suddenly feeling ashamed and wanting to shrink into the dust.

Before such a peak of snowy mountains and moonface, people naturally felt polluted.

Then this poor scholar saw that man’s first glance after getting out wasn’t at him, but at the beautiful woman before him.

That momentary look also left him somewhat dazed.

But Jing Hengbo had already turned her face away.

Gong Yin looked at her, but she wouldn’t look at him. Seeing Gong Yin approach and sit down at this small stall, she even dragged her stool further aside.

Gong Yin glanced at her, also expressing helplessness at this woman’s neurotic attitude.

Wanting to sleep when she wanted to sleep, wanting to throw things away when she wanted to—when had he not noticed she was so moody before? Tyrannical like a despot.

But somehow, compared to that somewhat clingy and charming woman from before, this current unpredictable tyrant always made him want to look at her more.

He looked at her, but she stubbornly wouldn’t look at him, yet didn’t leave either, supporting her cheek with one hand, sitting sideways with her back to him.

Gong Yin could only pretend not to know her, saying only to the poor scholar: “Sir just mentioned blue-black death qi. I would like to hear details.”

That scholar’s expression changed, looking at him carefully several more times, his face showing even thicker amazement, muttering lowly: “Your qi should have died long ago…”

He thought others couldn’t hear, but both Gong Yin and Jing Hengbo heard clearly. Gong Yin glanced at Jing Hengbo, seeing her motionless, sighed inwardly, then pointed to the carriages outside: “What does sir see regarding the others in the carriages? Are there signs of qi transformation?”

That scholar stood on tiptoe looking over there, inadvertently sweeping his gaze over Jing Hengbo’s head, paused, rubbed his eyes, looked carefully again, then suddenly exclaimed joyfully: “Oh my, this young lady, I just now saw clearly—you have overlapping life qi above your head. You must have good news…”