The fake State Preceptor spent his last half day at Quiet Courtyard very peacefully.

He stayed in the study the entire time, faithfully performing his final duties. Only before dinner did he walk outside to feed little Yinyin.

That alpaca had grown quite large and was very affectionate when it saw him. Recently, this alpaca had been fed by him. There were always guards watching nearby, with food prepared by others—the fake State Preceptor only stood outside the pen throwing feed into the basin.

Today he asked the guard for a brush and groomed the alpaca’s fur. This wasn’t an excessive request. The guard brought the brush, and the fake State Preceptor brushed off much of the alpaca’s fine hair. Today the alpaca seemed somewhat restless and kept trying to bite his sleeve hem while being groomed. The fake State Preceptor smiled with slight reluctance, stroking its head and saying softly: “I won’t be able to groom you anymore in the future. You’re reluctant to part with me too, aren’t you?”

A palace servant in charge of the alpaca came over and led it away—it was time for the evening walk.

The fake State Preceptor stepped aside and watched until the alpaca left his sight before slowly walking back.

The guards watched from the side, thinking it was normal to feel some reluctance after feeding the alpaca for so long.

Night clouds drifted and stars flickered faintly. Another ordinary night arrived. Both Jade Illumination Palace and Quiet Courtyard were as usual, their towering palace walls half-hidden in darkness. In the distance, guard teams with lanterns patrolled back and forth, their lights dim, unable to illuminate the vast palace grounds.

A lantern swayed gently in Meng Hu’s hand, followed by someone completely shrouded in wide robes.

With Chief Commander Meng personally leading the way, patrolling guards wouldn’t approach. Meng Hu walked silently ahead without exiting through Quiet Courtyard’s main gate, instead opening the side door connecting Quiet Courtyard and Jade Illumination Palace.

“Leaving through Quiet Courtyard is too conspicuous,” Meng Hu said quietly to the person behind him. “I’ll still take you through Jade Illumination Palace’s side gate.”

The person behind silently acknowledged with a sound.

The fake State Preceptor had completely changed clothes and been searched to ensure no traces of Quiet Courtyard remained and no weapons were carried.

He maintained that upright posture, even his neck rigid, high collar reaching to his chin. It seemed the period of impersonating Gong Yin had ingrained certain habits deep into his bones that wouldn’t change even upon leaving.

The side door’s lock was somewhat rusted, making squeaking sounds as the key turned. Meng Hu remembered this door used to be unlocked, always half-open for the Queen’s convenience to come and go freely. Thinking this, he seemed to see the charming Queen smiling as she pushed open the side door, bringing pastries to his nose and asking: “Do they smell good? Would the Aloof Emperor like them?”

A trace of smile appeared at Meng Hu’s lips. He felt “Aloof Emperor” was the perfect nickname for his master—the Queen was so good at making up names.

Of course, this thought could only remain in his mind.

Meng Hu quietly sighed. When he saw Jade Illumination Palace’s walls again, a trace of disgust flashed in his eyes.

When would that woman currently occupying the palace get lost?

The side door opened to reveal the former Jing Hengbo’s bedchamber. Despite long-term vacancy, it showed no signs of decay and remained as neat and clean as if inhabited daily.

The fake State Preceptor, shrouded in wide robes, examined that palace chamber with strange light flickering in his eyes.

Meng Hu naturally had no interest in introducing Jade Illumination Palace’s layout and hurried forward with him toward the west side gate.

To reach Jade Illumination Palace’s west side gate, they had to pass the Queen’s bedchamber. From afar, the Queen’s chamber showed no lights, as if already retired for the night.

Meng Hu unconsciously quickened his pace. As they passed the Queen’s chamber entrance, suddenly sharp screaming erupted from inside, followed by chaotic footsteps as if someone was frantically running out.

Meng Hu paused slightly, then a cold smile appeared in his eyes. He didn’t immediately leave but stopped.

When he stopped, he had positioned himself facing both the fake State Preceptor and the Queen’s chamber gate.

“Bang!” The Queen’s chamber gate burst open and someone tumbled out. Before hitting the ground, they let out a scream. The fake State Preceptor was startled and instinctively moved to help, but Meng Hu looked at him and he immediately stopped, even stepping back.

The woman struggled on the ground for a long time without getting up, seeming to have fallen hard. Meng Hu stood watching from afar with mocking eyes, as if he’d been waiting for this scene for a long time.

Commotion came from the courtyard behind the gate, as if others were pursuing.

The woman at the threshold finally raised her head, covered in dust with blood on her forehead. When Meng Hu saw her face clearly, his previously cold, unsurprised expression suddenly changed.

“Aunt Jin?” he said in amazement. “How could it be you?”

He looked at the palace maid, then inside, his expression quite incredulous—he had expected Ming Cheng Queen to rush out. He’d always suspected Ming Cheng Queen and the fake State Preceptor were secretly communicating but couldn’t find evidence. After the master returned, these two became even quieter, but tonight was the last chance to send the fake State Preceptor away. If these two truly colluded, they would definitely struggle tonight, so he deliberately brought the fake State Preceptor past the Queen’s chamber. Who knew the palace door did open and someone did rush out, but it wasn’t the Queen—it was Aunt Jin, a palace maid they’d all known for fifteen years.

Aunt Jin was personally assigned by him to the Queen’s chamber, ostensibly serving but actually monitoring. He was completely confident Aunt Jin wouldn’t be bought off because her entire family was under Quiet Courtyard’s care.

Now it was Aunt Jin who rushed out, truly beyond his expectations.

Aunt Jin had an injury on her forehead but was covering her neck, which bore deep strangulation marks. Meng Hu finally noticed and narrowed his eyes with a flash of sharp light.

Noise came from behind the palace gate. A white-clothed woman rushed out barefoot, followed by a crowd shouting: “Your Majesty! Your Majesty!”

Only now did Meng Hu see that the one pursuing was Ming Cheng. In the chilly spring weather, she wore only a thin white nightgown, collar open, hair loose, feet bare, running with speed and strength inconsistent with her usual delicate manner.

But behind her were the most powerful nannies specially assigned by Gong Yin, who quickly caught up and seized her on the palace path, holding her firmly. Ming Cheng abandoned her usual dignity, still struggling in their arms, hair whipping wildly, mouth emitting meaningless sharp screams.

“What’s wrong with her?” Meng Hu asked somewhat shocked.

Aunt Jin leaned against the door, coughing violently. After a while, she hoarsely said: “…Her Majesty seems to have gone mad…”

“Mad?” Meng Hu was startled. “Why was this not reported?”

“Because summoning the imperial physician was unsuccessful and we couldn’t confirm the diagnosis. We didn’t dare speak carelessly and wanted to wait until her condition was clear before reporting to you,” Aunt Jin said quietly. “After all, this is a serious matter…”

Meng Hu said nothing. That Ming Cheng Queen wasn’t favored by the State Preceptor was known to everyone. When walls fall, everyone pushes—her difficult days in the palace were natural. Having problems and wanting to summon a physician, the physician wouldn’t come immediately. Without confirmed diagnosis, palace maids indeed wouldn’t dare directly report the Queen’s madness.

“What kind of madness?”

“Usually occurs at midnight… crying, cursing, fighting, grabbing anyone she sees,” Aunt Jin said. “Tonight, don’t know what she ate, but it was especially severe. Look at my neck…”

Meng Hu saw the strangulation marks on her neck, deep red and purple, nearly fatal—definitely not fake.

“Among the palace staff, someone knowledgeable in medicine said Her Majesty’s condition is from accumulated depression in the heart, so…” Aunt Jin breathed with difficulty.

Meng Hu remained silent, waving his hand. The group of women immediately dragged Ming Cheng back. Ming Cheng continued struggling and bouncing, making incomprehensible giggling sounds—unclear if crying or laughing.

Seeing her like this, even though Meng Hu disliked her completely, he couldn’t help feeling somewhat sad and sighed softly: “She brought this upon herself…”

Aunt Jin slowly stood supporting herself against the palace gate. Meng Hu said: “How are you? Should I have an imperial physician examine you?”

“What status am I to trouble an imperial physician?” Aunt Jin waved repeatedly, struggling to stand but seeming weak-legged, swaying as if about to fall.

Meng Hu instinctively stepped forward to support her.

Aunt Jin fell backward, back to Meng Hu, hands toward the sky—a posture that couldn’t threaten Meng Hu at all.

Meng Hu half-crouched, catching her shoulders.

Suddenly a low “click” sounded, and cold lightning shot from Aunt Jin’s collar.

The two were extremely close at this moment. The cold lightning instantly entered his abdomen. Meng Hu groaned and angrily said: “You—”

He didn’t retreat or release his grip, squeezing hard to crush Aunt Jin’s shoulders.

Suddenly wind sounded behind him, lightning-fast. Meng Hu had to abandon the kill, pulling away. Aunt Jin had already flipped up—this previously gasping old palace maid suddenly moved with girl-like agility, wrist turning with a flash of cold light as a sword swept across Meng Hu’s throat.

Blood splattered. Meng Hu’s body paused in mid-air and fell heavily into the flower bushes before the palace gate.

Aunt Jin slowly supported herself up, first closing the half-open palace door to prevent those inside from seeing.

The Queen’s chamber entrance was desolate with few guards, convenient for action.

Before the palace gate, cold moon shone palely. The pale-faced palace maid and fake State Preceptor gazed at each other quietly.

Night concealed many expressions. For a moment neither spoke, moonlight bright and dark in their eyes. Aunt Jin stared intently at the fake State Preceptor and after a while gave a low, cold laugh: “Indeed very similar.”

The fake State Preceptor slowly straightened his collar, inserting an extremely thin dagger back into a specially-made slit in his collar. His clothing imitated Gong Yin’s usual style with naturally high, stiff collars. Adding an extremely thin dagger was completely undetectable.

He said somewhat mockingly: “I hear his collar pearls have special features. Now I add daggers to my collar—how does this compare to his methods?”

Aunt Jin tilted her face sideways and suddenly laughed coldly: “You dare compare yourself to him?”

The fake State Preceptor’s movements paused as he slowly raised his face at an angle—this gesture was also remarkably similar to Gong Yin—and said coldly: “Though you are a queen, I suggest you still show me some respect. After all, you need my cooperation.”

“Aunt Jin” remained silent for a long moment, then laughed softly. This laugh was tender and seductive, no longer the hoarse old woman’s voice but changed to a gentle, timid tone: “You’re right. We’re grasshoppers on the same rope—no need for internal strife. Come, let me look at you.” She beckoned to the fake State Preceptor. “Poor thing, we’ve communicated through the alpaca for so long, but this is our first meeting.”

The fake State Preceptor didn’t approach, only saying flatly: “My name is Zou Zheng.”

“Still better to call you Gong Yin,” she said coquettishly. “After all, you’ll be him in the future.”

“Remember this name, because I’ll eventually return to being myself,” Zou Zheng’s expression grew colder.

The woman smiled faintly, promptly turning away her dismissive look. She reached up to touch her face, took out an extremely thin mask from her bosom, and handed it to Zou Zheng.

Zou Zheng put on the mask—it was remarkably Meng Hu’s face.

The mask was exquisite, clearly made by an expert. Of course, there were subtle differences from the real Meng Hu, but in the dark night under dim light, it was hard to distinguish.

Ming Cheng laughed softly: “Meng Hu saw Aunt Jin come out while Ming Cheng was dragged back, so he relaxed. But he forgot that among the six kingdoms and eight tribes, there’s Yi Kingdom skilled in disguise and face-changing. With Yi Kingdom masks, having Aunt Jin go mad and become Ming Cheng, and Ming Cheng become Aunt Jin—what’s so difficult?”

Zou Zheng glanced at her, retracting some of the disdain in his eyes. Regardless of how he looked down on this queen, she obviously had backing. Being able to obtain Yi Kingdom level masks proved the point.

The conspiring man and woman looked at each other with mutual ulterior motives and smiled.

They had secretly communicated through the alpaca for a long time. Zou Zheng didn’t want to be silenced after completing his role as double. Playing the fake State Preceptor had given him a taste of supreme power ruling the world—no man could resist such ambitious temptation. Initially nervous, then adapting, then obsessed, finally he felt this State Preceptor position should be his. He couldn’t imagine returning to civilian life and adapting to such disparity. He hoped to sit on that throne year after year, day after day, wielding power while awake, resting on beauty’s knees while drunk, overlooking the world.

But under such tight surveillance, there was no opportunity for secret communication or even finding allies. He’d never heard of any court as unified as iron, but Gong Yin achieved it. Even in his absence, everyone faithfully executed all tasks as if he were present. After several failed attempts, he suddenly noticed Ming Cheng Queen.

The Queen’s circumstances were pitiful but made his eyes brighten.

The first secret communication was helped by someone who carved words at the bottom of his washbasin, telling him he could try contacting the Queen. The carved porcelain basin mysteriously broke after he finished washing.

Afterward, he never received any help or hints from this mysterious person. Infiltrating Quiet Courtyard once was probably too difficult, so they could only barely help establish contact once, leaving him to devise other methods.

He thought of the alpaca. Through feeding and grooming opportunities, he first collected alpaca hair, wove it into small bags, hid notes inside, and concealed them in the thick fur under the alpaca’s belly. Initially the notes had no content, but clearly Ming Cheng’s side also received hints. When he touched the alpaca’s belly, he found the small wool bag was gone.

This established contact. They passed messages through the wandering alpaca’s belly. When the young palace servant stopped visiting the Queen’s chamber for a while, both were anxious. Later, the pitiful Queen aroused the young servant’s sympathy, and opportunities for him to walk the alpaca past the Queen’s chamber gradually increased, allowing them to communicate back and forth.

One wanted to avoid being silenced and always remain real instead of fake; one was unwilling to accept trampling treatment and wanted to be the true Queen. They hit it off immediately. But all plans had to wait for Gong Yin’s return. Gong Yin delayed coming back, and they feared complications from delay. Fortunately, Gong Yin finally returned. Before his return, they had already agreed to act at the last moment when the fake State Preceptor was being sent away.

At that time, they couldn’t avoid taking a desperate gamble. At that time, it was also when Gong Yin’s vigilance would be lowest.

Zou Zheng put on Meng Hu’s mask and was about to drag Meng Hu’s corpse from the flower bushes to a more hidden location when lantern light moved in the distance—night patrol guards were passing.

“Let’s go,” Ming Cheng urged quietly. “The key is Gong Yin. As long as we quickly kill Gong Yin, it doesn’t matter if Meng Hu’s corpse is discovered here.”

Zou Zheng nodded, went to search Meng Hu’s body for seals, tokens, and other items, changed into Meng Hu’s clothing, then supported her. Ming Cheng resumed “Aunt Jin’s” old, weak appearance, limping as she followed him toward Quiet Courtyard.

Pale moonlight illuminated Meng Hu lying quietly in the flower bushes.

…

This night’s moonlight was dim and ambiguous, like blurred smudging on a painting scroll, so that even Quiet Courtyard’s lighting was shrouded in haze.

In the secret chamber near the study, a lone lamp still burned—Gong Yin hadn’t rested yet.

Zou Zheng and Aunt Jin returned without any obstruction, entering Quiet Courtyard. Chief Commander Meng had free access to Quiet Courtyard.

Zou Zheng had never entered the secret chamber before—that wasn’t a place he could step foot in. His eyes showed some hesitation. After thinking, he deliberately made his footsteps heavier near the secret chamber.

The door opened and Yu Chun came out. As they passed each other, he bumped Zou Zheng’s shoulder and said quietly: “Be careful. Master’s in a bad mood. Um, who is this?”

He looked at Aunt Jin with examining eyes.

Zou Zheng whispered: “The head maid from Ming Cheng’s side. I brought her to report an important matter to Master. I heard… Ming Cheng has gone mad!”

Yu Chun was stunned, then grinned: “This is really good news. Master should be happier hearing this. Go ahead.”

Zou Zheng watched him hurry away and quietly exhaled, feeling fortunate to pass so easily—Yu Chun and Meng Hu spent the most time together as friends. If he didn’t notice, Gong Yin naturally wouldn’t either.

Glancing back, he saw Ming Cheng’s gloomy expression, knowing she was unhappy about the earlier comment that “Ming Cheng going mad is good news.” He squeezed her hand, indicating she should control her emotions.

Ming Cheng withdrew her hand and turned away. When she turned back, her eyes had returned to calm.

After Yu Chun left, the door remained ajar. Through the half-open door, they could see the white-clothed figure sitting at the desk reading. Under lamplight, Gong Yin was surrounded by cold white, making his dark brows and eyes even more profound.

The two were still three zhang from the door when Gong Yin’s gaze suddenly swept over from above his book.

Zou Zheng’s heart instinctively trembled.

The naturally imposing gaze of one in high authority was sharp and stern, involuntarily making him nervous.

At this moment, Ming Cheng quietly squeezed his hand. Now she appeared calm, lowering her head and eyes in a meek, humble posture.

Inside, seeing it was Meng Hu, Gong Yin’s expression became somewhat peaceful. Zou Zheng met his gaze and hurriedly said respectfully: “Master, this is Aunt Jin, the head maid of the Queen’s chamber. She was just attacked by the Queen in the Queen’s chamber. This subordinate brought her to report the Queen’s condition to Master.”

Having spent day and night with Meng Hu for some time, he had carefully studied this chief commander’s subtle movements, expressions, demeanor, and speech. At this moment, it sounded flawless.

Gong Yin’s gaze swept over Aunt Jin’s face and nodded.

Both quietly squeezed their sleeves.

Throughout their bodies, in hidden places, they each had weapons ready to deal with this legendary most powerful man of the Great Wilderness.

Then they slowly walked forward.

…

The auction continued in full swing.

Jing Hengbo’s mini auction, pulling out one ridiculous character after another, directly infuriated the Yu Kingdom fat people to fainting—whether real or fake fainting, anyway the prince rolled his eyes white while others disheveled carried him away in embarrassment, leaving only one or two people to collect money and buy things. This perfectly fulfilled the promise that “you must scram when the Queen is around.” Jing Hengbo waved her little handkerchief behind the flesh mountains, seeing them off: “Remember to scram every time you see me…”

With the Yu Kingdom fat people gone, the atmosphere in the venue immediately relaxed. People still loudly asked Jing Hengbo: “Are there more extraordinary people for sale?”

Jing Hengbo thought forget it—seven ridiculous characters would be enough to torment this bunch to death. If there were more, it would mean selling Master Ziwei, and could they handle it?

She pitifully covered her mouth with her little handkerchief, shaking her head as she reluctantly bid farewell to her beloved ridiculous pets. Holding hands and looking into tearful eyes, speechless with emotion: “You must all be well… torment them well… don’t play them to death… just create some casualties… remember the way home… whoever returns latest, I’ll tell the old immortal to finish them off…”

The seven ridiculous characters nodded vigorously. Qi Yi squinted with a lewd smile: “I’m going to the Liuli tribe to learn invisibility. From now on, you’ll all have to kowtow to me before defecating, sleeping, bedding, bathing, or anything else. Otherwise, hehe…”

Lu Er said emotionally: “I heard Meng Kingdom women are mostly big-chested! Thank you, Bobo!”

Wu Shan said compassionately: “Bobo, Amitabha, this monk has a question troubling my heart. If I don’t ask, Buddha will blame me. I heard Zhan Xin has three more daughters—the oldest twelve, youngest five. Should I choose the big one or the small one? Is there a problem choosing them all together?”

Si Si twisted his waist seductively: “I’m going to make Shang Kingdom’s Crown Prince gay! I heard he actually dared pursue you!”

Shan Wu, Er Lu, and Yi Qi were packaged and sold to Jin Zhaolong of the Golden Tribe. Jin Zhaolong made such a large purchase of three at once because he’d been stared at and coldly smiled at by Pei Shu all night, making him numb and restless, urgently needing high-level bodyguards for protection.

Looking at three obviously formidable security guards, his heart settled and his body relaxed considerably.

The three were happily whispering: “Cut off one of Jin Zhaolong’s parts each day, then sell to Pei Pei, okay? We’ll definitely make big money!”

Everyone didn’t know what the Queen and ridiculous characters were saying. Seeing their “deep parting affection,” they were quite moved. Some young ladies had teary eyes, emotionally saying: “Her Majesty the Queen has such deep feelings with her subordinates!”

Jing Hengbo looked back three times with each step, walking “mournfully” back to Pei Shu’s side. Pei Shu beamed as he stretched lazily: “Good to sell them, good to sell them! Those crazy people were so annoying!”

He hoped no one would be around Jing Hengbo except Young Marshal him.

Jing Hengbo felt her bulging money pouch, first returning his five thousand taels of gold notes to him, then taking out the money those women had collectively raised to return one by one: “Hey, returning money, returning money. His earlier color-selling doesn’t count, let’s forget this matter.”

But not a single woman agreed. They all condemned her together: “Your Majesty the Queen, don’t be too selfish! We hear you already have Ying Bai pursuing you, plus Shang Kingdom’s Crown Prince showing interest. Now you’re also hogging Pei Shu, not even allowing him to dine or stroll with us. What grudge, what resentment!”

Jing Hengbo was scolded until her nose was gray, having to sheepishly take back her money while crying internally—Ah, girls, you’re biting Lu Dongbin without recognizing a good person! I’m trying to save you! Do you know that after dining and strolling with the violent dragon, you probably won’t return in one piece…

No choice—when lust clouds judgment, willing fighting and willing suffering was beyond her control. She sighed and sat down properly. Pei Shu was quite happy, putting his arm around her waist: “Ah, so you care about me this much, not even happy about me accompanying others for a stroll.”

Jing Hengbo irritably shook off his arm: “Enough. Sister has an owner, don’t get handsy, careful I’ll call my boyfriend to beat you up.”

Pei Shu suddenly released his grip. Jing Hengbo turned to look at him and saw this guy had dropped his previous playful expression, seriously looking at her with raised eyebrows.

“What’s wrong?” She felt uneasy, laughing to cover it: “Scared of getting beaten up?”

“I think your man is Gong Yin, right? You’ve reconciled, right.” Pei Shu stared at her, slowly saying: “But you seem to have forgotten something.”

Jing Hengbo stared at him, thick unease rising in her heart because she also remembered something important.

“Over there,” Pei Shu pointed at Jin Zhaolong, “that’s my enemy. But I have another enemy you’ve probably forgotten about?”

Jing Hengbo’s heart sank with a thud.

She remembered. When Pei Shu originally fell into Heaven Gray Valley, enduring years of hellish days, though it was Jin Zhaolong’s doing, the instigator behind it was Gong Yin.

The Great Wilderness Right State Preceptor, to punish Pei Shu’s earlier rebellion and to divide the Golden Tribe, used a counter-scheme, making Jin Zhaolong destroy his own strength while Pei Shu fell into hell.

This was deep hatred.

“Jing Hengbo.” Pei Shu stared at her, his gaze suddenly sharp as a sword: “If one day I and Gong Yin meet with weapons on the battlefield, who would you choose to help?”

Though she’d anticipated this question, Jing Hengbo still opened her mouth, her heart suddenly blocked.

Pei Shu and Gong Yin really were an irreconcilable knot. When she saved him in Heaven Gray Valley, she personally heard his curses against Gong Yin, heard his vows.

With Pei Shu’s character, he would certainly repay grudges and never let Gong Yin go.

And Gong Yin always prioritized the bigger picture and would never allow such a powerful enemy as Pei Shu to exist.

Previously, when she hated Gong Yin, she’d never taken Pei Shu’s hostility toward Gong Yin seriously. Now finally facing it, she didn’t know how to answer.

After a long while, she said softly: “I also want to ask you a question. I’ve now cleared up misunderstandings with Gong Yin. I like him. Will you hate me for this?”

Without waiting for Pei Shu’s answer, she grasped his hand sincerely: “If you still have hatred in your heart and feel uncomfortable, please don’t force yourself to help me. You can hate me, abandon me, even use me for revenge…”

Pei Shu suddenly shook off her hand.

The movement was so violent that her hand hit the chair back with a loud sound.

Jing Hengbo didn’t cry out in pain. She lowered her eyes, knowing her words seemed wrong again.

Sometimes consideration and understanding were also weapons that hurt people.

“I can allow you not to love me, not like me, not accept me,” Pei Shu sat up, pointing at her nose unceremoniously: “But please don’t insult me.”

Jing Hengbo rubbed her hair in frustration—she’d rather battle wits with ten thousand Yu Kingdom fat people than discuss emotional problems with suitors.

This was an unsolvable proposition where every answer hurt.

“A real man distinguishes between gratitude and grudges clearly. What skill is there in venting anger on others? You are you, Gong Yin is Gong Yin. I like you, hate him. I won’t confuse them, and don’t disgustingly try to tie yourself to him in front of me. You’d bear my revenge for him? Such deep devotion—how could you not think this was provoking me?” Pei Shu looked at her sideways with a cold smile.

Jing Hengbo sighed deeply, looking up confusedly: “Then what do you want me to say? I have no right to ask you to give up hatred for me, and equally no right to ask Gong Yin to give up vigilance toward you for me. I’m just a sandwich cookie, the strawberry filling in the middle. You squeeze, squeeze until you crush me.”

Pei Shu stared at her for a long while, then suddenly smiled again, waving his hand: “Enjoy today’s wine today, why worry about tomorrow’s grudges? Why think so much now? Hey, does your hand hurt from the shake? Let me blow on it.” He reached for her hand.

Jing Hengbo’s head ached from his moody temperament. She glared at him angrily and simply moved her chair away from him, but heard him behind her say in an unprecedented tone: “Perhaps one day you’ll draw your sword against me. Then I can only cherish these current days when you’re still good to me, treasuring each day, right?”

Hearing this made Jing Hengbo’s heart soften again. She turned to look at him but saw him with hands behind his head, raising one beautiful eyebrow, looking completely carefree as he smiled at her and kicked her chair leg with a flirtatious expression.

This man’s temperament was truly difficult. Jing Hengbo felt unable to communicate with him because communicating might lead to falling into a ditch, so she focused on the auction.

After the earlier commotion, the auction had lost many inappropriate people. Now that Jing Hengbo had money, demonstrated strength, and established connections with many countries and tribes through selling pets and ridiculous characters, the subsequent auction atmosphere became harmonious. Jing Hengbo successfully bid on many things she found useful—most of what she thought would be useful for Gong Yin, some for herself, and purchases for Yelu Qi, Pei Shu, and others. She even bought silk armor for Er Gouzi.

Not until near the auction’s end did she hear the Shang Kingdom ceremonial official announce her sale items. According to custom, auction items could identify the original owner or not—Jing Hengbo chose to remain anonymous.

Somehow the ceremonial official had added extremely luxurious boxes to Jing Hengbo’s casually paper-wrapped masks, now carefully carrying them like precious fragile items. The entire venue watched intently. Jing Hengbo laughed “ha” and said to Pei Shu: “Oh my, auctions come with gorgeous packaging? This box might be worth more than what’s inside. Will someone bid and only want the box, not the masks…”

Before she finished speaking, the ceremonial official announced loudly:

“Item number thirty-seven! Six masks from Yi Kingdom’s royal palace, treasured by the Yi King!”

The entire venue erupted.

Most people looked excited, leaning forward to rise.

People from Yu Kingdom, Ji Kingdom and other countries excitedly stood up, nearly moved to tears.

Jing Hengbo was dumbfounded.