Ming Cheng dragged the corpse in a sack, slowly walking out of the Quiet Courtyard. She dutifully played the role of a “Grand Commander who had failed in his duties, been punished, and lost face, thus feeling dejected.” Along the way, many “former subordinates” offered to help her carry the corpse, but she waved them off with thanks. Seeing that the “Grand Commander” wasn’t even in the mood to speak, everyone tactfully stopped bothering her.

Ming Cheng didn’t stop until she had dragged the corpse out of the Quiet Courtyard. She looked back to see no one following, then resentfully pounded her waist.

This was truly hard work, but without suffering now, how could there be sweetness later?

She and Zou Zheng had already agreed that once he secured the State Preceptor position, he would release her from the Queen’s bedchamber and give her the formal glory of a queen.

Of course, she wasn’t completely without defenses against Zou Zheng. Regardless, having worked together to accomplish this great deed, each now held leverage over the other and could only continue down this path together.

She leaned the sack containing the corpse against a wall. This was a remote palace section far from the Quiet Courtyard, no longer under such tight security.

Wind passed overhead. She lifted her eyelids for a glance, then knocked on the wall several times.

A hand reached down from atop the palace wall, grabbing away the sack containing the corpse. It was someone dressed as an ordinary guard.

Ming Cheng cautiously stepped back, watching the other person. This was her contact – the Yi Kingdom mask, the madness drug, and the Snow Mountain blue insect used to forcibly extract Gong Yin’s needle had all come from him.

“Did anyone notice you?” she asked.

“Don’t worry.” The person answered, opening the hemp sack to look inside.

Her mind was still in a daze, not daring to confirm this was real. Although inwardly she was very willing to believe it, her feelings kept telling her – could it be this easy? Could it really?

Why couldn’t it be? Why couldn’t it be? She kept strengthening her resolve this way.

“Send me back first.” Ming Cheng looked around. She was very worried about being exposed and needed to return to the bedchamber first.

But the person seemed more concerned with the corpse in the sack, still groping around, saying quietly: “First verify the identity.”

“The needle’s already been pulled out.” Ming Cheng frowned, “Didn’t you say only people from the Snow Mountain lineage could possibly have needles?”

“That’s what I said.” The person replied, “But are you certain he’s completely dead?”

“If I couldn’t even determine life and death, would I be that stupid?”

The person pressed hard on the corpse’s face and behind the ears, laughing: “A figure like this – our master failed against him many times. That you could actually succeed, I hardly dare believe it. Hey, just because you know how to use masks to deceive people, doesn’t mean others can’t, right?”

Ming Cheng seemed reminded and immediately said: “How is it? Feel around.”

The person had already withdrawn his hand, saying: “Seems like there’s no mask – can’t tear anything off. Does he have any distinguishing marks on his body?”

Ming Cheng blushed and shook her head: “I don’t know. He practices Prajna Snow – even injuries wouldn’t leave traces.”

The person had no solution either and was pondering when suddenly lights flickered in the distance – a patrol of night guards was approaching.

“I’m leaving.” He immediately said, “My mission is complete. Even if someone contacts you later, it won’t be me. Remember what you promised my master.”

“Don’t worry.” Ming Cheng said, “I’ve always been grateful for his guidance and will definitely repay him. By the way, has Meng Hu’s corpse been handled properly?”

“After watching you enter the Quiet Courtyard, I went to handle it.” The person grinned, “Already carried to the outer court. Hidden in a concealed spot – by tomorrow, the people of Yuzhao Palace will discover their Grand Commander Meng Hu ‘died for his country while on guard duty in the outer court.'”

“Excellent – truly seamless.” Ming Cheng breathed a sigh of relief and smiled.

“People are coming. I’ll take you away from here first.” The person extended his hand, grabbing Ming Cheng and racing toward her bedchamber. Ming Cheng felt a slight pain in her shoulder and couldn’t help changing color, “What did you do to me!”

“Your Majesty.” The voice above laughed cheerfully, “If my master really wanted to do something to you, ten of you would already be dead. Don’t worry – this won’t cause you any harm. It’s just to provide my master with a guarantee. As long as Your Majesty cooperates well in the future, there will be no problems.”

Ming Cheng pressed her lips tight, the line turning pale. At this moment she hated having no martial arts skills – even with a thousand kinds of wisdom and careful maneuvering, she was still constrained everywhere.

The person above seemed very familiar with the palace routes, taking her through hidden corners while avoiding night patrol guards, heading toward the bedchamber.

Wind rushed overhead. She gritted her teeth, staring straight ahead into the darkness. The road was still long, not yet at its end, but she believed in herself – she would definitely reach the day when clouds parted and the moon emerged. Then, standing alone at the mountain peak, only she would smile!

…

That night, after the person delivered Ming Cheng, he carried the corpse sack and headed outward. But shortly after leaving the Queen’s bedchamber, he discovered palace guards pursuing him. During the chase, a fire arrow shot by the guards hit the corpse sack on his back. To avoid being implicated himself, he had to throw down the sack and flee.

That night, as soon as Ming Cheng returned to the Queen’s bedchamber, she opened the underground palace and hid in the most secret chamber in the underground palace that only she knew about. She spent the night there with eyes wide open, trembling uneasily in the darkness, unable to help shaking again and again at any sound of wind or grass. She dared not close her eyes, afraid that when she opened them, she would see that snow-mountain-like man standing under dim light, gazing at her coldly from afar. She feared any sound from above, worried it was soldiers’ heavy boots crossing the Queen’s bedchamber floor, surrounding the underground palace entrance, bringing orders for her immediate execution for conspiring with others to commit murder and usurp the throne.

In such fear she endured the night. Only when the sun rose as usual and palace maids came to serve her normally did she dare come out after hearing normal activity. In the following days, she continued living in constant anxiety, sleeping in the underground palace every night, fearing sudden assassins. But nothing happened – days passed quietly as usual. Her heart gradually returned to its place, and she congratulated herself with infinite relief that they had truly succeeded, that person was really dead. Because if he weren’t dead, he absolutely couldn’t and had no reason to remain completely silent and let her off so lightly, much less hand over Dahuang to others.

She finally returned to normal, setting aside her worries to prepare to be a true queen. The first priority was to restore her health and skin, determined to recover her former radiance. But what she didn’t know was that starting from this day, her true nightmare had begun.

And that night, perhaps the one who slept most peacefully was Zou Zheng. He only saw the State Preceptor’s power and nobility but had never truly witnessed Gong Yin’s methods. Therefore, he had the lightest psychological burden. He slept peacefully in the secret chamber, dreaming countless times of white shadows floating above him – long, wide sleeves brushing against his face with cold, fine sensations. He was startled awake countless times, staring blankly while touching his face. The sensation was so clear, as real as life, yet nothing was before him – not even guards would approach. After this happened many times, he became irritated. Grabbing a sword beside the bed, he drove it hard into the headboard with a “crack,” angrily shouting: “What demons and spirits are these! If you have the ability, show yourself, or get lost!”

After this scolding, it really became quiet. He thus felt this was indeed his guilty conscience – guilt leads to unsteady spirit, like seeing ghosts. Or perhaps Gong Yin’s ghost was truly haunting him. Of course, he couldn’t really find someone to exorcise ghosts. During the day, he remained a composed, tranquil State Preceptor, aloof and distant.

News of Grand Commander Meng Hu’s death in the outer court quickly arrived. The assassin had fled without a trace. Yu Chun was grief-stricken and furious, requesting to personally lead men in pursuit of the killer to avenge his brother. This request suited him perfectly – he immediately approved, letting Yu Chun take away many old guards from the Quiet Courtyard, then used replenishing guards as an excuse to transfer a batch of new guards from Yuzhao Palace. These were outer court guards unfamiliar with the Quiet Courtyard and the State Preceptor, making him feel even more secure.

As for government affairs, when he first began impersonating the State Preceptor, many matters were handled by Meng Hu sending messages by carrier pigeon directly to Gong Yin in the field for decisions. But as time passed and surveillance became less strict, many replies were transmitted through his hands to ministers. Over time, he learned how government affairs should be handled.

This was one reason he dared to make the false true – he felt he could perfectly fulfill the role of State Preceptor.

During the day he surrounded himself with layers of guard protection while handling government affairs and thinking about how to deal with any emergencies. At night, under the pretext of reviewing government affairs, he would call for old archives of previous memorials, studying bit by bit how to handle political matters more perfectly.

After several peaceful days like this, the heart he had been quietly carrying gradually relaxed. He thought heaven had finally opened its eyes once, allowing him to turn misfortune into fortune.

On this day, in the secret chamber, he was still reviewing old memorials when his hand suddenly stopped.

In a gilt secret box lay a confidential memorial, its cover inscribed: “Petition for the State Preceptor to Establish Himself as Emperor.”

…

Imperial swords flickered with cold blade-light under dark, heavy clouds. Yet Shang Kingdom continued in song and dance, hosting feast after feast.

Jing Hengbo had made a great showing at the welcome banquet auction, infuriating the Yu Kingdom prince and stunning the Ji Kingdom princesses. Through a combination of force and coaxing, she had earned a fortune and should have been the most envied figure at the gathering. But because she did something foolish at the end – being the wealthiest and most capable of competing for the blue mud pearl yet choosing the horse liver stone instead – she was laughed at by nobles from all countries as “rich but stupid.”

Jing Hengbo thought this nickname was quite good – being rich and stupid was still better than being poor and stupid.

The blue mud pearl ultimately fell into the hands of a high official from Imperial Song. Reportedly, this person was the Deputy Prime Minister of the Ministry of Revenue, backed by the entire Ministry and court, naturally possessing sufficient financial resources.

After obtaining the blue mud pearl, this high official disappeared. No one knew if he had swiftly left on his own or encountered some mishap.

Jing Hengbo spent the following days quite leisurely, sorting through items obtained at the auction and preparing for a major distribution of spoils.

After that day, Yélu Qi was absent for two days. When he returned two days later, it was Ji Min who escorted him back. Yélu Qi had suffered minor injuries, and Ji Min appeared very concerned, while Yélu Qi was courteous but maintained polite distance. When Jing Hengbo took him aside to ask, she learned that Yélu Qi had gone out alone that night, leading people to pursue the remaining members of the Yélu family clan, intending to take advantage of the Yélu family’s loss of Yélu Shengwu to eliminate this group completely.

The Yélu family was also very cautious. After Yélu Shengwu was killed and they were forced to leave Bihua Garden, they immediately packed hastily to leave Shang Kingdom, not even daring to compete for the precious medicines that followed. But Yélu Qi pursued them faster, cornering the group in a slum within the city. After fierce battle when victory seemed certain, Yélu Qi inadvertently discovered some secret about the opponents and spared someone alive, allowing one person to escape. Yélu Qi then pursued toward the outskirts, and at that moment Ji Min also arrived, immediately helping Yélu Qi block the escapee, eliminating the future threat, then personally escorting Yélu Qi back.

This experience must have been very dangerous, but Yélu Qi described it lightly. Ji Min was also a woman who disliked exaggeration. Jing Hengbo felt she was the most deep, stable, and leadership-quality royal woman she had ever met. She merely smiled faintly and said, “Though I arrived a step late, fortunately it wasn’t too late.”

Jing Hengbo felt these words had double meaning, but Yélu Qi seemed not to understand, still smiling gently and mysteriously, once again solemnly thanking Ji Min. The more courteous he was, the less Ji Min could express intimacy. She departed gracefully, showing no displeasure on her face, but Jing Hengbo caught a slight melancholy in her eyes.

For the feminist, proud, and unique Ji Kingdom princesses, finding suitable partners wasn’t easy either. Thinking about it, they had qualities similar to modern women, and modern women in modern times found it increasingly difficult to find boyfriends – how much more so for them in Dahuang? Unable to marry within their own country and seeking royal families of other countries, others might not accept Ji Kingdom’s customs. So they could only set their sights on extraordinary men – like Ji Min favoring Yélu Qi, while Ji Qiong went straight for Gong Yin.

After Ji Min left, Jing Hengbo inevitably complained to Yélu Qi about what important secret he had discovered that required taking such great risks and getting injured. Yélu Qi smiled slightly and drew a long, rectangular brocade box from his chest, saying: “Because I discovered this.”

“What is it?” Jing Hengbo opened the box to find a fire-red, elongated tree branch.

“Fire bud grass. This thing has inhibitory effects on ice and snow type qi cultivation practitioners, but it has another use people wouldn’t expect.” Yélu Qi took the branch and casually inserted it into a nearby potted plant.

The potted plant was some flower Jing Hengbo couldn’t name. Recently it had budded and showed signs of blooming, probably needing a few more days to flower.

After the grass was inserted, Jing Hengbo’s eyes immediately widened.

She watched the green branch with its pale pink buds slowly blooming at a speed visible to the naked eye. Pure white, thick petals unfolded one by one in graceful postures, with pale green delicate stamens in the center like carved jade, trembling and topped with fresh pollen.

For a moment, she thought the Brocade-Robed Man had appeared again, using his life-stimulating ability. Then she remembered this fellow had been absent recently and had most likely finally gone back to torment his own countrymen.

“Life stimulation?”

“No, just short-term acceleration. The plant must already be in the stage of imminent blooming or maturation.” Yélu Qi said, “This grass has vigorous fire energy, capable of rapidly changing soil quality and warming earth energy. Plants feel spring has arrived and are thus deceived into maturing early.”

Jing Hengbo thought for a moment, then had a flash of inspiration: “You want to accelerate the Purple Orchid Vine’s maturation!”

The Purple Orchid Vine would mature in more than half a month, but Shang Kingdom would end the Flower Gathering Festival early and send guests away to prevent coveting. This would increase difficulty for those wanting to remain in Shang Kingdom to steal treasures. The key issue was that more than one person wanted to do this – they would have to avoid Shang Kingdom while facing competition from various powerful figures, making it incredibly difficult.

If they could accelerate the Purple Orchid Vine’s maturation, at that time she would still be legitimately in Shang Kingdom with insufficient defenses, while others would be unprepared. Wouldn’t this be much easier?

After understanding this, she couldn’t help feeling grateful, gazing at Yélu Qi without knowing how to thank him.

His confrontations with the Yélu family were always life-or-death struggles. Even one escapee could bring mortal danger. In such circumstances, he still thought of fighting for the Purple Orchid Vine for her, not hesitating to risk injury to secure the item first. This depth of feeling – to him it was just a casual remark, but only she knew how weighty and overwhelming his consideration was.

She thought and thought, finally bringing out everything she had obtained at the auction. Except for keeping the Fire Heart Armor, she placed everything else before him: “Choose for yourself – you can take everything.”

A large space remained empty in the box where the Fire Heart Armor had been. Jing Hengbo felt a bit embarrassed – she should have brought out everything for Yélu Qi to choose from freely.

Yélu Qi laughed, his gaze sweeping over the items with a slight pause, then shook his head. Extending a finger to lift her veil, his fingertip brushed her face: “I only need your appearance to remain unchanged and your joy to remain unchanged.”

His fingertip was gentle as spring breeze, lingering slightly at her cheek, seeming to preserve some unspeakable melancholy.

In this moment he leaned extremely close, his warm breath brushing her forehead. She seemed to feel his fine eyelashes about to brush her eyelids.

At this moment the fragrance was so lingering, the gaze so gentle, the flowers blooming so brilliantly. Even the wind seemed light and slow. The entire atmosphere was as mysteriously fragrant as he was, preparing for all intimacy and fusion, as if the next moment a kiss would fall.

Her heart was confused and lost, yet ultimately in that moment when shadow and breath approached, she slightly yielded.

It was a very subtle movement, but he immediately noticed. The confusion in his eyes instantly dispersed, replaced by calm flowing waves.

Though dark currents might surge beneath those waves, no one knew.

When Jing Hengbo raised her face again, she was all smiles, as if nothing had happened. Her fingers snapped the box shut with a “click,” laughing: “Don’t want it? If you don’t want it, then forget it. Don’t regret it later when you remember.”

Yélu Qi gazed at her – who said the Queen was flirtatious and seductive? He only knew that once she made up her mind, her heart was steadfast. Even swaying in spring breezes and brilliant light, her roots remained deep in ice and snow.

“I’ve only regretted one thing in my life,” he said.

Jing Hengbo raised her eyes, but after meeting his gaze, she knew this question couldn’t be asked.

He didn’t continue either, reaching out to pull up the fire bud grass and inserting it into all the potted plants in the room.

He smiled softly, “Having nothing to commemorate our meeting, I give you spring in winter.”

Instantly, all flowers bloomed in succession – purple and crimson, the entire room filled with fresh green accompanied by colorful stamens. It seemed all the vitality and brilliance of heaven and earth bloomed in this moment, as if all the fragrances of heaven and earth were invited in an instant. The room was full of green leaves dancing and flower branches swaying luxuriantly, as lush as midsummer.

And she stood gracefully amidst this riot of color, her bright red dress spreading like fire. Some people are born noble and magnificent – even with all the wealth and splendor of the human world, nothing can diminish their radiance by even a fraction.

She became more beautiful because of the blooming, and the blooming became more brilliant because of her.

He gazed at her, suddenly unwilling to waste any more time on regret. Having missed his chance before only proved heaven’s will was against it, but he was willing to spend all his heart and strength in the time that followed, protecting her brightness and luxuriance to remain forever as it was today.

Long afterward, Jing Hengbo, immersed in the fragrance of this moment, finally heard the sound of him opening the door to leave, heard him say:

“I only regret that a person has only one lifetime.”

…

For every person in this world who cherishes beauty, there’s someone who ruins the atmosphere.

Yélu Qi had created a winter spring for Jing Hengbo, but in the blink of an eye, some fellow destroyed it completely.

Pei Shu burst in from outside like a whirlwind. As soon as he entered, he started sneezing, then seeing the room full of fresh flowers, immediately covered his nose and shouted: “Ah, why so many flowers? The smell is suffocating!” While shouting, he threw all the flower pots outside.

Jing Hengbo couldn’t rescue them in time and glared at him, thinking how could people be so different? That one could cook, flirt, be romantic, and please people’s hearts, while this one only knew how to fight, kill, cause trouble, and ruin the atmosphere.

Oh, but the one she liked was the type who could be aloof, sharp-tongued, adorably clueless, and play various roles.

Pei Shu dragged over a stool and sat down. Without even having time for a sip of water, he said urgently: “Guess what I went to do?”

“Fight, probably.” Jing Hengbo glared at him irritably. This guy was covered in dust with torn clothes – he’d probably caused trouble again.

“Guessed right.” Pei Shu smugly knocked her on the head as a reward. Jing Hengbo really wanted to kick both him and the stool out.

“Went to Shang Kingdom’s imperial palace.” Pei Shu spoke of the palace as casually as going to a market.

Jing Hengbo sat up straight with a start. “What?”

She knew that recently, because political dignitaries from various countries had gathered, Shang Kingdom’s imperial palace had especially tight security. The Shang King had directly mobilized large armies, surrounding the royal palace so tightly that not even water could leak through.

She hadn’t even considered night reconnaissance of Shang Kingdom’s royal palace, yet this Pei Shu had run off without even saying a word.

“Heard some news.” Pei Shu maintained his nonchalant tone. “The Purple Orchid Vine will officially mature in fourteen days. Currently it’s not in Shang Kingdom’s capital, but at Treasure Platform Mountain fifteen li outside the city. Three months ago, Shang Kingdom transformed Treasure Platform Mountain into a fortress where you can exit but can’t enter, and deployed their most elite troops to guard it. Just to enter the mountain, you must pass seven checkpoints, each requiring specially made royal keys, and the keys are all different with different access permissions. In short, it’s a mobile fortress that no one can enter.”

“If we can’t enter, we can’t enter. Why are you worrying about it?” Jing Hengbo pushed him toward the door. “I have my own methods. Go do whatever you should be doing.”

Pei Shu’s bottom seemed glued to the chair and wouldn’t budge. He caught her waist with one hand, laughing: “If I don’t manage your affairs, who will? Didn’t I claim I was pursuing you?”

“Mm-hmm, then there seems to be a cicada outside my window. Please help me catch it, thank you.” Jing Hengbo just wanted to quickly send him away, preferably anger him into leaving, lest he impulsively go storm that fortress.

“Why don’t you ask what I obtained at Shang Kingdom’s imperial palace?” Pei Shu raised an eyebrow.

Jing Hengbo frowned at him. Getting this information was already very difficult – that place was full of experts, and what else had he done?

“Keys, of course.” Pei Shu smugly extended his hand.

Jing Hengbo stared at his palm – there was nothing there. She didn’t believe he could obtain those keys with just one trip. If he really had, Shang Kingdom would either change the keys or desperately pursue him.

Pei Shu suddenly rolled up his sleeve and thrust his arm before her.

At first glance, Jing Hengbo saw only bright red blood and was startled. Looking more carefully, she was shocked to see his arm imprinted with a row of key impressions.

These were bloody impressions that had broken through the skin – they must have been pressed down with tremendous force.

Jing Hengbo was too shocked to speak. After a long while, she stammered: “This is… this is…”

“While I was eavesdropping in the rafters, I was discovered by the Shang King’s retainers. At that time, they were examining the first batch of outer mountain checkpoint keys just made. Hmm, those old fellows are truly formidable.” Pei Shu was always so spirited. “Being discovered, I simply charged out and fought with them. The Shang King was so frightened he dropped the key box in his hands – those keys were strung on an iron rod. Just then an old fellow kicked me, so I used the momentum to pounce forward and crash hard onto those keys, taking an impression. He shook his arm. “Don’t worry about the impression being on skin – uneven skin would cause subtle changes in the key impressions, making them inaccurate later. At that moment I used horizontal training martial arts, making my arm like steel, so the keys left their original form when pressed on. Then I rolled down my sleeve, got up, and charged out. When that group of old fossils saw the keys weren’t lost, they’d definitely feel relieved. Those kinds of keys aren’t easy to make – they won’t remake them just for this. So now you have the keys to enter the outer mountain gates!”

He chattered on and on, but Jing Hengbo just stared blankly at his arm, her eyes full of that bright red that stabbed at her vision.

To imprint copper keys deeply into flesh in an instant – how hard must he have fallen? How much force was needed? Those impressions sank several millimeters deep. Did he have no pity for himself at all?

Or was it that for her affairs, he truly meant what he said – using all his heart and strength, sparing nothing of himself?

She turned her gaze away, feeling her heart swelling full, seeming to burn and choke, like countless surging waves. Myriad emotions reached this point like thousands of troops stationed at Blue Pass unable to advance. She couldn’t help being moved by deeply feeling this love, yet suddenly felt melancholy from deeply knowing she couldn’t respond.

At this moment, those briefly blooming flowers outside suddenly withered all at once.

Emotions not in their proper place in this world were like these out-of-season flowers – blooming furiously due to certain wishes, then quietly withdrawing where no one knew.

Pei Shu suddenly pointed at her and laughed: “Hey, why that dead expression? I think you’re about to cry? Is this little flesh wound worth it? Or have you finally been moved? Being moved is fine – how about showing your gratitude physically?” He laughed at his own words, then shook his head: “One big eye roll coming up.”

Jing Hengbo promptly delivered a white-eyed glare. Pei Shu laughed heartily, rocking his stool back and forth, lazily urging her: “Quickly find someone to make impressions, or when it scabs over there’ll be differences.”

Jing Hengbo ordered Yong Xue to come make impressions. When the young girl saw that wound, surprise flashed in her eyes too. After finishing everything and leaving, Jing Hengbo heard her sigh softly.

Jing Hengbo personally bandaged Pei Shu. She kept her head down without speaking while Pei Shu kept his head tilted watching her. Suddenly he tapped her forehead: “Just now you really seemed about to cry – was that true?”

Jing Hengbo slowly wound the white cloth, saying slowly: “If you don’t want to see me cry, then do fewer foolish things like this in the future. What are keys? What is the Purple Orchid Vine? If you don’t mind, I don’t care either.”

“Who said I don’t want to see you cry?” Pei Shu’s words made her raise an eyebrow.

“I don’t want to see you cry for others, don’t want to see you cry from being bullied by others, but I’m willing to see you cry for me.” Pei Shu heavily stroked her forehead, forcibly grasping her head and pressing his forehead to hers, saying softly: “If you cry once for me, I’d truly be very happy. Because that would make me feel you still care about me.”

Jing Hengbo suddenly felt her heart skip a beat and quickly sniffled: “Then I’ll cry now!”

She instinctively felt uneasy about that last sentence. If she really had to cry for him, of course she’d choose now.

With their foreheads pressed together, he immediately reached toward her eyes, waiting for her tears.

Jing Hengbo burst into laughter – now she really couldn’t cry.

Pei Shu also laughed, released her, leaned back, closed his eyes, and said: “This lord is tired and can’t walk. I’ll borrow your place to sleep. You go to another room.”

Jing Hengbo watched him for a while. Since that fellow wouldn’t open his eyes to meet her gaze, acting completely shameless about staying, she had to walk toward the door. Just as she was about to cross the threshold, she suddenly said: “Pei Shu, is your leg injured?”

The person sitting in the chair seemed to move slightly but said nothing and didn’t turn around.

Jing Hengbo sighed, turned back, crouched before him, and without allowing him to protest, ripped open his trouser leg with a tear.

Pei Shu exaggeratedly shouted: “Aiya, the Queen is stripping my pants…” He shouted vigorously but didn’t move at all.

“Shut up.” Jing Hengbo stared at his deformed, swollen knee – it was swollen to twice its normal size, definitely fractured at minimum.

He hadn’t moved since sitting down, which was abnormal in itself. He’d been hiding this leg injury all along.

Looking at this injury, without needing to ask, she knew that when facing the siege and wanting to take the key impressions, he hadn’t spared himself when pouncing forward, directly injuring his leg.

For a leg to be injured this severely, someone must have struck him. His back should also be injured.

So his proactive display of the arm impression wounds was only because those were the lightest injuries, only because he wanted to muddle through with this.

Jing Hengbo reached to unfasten his outer robe. Pei Shu raised a hand to stop her, laughing: “What, can’t strip my pants so you’re going straight for the clothes?” He looked around. “But there’s no bed in your outer room – should we move one in now?”

Jing Hengbo ignored him and pulled at his buttons, but was stopped by Pei Shu again. Both their movements were somewhat violent. Pei Shu suddenly coughed once. Jing Hengbo didn’t dare pull anymore and froze.

The room became quiet.

A hand fell on her hair. Pei Shu’s voice finally returned to calm: “This isn’t an injury suffered for you – I was just careless myself. Don’t be narcissistic.”

Jing Hengbo pressed her fingers to her forehead, rubbing gently from the headache, saying softly: “I can handle my own affairs. I only ask that you don’t give like this – it makes me feel I can’t bear it.” She raised her eyes. “Sir, please, don’t have a case of masculine chauvinism, okay? One by one you all think I’m made of paper, one by one throwing yourselves forward for me like Huang Jiguang blocking pillboxes. I can blow them up myself, okay?”

“What the hell is Huang Jiguang? You have too many random cats and dogs around you. Let me tell you, this lord gives when he wants to give, doesn’t care if you want it or not, doesn’t care if you can handle it or not, and doesn’t care if you’ll repay it or not. Because when this lord gives, he’s happy. That makes it worthwhile.” Pei Shu grabbed her arm and pulled her up, staring into her eyes. “You woman, are you so cruel that you’d even deprive this lord of this little bit of happiness?”

His intense masculine presence rushed toward her, fiery and unavoidable like himself. Jing Hengbo only felt his burning yet slightly aggrieved gaze was so heart-searing.

All these feelings of giving everything.

Ignoring them was cold, avoiding them was unreasonable. How should she face these heartstrings pressing from all directions, clanging in the flying wind?

At this moment, Jing Hengbo suddenly missed Gong Yin terribly, and also missed Meng Potian.

She hoped that person was here now to receive this protective love; hoped someone could properly love Pei Shu, letting him truly understand the taste of love and reciprocation, able to withdraw without being hurt.

The room was silent. Flowers bloomed and withered soundlessly. He held her waist, his eyes bright and overturned with both indifference and longing.

She stood somewhat stiffly, her gaze both pitying and helpless, madly missing her beloved in that moment.

Gong Yin, where are you? Are you well?

Suddenly a voice came from outside, long and shrill:

“The noble ladies of Shang Kingdom invite the Emerald Queen to attend the palace banquet the day after tomorrow, and issue a challenge!”