“The bride enters the bridal chamber!”

Someone laughed teasingly and gave Jing Hengbo a push from behind. She rushed forward into the room, the curtain whooshed shut behind her, and the door slammed closed with a bang. She could faintly hear the sound of iron lock colliding—they had simply locked it.

This whole scene made her feel like a trafficked wife.

The room was very dark. Only a pair of red candles burned on the table, with several plates of sweets placed beneath them. A small window let in none of the dawn light.

The furnishings inside were simple. This was, after all, a poor rural village, and “relatively well-off” only meant the furniture was fairly complete. Most eye-catching was the carved large bed with deep red curtains hanging down, embroidered with gaudy festive patterns that were blindingly red.

The curtains were drawn, half-concealing the corner of a deep red robe. The groom sat on the bed.

Jing Hengbo leaned against the door and suddenly wanted to laugh.

What kind of situation was this? The bride finished entertaining guests and entered the bridal chamber, while the groom waited inside to lift her veil?

Jing Hengbo flexed her fingers. The dagger was in her palm, ice-cold. Her palm was full of nervous sweat, so slippery she could barely hold it.

Through the thin red veil, she stared at the groom. His figure was hidden behind the curtain, showing no clues, making no sound, and she felt no killing intent either.

Jing Hengbo felt he didn’t seem like one of those Nine Heavenly Gates people. The Nine Heavenly Gates people were too proud and had too high an opinion of themselves—they probably wouldn’t be willing to disguise themselves and wear such a gaudy red robe of a village groom.

However, she also felt this groom was even less like a real groom. Although she couldn’t see clearly, that person sat quietly in the red curtains. From her angle, she could vaguely see his flowing black hair and sense his compact, tall figure. In the hazy red light, that person seemed to naturally emanate a mysterious and seductive aura that drew people to explore and approach.

Such temperament was innate. If a village youth also had this kind of temperament, that girl wouldn’t need to escape marriage.

She was weighing the danger level to decide whether to flee or fight when the person on the bed suddenly beckoned to her.

Jing Hengbo was startled.

Then she smiled and slowly walked over—the bride was being summoned, so the groom should at least lift her veil, right?

The dagger slid close to her wrist, ready to strike with a flick.

She walked to the bedside and reached out to lift the red curtain.

Breaking out in cold sweat all over, she was so weak her fingers trembled, and her vision was somewhat blurred. She gritted her teeth and stood steady.

The person in the curtain suddenly raised his hand, holding something thin and long, striking directly at her face!

Jing Hengbo’s dagger immediately slid out, stabbing straight at his throat!

“Clang!” Cold light flashed as the dagger flew away.

That thin long thing broke off a section but still moved forward with a flick.

The veil fell to the ground. She was stunned for a moment, then realized what was in front of her was half a scale pole—the kind used to lift bridal veils.

For an instant, she didn’t know whether to laugh or cry—could this really be the groom, so mindful of lifting the bride’s veil?

She lowered her head and finally saw his face clearly. She was startled and whispered, “Mu…”

But he quickly extended his finger to press against her lips.

Jing Hengbo’s eyes rolled as she looked at him. She hadn’t expected this guy didn’t hide in the mountain cave but actually ran here too. Like kindred spirits, one playing the bride and one playing the groom, they had come together. But why was he being so nervously cautious?

Then she heard wind sounds above her head.

Someone was there!

Feeling her tension, he smiled and released his finger, but couldn’t help staring at her red lips.

Still so warm, full, and moist, like flower petals blooming at dawn in early spring…

“You…” Jing Hengbo wanted to speak again.

The wind sound above tightened.

He suddenly embraced her and rolled over, pressing her down.

Her back hit the bedding, and the entire bed creaked alarmingly.

There seemed to be people listening at the window below, making giggling sounds. There also seemed to be people eavesdropping outside the door, with faint sighs of relief audible.

Those below the window were villagers—listening to newlyweds was fun. Those outside the door were the groom’s family, afraid the groom wouldn’t know what to do, now relieved.

Who was above?

Jing Hengbo was pressed down by him. The little strength she had finally gathered scattered. She panted twice, struggled a bit, seeming very uncomfortable. When she wanted to speak again, he pressed his finger to her lips once more.

She glared at his finger—would he ever let her speak!

He was even more inconsiderate than she had imagined. While pressing her lips with one hand, he waved the other, and her bridal dress suddenly left her body, flying out of the curtain.

More soft giggling came from below the window.

Jing Hengbo naturally still had her own clothes on, but being pressed down while someone undressed her wasn’t very pleasant. When she wanted to protest, her mouth was still covered. He seemed addicted to pressing it, his eyes always watching outside.

Feeling depressed, she really wanted to bite off this finger. When she thought this, her mouth opened, and he was looking up at the roof, not paying attention, so his finger slipped into her mouth.

Both froze.

Jing Hengbo hurriedly tried to spit out his finger, glaring at him angrily while spitting—so many germs!

But he seemed somewhat dazed. After withdrawing his finger, he raised his hand to look at it. A star of bright liquid was on his finger, and he didn’t know to wipe it off.

Jing Hengbo’s face turned red instead. She quickly grabbed his hand and vigorously wiped it on the bedding.

He said nothing as she wiped, and she saw his profile—the beautiful eyebrows slightly furrowed in the red light. She had never thought that the mismatched words “refined” and “seductive” could merge in the same person.

There was a slight sound above. He raised his hand and threw out a pair of shoes with a thud, knocking over the red candles on the table.

The eavesdropping sounds below the window became louder and more chittering, with low conversation audible.

“Let’s go, let’s go. If we stay longer, Second Uncle will scold us.”

“Wait a bit more. A fool’s bridal chamber is so interesting to listen to. Listen, he’s silent but making such a racket. Hehe, is the bride beating up the fool?”

…

In the darkness, two pairs of eyes gazed at each other, each gaze flowing and reflecting the other’s gentle features.

Jing Hengbo frowned and struggled slightly. He reached out to press her down. Jing Hengbo vaguely understood his intention and raised her knee to push against him. He shifted aside, and Jing Hengbo pulled something out from under her body and threw it at his face.

He was startled and reached out to catch it, only to discover it was a peanut that had been flattened.

This grab landed right on her abdomen. Touching the warm softness, he was dazed again. Jing Hengbo took advantage of his daze to pinch his arm hard.

Unfortunately, being ill, she had little strength. After a few movements, she was dizzy and could only adopt a pitiful strategy, pouting her mouth and looking at him pitifully while desperately pointing at what was under her body.

Only then did he understand that the bedding hid many melon seeds, peanuts, and candies—auspicious symbols for having many children. They were now poking into Jing Hengbo, causing her pain all over.

Poor thing, she had tried to speak several times but was silenced by his finger pressing her lips. She was so frustrated she could explode.

He thought for a moment and moved her toward the inner part of the bed. Jing Hengbo almost wanted to strangle him—did he have no common sense? Would there be fewer peanuts and melon seeds on the inner part of the bed? At least the ones outside were already flattened and less painful. Was he moving her inside to shell the peanuts and melon seeds again with her body? After the human shell-removing machine finished, could he casually pick them up and eat them?

This person looked so smart—how could his IQ have no lower limit once on the bed!

He was awakened by her glare and quickly hugged her back over. Jing Hengbo only regretted being sick and powerless, or she would have kicked him over with a big foot.

But his arms were trembling slightly—she was sweating, her body weak, hanging softly on his arms like holding a pool of spring water.

That bone-melting fragrance…

His arms suddenly seemed to lose strength, letting her down. He had to kneel on the bed, reaching into the quilt to fish out peanuts and melon seeds, throwing them to the corner of the bed. Many peanuts and candies were in the bedding under her body. He reached under her to feel for them. Although separated by the quilt, he still felt the heat and softness of her body, those undulating curves, the silky fragrance of her skin so close at hand. Her rich but not gaudy sweet fragrance filled this moment of slightly tense breathing.

She was also a bit nervous. Although she was very tired, alternately hot and cold with no strength, that hand fumbling around under her body made her unable not to hang her heart, tense her consciousness, and tighten her body. She could feel those hands were very nimble, quickly sweeping past those peanuts, candies, copper coins, and hard objects lurking in the quilt. Her back itched, and her skin and pores seemed to tremble slightly from this, feeling some different undulations. Sometimes his unintentional touches made her want to escape, but because of the shadow circling overhead, she could only choose to avoid slightly. When her body turned, her form rippled in undulating curves. He knelt behind her, holding a handful of crushed melon seeds and peanuts, staring blankly and forgetting his next move.

Such intimacy was like that time before… yet it was already that time before…

The bed wasn’t large, the curtains were thick, and there were many quilts piled up. Two people were crowded, and their breathing seemed crowded too, pressing against each other’s space. The air was entangled with an ambiguous atmosphere. Her rich sweetness and his clear gentleness couldn’t be distinguished from each other, binding her and him.

The peanuts and melon seeds carried her fragrance. He scooped them handful by handful to the corner of the bed, then thought about it and crushed them with his palm, sweeping them with his sleeve until they fell as powder.

He didn’t want to see these melon seeds and peanuts being picked up and shared by those villagers who couldn’t bear to waste food after they left.

A peanut kernel remained in his palm. He slowly ate it.

Very fragrant.

The bed kept creaking and swaying. Who knew how the skilled carpenter had made it. Jing Hengbo felt embarrassed hearing this sound, but Mister Mu took advantage of it to whisper to her, “There’s sound inside, so those eavesdropping outside won’t leave. The Nine Heavenly Gates person above cares about face and won’t come down. Wait a bit more—when day breaks, many of the Nine Heavenly Gates’ methods won’t work, and our chances will be better.”

Only then did Jing Hengbo understand the meaning behind all his ambiguous movements. She deeply agreed and said, “Then let’s make some more noise.” She reached out and pushed him.

He was kneeling on the bed, unprepared for her sudden action, and crashed backward into the headboard with a loud creak that made people worry the bed would collapse.

The eavesdroppers outside laughed heartily, with someone excitedly whispering, “Who would have thought the fool had such strength, just doesn’t know how to cherish the bride.”

“Will the bride be able to get up tomorrow?”

Jing Hengbo also wanted to laugh. She thought Mister Mu looked very cute sprawled out in the quilts.

She really wanted to knead and roll him up into a dough ball.

However, her smile was only half-formed when he suddenly rolled over and pressed her down again.

The heat of skin pressed close, carrying his clear, deep fragrance. She widened her eyes to resist—was this ever going to end!

He pressed her lips again, “Shh—”

There seemed to be a slight sound of cracking tiles above. That person was losing patience.

Jing Hengbo’s attention turned to the roof, so she didn’t notice that Mister Mu, while pressing her down, embraced her shoulders with both hands, rested his face against her neck, and took a deep breath.

Her heat and soft fragrance, absent for so long—taking this opportunity to taste again.

A moment later he raised his head. Jing Hengbo’s attention had just returned, and she didn’t even realize he had stolen her fragrance.

Suddenly there was the sound of a door opening outside, followed by heavy footsteps. An old man’s voice loudly said, “What are you doing? Disperse! Disperse!”

The eavesdroppers had become too excited and unrestrained, annoying the groom’s family who could no longer tolerate it and came out to chase them away.

Those half-grown boys scattered, and Jing Hengbo silently cursed.

Indeed, almost the moment the footsteps outside disappeared and the groom’s family returned to their rooms to sleep, the tiles above suddenly rang, letting down a patch of dim skylight.

Not skylight—sword light, cold as snow, bright as snow, born from the horizon in one moment, reaching the wedding bed in the next.

Mister Mu suddenly pulled Jing Hengbo upward in his embrace.

“Crack.” The sword light flashed past, splitting the bed board in half.

Jing Hengbo was held face-to-face in Mister Mu’s embrace, feeling the cold sword qi behind her. Judging the sword’s trajectory, it was actually aimed at Mister Mu.

She was then startled again, feeling his heat. Her face turned red immediately, suddenly realizing this position was too close and too intimate…

Before she could think clearly, there was another sound above, and light flashed before her eyes.

Mister Mu suddenly embraced her and rolled toward the inner part of the bed.

“Crack.” From the top of the bed to the bed board, a flat hole appeared—one sword through the bed.

Jing Hengbo judged this sword’s trajectory seemed aimed at her. If the previous sword had cut Mister Mu in half, then this sword would have pierced through her leg, pinning her to the bed.

Ruthless enough.

The two rolled to the inner part of the bed, so close their faces touched. His lips brushed softly and warmly against her cheek. Looking through his black hair, the big red quilt was piled high at their feet, and the person on her body was hotter than the quilt, more pressing in breath. She suddenly inexplicably thought of the phrase “red waves overturning”…

This was taking quite an advantage, she thought.

But she couldn’t move at this time. With two swords coming like this, it showed the person on the roof had lost patience and already acted. Next, he would come down to enjoy the fruits of his victory.

Jing Hengbo vaguely guessed what this person wanted to do.

Kill the groom on the wedding night, cripple the bride’s legs, then…

This was called the Nine Heavenly Gates? Nine-layer Heavenly Gates? Next time they should be given a plaque to rename them Nine Nether Hells!

He embraced her, holding a bosom of soft jade and warm fragrance. His heart was extremely greedy at this moment, wanting to breathe deeply the air that contained her, yet not daring to use too much force, afraid of thereby detonating the desire that had already sprouted. He could only breathe in small, fragmented breaths, experiencing it gently and tenderly. His fingers lightly pressed over her shoulder hollow—the shoulder hollow was a wonderful depression, and his heart seemed to have a hole too, filled with longing. Even being so close, he longed; being so close made him long even more.

He treasured this precious time, the time of embracing her, clearly understanding in his heart that this was granted subtraction, each time less than the last. Because of this, he also hated such time—luxurious and brief. He hated even more his own understanding—life becomes too transparent and thus predictive, and because of prediction, cannot bring joy.

Jing Hengbo felt his gentle trembling. At first she thought it was emotional stirring and immediately wanted to push him away. But then she felt his mood—deep fondness, faint melancholy, and shallow sadness.

She didn’t understand why she could feel such emotions, but these emotions infected her. She suddenly quieted down too, thinking of many people and many things, thinking of that person and that matter in the deepest part of her heart.

Mister Mu gradually calmed down, then suddenly took her dagger and lightly pressed it against his wrist pulse. A stream of fresh blood flowed out. She didn’t know what method he used, but Jing Hengbo immediately felt the whole room filled with the smell of blood, as if several people had died in this room.

She understood. After the opponent acted, he would come down. If he came down and didn’t smell blood, he would know he hadn’t succeeded and would be on guard.

Mister Mu’s meticulousness and veteran jianghu experience made her always feel this was a true jianghu person. Without rolling in jianghu for many years, it would be hard to have such keenness and experience.

A light sound came from above, and a white shadow gracefully floated down.

Jing Hengbo had said she hated white shadows the most!

She wanted to get up, but Mister Mu pressed her down again, smiled slightly at her, and made a gesture of “just rest.” Then he rolled up the quilt, stuffed it into the pillow, tied it with his belt, and piled it by the bedside.

Jing Hengbo was wondering what he was doing when she saw the person outside the curtain wave his hand. With a crash, the curtain tore open, and that rolled quilt was swept out, falling heavily in the corner.

Oh right, there should be corpses on the bed. This person wanted to get on the bed, so naturally he had to roll away the corpses first.

The room was very dark with the candlelight extinguished. Just listening to the sound, this quilt roll with added pillow really did seem somewhat like corpses.

The blurry white shadow in the room was cautious. After sweeping away the corpses, he stood in the room and extended a long section of his sleeve toward the bed.

The position he probed now had no one. Jing Hengbo and Mister Mu were both hiding at the foot of the bed.

For an instant, Mister Mu seemed somewhat hesitant, but Jing Hengbo reacted quickly and suddenly pushed him hard.

Mister Mu silently fell onto the bed, his black hair spilling across the pillow.

The person in the room’s probing sleeve also arrived at this moment, “feeling around” Mister Mu’s face, confirming there was someone on the bed, and withdrawing with satisfaction.

In the darkness, Mister Mu’s expression was helpless, while Jing Hengbo covered her mouth with a sly laugh, her eyes bright and full of mischief.

His gaze quietly flowed, and amidst the helplessness came several traces of indulgent affection.

The person in the room walked toward the bed. From his figure and posture, both Jing Hengbo and Mister Mu confirmed it was the leading man.

People from the Nine Heavenly Gates had a very distinctive characteristic—people of different statuses had obviously different postures. Even an outsider could easily tell the difference in their status from the Nine Heavenly Gates people’s demeanor. The higher the status, the more noble the demeanor, the more arrogant the posture, the higher the chin and nostrils.

This wasn’t intentionally cultivated. The Nine Heavenly Gates people themselves probably didn’t realize it. This was completely caused by a sect’s long-standing, deeply rooted strict hierarchical system and differential treatment.

That person approached with the posture of a victor who controlled everything.

He was about to enjoy the woman he had taken a fancy to.

The bed needed a woman. Mister Mu was about to sit up when Jing Hengbo sat down on his legs, not letting him get up, making a gesture of “you sacrifice yourself a bit.”

Mister Mu then didn’t move. Of course he wasn’t willing to be the one “deflowered,” but he seemed even less willing for Jing Hengbo to be “deflowered.”

The curtain lifted, and a pale hand reached in.

Namur stood beside the bed. In the dark room, he vaguely saw the person on the bed with black hair disheveled over the face, gleaming darkly like satin, revealing half a snow-white face. Although he couldn’t see the features clearly, he could tell this face was quite beautiful.

Namur gave a savage and satisfied laugh, raised his hand, and his belt slid down.

He quickly and silently removed his pants, yet still wore his outer robe.

The inside could be dispensed with, but the outer appearance must always be maintained.

He lifted the curtain, raised his strong thigh, and got on the bed, reaching out to tear Mister Mu’s pants.

Jing Hengbo stabbed with her blade!

At the back of his heart!

Feeling the cold wind against his body, Namur immediately became alert and leaped up, but the lying Mister Mu suddenly reached out and clamped his arms.

This clamp was like iron pincers. Namur immediately couldn’t escape, but he wasn’t weak either. In the critical moment, his body suddenly twisted strangely, forcibly twisting his upper body off the bed. He twisted with such force that his entire body was nearly deformed, so much so that his waist bones made cracking sounds as if about to break.

“Hiss—” A long sound as Jing Hengbo’s dagger slid across his back and cut downward, nearly splitting his back in half!

Namur tilted his head back to cry out in pain, but Mister Mu was quick with his hands and eyes, grabbing a pair of socks from the head of the bed and stuffing them into his mouth.

As soon as his hand loosened, Namur desperately leaped up, dripping blood, crashing toward the roof of the bed.

He knew who was in front of him, knew Mister Mu couldn’t walk, and that Jing Hengbo had strange body techniques, so he chose the nearest route—the distance to exit through the roof.

Under heavy injury, his response wasn’t slow and was accurate. This was the endurance and instinct that Nine Heavenly Gates disciples had trained in harsh environments.

Mister Mu didn’t get up. Lying there, a dark gleam flashed in his hand.

Something dropped down with a splat, bloody and falling on the quilt. Namur’s shrill scream was blocked by another sock.

In extreme pain, he desperately pulled himself upward, suddenly remembering there was someone behind him.

That woman was behind him!

This thought flashed by, and he was terrified out of his wits, using all his body’s strength to crash through the roof of the bed, just wanting to escape quickly.

Behind him, Jing Hengbo laughed coldly and raised her hand.

“Puff.” She didn’t know where she had stabbed, seemingly the middle of his torso. She turned her head in time to avoid a spray of fresh blood.

Namur could no longer make screams. His body was already falling down. Facing such close-range pincer attacks from two people, there was no reason to escape.

The roof directly above the bed suddenly opened a hole.

A soft white thread shot down like lightning.

Namur’s reaction was still extremely fast at this moment. He reached out to grab it, and that thread seemed elastic, bouncing him upward.

The speed was like lightning, so that the fresh blood Namur sprinkled streaked across the roof beams like a blood rainbow.

Jing Hengbo and Mister Mu both lunged up, and that thread suddenly split into two ends shooting toward them. When they each caught one, they felt their hands stick—this thread actually had adhesive properties like spider silk.

With just this delay, Namur had already disappeared from the roof.

Both Mister Mu and Jing Hengbo fell silent for a moment, then Jing Hengbo suddenly collapsed. Mister Mu quickly reached out to catch her, and Jing Hengbo panted in his arms, “I’m exhausted…”

In her fatigue, her voice was lazy and hoarse, almost coquettish, and her body was soft, slightly soaked with sweat.

His arms bore her body, feeling as if he was supporting a cloud—crimson, soft, light, swaying in the sky of his heart.

His heart also trembled leisurely. He helped her lie down, and though he didn’t speak, his movements were tender.

Jing Hengbo suddenly said, “Eh, what’s this?” reaching out to pick up that lump of something cut from Namur’s body.

Her hand was slapped down with a “thwack.” Mister Mu rushed to reach over, a handkerchief in his hand, wrapping that lump and throwing it far into the corner.

Still not satisfied, he shot out a fire starter, lit the red candle, and smashed the red candle onto that lump, burning it.

It took Jing Hengbo a while to understand what that thing was. Her face showed shock and strangeness, then after thinking, she giggled.

Mister Mu looked at her in amazement, perhaps having some misunderstanding, his temples slightly reddening.

But Jing Hengbo was laughing at her own move—she hadn’t seen clearly before, but if it really was that important part, that poor guy had truly been attacked from front and back.

However, Mister Mu’s strike was really ruthless. She had never seen a man attack that place before. This guy didn’t have some strange quirk, did he?

She glanced at him sideways, making him feel uncomfortable all over, knowing in his heart that this lewd woman was having some improper thoughts again.

“Do you want to sleep for a while…” he had to change the subject.

“How can I sleep with all this blood on the bed…” she muttered, feeling a bit better, perhaps because of the tension and sweating just now.

He threw away the bloody quilt, and only then did she realize the blood was all on the quilt—the bed was still clean.

In other words, when he struck that person, he had even thought of this.

This man’s meticulousness was sometimes truly amazing.

“Whoever becomes your wife in the future will be truly blessed…” she muttered as she lay down, leaving a foot of distance between herself and him.

His hand paused, and after a long while he said softly, “That’s not necessarily so. Perhaps I’d be a burden.”

“Who’s whose burden?” She turned over, resting on her elbow, and asked him.

In the darkness, her eyes shone brightly, burning his heart with pain.

“Naturally, I would be hers.” He patted his leg to indicate.

“You’re overthinking.” Jing Hengbo snorted coldly. “Choose what you love, love what you choose. Since she’s with you, how could she despise you? How do you know she thinks you’re a burden? Maybe she’d feel more sorry for you because of it? Maybe she just wants to be with you? Maybe she doesn’t care at all? You’re not her—how do you know what she thinks? What gives you the right to judge her like this?” The more she spoke, the angrier she became, heavily slapping his thigh. “Why are you men all like this, always using your own thoughts to guess what women think, self-righteous, self-decided, self-smart, self-tormenting!”

She angrily turned over, facing the wall, seeming too lazy to talk to him anymore.

He was silent for a long while, then gently pressed his hand on her shoulder, saying, “Don’t be angry anymore…”

“None of your business, take your paw away!”

He withdrew his hand and was quiet for a while. She heard his breathing was fine and soft, as if suppressing some emotion.

She suddenly felt emotionally depressed too, as if this outburst wasn’t merely displaced anger…

That paw behind her suddenly gently rested on her waist again.

She raged, “I told you to take your paw away!”

After roaring, she was stunned, suddenly feeling something was wrong.

This action, this dialogue, this tone—how was it so much like a little married couple quarreling in bed…

The next moment she heard him say awkwardly, “I was trying to pull your clothes up for you. Your clothes are torn at the waist…”

She immediately turned over and lay crosswise at the foot of the bed, saying, “You go sleep on the chair.”

He was silent for a moment and really started to get off the bed. She was also silent for a moment, suddenly realizing this plot development was becoming more and more like a quarreling married couple…

The atmosphere was too ambiguous. Whatever they did felt wrong.

“Stop, I’ll go sleep!” She sat up, climbed down from the bed, pushed him back, deciding never again to stay with him in any confined space.

That familiar feeling and suspicion that had started since leaving Emperor Song was already driving her crazy. She didn’t want to think about anything!

She had just taken two steps when the window suddenly clicked, and a figure squeezed in.

She was startled and stopped. Behind her, Mister Mu had already noticed and reached out to pull her into his arms.

But that figure had already rushed in, ignoring Mister Mu and hugging her legs.

Jing Hengbo was stunned, and Mister Mu was also startled. Both felt the other person had no martial arts.

“Er Ya! Er Ya!” That person panted, trembling all over, “I’ve been waiting for so long. Now there’s no one outside. Come with me, come with me right now!”

In the darkness, that person looked up, his face full of pleading. It was actually Huzi, who had caused a scene in the wedding hall earlier.

This guy had been dragged away from the wedding hall, but his heart was convinced of his own cowardice, letting the girl he liked marry a fool. Now he was getting his comeuppance, showing that even heaven couldn’t stand his cowardice. He must act like a man and fight once—he must save Er Ya from the fire pit!

He had been patrolling outside for half the night. Tonight, those boys eavesdropping were slow to leave, so he waited until those half-grown boys were chased away, then waited a bit more to make sure everyone in the village was asleep before running over.

“Er Ya, come with me, come with me!” He was moved by his own sacrificial and brave emotions, so excited his whole body shook and his face was covered in sweat. He didn’t even care that Mister Mu was sitting by the bed, just kept dragging Jing Hengbo outside, “I promised you, we’ll elope! Let’s go right now! I don’t despise you for having lost your virtue. For this lifetime, you must be mine!”

Jing Hengbo had originally wanted to slap him to an early bedtime, but hearing the last sentence, she was stunned.

For a moment, her heart surged with waves, all kinds of feelings, the taste in her heart indescribable. After a long while, she sighed with a start and murmured, “Living worse than these rural common people…”

Her heart was full of melancholy—in this lifetime, she herself probably wouldn’t hear such a sentence that was both pretentious and domineering and foolish, yet most warming to a woman’s heart, right?

Er Ya was more blessed than her.

Behind her, Mister Mu had originally seemed about to knock down Huzi, his hand extended halfway, but hearing her sigh, he also froze.

His hand stiffly stretched in mid-air, half an inch from her clothes, yet never took another step forward.

His fingers curled, not daring to grasp.

After a long while, it fell dejectedly.

The room was strangely quiet for a moment. Huzi didn’t know that in that moment, he had escaped a small disaster, still urgently dragging Jing Hengbo.

Jing Hengbo sighed and suddenly didn’t want to act anymore.

“I’m not Er Ya,” she said.

Huzi was startled, released his hand, and raised it to carefully identify her face.

“Help me with something, and I’ll tell you where Er Ya is. I’ll give you silver, and you can go with Er Ya to find a place where no one knows you and live a good life together.”

“Alright.” The young man answered without hesitation. “Where is she?”

“Help me with something first.” She whispered a few words in his ear. Huzi nodded and turned to leave.

After this young man had received the bitter fruit of losing love, he cast aside his initially indecisive nature and became decisive.

Jing Hengbo suddenly called him back and patted his shoulder.

“Promise me, in the future you must live a good life with Er Ya, must give her trust, give her respect, give her love, give her happiness.”

Her tone was heavy. Huzi stared at her blankly, suddenly feeling that this beautiful woman who had been smiling all along seemed to carry a heavy emotion in her heart too, as if this sentence was also a hope—hoping others would be happy, living out her share, thus bringing consolation.

“I will.” He seemed to swear to her, and also to himself, striding outside.

Too emotional, he forgot he could open the door and still clumsily climbed out through the window.

Jing Hengbo, full of melancholy, couldn’t help laughing heartily. But when she turned around, she saw Mister Mu’s slightly glistening gaze.

His gaze was too moist, seeming to contain a thousand words. She was somewhat lost in thought.

However, a moment later he gathered his gaze and lowered his eyes, so that she thought it was her own illusion.

“I had him lure those remaining subordinates,” she said. “The one who saved that leader just now didn’t seem to be his subordinate—it was someone else. So those Nine Heavenly Gates disciples must still be scattered nearby, continuing to search for us. Rather than running around, let’s wait at our ease for them to come and solve this cleanly.”

“Good.” He answered simply, seeming to suddenly lose interest in talking.

Jing Hengbo suddenly felt empty in her heart too, involuntarily thinking of Huzi and Er Ya, thinking of these most ordinary young men and women, and the courage that burst forth because of love.

She was a bit envious.

Those simplest happinesses—she didn’t know when they had become farther and farther away from her.

The two sat silently by the bed, each harboring a bosom of unspeakable thoughts.

Each feeling in the other’s heart that enormous void that pierced through tonight’s howling cold wind.