“Master, don’t compete with that person! You absolutely cannot joke with your precious body!”

“Master, don’t drink it! We’ll spill it right now!”

The loyal servants panicked and lost composure, hugging the brocade-robed man’s thighs, desperately trying to make their master abandon the absurd notion of “poisoning himself to death.”

Although ordinary people wouldn’t normally want to eat poison, their master was unpredictable—who knew if he might take a fancy to taste what poison was like? For others, “taking a fancy” might mean riding a horse or hunting. For their master, it meant “anything was possible.” Last time he took a fancy to something, he roasted a bully from the Empress’s family over a fire, distributed the meat to common people, and not only didn’t charge money to each person who came for meat, but even gave them a copper coin…

The brocade-robed man was stunned, first frowning unaccustomedly, then looking down at his teary-eyed guards, his face gradually showing a strange expression.

“You really won’t let me drink?”

Chinese and the others showed faces of utmost sincerity, nodding repeatedly, afraid they couldn’t move their master who was known as “Dong Tang’s Number One Weirdo.”

The brocade-robed man was silent for a moment, then said: “Bring six bowls.”

German went to get six bowls. The brocade-robed man said: “Ladle the soup.”

Six bowls were filled. The brocade-robed man pointed with his chin, indicating they should each take one bowl.

The guards vaguely understood what he wanted to do, their faces gradually turning pale.

“You won’t let me drink,” the brocade-robed man said with a pleasant smile, “then you drink it yourselves.”

“Master!” Chinese cried out.

“Drink up.” The brocade-robed man placed his hands on his knees, his manner kind. “You’ve worked hard too. Have some soup.”

Chinese and the others wanted to cry but had no tears—why had they just shown envious, jealous, and hateful looks at the charcoal drinking soup?

“What?” The brocade-robed man continued pressing, “I rarely bestow soup upon you, and none of you will drink?”

“Master!” Chinese gritted his teeth. “If the lord wants his minister to die, the minister cannot refuse death. You are our lord, your words are our orders. Chinese thanks master for this grace!” He lifted his head and heroically drained it in one gulp.

“Master…” German said tearfully, “Though we don’t understand why, even if we die, we won’t disobey your will…” He also drank.

“Master!” Italian said loudly, “After we’re gone, if those turtle bastards from Japanese don’t serve you well, you must take good care of yourself…” He drained it in one gulp.

English, Latin, and French also each drank, all heroically.

The brocade-robed man watched with a half-smile, his eyes flowing with light, seeming in good spirits. Seeing them finish drinking, he also picked up the bowl before him and drank it sip by sip.

“Crash.” Six bowls shattered on the ground. Chinese and the others stared dumbfounded at the brocade-robed man drinking soup. Only after a long while did they react, all crying and pouncing over to hug his thighs again.

“Master, you don’t need to die with us…” Chinese wept openly.

“Ah ah ah Master, we die willingly, you must treasure your precious body…” German’s eyes filled with tears.

“Master, I knew you couldn’t bear to part with us. Those turtle bastards from Japanese just can’t serve you well…” Italian hugged his leg and sobbed.

“Get lost. Bunch of idiots. You’ve completely disgraced me.” The brocade-robed man kicked them away one by one, picked up a piece of magnolia shoot and ate it, glancing outside with an expression that was unclear whether it was sighing or happiness—quite complex.

Chinese and the others looked at the gradually calming hot pot and seemed to understand… that soup wasn’t poisoned?

“My underlings suffered losses, but I tested their loyalty.” The brocade-robed man didn’t know who he was talking to, raising his bowl. “Second round, still a draw.”

He finally seemed interested, eating his fill of one bowl before having German remove the pot. German carried away the pot in bewilderment, thinking if the problem wasn’t in the soup, then where was it?

The brocade-robed man ate his fill, wiped his mouth, folded his napkin squarely, then said: “No good. You’re hidden while I’m exposed, you’re above while I’m below, you’re active while I’m passive, and my guards are deadly stupid. I’ll lose this way. Time for me to set the topic…” He suddenly smiled: “Go kill that woman.”

“Yes.” Chinese immediately moved.

There was no movement from all directions. The brocade-robed man raised an eyebrow and said with realization: “So you don’t actually care about her. You might even hope I kill her. Then what’s your purpose in coming… ah, you’re not here to test my abilities, are you?”

Still no movement from all directions. The brocade-robed man said languidly: “You don’t care about that female official, so let me guess who you do care about. If I guess right, won’t you come out and have a heart-to-heart with me? Oh right, Chinese.” He said to his chief guard, “I heard Her Majesty the Queen is currently in the front hall?”

“Yes.”

“Tell me, if I sent someone to tell her: ‘All things are confused, not in dreams. Only because someone has deceived you in darkness.’ Would she come see me?”

Outside, there was suddenly a faint sound, like thin ice cracking.

The brocade-robed man raised his hand, and the sunflower seed shells on the table suddenly gathered with a “swish,” pointed ends outward, spinning like a black whirlwind and piercing through the window paper with a “whoosh,” rushing toward the window.

From afar it looked like a broad black sword, the sword challenging darkness.

Sunflower seed shells were light and soft, but this sword of shells instantly broke through the window paper, even shattering the wooden window frame. One could imagine if these shells hit someone’s face, that person would forever be a pockmarked wretch.

But that swarm of shells seemed not to hit anything solid. With a “swish,” a wind sound rolled back from the just-broken window paper, louder and heavier than before, with faint crystalline glints visible, seemingly containing black things. Looking more carefully, what returned were still sunflower seed shells, only each shell was now wrapped in a layer of hard ice and snow.

That swarm of icy snowy shells rushed into the room, directly attacking vital points all over the brocade-robed man’s body!

Chinese, German and the others immediately pounced forward, wielding swords to block. The brocade-robed man had originally been watching with a smile and casual manner, but now his expression changed as he shouted: “Stand down!”

As soon as he gave the order, the guards unhesitatingly retreated, but they were already a step too slow. Those icy snowy shells that had originally rushed toward the brocade-robed man suddenly scattered with a “puff,” hitting the guards instead.

“Idiots.” The brocade-robed man raised his hand, and chestnuts in his hand flew out spinning, but not toward the window—they shot straight up at the ceiling. One chestnut shattered one tile at extreme speed. In the rapid “pop pop pop pop” sounds, broken tiles scattered everywhere. The entire roof’s tiles were like piano keys being played, all flying and bouncing.

Also flying were snow-white robe corners. Each time a roof tile was shattered, a snow-white corner flashed, flashing toward the next tile. Chestnuts crackled against roof tiles, tiles crackled and broke in succession, and that robe corner could always flash away before the tiles cracked and collapsed. White shadows and blue tiles flashed continuously across the rooftop, dazzling the guards watching.

This was a competition of speed against speed. If the roof tiles could finish breaking before the white shadow flashed away, making the white shadow fall, then the white shadow would lose.

But the white shadow always barely flashed away before the tiles cracked. It seemed the brocade-robed man couldn’t win. Yet the guards let out a long breath—the brocade-robed man was first hitting the corner tiles, then the central ridge, surrounding the center from the periphery, forcing the opponent to gradually dodge toward the middle. So when all roof tiles were shattered and that person had nowhere left to land, they would definitely fall.

It looked like their master would win this third round.

In moments, all roof tiles were shattered.

Everyone watched as the last broken tile fell from beneath the white shadow’s feet, and the white shadow sank downward.

Everyone was about to cheer when the white shadow’s body suddenly stopped in mid-air.

Then everyone widened their eyes and saw beneath the white-clothed person’s feet, an ice pillar suddenly extended, lightning-fast extending to both ends, spanning the left and right rooftops.

The ice pillar became a crossbeam. Above the ice pillar, an ice surface suddenly extended, like two ice tiles extending to both sides, gradually covering the entire roof.

The scene before them was truly a wonder—an ice beam spanning across, the entire roof above turned to ice tiles. Through the transparent roof, one could see the clear sky, twinkling starlight, and in distant floating clouds, a cold crescent moon.

That layer of transparent ice screen made the moon appear particularly desolate, clear and cool, haloing with some hazy light. The starlight also seemed larger, clustered together like cold torches.

Before the ice tiles completely closed together, that person leisurely descended, lightly sitting on the ice beam.

Above his head were cold moon, heavenly stars, and transparent tiles; beneath him an ice pillar crossbeam. Snow-white robe corners hung down, gently swaying in the air.

With such a background, such a posture, looking up like this, that person seemed to traverse starlight, step on the cold moon, coming from the Palace of Coldness, his snow-white clothes unstained by dust, banished to the mortal world.

The guards couldn’t help holding their breath. While shocked by such immortal bearing and artistic conception, they also alertly noticed the danger—the ice pillar was only as thick as an arm, yet seated with that tall person, it showed no signs of breaking.

This martial arts skill was enough to shock the world.

The guards tried to protect the brocade-robed man in the middle, but the brocade-robed man looked up and smiled: “Hey, are your injuries better?”

The person on ice didn’t answer, robe corners flowing in the wind.

“That move was beautiful, but using ice and snow to heal wounds in front of me—is that really appropriate?” The brocade-robed man still looked too lazy to get up, holding his three-jin tender yellow silk quilt, shaking his head. “In wisdom, I may not lose to you; in martial power, you’re in a weakened state. Fighting me, you’ll definitely lose.”

“Injury and illness are my weakness. However, you also have your weaknesses.” The white-clothed person on the ice pillar finally spoke, voice clear and cold. “Fighting me, do you want to become a friendless loner?”

The brocade-robed man’s expression changed. He turned to look at his guards—somehow, they had all fallen.

He seemed somewhat surprised, frowned and looked, but didn’t rush forward to check. He just used his foot to flip German like a dead dog, glanced at him, and sighed.

“Cunning enough.”

The person on ice curved his lips, automatically taking this as a compliment.

The brocade-robed man raised his eyebrows, also slightly amazed in his heart—were there such capable people in Dahuang? If any random person in Dahuang had this kind of wisdom and ability, they could have annexed Dong Tang long ago.

He and the white-clothed person had three rounds, the subtleties of which only the two of them knew. In the first round, when German was carrying the bird’s nest soup, the white-clothed person sprinkled tiny poisonous ice crystals into the soup. Those crystals were hidden by the steam, silently falling into the soup—German couldn’t discover them at all. So the surface of the bird’s nest soup quickly lost temperature, while German was holding the lower half of the porcelain bowl and didn’t notice the surface cooling.

The brocade-robed man seemed casual but actually had lightning-sharp eyes. Seeing the steam suddenly disappear, he knew something was wrong, so he went along with it, placing the bird’s nest soup by the window—not to cool it, but to remotely circulate his power to restore the soup’s temperature. The vaporizing bird’s nest soup would re-evaporate the poisoned surface layer, sending it into the mouth and nose of the person outside.

Of course, the white-clothed person had already left the window by then.

Both saw through the other’s intentions, so the brocade-robed man said it was a draw.

In the second round, German delivered the hot pot. The white-clothed person was also nearby, using extreme yang internal power to heat the charcoal fire. Higher temperatures naturally made German feel burning, and feeling burning he would naturally think to soak the cotton towel in ice water to cool it. Actually, if he had just drawn water from the water vat then, nothing would have happened. But having gone through the first round, he would naturally be more careful afterward, so he used lake water to wet the cotton towel. At this time, among the countless tiny floating ice pieces in the lake water, there was naturally the poisonous kind.

The wet cotton towel contained poison. When roasted by the charcoal fire, it emitted poisonous gas. Of course this gas couldn’t reach the soup, but it was directed at the guards who were arranging the table and preparing bowls and chopsticks around the hot pot. So this time it targeted not the brocade-robed man but his guards, and the guards indeed fell for it.

He used the same method to trick one person twice. Also a lazy person, but just this kind of poisoning without even bothering to change tactics managed to bring down a group of people.

So the brocade-robed man was very angry. After he extinguished the charcoal fire, he took the opportunity of drinking soup to severely scold his stupid guards.

Actually the guards couldn’t be called stupid—it’s just that in front of these two, any IQ seemed insufficient.

So the second round was also a draw. Because although the white-clothed person successfully poisoned the brocade-robed man’s guards as desired, the brocade-robed man also discovered it in time. When drinking soup, he naturally also administered the antidote.

The antidote was a detoxification pill he had developed himself. It might not be completely targeted, but it shouldn’t cause the guards to die from poisoning. This was enough to keep him undefeated. As for the guards suffering a little, he didn’t care at all.

However, in the third round, the guards still fell.

Because the poison from the white-clothed person’s second round was only half-applied—it was a primer. The icy snowy shells of the third round were the real catalyst.

He calculated that the guards would protect the brocade-robed man, so that attack was originally waiting for the guards.

When the shells wrapped in ice and snow rushed back, hitting the guards, it triggered the remaining toxicity to explode. The guards still couldn’t escape his attack.

Strictly speaking, the white-clothed person won.

But now, it was still a draw.

Because he on the ice beam coughed lightly, and on his snow-white face, an abnormal flush faintly appeared.

The brocade-robed man listened carefully to that cough and smiled slightly: “I suddenly feel very bored.”

The white-clothed person looked at him with an expression of “when are you ever not bored?”

“Why should I fight with someone who’s about to die?” The brocade-robed man indeed looked very bored. “Even winning wouldn’t bring me glory.”

He acted as if he hadn’t heard, placing his hands on the ice beam, gazing toward the direction of the front hall.

This battle of wits would actually never have a victor. Because they might each suffer damage, or you win this round and I win the next. Only fighting to the death could completely eliminate the other, but truly smart people never fight to the death casually.

“In my current condition, you could injure yourself to keep me here.” He said indifferently. “But if you’re injured and your guards are all dead, with no one to serve you in the future, no one to tolerate your various strange habits, you’d have to return home alone. More importantly, once you lose your use value, do you think Ming Yan’an will still tolerate you? Will your enemies allow you to return home safely?”

“So if I persist, we’ll both be destroyed?” The brocade-robed man swept all the shell fragments outside, lest their untidiness be annoying to look at.

The white-clothed person didn’t answer, like a moon hanging high in the sky. All answers to worldly matters lay only in fate’s waxing and waning.

The brocade-robed man looked him up and down, suddenly saying: “I’m suddenly interested in that Queen Jing.”

The white-clothed person’s sleeves trembled slightly. He wasn’t surprised that the brocade-robed man guessed his identity. He only said coldly: “Your country’s master chef is said to have the habit of personally tasting everything he makes first.”

The brocade-robed man’s eyes narrowed: “Are you threatening me?”

Though he was arrogantly disdainful to an inhuman degree, his outward appearance had always been casual and relaxed. But now those dark, profound eyes flashed with light, killing intent like a sword, pupils surrounded by a faint ring of blood red, like a blood abyss hiding rolling evil and sin.

In this moment, his divine beauty contained infinite murderous aura, as if he could draw his sword in an instant and slaughter the entire world.

Yet the white-clothed person remained that same moon, the eternally cold and clear radiance of ten thousand years.

“Likewise.” He said.

But the brocade-robed man suddenly smiled again, hugging his tender yellow quilt and lying back, simply closing his eyes. “Forget it. Your words are too weak, as weak as you are. With your constitution, you can’t even get out of Dahuang. Stay here and guard your woman properly. Anyway, you won’t be able to guard for many more days. I’m afraid no matter how you follow, watch, and protect, after you die in the future, your woman will follow someone else in minutes. Just try not to get so angry you crawl out of your grave.”

“Thank you for your concern.” The white-clothed person’s expression didn’t change. “You’d better worry about yourself—whether you can be buried in the imperial mausoleum. I’m afraid if you can’t be buried in the imperial mausoleum soon, you’ll have to be buried in a stinking ditch early. But that’s fine too—when your woman follows someone else in the future, it’ll be more convenient for you to crawl out of the ditch.”

“If I’m buried in a stinking ditch, my woman will naturally sleep there with me.” The brocade-robed man ate sunflower seeds with his eyes closed, looking quite enjoying himself. “Better than your woman being buried with someone else.”

“No matter.” The white-clothed person said indifferently. “She’ll still be buried in my land.”

The brocade-robed man curved his lips and laughed coldly, seeming finally impatient with this kind of seemingly elegant but actually extremely vicious verbal sparring. He said lightly: “You came here, it doesn’t seem to be to save someone? Then what are you here for?”

“I want to make a pact with you.” The white-clothed person said.

“Oh?”

“With your nature, you’ll stir up wind and rain in Hawksbill.” He said. “I allow you to act, but I don’t allow you to use lethal force against Jing Hengbo.”

“You want me to be your Queen’s whetstone?” The brocade-robed man reacted extremely quickly. “Ha, if you beg me, I might consider it.”

“In terms of scheming and ability, she may not need you to hold back.” He said. “It’s just that you act crazily and by any means necessary, while she’s fundamentally kind-hearted. In this regard, she’s at a disadvantage.”

“Are you her husband or her wet nurse?” The brocade-robed man burst out laughing. “You want to increase difficulty to train her, but you can’t let her be harmed. Do such perverted things yourself—I won’t keep you company. When my mood strikes and I want to kill, I’ll kill, whether it’s a heavenly king or rakshasa.”

“Harm doesn’t matter—people always grow through harm.” He said frankly. “Just can’t use vicious means to take lives. If you abide by the agreement, I’ll have a reward.”

“What reward?”

“I can send you safely through Dahuang territory to get what you want; or I can promise to help you once when you need it in the future. You can only choose one of the two.”

“When I need it, you might already be dead.”

“With your ambition, you’ll need it soon. Even if I die, I have ways to help you.”

The brocade-robed man stopped talking and began eating sunflower seeds. When he thought about problems, he liked to shell sunflower seeds himself and arrange the shells in array patterns.

He didn’t have this habit before—it was cultivated by Little Cake. Little Cake said eating sunflower seeds would put one’s mind in a state of emptiness, thinking both scattered and concentrated, especially clear and pure. The mechanical action would make one’s thoughts clearer, conducive to calmly sorting through ideas, and sunflower seeds themselves could nourish the brain. It was truly an essential treasure for making decisions at home or while traveling.

In the silent room, only the crack-crack sound of him eating sunflower seeds, monotonous and trivial, making one suspect there was only a big squirrel in this room.

The guards on the ground had already begun turning black-faced—a sign of poison outbreak, a matter of life and death. He acted as if he hadn’t seen, eating sunflower seeds in his empty state.

The person on the beam wasn’t anxious either, leisurely gazing toward the front hall, seeming to hear the sword energy cutting through the air beneath the string music there.

After a good while, the brocade-robed man said: “I don’t like overly weak people existing. If she can rescue her female official from my hands, then I’ll consider it.”

“She can.” He said with certainty.

He laughed mockingly, seeming both disbelieving and disdainful.

The two stopped talking. Superior beings leave their words incomplete—some things needn’t be said clearly. Some things both understand.

After a moment, the brocade-robed man said leisurely: “Night is deep.”

The ice tiles on the roof made the white-clothed person’s countenance also seem like ice and snow.

He said: “Day will break.”

…

Three rounds at Ningxue Pavilion, quietly hiding deadly intent.

But the front hall had melodious strings and bright song and dance, brocade halls flowing with night light—a scene of lively bustling.

Five flavors of dishes served, wine passed three rounds—of course Jing Hengbo ate no dishes and drank no wine. She wasn’t foolish enough to eat and drink on someone else’s territory.

Although Chai Yu beside her said he was willing to taste wine for her and had been drinking alone without incident, Jing Hengbo still refused to touch her chopsticks.

She refused to eat or drink, but Ming Yan’an wouldn’t let her off. He suddenly smiled: “Why hasn’t Your Majesty drunk wine? Are you afraid this small king’s wine is poisoned?”

Jing Hengbo tapped her bowl with chopsticks and answered without courtesy: “Yes.”

The entire hall fell silent—even the dancers seemed to nearly stumble.

Accustomed to hypocritical words and concealing embellishments, they were seeing someone speak as nakedly as Jing Hengbo for the first time.

But sometimes directness made people harder to handle. Even the consistently steady and modest Ming Yan’an’s expression changed, though he adjusted quickly and then smiled: “Your Majesty speaks quickly and directly—most refreshingly amiable. But Your Majesty misunderstands this small king. However shameless this small king may be, he wouldn’t stoop to poisoning at such an open banquet in this grand hall. Or perhaps if it were Your Majesty acting, this would be an excellent opportunity for poisoning? Pity this small king doesn’t stoop to such methods.”

He ultimately couldn’t help himself and subtly jabbed at Jing Hengbo. Jing Hengbo chuckled: “Guard against villains, not gentlemen.”

Ming Yan’an really didn’t want to engage in verbal sparring with her. He had heard of the Queen’s formidable tongue—why seek humiliation? He simply rose from his seat, had people bring two completely new wine cups, filled each, brought them on a tray, walked before Jing Hengbo, and smiled: “This wine is called ‘One Drunken Rest.’ ‘Spring tides disturb rain, pear blossoms white, throwing scrolls and tapping chess pieces for one drunken rest.’ These speak of our Shangyuan’s three famous wines: Spring Tide Disturbing Rain, Pear Blossom White, and One Drunken Rest. This wine enters the throat mellow but burns the belly, with lingering effects that sharpen ears and brighten eyes—most remarkable. If Your Majesty comes to my Shangyuan without tasting even one sip, people will surely laugh at insufficient courage.”

He indicated for palace maids to present the tray, letting Jing Hengbo take the wine herself to show openness.

Jing Hengbo smiled and casually took one cup. Ming Yan’an took the remaining cup and smiled: “Or Your Majesty could exchange with this cup in my hand.”

“That’s unnecessary.” Jing Hengbo smiled: “I only hope the clan chief will bestow a cup of the remaining wine from this pot to the dancers in this hall.”

Ming Yan’an was stunned: “Why?”

“They’re dancing so hard, and so beautifully—shouldn’t they be rewarded?” Jing Hengbo’s eyes flowed charmingly, making even Ming Yan’an feel dizzy.

“Your Majesty speaks truly.” Ming Yan’an turned and instructed palace maids to bring that wine to the dancers. When turning, he gave the palace maid a meaningful look.

Behind him, Jing Hengbo suddenly smiled: “Why trouble this young lady to carry it over and interrupt the dance? I’ll perform a magic trick for everyone.” Before Ming Yan’an and others could react, she waved her hand. The wine pot flew from the tray to above the dancer, who was gracefully singing. In a pose lifting her face upward, her mouth just opened when the wine pot suspended in air poured downward, a stream of wine flowing into her mouth. The dancer took a sip, then in her next movement lowered her head and flicked her sleeves. The wine pot had already flown back to the tray. The entire movement flowed like clouds and water—the dance wasn’t even interrupted.

Ming Yan’an’s expression changed and he smiled reluctantly: “Your Majesty’s divine skill!”

“You’re too kind.” Jing Hengbo watched the dance with a completely absorbed expression, holding her wine cup as if forgetting to drink.

She “forgot,” but Ming Yan’an couldn’t forget. He smiled and raised his cup to her: “Your Majesty, please.”

Jing Hengbo turned her wine cup, staring at the dancer, about to speak when suddenly Chai Yu beside her lunged forward, prostrating on her table, drunkenly saying: “…burp, good wine… truly good wine… Your Majesty… this cup… burp… also bestow it upon me…”

Only then did Jing Hengbo notice the wine pot on his table was empty. At imperial banquets, naturally one couldn’t drink to one’s heart’s content—one pot per person was all. Chai Yu sat alone at one table, drinking alone the whole time, cup after cup, actually draining an entire pot.

Having drained it, he was also drunk. He prostrated on Jing Hengbo’s table like a mountain of flesh, plumply emanating wine smell, with drunken misty eyes snatching Jing Hengbo’s wine cup and gulping it down in one go. Ming Yan’an didn’t even have time to stop him.

With her wine cup snatched, Jing Hengbo cried in alarm: “Chai Yu! How can you do this! So improper!”

Palace servants came up to drag Chai Yu from her table. Chai Yu still gripped the table refusing to let go. The palace servants pulled and dragged desperately. Jing Hengbo, fearing they’d overturn the table, also rose to help. Chai Yu seemed truly drunk, arms flailing, nearly scratching Jing Hengbo’s hand.

With great difficulty everyone managed to get the heavy fat man back to his seat. Chai Yu still squinted his eyes, charmingly drunk, waving at her: “Your Majesty… good wine… good wine…”

Jing Hengbo didn’t pretend anger either, smiling as she propped her chin watching him: “Such loyalty! Such loyalty!”

After such commotion, Ming Yan’an naturally couldn’t continue toasting. He had already returned to his seat during the earlier chaos, frowning. After returning, he seemed in poor spirits, frowning as he watched the dancers, suddenly banging his wine cup heavily: “How is this dance so frivolous! No need to continue—go down!”

“Why?” Jing Hengbo immediately smiled. “I think it’s very beautiful—continue, continue.”

“Such clumsy dancing is unfit to pollute noble eyes.” Ming Yan’an still insisted.

“I’m the expert on dancing. If I say it’s beautiful, it’s beautiful. Besides, dances are performed for guests. If guests are satisfied, that’s fine, right?” Jing Hengbo smiled without yielding an inch.

“But such crude dancing also harms our Shangyuan’s reputation…” Ming Yan’an was still rambling when suddenly a sharp scream came from the center—hoarse and wild. Everyone startled and looked up to see the dancer in the center had suddenly become somewhat mad, her dance movements chaotic, steps crooked, violently shaking her head and disheveling her hair. The golden flower crown fell to the ground. She staggered and stepped on it—the thin crown’s edge cut her toes, but she seemed completely unaware, shaking her head and spinning while making delirious murmuring sounds. Suddenly she raised her hand and with a “rip” tore open the collar of her thin silk shirt, exposing a white expanse of skin that dazzled the eyes.

Jing Hengbo drew in a sharp breath, immediately understanding what had been in that wine—indeed not poison, but aphrodisiac drugs!

Ming Yan’an had intended to make her lose face!

That dancer had only been fed one sip and became like this. If she herself had drunk it…

Before she could get angry, Ming Yan’an angrily smashed his cup and said with an iron-blue face: “Outrageous! Before such distinguished guests, how can you perform such mad dancing? Drag her away!”

Guards immediately came forward and quickly dragged the person out. Ming Yan’an knew his scheme was exposed and acted extremely quickly to prevent Jing Hengbo from making difficulties.

But Jing Hengbo’s attention wasn’t on making difficulties—beside her, Chai Yu suddenly pushed away his table with a “bang” and stood up.

Like the dancer just now, his eyebrows and eye corners showed faint redness. He squinted his eyes with an expression seeming intoxicated, pained, and confused. He couldn’t dance, and with too much fat couldn’t move much either, so he just raised both arms and shook desperately. With this shaking, from neck to chest to belly, all the fat on his body shook—like a large lump of undulating white meat, unbearable to look at.

Everyone was first shocked, then reacted and couldn’t help laughing heartily.

“The important minister before Your Majesty’s presence truly has extraordinary bearing… extraordinary indeed!”

“Truly worthy of being an important minister—loyally devoted, and his weight also proudly surpasses all others.”

“Look at all that flesh, leisurely undulating, wrinkles like mountains, grease like water, hahaha.”

“This weight—even one of the three sacrificial animals at my family’s New Year ancestor worship isn’t this substantial…”

Ming Yan’an looked at the completely disgraced Chai Yu, his eyes flickering slightly, his expression somewhat gloomy.

“…Look, even his chest can swing around, like a woman…” The ministers got carried away, saying increasingly inappropriate things.

“Enough.” Ming Yan’an suddenly shouted sternly. The ministers stopped in stunned silence, looking at Ming Yan’an with some confusion—weren’t they mocking the enemy? Shouldn’t the king be happier the more vicious it was? Had the king changed his nature?

Over there, Jing Hengbo looked up at Chai Yu. Though he shook frantically, fine streams of water flowed from the corners of his eyes.

Jing Hengbo’s heart shook. She turned to look at Master Mu, whose eyes also showed deep thought. He flicked his sleeve, and a palm force struck through the air, knocking Chai Yu unconscious.

Chai Yu softly collapsed. Jing Hengbo quickly supported him, seeing his face covered in sweat. She couldn’t help feeling uneasy and whispered in his ear: “Sir suffered humiliation for me. Jing Hengbo will surely repay this in the future.”

Chai Yu’s consciousness seemed still unclear, but his head moved slightly. After a moment, two streams of tears rolled down.

Jing Hengbo’s hands trembled, and for a moment she felt quite guilty and ashamed.

She and Master Mu both still had doubts about Chai Yu’s identity and background. This person appeared foolish but showed inner intelligence, yet seemed to have suffered some harm and was very silent and self-concealing. Such people usually had deep thoughts. His appearance on the Qu River, his voluntary request to guide them, his familiarity with Shangyuan’s situation—all these coincidences made it difficult for Jing Hengbo not to be on guard.

So just now she hadn’t immediately stopped Chai Yu, really wanting to see what he would do. However, at this moment, this fat man’s face full of tears flooded her heart with pain.

Distrust was also a kind of harm.

The great hall awkwardly quieted, then someone whispered: “Earlier Your Majesty said our dancing was acceptable. We suddenly recalled that Your Majesty is the legendary master of dance. Since the dancers have withdrawn, perhaps Your Majesty could let us admire your peerless dancing?”

Jing Hengbo snorted through her nose—this seemed like a prelude to “Prince Zhao drumming for King Qin”?

Sure enough, before she could agree, someone had already brought dance costumes and other items, not giving them to her but placing them directly on the ground before Ming Yan’an. An old minister loudly said to a seemingly court historian: “Quickly record this: On the eleventh day of the eleventh month of the Gengshen year, in Tiantai Hall, the Black Water Queen requested to dance for the Hawksbill King.”

The historian didn’t even look at Jing Hengbo, quickly taking up his brush to write. The ministers shook their heads and loudly declared: “The Queen’s dance is exquisite beyond compare—naturally she should dance for the King!”

“The Queen actively shows favor to the King—the King should reward her!”

“Thus, a beautiful story! Worthy of being recorded in history for posterity!”

Ming Yan’an sat upright, looking down at Jing Hengbo, smiling with satisfaction.