She didn’t know when this emotion had become impossible to place under the light of day. Only in such an immobilized space would she not flee from him; only in such unlit darkness could he let himself go and embrace her.

In the name of surviving tribulation, enduring the tribulation of the heart.

Jing Hengbo was cradled in his arms, breathing in the cold fragrance of his lips and skin. There was an irresistible closeness, an understanding that hearts would comprehend. She suddenly recalled the opera performance on Shangyuan Street and the final line she’d heard: “Thirty thousand li of heaven and earth in one bell, all things confused, dwelling within a dream.”

Her body trembled slightly as she thought of this universal confusion, like dwelling in a dream. When would this dream end, or perhaps it would never see an end—just a dream within a dream.

He also felt the body before him trembling slightly, not seeming from excitement but from some uncontrollable emotion. His heart ached, nearly bringing up a mouthful of backed-up blood. He quickly turned his head aside, suddenly feeling pain on his lips—she had bitten him.

This bite didn’t seem like resistance, but more like harboring resentment. Both instantly felt the slightly sweet metallic taste, just like before, each tasting the other’s blood, the taste of hatred, the taste of bodies, the taste of helplessness.

Then Jing Hengbo pushed him away, forcefully.

He leaned against the wall, silently covering his lips, a spot of blood seeping through his sleeve. She also had blood on her lips. She slowly wiped it away, suddenly thinking how wonderful it would be if everything in this world could be wiped away so readily.

Breathing was still very stifled. Their space was filled with soil layers, so she and he were still squeezed together. Even wiping her mouth felt like taking advantage of each other. He spread his arms to catch her, his hands gently pressing against her waist. She was pushed by the force behind her, unable to refuse his embrace, feeling the chest against her hands seemed both cold and hot, while his heartbeat was slow and prolonged.

Her own heart, however, beat like a runaway wild horse. With trembling hands, she wanted to touch his face but was blocked by his arms. She had to give up, reaching behind to feel around. Behind her was a layer of smooth, cold, hard material, like a giant bat’s wings, blocking the soil behind and forcibly creating this survival space for them both. Otherwise, that collapse just now would have buried them both directly.

She wondered in her heart—this thing behind her, she could feel was made from extremely rare metals, with a design she’d never seen before. Did this fellow know they’d encounter such an artificial landslide and prepare escape tools in advance?

His foresight was possible, after all, he’d arrived before her and already studied these underground mechanisms. He could easily see that this final move was an explosion. If it couldn’t kill people, it could still cause the soil layers piled at the courtyard entrance to collapse, burying alive both the rescuers and those trapped below.

But if he could see through this mechanism, why would he still wait for her underground?

Also, who was the person operating the mechanism from outside? Could it be Chai Yu?

There were many questions, but one more urgent problem pressed upon them—this was underground, the two of them were essentially buried alive. How would they get out?

He gave her the answer. He first reached out to grasp her shoulder, turning her body so he was pressing down on her, then she heard a “click.” That bat wing-like thing emitted a buzzing vibration sound at extremely high frequency. Some soil chunks were shattered, flowing down along those wings with rustling sounds.

She looked at that thing in shock—wasn’t this using frequency vibration to pulverize soil chunks, thereby expanding their survival space? This sounded simple, but this was in ancient times with backward production technology. What kind of amazing person could create such a thing? Never mind other aspects, how could they manufacture a motor?

Wait, who actually made this thing…

But at this moment, he had already retracted that thing. When the wings supporting the four-sided area were withdrawn, soil immediately came cascading down with a crash. Only now did she understand why he’d pressed her beneath him—this time it really wasn’t to take advantage, but completely to prevent her from getting covered head to toe with dirt.

After that thing was retracted, she felt around and it had become elongated, seemingly like an umbrella with a slightly pointed tip. Then she heard another click as he used this thing to drill toward the thinner part of the soil layer. This thing drilled while vibrating, crushing soil chunks. Naturally, the space could expand. What seemed like a soil chamber packed full surprisingly allowed them to slowly move forward.

Having such a treasure in their desperate situation, Jing Hengbo felt she should be happy, but her heart was anxious and uneasy, not knowing how Zirui and the others were faring. Moreover, if they kept struggling like this until dawn, things would become even more difficult to handle.

And she remembered that when entering from the underground entrance, there was quite a long distance. Relying on slowly walking out like this, they couldn’t make it out even in a day and night.

Then she discovered that the direction he was walking wasn’t toward the exit at all, but in the completely opposite direction.

“Where are we going?” she asked, then suddenly understood: “The mechanism control room!”

He nodded approvingly, saying: “Since all the mechanisms are on the ground and are interconnected, there must be a master control location for the mechanisms, and it must be underground.”

The mechanism master control location must be an underground space connecting to the surface. Jing Hengbo became excited. This way she could get out at the fastest speed.

Currently trapped underground, she could only move slowly. With insufficient space around her, she couldn’t teleport out.

He held the umbrella in one hand moving forward, naturally taking her hand with the other to lead her forward. After walking a few steps, she reacted: “You can walk!”

As she said this, her heart trembled violently, as if some thought had been corroborated. She stared at him with burning eyes.

He replied calmly: “Mr. Mu could always walk, just not very far.”

“Oh?” Her voice revealed neither belief nor disbelief.

“It’s a paralysis condition from childhood. Later practicing martial arts improved it somewhat, but I can’t walk long distances, so I often use a wheelchair. If I can avoid walking, I don’t walk.” He explained: “Later when establishing Shadow Pavilion, I inadvertently discovered that appearing weak was more advantageous for observing others, controlling power, and turning the tables at crucial moments. So I simply stopped standing up.”

This explanation seemed flawless. She turned to look at his eyes, but he didn’t meet her gaze, only tugging her hand as a reminder: “Don’t let go. What if we go the wrong direction?”

“In such a small place,” she seemed to find an outlet for her emotions and immediately said, “no matter how many wrong turns we take, we’ll eventually get out. How can life not involve wrong paths? Why must every step be corrected for others? Aren’t you tired? Aren’t you being too meddlesome?”

She hadn’t even noticed that by the end of her questioning, her tone had become aggressive, faintly carrying some indignation, completely unlike her usual self.

He remained calm: “You’re right. But we’re pressed for time. One wrong step, delaying our timing, and the final outcome will be different.”

“I’m not pressed for time!” she said angrily. “I’d rather be delayed and then sprint to catch up than have others arrange everything for me!”

He seemed to chuckle softly: “I’m afraid there are some things that once delayed, no matter how you sprint, you can never catch up.”

“What?” she immediately responded sharply, gathering her strength to refute him.

But his umbrella tip suddenly struck something metallic with a “clang.” The umbrella tip shook away the much-loosened soil, and Jing Hengbo saw a circular, iron contraption that looked like a modern Ferris wheel, only many times smaller.

This thing was connected to many leather cords and steel cables, though most of the cords had been severed.

The circular wheel was tall enough for a person. She was delighted—as long as she could stand inside, she could teleport.

Then she hesitated, turning back to look at him, wondering how he planned to get up. This wheel was buried deep underground. Though there was a passage above, it was an extremely narrow tube that couldn’t accommodate a person.

But he released her hand, saying softly: “The rest is up to you. Be careful.”

“You…” She wanted to ask something but suddenly didn’t know what to ask.

“I can get out, but it will take time. You hurry and save people.” He said: “Actually, no one will arrange all paths for you. Most paths you walk yourself; even longer paths in the future, you walk yourself.”

She whirled around to grab his hand, but he pressed that strange umbrella into her hands. The cold umbrella tip made her shiver, and she forgot what she’d wanted to say.

“Don’t casually return this thing to anyone,” he said. “Whoever wants it back, give them a good beating.”

She hadn’t yet understood these words when he pushed her: “Go.”

His action was sudden. She stumbled from the push and rushed into the circular wheel. An air current within her body pushed her, forcing her to instinctively flash away.

When she looked up again, she was on the surface. The moon was bright, the wind clear, the vast sky washed clean, no longer the stifling pollution of the underground chamber.

The ground swayed slightly beneath her feet. Looking down, she discovered she was actually standing on that swing.

The explosion had occurred underground, so the damage above wasn’t too severe. The swing mechanism had already activated. She didn’t immediately come down but gently set the swing in motion.

Raising her head, the wind blew her long hair open. Getting closer and closer to the blue sky, closer to the starlight, she swayed leisurely in the heights, reaching out to pluck the moon; he in the underground depths gazed up silently, gently covering his lips.

The golden moon rushed into her chest, carving a curved question mark. No one was willing to give her an answer, or perhaps even she herself was unwilling to search for one.

Her dress and skirt flying, swinging to the highest point.

In a trance, it was still the original Yuzhao Palace, her swing kicking past his window, startling a shower of falling petals.

She suddenly released her hands.

Her figure flashed and vanished.

…

In the distance on a tree, a cloaked figure watched silently, seeing that woman swing like a flying immortal, flashing away in an instant.

A strange light flickered in his eyes.

“Indeed couldn’t kill you… this is good too.” He smiled and turned away.

A life without opponents would be the most lonely.

…

Only after all who should leave had left did two figures dart into the courtyard, digging up the ground beneath the swing to bring him out.

His clothes were covered in mud, and he himself was filthy with dirt. Guards busily dusted him off, thinking to themselves how the world had changed—their master who was pure as snow and moon, untouched by dust, was living worse and worse. He’d been drowned, rolled in mud pits, and now had even crawled through dirt holes.

He silently let the guards dust him off, sitting himself before the swing, gently pushing it back and forth.

The swing swayed lightly, swinging higher and higher. He looked up as if seeing her standing on the swing, swinging toward his window, her laughter scattering like pearls, the falling flowers in the courtyard graceful, but not as beautiful as her radiant smile.

Sometimes she would mischievously extend her foot, as if to kick his nose.

Back then she always complained that he let her swing alone, never looking up.

She didn’t know that ever since she began swinging, an extremely smooth polished mirror had been placed on his desk. Normally covered so she wouldn’t see it.

When she swung, her shadow would dance toward him in the mirror, from far to near. Among spring flowers and red leaves, it was the most beautiful painting.

And that painting was beneath him, in his arms, that lowered beautiful silhouette that couldn’t escape the heaven and earth of his gaze.

…The swing swung higher and higher. When it returned the next time, he suddenly flashed and sat on the swing.

This swing she had just sat on.

Now that he sat on it, he could finally accompany her in swinging once.

Slowly compensating for things he couldn’t do with her back then.

The wind blew his long hair open, getting closer to the blue sky, closer to the starlight, closer to her.

Returning to the starting point.

Let heart matters ride the wind away.

Alone at midnight counting a few stars.

…

In Yuehua Palace, that eunuch was forcibly stuffing pastries into Ming Yue’s mouth.

The child seemed to sense danger, struggling with his small face flushed red, but couldn’t overcome the eunuch’s strength.

Suddenly a muffled crash came from the distance, shaking the eunuch’s hand so the pastry fell to the ground. The eunuch looked fearfully toward where the vibration came from, hastily crouching to pick up the pastry. Ming Yue took the opportunity to run away.

The eunuch’s hand was suddenly stepped on. He shuddered, looked up, and met an unfamiliar face.

Yelu Qi stepped on his hand, smiling as he asked: “What are you doing?”

“You, you, you…” The eunuch looked outside in terror, only to discover the door had been closed by himself. He wanted to shout, but Yelu Qi kicked that pastry chunk, precisely plugging his mouth.

The eunuch hurriedly tried to dig the pastry from his mouth, but his face visibly turned blue and purple, his body stiffened, and he collapsed with a thud.

Yelu Qi kicked him with his toe, murmuring: “Such potent poison…” He seemed somewhat puzzled, crouching to examine the eunuch again, only to discover he wasn’t dead, just stiff all over with a hideous expression, his eyeballs still rolling around.

This was right. Ming Yan’an was cruel enough to harm his own child, but regardless, Ming Yue was still useful. Killing him now would be pointless. He only wanted to administer non-lethal poison to control Ming Yue.

Yelu Qi’s expression wasn’t pleasant. Ming Yan’an appeared refined and amiable, but this vicious nature was truly rare.

He thought for a moment, then asked Ming Yue: “Will you come with me?”

But the child desperately shook his head, hugging a pillar and refusing to let go, whimpering softly: “Mother… Mother…”

Suddenly the door crashed open with a bang. Chai Yu appeared in the doorway. Despite the cold weather, his clothes were soaked with sweat.

Seeing him, Ming Yue trembled all over, releasing the pillar to rush toward him. Yelu Qi suddenly flicked his sleeve, and the child collapsed softly.

Chai Yu was startled and was about to rush forward when Yelu Qi said coolly: “He’s fine.”

Chai Yu didn’t dare advance another step. He looked at Yelu Qi with confusion and tension. Yelu Qi had changed out of Mr. Mu’s disguise, wearing black clothes and having removed the silver mask—he didn’t recognize him.

“Where is the Queen?” Yelu Qi asked.

Chai Yu’s thoughts were entirely on Ming Yue, answering unconsciously: “I saw her heading toward Ningxue Pavilion…” Suddenly alarmed: “Who are you? Why are you asking about the Queen?”

Yelu Qi didn’t answer, saying instead: “Can you take care of this child?”

Chai Yu immediately said: “Yes!” Afraid he wouldn’t believe him, he quickly proved: “I stayed in the palace before, I’ve cared for him, I… I won’t harm him!”

Yelu Qi seemed completely indifferent to how he answered, only saying: “Then take him and find a place in this palace to hide. Don’t wander around. Wait for the Queen to return and take you out of the palace together.”

“Out of the palace…” Chai Yu’s eyes lit up, but looking at the child, he hesitated somewhat: “It’s enough for me to follow the Queen out of the palace…”

“Just now, that eunuch was feeding poison to this child,” Yelu Qi said coldly. “Do you still want him to remain in the palace?”

Chai Yu’s whole body shook as if struck by lightning, his face instantly white as snow.

Yelu Qi had already turned to leave. After walking a few steps, he said indifferently: “People shouldn’t be too greedy. People should have a sense of right and wrong. You, think it through.”

Chai Yu stared dazedly at his disappearing figure, suddenly his body went limp and he collapsed to the ground.

Ming Yue ran from behind the pillar and threw himself into his arms: “Mother… Mother!”

Chai Yu’s tears flowed like springs, stroking his hair: “Yue’er… Yue’er…”

Tears fell like broken strings, her whole body trembling: “How cruel you are… how cruel…”

“Mother, why don’t you want me anymore?” The child looked up, clumsily trying to wipe away her tears.

Chai Yu immediately held back her tears, wiping her eyes with her sleeve, forcing a smile as she held him: “Didn’t Mother tell you, Mother has to do something. Once that thing is done, Mother and you, and Father King, can be together forever after…” She suddenly paused, looking at the half pastry on the ground, pain showing in her eyes.

Could they really be together forever?

Even tigers don’t eat their cubs, yet Ming Yan’an could do such things. Should she still have any hope or trust?

Actually, deep in her heart, she hadn’t looked forward to returning to Yuehua Palace. Originally, because she’d gained weight after childbirth and lost favor, she’d been moved out of Yuehua Palace. Even if she returned later, if Ming Yan’an didn’t come, this would still be the most luxurious prison.

She did it only for Ming Yue.

So this child could see his father, receive paternal love like other princes, and not leave permanent regrets in his growth.

So this child could establish himself in the palace, gain his father’s attention which meant securing future support. If she couldn’t withstand palace intrigue and died early, at least Ming Yue could live well.

So when Ming Yan’an said that killing the Queen would make Ming Yue the crown prince, she was truly tempted.

Heaven forgive her—she’d lived unwilling to wrong others, even in the darkest palace preferring to fall into the cold palace rather than engage in palace struggles. In the end, she had to try to stain her hands with blood—only because she was a mother.

Leaving the palace disguised as a scholar to attend the Qujiang Poetry Gathering, she thought she’d encounter many difficulties to reach the Queen’s side. Who knew the Queen trusted her easily, even bringing her into Shangyuan. However, along this journey, hadn’t her heart been shaken?

She saw a most brilliant and clever Queen, and also saw a most kind and good Queen.

Jing Hengbo’s care, consideration, and understanding, without airs and most natural—she could distinguish this.

Therefore she was in great pain.

How could she act against such a person?

Earlier when she deliberately detoured to the cold palace, she actually wanted to see Ming Yue. Being away from her son for so many days for the first time, she couldn’t feel at ease.

Not seeing her son, she was thunderstruck, nearly losing composure, while the Queen still comforted her. At that time, her heart was completely gray, already thinking of giving up.

Without her son, why harm others anymore?

However, she suddenly saw Ming Yue in Yuehua Palace.

Ming Yue had actually been moved from the cold palace to Yuehua Palace. She immediately understood this was Ming Yan’an’s signal to her—he had initially fulfilled his promise. Next would depend on her performance.

So in the abandoned palace, she had tearfully tried to push the door, planning to perish together with Jing Hengbo.

Later when the underground explosion sounded, she thought the Queen had been killed and was at a loss, when she suddenly saw the Queen swinging, her figure flashing away.

Relieved, thinking of her son, she rushed back to Yuehua Palace. Strangely, tonight the palace was extraordinarily quiet. Despite such commotion at the abandoned palace, no guards went to investigate.

Returning to Yuehua Palace, she witnessed that heart-stopping scene, her heartbeat nearly stopping.

Fortunately now, the child was still in her arms.

At this moment she suddenly felt weary.

Why bother getting involved in this royal power struggle?

People should have a sense of right and wrong. The Queen hadn’t wronged her—how could she act against her?

People shouldn’t be too greedy. Living dependently with Ming Yue, safely until old age, was already a blessing. Why covet that crown prince position? Why covet that towering paternal love? Ming Yan’an’s love and fatherly affection were cold as wind-blown snow, never finding a resting place. And the tortoiseshell royal power would eventually belong to the Queen. Ming Yan’an’s stubborn resistance would only lead to death in the end—where would the crown prince position be then?

She gently sighed.

Let it go.

As long as she had the child in her arms, heaven and earth would be free.

The child pressed tightly against her, making gurgling sounds in his throat. She suddenly remembered something and asked him: “You didn’t swallow any of that pastry just now, did you?”

“Of course not.” Ming Yue answered with a grin, proudly opening his mouth and spitting out a small piece of pastry: “The eunuch forced it in, but I wouldn’t swallow. I kept it in my mouth all along!”

Seeing that half piece of pastry, Chai Yu’s vision went black.

Ming Yue suddenly convulsed, falling straight backward. Chai Yu caught him, feeling all her son’s muscles were twitching.

She suddenly wailed.

“Why do you toy with me so, Heaven!”

…

“Whose should I turn first?”

“Me!”

The simultaneous shouts of Meng Potian and Pei Shu reached the brocade-robed man’s ears. His lips curved, that bored, dismissive look returning to his eyes: “Most tiresome—all this living and dying together, generous and passionate nonsense… Then let’s turn both together.” He gestured to the guards: “The woman’s hand, the man’s leg.”

Zhongwen and Deutsche stepped forward, grasping Meng Potian’s arm and Pei Shu’s leg. Both gritted their teeth without making a sound. Meng Potian wasn’t crying now, asking Pei Shu quietly: “…If we’re both crippled, what do we do…”

Pei Shu thought: Are you suggesting that since we’re both crippled, we’d make a perfect pair?

“If I’m crippled,” he said through gritted teeth, “I’d naturally be even less worthy of you!”

Meng Potian’s voice was nearly grinding teeth: “Pei Shu, are you implying I’m not worthy of you?”

“Don’t overthink it!” Pei Shu answered decisively.

“You’ve aroused this young lady’s fighting spirit!” Meng Potian said angrily. “Reading books while riding a donkey—we’ll see. If this young lady doesn’t defeat you, my surname isn’t Meng!”

“Then your surname would be Meng, as in ‘dream.’ Remove the ‘tian’ character and it becomes ‘mengpo’—broken dream. Perfect!” Pei Shu answered rapidly.

The two simply started bickering in this crisis moment, hoping to distract themselves and not let the brocade-robed man feel satisfied.

“You stubborn mule… ai-yo.” Meng Potian finally couldn’t help groaning as the guards began bending joint hinges in reverse.

“Stop!” Zirui rushed forward, reaching to draw the knife from Zhongwen’s waist. “Why torture people like this? Let me die first!”

Zhongwen dodged with a flash, restraining Zirui with his backhand. The brocade-robed man said leisurely: “Then go die. Who are you threatening?” He waved casually: “Let her die. After she’s dead, I’ll do what I planned to do anyway.”

Zhongwen released his hand. Zirui didn’t dare move anymore—she wasn’t afraid of death, but couldn’t make a meaningless sacrifice.

“Still not here…” The brocade-robed man showed impatience and disappointment, waving his hand.

The guards were about to act when suddenly a figure flashed. “Clang!” A crisp sound of metal striking metal echoed, followed by Pei Shu and Meng Potian shouting together: “Ai-yo!”

Someone above cursed in exasperation: “Damn it, there are even mechanisms up here!”

The brocade-robed man finally sat up, his eyes bright with the faint excitement of finally having someone arrive: “Your Majesty the Queen, long time no see.”

“Who’s it been a long time since seeing you? Who are you? Do I know you?” Standing atop the coffin was indeed Jing Hengbo. She’d arrived silently and silently went straight for the coffin, using the umbrella tip to try prying it open. Who knew the coffin had mechanisms on top too—not only did her prying fail to open it, but activated the mechanism, nearly causing the two people below to be broken.

Seeing Jing Hengbo, Zirui immediately called out: “Your Majesty, in the coffin are Young Marshal Pei and the Sixth Miss of Kuangdao Alliance.”

She reported the situation immediately so the Queen could understand the circumstances, then her mouth was gagged.

Jing Hengbo became even more annoyed, flashing down to the ground, glaring viciously at the brocade-robed man opposite. At first glance, she couldn’t help narrowing her eyes—yo, what a handsome face! Such beautiful eyes! Why does such a disgusting person have such a face? Heaven truly is blind!

The brocade-robed man was also examining her from head to toe, shaking his head dismissively—much uglier than little Cake Girl. He most detested this type of woman who looked like a mistress at first glance!

If not for her earlier performance that he found decent—she hadn’t stupidly shouted “spare them” to alert others of her presence, but had directly taken action. This kind of cunning darkness earned his slight approval. Otherwise, he wouldn’t even bother acknowledging her.

“What I mean is,” he said nonchalantly, “I waited a long time, but you never appeared. Too slow.”

Jing Hengbo choked on her breath—this guy was not only disgusting but sharp-tongued!

His sharp tongue was different from Gong Yin’s. Gong Yin’s barbs carried faint mockery—even if you didn’t understand, you could sense his poison. This one was completely indifferent, casual and understated, as if he genuinely thought so, and to him, was just speaking the most ordinary words.

This latter type was more infuriating.

Jing Hengbo calmed herself, touching her face and arranging her hair. She had a premonition this guy would be very difficult to handle—the most difficult opponent she’d encountered since transmigrating. She couldn’t be impulsive or angry; she had to face him in her best condition.

The situation was unfavorable, with three hostages in his hands. What she needed to do first was stay calm.

After calming down, she properly looked at the coffin. At first glance, she was dumbfounded—was this a coffin? Wasn’t this a couples’ apparatus? Was this really designed by ancient people? Not some modern sexology master’s creation?

This, this, this—the two people inside must have good flexibility. Oh my, little Pei is quite fortunate today.

She should get this thing to try sometime.

She didn’t approach the coffin but instead walked several steps away from it, winking flirtatiously at the brocade-robed man: “Come on, enough bickering. Let’s talk business—you’re holding my people hostage. What do you want?”

The brocade-robed man looked at her approvingly: “Let me think.”

Jing Hengbo nearly choked again—what did that mean? Only now starting to think? Then what was all this earlier for?

Was this person’s thinking on the same dimensional plane as normal people?

“Before, I felt there might not be any need to think,” the brocade-robed man unusually took interest in explaining. “Now I feel there’s a tiny bit of necessity.” He even held up a melon seed kernel to indicate how “tiny” this bit was.

Jing Hengbo was amused by her anger—so this fellow judged people before deciding how to treat them. If her initial performance had made him consider her unworthy as an opponent, he’d probably have just eliminated the hostages outright.

This led her to judge that this person wasn’t someone with vested interests. The hostages’ fate and her choices and reactions held no meaning for him. He acted purely for amusement or to find an opponent to spar with.

This type was most troublesome. With vested interests, you could find weak points and target accordingly. What could you do with someone who cared about nothing?

“Before we talk, let’s handle business first,” the brocade-robed man said. “Return my property.”

Following his gaze, Jing Hengbo looked down at the object in her hands—umbrella-shaped, gleaming with gray-black luster. Indeed, this guy’s product.

Looking again at his clothing and mannerisms, those snow-white casual shoes with soles completely free of dirt—clearly someone with cleanliness obsessions.

“No way,” she smiled. “I just used this thing to dig through manure—it’s very smelly and dirty. I’m sure you wouldn’t want it back, right?”

She held up the umbrella, and everyone could see the umbrella tip was indeed covered with mud and unidentifiable substances—after all, how clean could it be after drilling holes?

Jing Hengbo figured this guy’s eyes looked very vacant and indifferent—clearly someone who didn’t care about material possessions. Once something was dirty, he might just not want it anymore.

She remembered the underground Mr. Mu’s words—she couldn’t easily return it to him.

The brocade-robed man indeed showed displeasure, but then said: “Dirty or not, it’s still mine. Return it before we talk.”

Jing Hengbo was quite surprised. She held up the umbrella for another look, then observed the guards’ expressions, confirming this umbrella must have special significance to him. Now she definitely couldn’t return it easily.

“Fine then. You release the people, I return the umbrella.”

“Then I’ll just release corpses. Do you mind?” he said indifferently.

Jing Hengbo glared at him. She really didn’t dare compete in ruthlessness with him—human lives were at stake.

“You accomplish several tasks, and I’ll release people. You return my umbrella, and I guarantee your safe exit from Shangyuan Palace. How about it?” he said.

Jing Hengbo was amused by his audacity. What kind of conditions were these? Even without this umbrella, he planned to do this anyway, right? How could such shameless people exist in the world?

“How can such shameless people exist in the world?” she said. “One thing at a time. I accomplish your requirements and take my people. That’s one thing. Afterward, I return your umbrella and you compensate me. That’s another thing.”

“Clear thinking—worth using some brains on,” the brocade-robed man clapped lightly in approval. “Fine then. After you win, you can choose any item here in exchange.”

“So what’s your challenge?”

“Let’s first play ‘opening the coffin,'” the brocade-robed man said. “This is my first question. If you solve it…”

Jing Hengbo certainly wouldn’t ask “then you’ll release them?” She narrowed her eyes, staring at that fellow.

Seeing she didn’t take the bait, the brocade-robed man had to say boredly: “Then we do the next question.”

Jing Hengbo snorted. In her heart, she thought: I bought a watch last year!

Note:

The expression “我去年买了个表” (literally, “I bought a watch last year!”) is a well-known meme from Chinese internet culture, typically used to convey a sense of being fed up or indifferent.