When he smiled, his brow was open and spacious, making one feel sky light and cloud shadows dancing, with all the sunlight suddenly cascading down.

Jing Hengbo propped her chin, looking at him. “Such good martial arts wasted on picking up shoes… Eh, I think your face looks familiar.”

The man smiled and came over to crouch in front of her, placing the shoe properly by her feet. Jing Hengbo casually put on the shoe while he naturally knelt to help steady the shoe, not forgetting to praise, “Your Majesty, these shoes are truly beautiful.”

His tone was frank and open.

Every movement and expression of this person made one feel extraordinarily calm and natural, without any impropriety, as bright and clear as this pristine sky light.

This quality reminded Jing Hengbo of who he was.

“You’re that yellow-clad knight who helped me! The one who stopped the carriages for me!”

“I apologize to Your Majesty,” he showed shame at this mention. “I was ineffective, only managing to stop two carriages, letting the third escape, thus harming many citizens of Liuli Square. Thinking of it now fills me with guilt.”

Only now did Jing Hengbo realize the problem with the fire carriage had originated with him. Seeing him frankly admit it, she couldn’t help smiling. “You did your best.”

“That day I also sent someone to Yuzhao Palace to notify the State Preceptor,” he said even more shamefully, “but the State Preceptor had already left Yuzhao Palace, so the messenger couldn’t deliver the report.”

“Right, blame Gong Yin for running around,” she said.

“Actually, I’ve seen Your Majesty once more.” He smiled, his eyes crinkling.

“Mm?” Jing Hengbo had this feeling too, as if she’d seen him somewhere else.

“At Zhao Shizhi’s residence.” He said apologetically, “I pulled Minister Zhao back, preventing the Queen from taking him hostage.”

“Ah, so it was you.” Jing Hengbo laughed heartily. “There were many people then, thick smoke—I didn’t see you. Hey, you really ruined my plans.”

“I’ve already ruined three of Your Majesty’s affairs.” He smiled. “Let me carry the soup jar as punishment and apology.”

He naturally picked up the soup jar, handed Jing Hengbo a clean handkerchief to wipe her mouth, and when standing up, he collected the bones she’d scattered on the ground, wrapped them in paper, and threw them in a nearby refuse basket.

Jing Hengbo watched him with great interest, feeling this was another outstanding type of person—kind and attentive, patient and courteous, with rare care for women, yet not lacking in the dashing bearing of a chivalrous man.

Being with him felt comfortable and natural—it was easy to forget being strangers, as familiar as old friends of many years.

“Who are you? What’s your name?”

“Shen Tie Tribe hostage Tie Xingze, meeting Her Majesty the Queen.” He bowed gracefully.

Jing Hengbo’s favorable impression immediately increased. Previously in the palace, she had met hostages from the six kingdoms and eight tribes, but those people were either arrogant, timid, or avoided interaction with her to prevent suspicion. They all shared one common trait—they were very sensitive about their hostage status, considering it shameful and unwilling to mention it. So often she only learned they were hostages long after meeting them.

He was the only one to so frankly state his hostage identity. Looking at his eyes, Jing Hengbo saw them clear and bright, like the particularly lofty autumn night sky.

“What brings you to the palace?” she asked, noticing he deliberately walked on her right side of the path to prevent her from stepping into roadside stone crevices and getting her high heels stuck again.

“Summoned by the State Preceptor.”

“Oh?” Jing Hengbo became interested. Gong Yin rarely summoned external ministers, especially hostages with sensitive identities.

“Of course it’s not about state affairs,” Tie Xingze smiled, starlight dancing in his eyes. “I recently returned to my hometown for a while and brought him some local foods. If he weren’t so busy, I should have delivered them earlier.”

Jing Hengbo froze, standing still, then suddenly turned and grabbed his arm. “You’re Gong Yin’s fellow townsman? You’ve known him since childhood? Hey hey, quickly tell me about his embarrassing childhood stories, and where he lived as a child, what he liked to eat, how many times he fell in love, whether he’s ever been married…”

Tie Xingze laughed, gently removing her hand. “Your Majesty, you’re asking so many questions—which one should I answer?”

“Answer the last one first!”

Tie Xingze laughed heartily. “Of course not.”

“How many times did he fall in love?”

“Does being chased by the neighboring village’s Ah Hua and Ah Li count?” He spread his hands.

“That depends on how far it went. Did they kiss? Did they make out?”

“Does being pinned down by Ah Xu count?”

“Ah? How pinned? Did their mouths touch?”

“Ah Xu was male.”

“…Ah, bah, you’re playing with me.”

“Does being caught by Ah Niu count?”

“That one’s definitely male!”

“Right, a big fellow.” Tie Xingze’s tone suddenly became desolate. “Does being dragged into water by Ah Sheng count?”

“So many people loved playing with him…” Jing Hengbo laughed, then her laughter suddenly stopped. She slowly turned, staring into Tie Xingze’s eyes.

Tie Xingze didn’t avoid her gaze. In his clear eyes, light faintly flickered.

“You seem to be telling me that as a child, he was always being bullied.” She said slowly.

“It’s alright,” he answered equally slowly. “Ah Sheng, Ah Niu, and the others—they all died later.”

Jing Hengbo’s hair stood on end as she stared at Tie Xingze.

Tie Xingze didn’t shrink back.

“I’m telling you about childhood friends. So much time has passed—perhaps he’s forgotten, but I still remember.” Tie Xingze said softly. “He’s three years younger than me. When he arrived, I was already vaguely aware. My father king had a traveling palace near the village where he lived, and I was raised there as a child, very familiar with the village people. The village elders said that on a thunderstorm night, he crashed through the roof, falling from the sky into a poor young couple’s home. When he landed, his breath was nearly gone, his whole body ice-cold. Because of the shock, the pregnant wife in that house miscarried that night, losing her own son. Fortunately, the couple was kind and still took him in, but the villagers held great hostility toward him, considering him a thunder disaster star. For years, people intentionally or unintentionally tried to kill him. He fell off mountains, broke legs, fell into water, encountered fires—not to mention getting lost countless times. Moreover, his adoptive mother, having been too shocked and traumatized the day he arrived, went half-mad afterward. When lucid, she treated him as her own son, but when mad, she thought he was a demon who had come to steal her child. She often secretly tried to strangle him at night. Once he nearly died from strangulation, and from then on, they say he never slept in a bed at home.”

Jing Hengbo stared at him, unconsciously raising her hand to press against her chest.

It suddenly hurt there.

She could hardly believe such a plain yet tragic experience belonged to Gong Yin, who was as pure as snow and flawless as jade.

How could she believe that the immaculate man who held power over the realm had been abandoned, bullied, and humiliated in childhood, struggling in deep water and hot fire, not daring to lie flat for over ten years, never encountering warmth for over ten years?

Were the memories of rolling in mud during childhood so painfully deep that years later he only wished to remain untainted by dust, untouched by the clamor of this red world?

“So many years… so many years…” she said incredulously. “…They lived together so long, and he hadn’t done anything wrong—why wouldn’t the villagers forgive him? Why did they keep opposing him?”

“Because those who opposed him all died mysteriously after some time,” he answered.

Jing Hengbo felt cold all over.

In such circumstances, making those who opposed him die—was this protecting him or harming him?

“So in his final years before leaving his hometown, almost no one dared harm him. He indeed suffered less injury.” Tie Xingze paused. “But…”

He didn’t continue, but Jing Hengbo already understood.

But no one was willing to approach him anymore. He was a monster, a malevolent spirit, an inauspicious person.

Cold violence. This term suddenly flashed through her mind.

Perhaps, compared to childhood torment, those final years of wariness, rejection, fear, and avoidance were the real reason for his later personality?

“These words shouldn’t properly be spoken to Your Majesty by me,” Tie Xingze said gently. “But I feel he might never be willing to tell you these things—not because he doesn’t trust you, but because he doesn’t want you to feel bad. Yet I have a small selfish desire, always hoping someone in this world truly understands him, knows he really wasn’t easy, really is good.”

Jing Hengbo suddenly released his arm.

“Sorry,” she said hurriedly, somewhat incoherently. “I can’t accompany you over there. I need to… I have to go first. You take your time…” Before finishing, she had already started running, rarely running so fast in high heels, her heels clicking rapidly on the stone path as she disappeared into the distance.

Tie Xingze stood in place, watching her retreating figure, smiling with relief.

…

The inner room door slowly opened. Gong Yin emerged, leaving all the cold air inside.

“Has Tie Xingze arrived yet…” Before finishing his sentence, suddenly: “Gong Yin!”

The voice was high and slightly sharp, full of urgency. Gong Yin looked up in surprise—he recognized this as Jing Hengbo’s voice. But in his memory, her voice was lazy and slow. He’d rarely heard such a tone, as if countless emotions were surging, about to burst forth in an instant.

What was wrong…

Before completing the thought, a red figure had already shot through the quiet courtyard like fire, rushing through the threshold.

“Gong Yin!”

The fiery red figure crashed into his embrace.

He was shocked for an instant, instinctively raising his hand. The ice crystals appearing at his fingertips immediately disappeared, and when his hand fell, it gently rested on her hair.

His movements were gentle, but his tone was indifferent, almost impatient: “What now?”

Jing Hengbo tightly hugged his waist. A torrent of emotions like surging waves crashed over her, leaving her momentarily choked and speechless. Hearing his seemingly impatient tone, she wanted to smile. Her lips curved up, but suddenly tears rolled down.

Though he shouldn’t be able to see, he suddenly seemed to sense something, his body stiffening as he reached to touch her face. “What’s wrong?”

Jing Hengbo lowered her head, burying her face deeper in his chest, like a small animal burrowing in his embrace, seeking the most suitable position. Finally, she chose his heart, pressing her face tightly against it, exhaling deeply.

Gong Yin was somewhat stunned, fearing this woman had another episode. He reached to turn her face. “What exactly is wrong…”

Jing Hengbo held him tightly, dodging left and right, her voice hoarse: “Don’t make trouble.”

Gong Yin stopped, rather amused and exasperated—shouldn’t he be the one saying that?

“Gong Yin…” he heard her murmur, “…are you warm now?”

He was slightly stunned.

She pressed so close, her manner unlike her usual teasing intimacy, as if wanting to transmit her own warmth, warming him until ice melted and snow dissolved.

What did she know?

Gong Yin immediately cast a stern look toward Meng Hu standing far away in the courtyard. Meng Hu frantically shook his head.

Jing Hengbo could sense his confusion. She managed a smile, but before it fully formed, it was immediately drowned by overwhelming sadness.

She closed her eyes, only able to press closer, warmer.

Her heart seemed filled with surging tides, knowing neither heat nor cold, only the cycling back and forth, sour and bitter. Her mind was full of images from many years ago: the small village on a stormy night, the dying infant who fell, the child struggling in deep water and hot fire, the youth leaving his hometown alone.

Some people were perfect as if carved from snow and jade, but no one knew the wounds within.

The child rolling silently in mud and the ice-snow figure before her now alternated in her vision, like night and day constantly turning. She felt slightly dizzy, suddenly wanting to shatter and blend those two images, creating someone less perfect but real and natural.

She knew his past must be like broken window lattices, pierced by stocks of arctic wind. Previously she might have avoided it, but starting today, she wanted to bravely face and mend it.

“Gong Yin…” She called his name repeatedly. He softly hummed, trying to push her away. Tie Xingze would arrive soon.

But she suddenly lowered her head, her lips falling on his chest.

Even through clothing, he was so sensitive. His whole body shook as he looked down in alarm.

He only saw her black hair, saw her lips pressed tightly against his heart.

That kiss on his heart was only meant to heal your past pain. The crisscrossing scars there—I want to erase them with the strongest intention and most sincere wishes of my life.

His chest seemed to feel icy pain and cracking, yet also seemed to have flames rising. He felt his flesh splitting while his spirit was plunged into warm water, experiencing heaven-like warmth amid suffering.

Her lips slowly moved up, falling on his neck side, connecting to his heart’s artery.

Soft and slightly moist lips, fragrance seemingly able to penetrate his organs. His heart suddenly began beating violently, each beat responding to her tenderness.

She also felt under her lips such suddenly intense pulsing, the surging in her heart almost synchronized with his, each beat his response.

She wanted to laugh, yet her eyes were slightly moist. Actually, he had always been someone delicate and sensitive, extremely good at perceiving others’ goodwill.

Because he had once had nothing, every portion given to him made him anxious about gain and loss, hovering and focusing, unconsciously gripping tightly, yet fearing the cold pain of losing again, not daring to show anything.

He was snow on mountain peaks, only daring to bask in the high sky’s moon, wandering in clear radiance, afraid that touching worldly smoke and fire would melt him without trace.

Her lips slowly moved, crossing his neck and chin, approaching his lips.

He stiffened.

But she suddenly stopped, smiled cunningly, stood on tiptoe, and lightning-fast bit his earlobe.

Like being roasted by fire, that nearly transparent earlobe immediately turned red.

She smiled with satisfaction, squinting. She loved seeing every trace of light red beneath his ice-snow colored skin that arose because of her.

A shallow tooth mark on his earlobe—that was her mark. She swore to leave more marks belonging only to her on his body and even his heart.

At this moment, she perhaps still couldn’t confirm whether these feelings belonged to love, but in twenty years of life, the first heartbeat, first heartache, first tenderness were all truly given only to him.

Wasn’t this worth her pursuing with all her strength?

His body suddenly stiffened slightly. She seemed to sense something, turning to see a distant shadow entering the courtyard.

She smiled, releasing her hands, calculating the time Tie Xingze should take to arrive, her lips curving slightly.

Knowing she wanted to express emotions, he had deliberately walked slowly—a wonderful person.

Her heart warmed slightly, not for Tie Xingze’s consideration, but because in Gong Yin’s snow-cold life, there was still such a friend who truly cared for him. This counted as a rare piece of fortune.

No wonder last time at Zhao Shizhi’s residence, Gong Yin had spoken a sentence to Tie Xingze. Though his tone was still indifferent, for Gong Yin who never spoke extra words to subordinates, this was indeed rare favor.

“Shen Tie envoy Tie Xingze greets Her Majesty the Queen and Lord State Preceptor.”

Tie Xingze announced himself properly in the corridor. According to custom, hostages automatically counted as envoys from their kingdoms or tribes, not mentioning their hostage status—this was meant to preserve their dignity.

Jing Hengbo turned back, smiling and beckoning. “Come in quickly. Thank you for walking slowly.”

Gong Yin glanced at her sideways—this woman had already met Tie Xingze? Judging by this familiar tone.

Jing Hengbo glanced at him, originally expecting to see Lord State Preceptor’s blue or black face, but unexpectedly he sat down peacefully, beckoning to Tie Xingze.

This further confirmed for Jing Hengbo that Tie Xingze was indeed different for Gong Yin.

She wanted to test further, propping her chin and smiling as she whispered to Gong Yin: “Hey, this Shen Tie young master is very handsome. How old is he? Is he married? Does he have a girl he likes?”

“You can ask him yourself,” Gong Yin said calmly, “and see if he’s willing to discuss with the fiancée waiting for him at home whether to divorce her and marry you.”

He picked up his tea, the lid slowly moving over the teacup. “It’s just that he’s deeply devoted to his fiancée, living purely in the capital all these years. If he’s unwilling to divorce and remarry, I suggest you prepare to be a concubine.”

Jing Hengbo laughed “Ha!”—was this jealousy? He’d finally found the right way to be jealous this time. She liked it!

Tie Xingze, entering and hearing their conversation, smiled bitterly: “State Preceptor, I was carelessly sold by you.”

“Naturally because someone sold me first.” Gong Yin waved his hand, indicating he should sit.

Jing Hengbo and Tie Xingze exchanged glances and smiled. Gong Yin indeed had a crystal-clear heart—just from Jing Hengbo’s earlier emotional fluctuation, he’d guessed she had already met Tie Xingze and presumably learned some of his old affairs.

Jing Hengbo had originally worried he’d be angry and blame Tie Xingze, but seeing his expression showed no displeasure, she relaxed.

Gong Yin glanced at her. Her facial expressions were always so direct before him—joy, anger, and worry crystal clear.

Did she really think he didn’t mind people knowing about his childhood past?

It was only because the listener was her.

Tie Xingze presented a basket with both hands, smiling: “Red oranges and wind-dried meat from Sunset Mountain, oven cakes from Pottery Village, and honey knives my mother made by hand. Please accept them, State Preceptor.”

Gong Yin’s brow softened slightly: “Thank you for gathering these. Please give my thanks to your mother.”

Jing Hengbo propped her chin, thinking that while rare treasures flowed like water into the quiet courtyard daily, she’d never seen Gong Yin look so pleased.

She glanced at Tie Xingze again. In her mind, when Tie Xingze and Gong Yin first met, he was the lofty Shen Tie prince while Gong Yin was a poor boy trampled by everyone in the village. Years later, their circumstances had completely reversed—he had become Dahuang’s actual supreme ruler while Tie Xingze had fallen to being a hostage controlled by his subordinates. Had such reversed fates really not cast any shadow between these childhood friends?

From Tie Xingze’s expression, it seemed there was none.

A person whose heart was occupied by shadows couldn’t possibly have such frank and bright demeanor.

She lingered and wouldn’t leave. Gong Yin didn’t drive her away either, casually discussing the situation in the Shen Tie tribe with Tie Xingze. Only then did Jing Hengbo learn that Tie Xingze’s recent exceptional return to his territory was at Gong Yin’s instruction. What specifically he had done, both men were vague about. She vaguely gathered they seemed to be discussing a road.

Perhaps it was a strategic military route.

“The State Preceptor seems to be in poor health,” Tie Xingze suddenly squinted at Gong Yin.

Jing Hengbo was startled and also looked at Gong Yin. People who were together every day often overlooked changes in each other, unlike those who hadn’t seen someone for a while, who were more likely to sense subtle changes. Looking at Gong Yin now, she felt that though he hadn’t lost weight, his complexion seemed even more crystal-white and snowy. Sometimes when she saw him sitting in shadows and light, there was a feeling of translucent glazed clarity, as if this person might truly melt away like an ice sculpture in the next instant.

“You’re mistaken,” Gong Yin answered flatly.

Jing Hengbo got up and walked outside the courtyard. She grabbed Meng Hu and asked, “Has Gong Yin been eating properly lately?”

Meng Hu hemmed and hawed, “Naturally… yes.”

“Yes my ass!” Jing Hengbo shoved him aside and turned back into the room. The two men saw her storm in angrily and both looked up at her.

Jing Hengbo ignored Gong Yin and went straight to unwrap the gift box, taking out items one by one to examine.

Opening gifts in front of the giver was quite rude. Tie Xingze’s eyes widened slightly. Gong Yin coughed and said somewhat embarrassedly to him, “…Her Majesty is curious.”

Tie Xingze immediately returned to normal, smiling, “Her Majesty is straightforward and bright, truly a person of genuine character.”

He blinked and suddenly whispered with a smile, “…so you needn’t rush to explain for her… otherwise I keep having the illusion she’s your wife…”

Gong Yin’s teacup clinked down, covering this sentence. Jing Hengbo didn’t hear clearly and turned back with wide eyes, “What are you two whispering about me?”

The two men turned together and said in unison with particular frankness, “Nothing at all!”

Jing Hengbo didn’t take it to heart, dramatically opening the gift box. She picked up a red orange and sniffed it, declaring loudly, “So fragrant, so fragrant!”

Tie Xingze smiled while Gong Yin remained silent, his expression helpless at the corners of his mouth.

Red oranges were fiery in color but had no fragrance themselves.

Jing Hengbo grabbed out paper-wrapped oven cakes and sniffed them, “So fragrant, so fragrant!”

Tie Xingze’s lips curved up while Gong Yin could only lower his head to drink tea.

Oven cakes were fragrant in their filling—with multiple outer layers, you couldn’t smell the aroma.

Jing Hengbo then pulled out a large strip wrapped in oil paper. Before even smelling it, she closed her eyes and praised, “So fragrant, so fragrant! Just smelling it makes me hungry!”

Tie Xingze couldn’t hold back anymore and burst out laughing, spraying tea all over his clothes.

Gong Yin set down his teacup and beckoned for Meng Hu to come in, “See what pastries the kitchen has and have them quickly prepared and sent up.”

“Why, why? I don’t want to eat pastries…” Jing Hengbo rustled as she unwrapped the packaging. To show her rapture, she brought her nose close for an exaggerated sniff, “So fragrant… wow…”

She nearly threw up—a strange greasy, meaty smell rushed into her nose, instantly stirring her stomach and intestines as if they were about to churn violently.

A cup of tea was handed over—it was Tie Xingze offering it.

A hand gently patted her back, immediately suppressing the churning in her stomach—naturally it was Gong Yin.

Tie Xingze seemed to be suppressing laughter, while suppressing it he also seemed embarrassed about not being able to help laughing, saying apologetically, “Your Majesty, wind-dried meat undergoes special processing—it smells terrible before being steamed…”

Jing Hengbo’s eyes watered as she glared at him with her eyes—why didn’t you say so earlier!

Gong Yin took the tea and fed her a sip, helping her sit down, “If you want to eat it, I’ll have it sent to your place later. Why such urgency?”

But she wouldn’t sit down, clinging to the table with a mournful face, “Actually it’s still quite fragrant. I don’t like eating alone—I want to eat here with you…”

Gong Yin’s heart stirred, his back stiffening.

This was the real reason she had brazenly unwrapped the gift box and lied about the meat smelling good, wasn’t it?

She wanted to eat with him.

His instinct was to refuse.

Recently his diet had changed—he truly had reasons he couldn’t eat with her.

However, when he turned back, he saw her eyes still glistening with tears from her earlier nausea. Unlike her usual bold and unrestrained manner, this pitiful appearance suddenly sent a wave of soft tide through his heart, drowning the solid shore.

Then he heard himself say, “Notify the kitchen—tonight Her Majesty grants a banquet to Young Master Shen Tie, with the State Preceptor accompanying.”

Tie Xingze immediately smiled and bowed, “This humble minister is deeply honored.”

Jing Hengbo quietly snapped her fingers—bingo! She knew this trick would work!

This guy hadn’t eaten with her for a long time, always having various excuses to decline. Today she would definitely observe his preferences and appetite clearly. If he really liked these cakes and meat, she would learn to make them.

Woman was water—besides water, what else could flood steel fortresses?

…

Perhaps to balance the overly plain and simple atmosphere of the quiet courtyard, many red maples were planted on all four sides. Because the ground temperature of Yuzhao Palace was warm, though it was now early winter, the red maples remained brilliant—all deep red like fire, igniting the snow-stone ground of the quiet courtyard. Farther away were garden leaves of emerald and chrysanthemum yellow, brightly dotting the expanse of romantic red.

This informal banquet, at Tie Xingze’s suggestion, was arranged under the red maple trees. The attendants spread out a huge brocade carpet where everyone sat cross-legged.

Above their heads the red maples rustled. Through the dappled red leaves, they could see the azure sky, high and distant, with ribbon-like clouds occasionally racing swiftly across.

The food naturally wasn’t limited to those few ordinary local specialties. Jing Hengbo had already instructed Yong Xue to quickly show her skills, making soup and stir-frying dishes in her bedchamber’s kitchen, ensuring the most appetite-inducing dishes were continuously served.

However, Gong Yin still didn’t eat much.

He took a red orange the color of fire and slowly peeled it with his fingers, carefully tearing away the white membrane on the orange segments strand by strand. Jing Hengbo held a piece of food with her chopsticks, stealing glances left and right, feeling that the orange flesh turning in his snow-white fingers was indescribably beautiful.

Those snow-white hands suddenly extended before her, the flesh in his palm delicate and perfect.

Jing Hengbo stared down in a daze. The sweet fragrance of the orange was refreshing—had the great god been busy all this time preparing it for her?

But Gong Yin seemed to have grown impatient, extending his hand forward again.

The attendants all stood far away. Tie Xingze seemed to have suddenly developed feelings for the brocade-wrapped duck before him, lowering his head to focus intently on it.

Jing Hengbo suddenly raised her eyebrows and smiled.

She split the orange in half and quickly stuffed the other half into his mouth.

Holding half an orange in his mouth while glaring at her, the great god looked quite incongruous, making her laugh even more happily.

Gong Yin gazed at her bright and radiant smile, light flickering in his eyes. He slowly took the orange into his mouth. The slightly cool and sweet taste filled his mouth, sliding down his throat in a sweet line, but when it reached his lungs it generated sharp, cold pain.

His face paled slightly, but he immediately curved his lips at Jing Hengbo who was watching him expectantly. Then he turned his head and handed an orange to Tie Xingze.

Tie Xingze looked up at him, his brow furrowing slightly. He glanced at Jing Hengbo, who was encouraged and happily picked up an orange to peel herself, apparently planning to return the favor.

“Eating in such silence seems to lack some interest,” Tie Xingze suddenly smiled. “Shall we play a drinking game?”

Gong Yin’s eyes flashed as he immediately said, “Good.”

Jing Hengbo was delighted. She loved alcohol and had an excellent tolerance. Since transmigrating, she’d had few opportunities to drink, so hearing this suggestion made her eyes light up.

“Meng Hu, bring… Longshan Ice Brew,” Gong Yin ordered.

Meng Hu walked over from afar, glanced at Gong Yin, then bowed and went to prepare.

Tie Xingze laughed heartily, “Today, thanks to Her Majesty’s blessing, what good fortune!”

Jing Hengbo was very excited. Wine that Gong Yin brought out, plus Tie Xingze’s reaction—how could it be anything but excellent?

Meng Hu personally delivered the wine—three jade vessels of identical appearance. Inside the lustrous, warm, transparent vessels, the wine was pale green, looking from afar like top-quality jade with excellent clarity.

Jing Hengbo noticed that Gong Yin’s wine vessel was somewhat different from theirs—the outside was slightly condensed with moisture, as if it had been chilled. But since Gong Yin’s martial arts followed the ice and snow path, she didn’t pay attention.

She picked up the wine vessel, very dissatisfied with the size, “Just this much? How many vessels per person?”

“Her Majesty has quite an appetite,” Tie Xingze squinted, seeming already intoxicated before drinking. “This humble minister was worried he couldn’t finish this wine. This is Dahuang’s most famous strong liquor, brewed in Dahuang’s only Wine Marsh, then stored in Ice Marsh cellars. It comes in ten-year, twenty-year, thirty-year, and hundred-year varieties. These three bottles…” He sniffed intoxicatedly, “are probably the legendary hundred-year Longshan that’s said to ‘make immortals drunk with one golden drop, scatter ten thousand stars across the endless night.'”

“One golden drop makes immortals drunk, ten thousand stars scatter across endless night? What does that mean?”

“One golden drop refers to its value—making immortals drunk is self-explanatory. As for ten thousand stars scattering across endless night…” Tie Xingze smiled, “You’ll know after drinking.”

“Such mystery.” Jing Hengbo muttered, but her interest grew even greater. She pulled out the wine vessel’s stopper and took a deep sniff.

There wasn’t an overly strong alcohol scent. She only felt a clear vapor seeming to rise and transform into a sharp line that pierced her nose. In the next instant, she widened her eyes, suddenly feeling the skin around her nose tingle as if electrified. Countless starlight flashed before her eyes, chaotically reflecting on the sky.

What a “ten thousand stars scatter across endless night!”

What kind of wine was this? Why did it feel so strange?

“This wine is also called ‘Triple Wave Confusion,'” Gong Yin said.

“What does that mean?”

“It refers to this wine’s aftereffects—enough to confuse a person three times. Moreover, its potency isn’t continuous but comes in waves, layer upon layer. After one wave passes, you might be clear-headed for a while, then when the next wave of aftereffects comes, it will be fiercer than the last. This repeats at least three times.” Tie Xingze explained, “Though this wine is strong, it’s actually an extremely rare tonic wine. It’s truly the sage among wines with effects of strengthening the foundation, cultivating essence, and prolonging life. Especially hundred-year vintage… I’ve almost never heard of hundred-year vintage actually existing.”

“Just reached a hundred years,” Gong Yin said.

Tie Xingze glanced at Jing Hengbo with apparent understanding, smiling, “In that case, I’ve truly benefited from Her Majesty’s fortune.”

Jing Hengbo was completely captivated by this wine, couldn’t help examining it from all angles. Over there, Gong Yin glanced at her and poured himself half a cup of wine.

“Let’s play a drinking game,” he said.

“Exactly right,” Tie Xingze naturally agreed.

Jing Hengbo was very supportive of Gong Yin’s rare enthusiasm, “Great, great! But don’t make it too literary—I’m afraid my exceptional learning will scare you to death.”

Rarely, Gong Yin didn’t contradict her, only saying, “Each person names an object, then adds two lines. The requirement is that the two lines sound the same but have opposite meanings.”

Tie Xingze nodded repeatedly, “This is the ‘One Object, Double Meaning’ game—both simple and tests quick wit. Very good.”

Jing Hengbo roughly understood and asked after thinking, “How do we decide who speaks?”

Tie Xingze looked around the seating area, took a porcelain spoon and placed it on a plate, spinning it with his finger, “After the spoon stops, whoever the handle points to drinks.”

“Great, great! Fair. But you two have good martial arts—no cheating allowed.” Jing Hengbo smiled at Gong Yin, mouthing silently, “If you’re not afraid of me being uncontrolled after drinking, feel free to cheat and make me drink, muah muah.”

Gong Yin shifted his body, moving away from this female rogue.

The spoon began spinning. Jing Hengbo watched intently, shouting, “Point to Gong Yin! Point to Gong Yin!”

She’d changed her mind—getting Gong Yin drunk would be best. How she missed the great god from when he was affected by Heavenly Silk Powder, delicate and soft and easy to pin down.

The spoon stopped spinning, its handle pointing to Tie Xingze.

Tie Xingze smiled apologetically at Jing Hengbo and drained his cup in one gulp, “Presumptuous of me. Candle in wind: flows half, stays half.”

Jing Hengbo clapped, “Hahaha, wonderful! Should I drink a toast too?”

“No need!” both men said in unison.

The second time the handle pointed to Gong Yin. He took a light sip and said casually, “Seeking flowers in dreams: pick one, lose one.”

“The State Preceptor’s line has elegant artistic conception!” Tie Xingze praised.

But Jing Hengbo shook her head, laughing, “How could you lose it? Pick one, and that one is naturally in your hand—just treasure it well.”

Gong Yin glanced at her, “That’s why it’s in dreams.”

“Illogical, illogical.” Jing Hengbo shook her head vigorously.

The handle spun again, pointing to Gong Yin once more. He drank the remaining half cup, “Heroic pass, taking the city: up one man, lose one man.”

“The State Preceptor’s line has the air of battle—are you speaking of the Golden Tribe rebellion war from years past?” Tie Xingze narrowed his eyes with apparent longing.

“Years ago, the Golden Tribe used death warriors to take the city bare-bodied, climbing the city walls under Kang Long arrow rain. For every man who went up, one died. For every inch of city wall climbed, one inch of tribal spirit was lost.” Gong Yin’s tone was light, but the guards nearby felt domineering aura washing over them, couldn’t help recalling those golden war horse years, everyone gripping their weapons tighter, veins bulging on their hands.

Only Her Majesty Queen Jing was slow to react to fighting and killing, busy eating and drinking heartily.

The handle spun again. Jing Hengbo watched intently, but when the spoon stopped, it disappointingly landed on Tie Xingze again.

“What’s the meaning! What’s the meaning! Are you two monopolizing it? Cheating! Cheating!” she complained angrily.

Tie Xingze smiled apologetically and quickly drank his cup, “Fated lovers: bring together one pair, mistake one pair.” After speaking, his expression darkened slightly, forcing a smile, “Sorry, I meant nothing by it—I just suddenly remembered some personal matters. Please don’t mind, Your Majesty and State Preceptor.”

Gong Yin looked at him knowingly, “That old marriage contract still hasn’t been resolved?”

Tie Xingze smiled bitterly and shook his head, “How could such a thing be resolved in a moment? I’m stuck in the capital and can’t leave, so this matter can only be set aside.”

“Perhaps, in the future,” Gong Yin held his cup, seeming lost in thought yet casual, “you’ll have a chance to properly resolve this matter.”

Tie Xingze started in alarm, looking up at him, but Gong Yin had already turned his eyes away.

Jing Hengbo listened with complete confusion, gossiping as she leaned over, “Hey hey, don’t you have a fiancée? How is there also an old marriage contract? Is this contract troublesome? Tell me and I’ll help you solve it! I have no other skills, but I’m most experienced at scolding shameless women…”

Tie Xingze laughed heartily and seriously cupped his hands toward her, “Then I must rely on Your Majesty. If Your Majesty ever has the opportunity to visit the Shen Tie tribe, please remember today’s promise.”

“Naturally! Who are we to each other? You’re Gong Yin’s good friend, so you’re my good friend too.” Jing Hengbo beamed, making grand promises.

Gong Yin, playing with his cup, paused his fingers slightly at the first half of the sentence, and raised his eyebrows slightly at the second half.

Even Meng Hu, standing far away, felt the atmosphere suddenly become both icy and fiery.

The spoon spun again.

This time Jing Hengbo was determined not to come up empty, banging the table, “Stop! Stop!”

The spoon slowly stopped, wavering between her and Tie Xingze. Tie Xingze smiled, pressing his hand on the table slightly, and the spoon trembled, finally stopping completely in front of Jing Hengbo.

Jing Hengbo praised angrily, “Sensible!” She couldn’t wait to gulp down the wine she’d already poured.

One gulp down, she felt the wine liquid had extreme texture, like a piece of jade sliding down her throat. It fell into her blood and intestines with resonant sound, then with a roar, blazed fiercely in her body, like a great wind sweeping through all her cells and blood. Her whole body heated up rapidly, a line of burning heat rising straight to her cheeks.

“So powerful!” she suddenly exclaimed, seeming slightly dizzy as she propped up her chin.

Both men’s gazes suddenly focused intently.