Her words came like a thunderbolt, stunning everyone into silence.

Jing Jun had never expected such directness from her and was so startled that her hands trembled, nearly spilling the ginger soup.

Cui Jie and the others nearby had already withdrawn. Cui Jie let out a long breath, while Yong Xue remained expressionless. Zirui frowned, seemingly deep in thought.

Gong Yin had been approaching but now stopped in his tracks.

He smiled faintly, almost imperceptibly.

Jing Hengbo was truly extraordinary, especially when drunk—both chaotic and lucid, simple yet complex.

Or perhaps she had been clear-headed all along, with the alcohol merely igniting her emotions, making her more uninhibited and eager to speak all the words she’d been holding back.

But now, this should be her moment of clarity after the alcohol’s effects.

Making him carry her while drunk was the first stage; falling into the water was the second stage—who knew what sort of trouble her third stage would bring.

“I… I didn’t…” After her initial panic, Jing Jun quickly composed herself. She shook her head rapidly while saying in a low voice, “You already have ginger soup here. I saw that the State Preceptor hadn’t drunk any, so I brought him a bowl. I was thinking that if he caught cold because of you, those ministers might make things difficult for you again…”

“Jing Jun…” Jing Hengbo seemed not to hear her words at all, still resting her forehead against the window frame, smiling drowsily and hiccupping from the alcohol. “Bringing ginger soup—that’s nothing. Liking someone—that’s also nothing. Gong Yin isn’t my possession. He’s so wonderful, so handsome, so aloof in a way that makes your heart itch. Even I couldn’t help falling into his trap. If you’ve taken a fancy to him, I can understand…”

Meng Hu watched his master worriedly. Sure enough, his master’s expression began shifting through various dramatic changes following the Queen’s bizarre discourse—displeasure at the first statement, pleasure at the second, fury at the third, and murderous intent at the fourth…

The composure Jing Jun had barely maintained was about to crumble under Jing Hengbo’s words. She looked up somewhat frantically, opening her mouth without knowing how to respond. A glimmer of hope seemed to flash in her eyes, mixed with confusion. After a long moment, she whispered, “Do you really think that way…”

“Uh… I’m saying…” Jing Hengbo’s drunken state was purely self-focused, with no concept of actual communication. After another hiccup, she continued, “But you see, while I can’t stop people from liking him, I can certainly stop them from stealing him away. This ‘people’ could be you, could be her, could be Meng Hu’s mother, could be the neighbor girl Xiao Hua…”

The hopeful light in Jing Jun’s eyes faded, and her face took on another layer of deathly pale frost.

Both Meng Hu and Gong Yin’s faces turned iron-dark.

Meng Hu thought: My mother is fifty years old!

Gong Yin thought: His mother is fifty years old!

“…He’s my boyfriend, the man I love. You’re my good friend, my close companion.” Jing Hengbo grasped Jing Jun’s hand through the window frame and said seriously, “A friend’s wife cannot be toyed with; a friend’s husband cannot be stolen. Jing Jun, I don’t care what you’re thinking—maybe I saw wrong, maybe I’m drunk, you can just consider this drunken rambling. But I’m telling you, this man—since I’ve fallen for him, I absolutely won’t allow any suspicious targets around him. Any female creature that tries to approach him is my enemy, and if he tries to flirt with any female creatures, then he becomes my enemy… uh… though I don’t want to be enemies with the people around me…”

Gong Yin’s face was dark as storm clouds as he glanced sideways at Jing Hengbo. His expression suggested that if it weren’t inconvenient to enter, he would very much like to drag her out and give her a thorough lecture.

Sometimes plain yet direct words pierce deeper than insults. When Jing Jun raised her head again, her pale face had actually flushed red.

“I… I…” She burst into tears. “Why must you speak of me this way? I only brought a bowl of ginger soup and explained my reasons—wasn’t it for your own good…”

Jing Hengbo smiled, her tone suddenly wistful. “…I’m a woman, I’m a woman in love—I can read the look in someone’s eyes…”

Jing Jun staggered backward as if struck by lightning.

“Let’s be good friends, for life, alright?” Jing Hengbo grasped her hand. “You can recover well in the palace, and I’ll find you the best possible husband in the future, give you the finest dowry, let you marry in glory and live a lifetime of happiness, alright? Let’s keep things simple, shall we? Sometimes it’s just a momentary infatuation. For my sake, for our friendship, for how hard-won our journey together has been… let’s treasure these things, alright?”

The ginger soup bowl finally fell to the ground, shattering with a crash. Jing Jun struggled to pry Jing Hengbo’s hands away, but Jing Hengbo had become incredibly strong, holding on tight.

She stared into Jing Jun’s eyes and spoke each word distinctly: “I’m sorry, I know I’m too domineering. But,” she released her grip, “in defending the person I love, I will never back down.”

“Ah…” Jing Jun finally let out a suppressed cry and turned to run. Her emotions were too turbulent and intense—she couldn’t run more than two steps before falling to the ground.

None of the female guards in the courtyard moved, nor did any of the people in the room. Meng Hu lifted his foot slightly, then stopped.

Jing Jun lay on the ground and raised her tear-stained face, slowly looking around at all those unmoving feet.

Sometimes silence is also a form of wordless pressure—towering and cold.

Jing Jun lowered her head, propped herself up with her elbows, struggled to her feet with difficulty, and stumbled back to her room. She slammed the door shut with a bang, and immediately the sound of suddenly erupted, suppressed sobbing came from within.

The courtyard fell terrifyingly quiet.

Jing Hengbo leaned against the window frame, forehead pressed against it, feeling that after her speech, her mind was even more chaotic, her heart equally jumbled. She just wanted to be alone for a while. She waved her hand and said, “All of you, go out…”

Cui Jie and Yong Xue both seemed reluctant to leave, but Zirui tugged at their sleeves and quickly led them out.

As soon as they left, Jing Hengbo shivered, still wanting to bathe, and staggered toward the bathtub.

“Bang.”

Zirui and the others had just exited when they heard a loud crash from the inner room.

They were about to rush back in when suddenly a white figure flashed past them, bringing a heavy chill. The door curtain lifted and fell again indistinctly.

Cui Jie was about to run inside when Zirui grabbed her and dragged her outward.

“Da Bo…” Cui Jie said urgently. Zirui pursed her lips and gestured for her to look at the courtyard.

Only then did Cui Jie notice that the State Preceptor had disappeared from the courtyard, and the guards were quietly withdrawing.

The three immediately lightened their steps and gestured for all the serving maids to retreat.

“Let’s go…”

…

The moment Gong Yin rushed into the room, he knew he’d made another mistake.

He wanted to retreat, but when he turned around, the courtyard was already empty.

Gong Yin stood foolishly in the room for a while before helplessly realizing that his subordinates seemed quite enthusiastic about playing matchmaker…

He quickly forgot about this, however, because he discovered that the bathtub had overturned, hot water was flowing everywhere, and Jing Hengbo was struggling on the ground with her limbs flailing like a stranded toad in shallow water.

He had no choice but to step forward and clean up personally.

He swept his sleeve, scooped up her waist, and pulled her from the ground. His other hand beckoned, and the blanket prepared on the soft couch in the inner room flew up to wrap around Jing Hengbo.

In Gong Yin’s plan, these actions would flow seamlessly together, with no chance for anything to go wrong.

Unfortunately, human calculations can never match heaven’s arrangements.

When Jing Hengbo was scooped up by him, she felt mentally exhausted and her body went limp as she collapsed against him.

He instinctively caught her, pressing his hand somewhere—he wasn’t sure where—but the soft sensation startled him so much that his hand jerked back, causing her to slip down toward the ground.

He had to bend down and embrace her, catching the flying blanket with one hand while preparing to pull her up and wrap her in it, lest the blanket fall and get wet on the ground.

Instead, she simply turned and hugged his legs.

Gong Yin froze, maintaining the ridiculous position of half-bent over, one hand pulling her up, the other holding the blanket.

He didn’t dare move carelessly.

She held on so tightly, her soaked, graceful curves pressing against his legs. Though clearly soft and smooth, he felt his legs suddenly go numb, as if he’d forgotten how to walk.

But she seemed far from finished playing. Giggling, she began climbing up his legs, her naturally flexible dancer’s body instinctively adopting the posture of pole dancing, treating him like a steel pole as she gracefully climbed, moving with the sinuous beauty of an enchanting snake.

But he wasn’t a steel pole—he was a man in his prime facing a woman who could set his heart racing with just a glance.

Her movements might have been the most wonderful temptation and invitation in the world, but to him they were torture.

The winds that usually swirled through his chest, carrying snow from a uniform white plain, suddenly had a thread of fire snaking through them. Wherever it passed, ice melted and snow dissolved, carving a deep crimson furrow through his blood and meridians, the exposed scorched soil bursting with seeds of struggle and desire, thirsting for heavenly rain, longing for an encounter with sweet dew…

Just as her climbing reached his waist… he suddenly leaned backward.

With a bang, they both tumbled into the water covering the floor.

Their wet bodies entangled, her burning heat and gasping breath thundered beside his ear.

In the next instant, the water still steaming around them suddenly turned ice-cold. Almost immediately, a thin layer of ice began forming at a speed visible to the naked eye.

Her body stiffened, and with a splash, he swept her up, breaking through the ice.

With another bang, they both fell onto the soft couch in the inner room. Jing Hengbo was pressed against Gong Yin, no longer laughing but shivering. “So cold…”

Gong Yin raised his hand and pulled all the bedding over to wrap around Jing Hengbo, but her clothes were all wet—keeping them on would only make her more susceptible to cold.

He hesitated briefly, glanced toward the window, and helplessly confirmed that there was indeed no one there.

His hand had to reach under the blanket. As soon as he reached in, he touched cool, smooth, soft skin and immediately withdrew his hand like lightning.

Jing Hengbo giggled at the tickling sensation of his hand going in and out, rolling over on the bed to look at him sideways. Her long hair was disheveled, her cheeks flushed pink, and her eyes cast a slanted glance that sparkled with moisture—truly deserving the description “seductive as silk.”

Gong Yin took a deep breath. The clothes had to be removed, but reaching in to remove them wouldn’t work either. He could only kneel on the bed, place his hands on the blanket, and channel his internal energy.

A series of soft tearing sounds followed, with the faint noise of buttons bursting. Gong Yin turned his eyes away and swept his sleeve to roll Jing Hengbo up in the blanket, person and all. His other hand brushed away the fragments of wet clothing that his internal energy had torn apart, sweeping them under the bed, before placing her back on the bed and rolling her around in the blanket a few times. Estimating that the blanket had absorbed the water from her body, he pulled another quilt over the blanket, reached under the quilt to pull out the blanket, and threw it under the bed.

The entire sequence of actions was graceful and swift. From beginning to end, a certain someone was never exposed, but after Gong Yin finished, he let out a long sigh, feeling another layer of cold sweat on his back. His clothes had already been wet, and now they could practically drip water.

Taking care of her was actually more exhausting than consecutively defeating the Seven Kills Brothers.

Suddenly, Jing Hengbo’s eyes opened a crack, looking at him drowsily and murmuring, “You change too… you change too…”

Gong Yin looked down at his soaked clothes and was about to return to Jing Ting to change before coming back. But before he could stand up, Jing Hengbo suddenly crawled up, grabbed the quilt, and pounced on him.

Gong Yin instinctively turned his head away, suddenly aware of her current state, and quickly forced his neck to turn back, the movement so forceful he nearly gave himself whiplash.

He didn’t dare turn back around, feeling Jing Hengbo already lying on his back with the quilt, person and all. She was actually imitating his earlier actions, using the quilt to wrap him up while rubbing against him randomly, trying to dry him off.

Her arms were weak from the alcohol, and the quilt was heavy. Rather than grabbing the quilt to dry the water off him, it was more like she was holding the quilt while nuzzling against his back. A soft cloud drifted back and forth, and her rich fragrance continuously wafted against the back of his neck.

Gong Yin’s body began to tremble slightly.

Physical trembling intertwined with spiritual trembling, creating countless overlapping ripples like crashing waves.

For a moment, he wanted to turn around, to surrender, to throw caution to the wind and forget all the court intrigue, the mountain of pressure, the turbulent seas, and the hidden military threats.

To be himself for once, to indulge in soaring high once, to ignore worldly right and wrong, and first seize what was before his eyes.

But when he looked up and saw the plain black tiles and white walls of Jing Ting, saw the glazed tiles atop the palace gleaming like sword edges in the sunlight, and saw the calmly lurking Dahuang in the distance, that surge of passion and excitement suddenly met the frost and snow of reality and instantly crystallized.

The human world was full of dangers at every step. A moment’s indulgence might lead to ultimate destruction.

He had tasted that kind of suffering before and was unwilling to repeat it.

He didn’t turn around. With a shake of his shoulders, he threw Jing Hengbo off.

Jing Hengbo fell onto the couch with a thud, still holding the quilt, and laughed. “Are you dry? Are you warm? I promised to warm you up…”

Her tone was now gentle and sincere, just like a perfect housewife.

Gong Yin’s heart stirred, and he turned around.

Jing Hengbo lay on the bed, looking at him with wide eyes. Her snow-white face had a touch of pink in her cheeks, her black hair fell softly over her shoulders, and her bare arms unconsciously extended to hold down the quilt, like two curved snow-white lotus roots.

Gong Yin grasped her arms and tucked them properly under the covers. Jing Hengbo giggled and said, “All warm now! All warm now!”

Gong Yin leaned down, gazing into her eyes, and suddenly said, “Hengbo.”

“Mm…” She answered with a nasal sound, her eyes both hazy and clear.

“Last time, Xia and I exchanged a few words. There are some things I don’t want to say again, but there’s one thing I still want to ask you once more.”

“Mm-hmm…” she answered, her eyes filling with anticipation.

“Would you,” his tone was slow, as if weighing each word carefully, “be willing to stop being this queen, to take on a different identity, to be only my… wife? I would protect you—secretly, but safely—and we would live together… forever.”

Jing Hengbo’s eyes slowly widened.

“Are you…” she thought for a moment, searching through the chaos in her mind for the key words, and said with some difficulty, “…proposing to me?”

Gong Yin took a deep breath and looked at her intently. “Yes.”

Jing Hengbo suddenly closed her eyes.

Gong Yin frowned.

“I’m dreaming… I must be dreaming…” she murmured to herself, pulling the quilt up over her head.

The light in Gong Yin’s eyes dimmed slightly as he straightened up.

In that instant, his face resumed its usual expression of icy, aloof blankness. He said flatly, “I understand. You should rest.” He stood up without hesitation.

“Gong Yin!”

Gong Yin stopped but didn’t turn around.

“I don’t mean to pressure you in the slightest,” he said. “You’re free to forget this.”

“Gong Yin…” Jing Hengbo peeked her head out from under the quilt, her eyes still dizzy. “Why are you telling me this now… I’m so confused… I’m so dizzy… But don’t leave yet—hear me out.”

Gong Yin slowly walked to the window and closed the partially open shutters.

“Speak.”

“I…” Jing Hengbo pressed her forehead, knocking it with her knuckles, looking very much troubled by a headache. “I need to tell you first… When I heard you say ‘wife,’ I was first shocked, then seemed to feel joy… yes, joy… Gong Yin, I know I like you, but whether it’s love, I haven’t figured that out yet. Sometimes I don’t think that far ahead—I like you and want to be with you, so we’re together. As for more distant matters, I think I’m still young and honestly haven’t considered them… But when you suddenly said those two words ‘wife’ just now, and I felt panic first then joy, that’s when I realized I might actually love you…”

Gong Yin gazed out the window. Through the gauzy window paper, he could vaguely see the emerald trees and red flowers outside, but such beauty and brilliance seemed hazy and unreal, like a painting hanging in the distance.

“But… marriage is such a distant matter… I’m still young… I’m not even twenty yet…” Jing Hengbo propped her forehead, deeply troubled. “Does it really have to be so early? Gong Yin, I love the feeling of being in love. I don’t want to marry and have children too early and become an ordinary housewife… I want to have the fullest youth, to properly taste the sweetness of love, to not waste my best years… What I’m saying may not make sense to you. Here, twenty-year-olds are already old women who should be married… but where I come from, at twenty… one’s glorious youth is just beginning…”

Gong Yin stood straight, watching a butterfly slowly fly toward a red chrysanthemum, then fall silently.

This late autumn butterfly’s wings could no longer bear the weight of the heavy golden wind.

“…And also, why can’t I continue being queen? Why must I change my identity? Why must loving someone mean living a lifetime in secret… I can give up the status of queen, I can forgo wealth and glory, but I can’t accept not being myself… I can’t accept becoming someone else’s appendage, living like a mole for the rest of my life… not even able to be myself… I would lose who I am…”

That butterfly had fallen, struggling in the mud. Its wings finally lay powerlessly against the ground, motionless.

How fine and cool this autumn was.

The window still had a crack open. Gong Yin gently pulled it shut with a click, blocking out a thread of bitter wind and also sealing in the warmth of this moment inside the room.

He slowly turned around, the blank frost and snow color between his brows gone, replaced by calm and gentleness.

“You’re right,” he said. “If I truly understood you, I shouldn’t have made such a request. Someone as unrestrained and free-spirited as you should roam freely across the vast world—no one has the right to try to confine your freedom.”

“Gong Yin…” Jing Hengbo looked at him with wide eyes. “Are you angry?”

“No.” He slowly walked back, leaned down to look at her, and suddenly reached out to gently wipe away a slightly smudged spot of lipstick at the corner of her mouth.

“It was my momentary mistake in thinking,” he said lightly. “I’ve long known that someone like you isn’t suited for that kind of life. If I clipped your wings, you would fall into the mire and no longer be yourself. At that time, the one with me would no longer be Jing Hengbo—so what would be the point?”

Jing Hengbo lowered her eyes. She was still dizzy, and because of the dizziness, she only wanted to speak from her heart. Even if she weren’t dizzy, she felt she should still speak truthfully to someone she liked—there should be no deception, otherwise there would inevitably be insurmountable obstacles in the future.

In her heart, she also harbored a layer of worry about Gong Yin’s situation. She felt that this proposal at this time seemed somehow inappropriate, but he concealed his emotions too well, so she knew that even if she asked about some things, there would be no answers.

She tried hard to sense Gong Yin’s emotions but found that whether it was the alcohol’s effect or Gong Yin himself truly had no emotions, he remained so calm, without any anger, even resolute—as if he had long known this answer, and asking was merely to respect her and confirm it from her own mouth.

He wasn’t angry, hadn’t lost his temper, hadn’t overthought it—she should feel relieved, but strange emotions continued to linger in her heart. She couldn’t help but reach out to grasp his hand. “…I will eventually see my heart clearly… give me a little more time to think…”

“Alright.” Gong Yin was rarely so gentle, tucking her hand back under the covers. “Stop fussing and get some sleep.”

She knew he was about to press her sleep acupoint and struggled to protest, “No…” Before she finished speaking, everything went black.

Gong Yin straightened up, watching her instantly fall into slumber. This time she didn’t sleep peacefully—her brow was slightly furrowed with a troubled expression, presumably still worrying about their conversation even in her dreams.

He sighed softly.

He himself had been somewhat affected by the alcohol, briefly losing his head. Why did he need to say those words and make her anxious?

These worldly troubles should be borne by men.

He pressed his lips together slightly, thinking that today had indeed been an accident. He had given her that wine originally to strengthen her body—who knew she would turn into such a drunk and cause so much trouble.

Her fingers were still tightly grasping his hand. He gently pried them open one by one, and each time he opened a finger, his fingertip touched hers.

The closest distance to the heart.

After releasing her hand, he reached out to smooth her slightly furrowed brow, his fingers slowly moving down to rest beside her lips, gently shaping them into a smile.

Be a woman who indulges freely.

You should always smile.

…

Night deepened.

Yuzhao Palace was immersed in cold white moonlight.

Yuzhao Palace was especially quiet at night, with no pedestrians or guards visible, because the State Preceptor preferred tranquility. The mechanisms and guards of Yuzhao Palace were always arranged in hidden places.

Because Jing Hengbo was sleeping in Jing Ting, most of the guards had been withdrawn from her bedchamber. After the day’s commotion, everyone was exhausted, and in the silent night, only sleep talk and murmurs drifted about.

A door opened quietly.

The doors of Yuzhao Palace were regularly maintained and oiled, opening without a sound.

A thin figure slipped out from behind the door, with loose long hair, wearing thin white clothes, and an equally pale face with undried tear stains. At first glance, one might wonder if this was a ghost.

Thin moonlight fell on her face—it was Jing Jun.

Her expression was somewhat vacant and confused. Wearing soft-soled shoes, her steps seemed to float as she crossed the courtyard step by step, heading toward the Queen’s bedchamber.

When Jing Hengbo slept in her chambers, though she didn’t require anyone to keep night watch outside, there were always guards watching from hidden places. But tonight was an exception—all the guards had gone next door.

Jing Jun knew the way well, ascending the steps and entering the door without obstruction.

Another door opened quietly, and Yong Xue’s dark eyes peered through the door panel, silently watching Jing Jun’s retreating figure.

Seeing Jing Jun enter the Queen’s bedchamber, she frowned and also followed silently.

Jing Jun didn’t act like someone sneaking into another’s bedroom, nor like someone coming to cause destruction. She entered boldly, strolling leisurely, seeming to have a natural familiarity with Jing Hengbo’s chambers.

She stood for a while before Jing Hengbo’s bed, stood for a while before Jing Hengbo’s dressing room, and even sat down at Jing Hengbo’s vanity table, slowly combing her hair in front of the mirror.

Midnight, white moon, blurry mirror, disheveled long hair, slow movements, ghostly face, an expression of reminiscence and nostalgia.

Yong Xue, secretly watching from outside the window, rubbed her arms, feeling all her hair standing on end.

She didn’t find killing intent or hostility on Jing Jun’s face, didn’t even find consciousness. Jing Jun gave her the feeling of being in a state of “night-wandering soul” from folk legends.

But “night-wandering soul” was an illness that would occur more than once, yet she and Cui Jie had known Jing Jun for so long without discovering she had a problem with nocturnal wandering.

Perhaps some people only exhibited such behavior after receiving a shock?

Jing Jun suddenly breathed on the mirror.

Her red lips parted slightly, breathing a patch of white mist onto the mirror, then extended her finger and began to draw.

Yong Xue squinted, carefully trying to make out the drawing, gradually frowning.

Jing Jun drew a few strokes, giggled, and erased it. In the empty room, this laugh was like a night bird’s low cry, making one’s hair stand on end.

Jing Jun seemed startled by her own laughter, tilting her head to listen, then suddenly raised the comb and slowly knocked it three times in mid-air.

After three knocks, she tilted her head again and shifted her body aside, as if making way for a demon emerging from the mirror.

Yong Xue watched without blinking, memorizing all her movements.

The woman’s face in the bronze mirror was blurry, seeming to suddenly become someone else entirely.

After doing all this, Jing Jun elegantly stood up, placed the comb on the vanity table, raised her chin, and spread her arms wide.

This posture was both strange and familiar. Yong Xue thought about it—could she be waiting for someone to come forward and dress her after finishing her grooming?

But when had she ever enjoyed such service?

Yong Xue naturally wouldn’t step forward. She watched Jing Jun wait with arms spread for a long time, seeming somewhat disappointed as she slowly lowered her arms and began wandering around the bedchamber again.

Yong Xue watched her wander endlessly without doing anything and relaxed slightly. She lowered her head to think for a moment, and when she looked up again, she was suddenly startled.

Jing Jun had disappeared from the room!

Greatly alarmed, she was about to rush into the room when she suddenly sensed something behind her and spun around.

Jing Jun was standing straight behind her!

Yong Xue nearly cried out in shock!

Unexpectedly, Jing Jun behind her seemed even more frightened than she was. Her facial expression jolted, that mask-like eerie expression scattered, her pupils gradually focused, but her face became even paler.

She seemed to truly wake up.

Before Yong Xue could cry out, she suddenly turned and ran stumbling outward. Running too hastily, she tripped on the threshold and rolled down the steps. She somehow found the strength to immediately flip over and get up, rushing desperately out of the courtyard.

Strangely, in this situation, neither woman made a sound.

Yong Xue stood under the corridor, frozen like a puppet, her whole body cold.

She rushed out a few steps wanting to pursue, but found Jing Jun’s steps were extremely fast—her short legs couldn’t catch up at all.

After thinking, she could only run toward the side door, planning to call the guards next door, but the door suddenly opened. Tie Xingze stood behind the door.

“I came out to relieve myself and heard what seemed like movement next door,” he said simply. “What happened?”

Yong Xue breathed a sigh of relief. She didn’t want to make a big fuss, and having Tie Xingze handle it couldn’t be better.

“Miss Jing Jun had some trouble. Could I trouble Young Master Tie to take a look?”

Tie Xingze nodded, gestured to Meng Hu and Yu Chun who had rushed over at the sound, saying, “It’s nothing, I’ll go take a look.” He floated over the wall.

Yong Xue waited anxiously in the courtyard, occasionally looking back at the Queen’s bedchamber. Cui Jie was also awakened and, hearing about the night’s events, turned pale and insisted on dragging her into the Queen’s bedchamber to thoroughly check everything inside.

“There shouldn’t be anything wrong,” Yong Xue said. “I was watching the whole time. She didn’t do anything. And I didn’t sense any killing intent from her.”

Cui Jie stopped and turned to look at her. After a long moment, she said, “I can’t tell that someone so young would be so perceptive.”

“People like us,” Yong Xue said slowly, “have to be more careful if we want to survive.”

“The few of us,” Cui Jie sat down with her, “originally had our lives saved by Da Bo, and now depend on Da Bo to live. If Da Bo is well, we’re well. Jing Jun is confused—don’t learn from her.”

Yong Xue said nothing, her dark eyes holding a warm light.

“I’ve been worried all along, sometimes not sleeping well,” Cui Jie exhaled with relief. “Since you’re also keeping watch, that’s good. From now on, we sisters should stay alert and guard Da Bo’s courtyard well.”

“I don’t think,” Yong Xue said slowly, “Jing Jun has any ability to harm Sister Da Bo. Her illness is real, her weakness is real, she doesn’t even have the courage. Today I was only afraid she might commit suicide and make Sister Da Bo sad—I didn’t think…” She shook her head.

“You talk as if you can see into people’s hearts,” Cui Jie said somewhat dismissively. “Let me tell you, you can know a person’s face but not their heart. The more delicate and weak someone appears, the more likely they are to act viciously. I’ve seen plenty of such people in the brothel!”

Yong Xue shook her head, seeming unwilling to argue with her, because the door sounded and Tie Xingze returned.

He was half-soaked, carrying the equally wet and unconscious Jing Jun.

Facing their astonished gazes, his answer was equally simple and direct: “She tried to jump into the water. I rescued her.”

Both gasped.

“Is it serious? Should we call a physician?” Cui Jie was reluctant to disturb Jing Hengbo in the middle of the night.

“It’s nothing. I just pressed her sleep acupoint. She’ll be fine after sleeping,” Tie Xingze handed Jing Jun to them and thought for a moment. “This matter shouldn’t be publicized. I think it’s better not to tell Her Majesty. I’ll trouble you two ladies to comfort Miss Jing Jun afterward.”

Cui Jie and Yong Xue were exactly hoping for this and both nodded.

Watching Tie Xingze’s retreating figure, Cui Jie couldn’t help but sigh deeply, murmuring, “This Young Master Tie is truly good—upright and considerate.”

Yong Xue said nothing, a strange expression in her large eyes.

“What?” Cui Jie turned to look at her.

Yong Xue shook her head, then nodded.

“Yes, he’s good.”

…

When Jing Hengbo woke the next day and returned to her own bedchamber, she knew nothing of the previous night’s events.

The drunken incident didn’t leave much impact on Jing Hengbo either.

The people of Jing Ting were all reliable, and the Queen’s drunken antics were strictly sealed under orders.

Jing Hengbo’s own memory of that day’s events was blurry—she vaguely remembered each incident but couldn’t recall the details of any.

With her alcohol tolerance, she shouldn’t have been so drunk. It was entirely because she drank too quickly and had matters on her mind.

Fearing she had said or done something inappropriate, Jing Hengbo specifically summoned Zirui to inquire about the day’s events. When told she had made Gong Yin carry her, Jing Hengbo loudly praised herself. When told about the confession on the bridge, she repeatedly asked if anyone had seen Gong Yin’s expression. When told they both fell off the bridge together, she laughed until she fell backward.

But when Zirui continued speaking, she became quite evasive, finally directly asking whether they should find a husband’s family for Jing Jun, saying she would do her best to arrange it.

Jing Hengbo only knew that on the night of her drunkenness, Jing Jun had fallen ill again, this time very seriously, unable to get out of bed. The imperial physician had come and said it was congenital weakness, acquired trauma, plus depression of spirit, resulting in a lingering illness.

In this situation, moving her out of the palace would be sending her to death, and finding someone to marry wasn’t appropriate either.

Jing Hengbo vaguely knew something of what had happened and felt terrible about it. She felt her words were right and her actions were right—she had always thought Jing Jun’s thoughts were too heavy and her personality too delicate. With such a person, beating around the bush was useless; strong medicine was needed.

But the timing and method were wrong—doing it in front of so many people without leaving any room for retreat.

She couldn’t help but smile bitterly—alcohol causing trouble. If Jing Jun became seriously ill from anger, she would never have peace of mind in this lifetime.

This was all she could do for now. She would arrange what came next after Jing Jun recovered. Jing Hengbo instructed Zirui to take extra care of Jing Jun. Zirui answered, “Your Majesty, rest assured. I will definitely watch over this courtyard carefully.”

Jing Hengbo felt she had misunderstood her meaning but was too lazy to explain. She thought more about that day’s drunkenness—it seemed… it seemed Gong Yin had proposed?

And then? What was the result?

There seemed to be no result.

In her memory, Gong Yin vaguely had another proposal, but she couldn’t remember the specific content—only her vague resistance.

She knew herself. No matter how much she liked someone, she definitely wouldn’t want to marry so early. She hadn’t had enough fun yet—how could she marry early and have children to become a yellow-faced housewife?

Besides, whether liking someone could necessarily lead to marriage also required time to observe.

Regarding marriage and love, she didn’t follow ancient customs just because she had entered ancient times. She maintained her original thoughts—anticipating marriage yet being cautious about it. No matter how much she liked someone, she wouldn’t easily entrust her marriage to them.

Because once entrusted, it was for life.

She treasured her own life and also treasured his life.

Was his side truly suitable for her to stand?

She hoped to become stronger, to truly stand shoulder to shoulder with him, so as not to bring him more troubles.

But her strength seemed to necessarily be built on the foundation of competing and opposing him.

…It truly was an unsolvable complex proposition.

She couldn’t solve this problem and couldn’t find Gong Yin to solve it either. He had begun another round of busyness—she heard that the Kang Long Army was changing guard with the Yuzhao Army.

He seemed to continue as usual, still arranging her affairs properly, but she saw him less and less. Much of the time, even Meng Hu came and went hurriedly, making her embarrassed to detain people and waste their time.

The weather was getting colder. It was said that after a while, many swamps in Dahuang would freeze, roads would become more accessible, and some bandits and brigands hidden deep in swamps and mountains would come out to plunder during this season.

On this day, A Shan returned with her people. Seeing this woman skilled in disguise under Gong Yin’s command, Jing Hengbo realized she hadn’t seen her for a long time.

A Shan had supposedly gone to carry out a mission. Jing Hengbo didn’t know what mission, but once when passing the Jing Ting guards’ duty room, she heard A Shan warming herself by the fire while saying to Meng Hu, “I went to teach that boy a lesson according to the State Preceptor’s orders. The State Preceptor said if that boy lived normally, then forget it. But if he really followed what the letter said and renovated the secret room and filled it with chrysanthemums, then teach him a lesson. So I simply taught him a lesson.”

“What kind of simple lesson?” Meng Hu’s voice seemed to be suppressing laughter.

“I found a dancer, disguised her as Her Majesty, had her dance for him, then beat him up, took all the money from his house, stole his ten most exquisite hidden weapons, and used chrysanthemums to spell ‘Bobo loves you, chrysanthemums forever!’ on his body.” A Shan laughed. “I imagine he’ll never forget Her Majesty for the rest of his life.”

Jing Hengbo stood outside, dumbstruck.

Who were they talking about? It couldn’t be that pale young man from Xikang City, could it?

The person had already left, yet they went back to mess with him? Did Gong Yin’s pettiness measure even a micrometer?

“It’s enough that I know about this. No need to report it to Master. He doesn’t have time to deal with such trivial matters now.” Meng Hu’s voice suddenly lowered. “Since you’re back, there’s something I need to discuss with you…”

This time, even if Jing Hengbo wanted to press her ear against the wall, she couldn’t hear anything.

A guard was walking over in the distance, so she could only leave reluctantly.

Returning to her own bedchamber, she found Yong Xue waiting for her under the corridor.

“I have something to show you,” the little girl said directly.