“How ridiculous that I still held hope in my final moment, how ridiculous that I still thought of repaying kindness in my final moment.” She laughed until her whole body of fat trembled, pointing at Jing Hengbo and using all her strength: “Your Majesty, are you satisfied? Are you happy? You rescued yourself and punished the criminal. Do you think you’ve displayed your divine might again? Do you know you’re still courting death?”

She extended her hand, revealing a dark green pill. She displayed the dark green pill in a circle, then stuffed it into her mouth.

Everyone stared at her silently, watching this woman’s final madness and resolve in her desperate situation.

Chai Yu had already calmed down. She stared at Jing Hengbo and said eerily: “Your Majesty, I’m afraid I must disappoint you. This isn’t my suicide poison—it’s your antidote.”

“What are you saying?” Zirui cried out in shock.

The corner of Chai Yu’s mouth twisted into a smile uglier than crying: “I already made my move against Your Majesty when we entered the city. Once was in the hall when I blocked wine for Your Majesty—my poisoned fingernail scratched across the back of her hand. That time I only planted the primer poison. Then the second time was when she brought me out of the palace. I was upwind and she was downwind. The medicinal powder from my mouth drifted near her. The two doses combined to form poison. But I was also observing Your Majesty’s character all along, hoping for a chance to take another path, so I managed to obtain the only antidote. I thought that as long as Your Majesty could protect my mother and son’s safety, I would offer this antidote to Your Majesty…” She laughed strangely: “Of course, now that only antidote is gone.”

“Chai Yu, look clearly…” Zirui couldn’t help saying, but was interrupted by Chai Yu’s crazed laughter.

She sprang forward, ignoring that she faced numerous masters, and shouted loudly toward the city wall: “Did you see? I’ve already killed the Queen! Tell Ming Yan’an that whether in life or death, I’ll settle accounts with him!”

At the same time, Jing Hengbo cried “Ah!” loudly, saying “This Queen is dead!” and fell backward.

A group of people quickly caught her: “Your Majesty!” “Bobo!” “Little Bo!” Various chaotic shouts rose to the sky.

On the city wall, Huang Gang hurriedly looked down, wanting to know if the Queen had truly been poisoned, but the crowd below was in chaos, completely blocking Jing Hengbo’s figure.

Someone roared angrily: “Chai Yu, you vicious woman!” A palm struck out, and Chai Yu spat out a mouthful of blood with a “poof,” crashing to the ground.

In the wind and snow, fresh blood stained the yellow sand red. Huang Gang on the city wall saw clearly and couldn’t help feeling bewildered.

Was it resolved just like this?

Shangyuan’s greatest threat—the Queen died just like this?

The consort killed the Queen and was also killed by the other side’s masters?

This development seemed like the most appropriate ending. But Huang Gang felt empty inside, unable to summon any joy.

He looked around. The soldiers silently watched Chai Yu’s fat corpse sprawled in the snow below, their eyes showing an emotion called sorrow.

He turned his eyes away.

Not because he couldn’t bear to see their sorrow, but because he feared they might discover the sorrow in his own eyes.

He knew why these young people were sad. The consort came from a scholarly family, was extremely well-bred, kind to others, and truly loved the people like her own children. Many here had received her kindness.

And he himself had received even greater kindness from her.

Years ago, the head of the Ministry of Revenue had a personal grudge against him and secretly withheld soldiers’ winter clothing, replacing it with old, worn stuffing. Daimao’s winters were extremely cold, and the old stuffing couldn’t provide warmth. Seeing thousands of soldiers about to freeze to death on the city walls, he angrily sought the other party for the clothing, but fell into a trap and mistakenly killed someone, landing in prison. At that time the other party was powerful, and no one in the entire court dared speak for him. Just as he was about to be executed, his loyal subordinates had nowhere to turn for help. In desperation, they stopped the consort’s sedan chair in the street as she went out to burn incense.

In the end, it was the consort who, despite others’ obstruction and threats, personally went to the Golden Hall and tore open those military garments that looked new on the outside but were full of gray-black old stuffing inside, crying injustice for the king in court.

At that time in the hall, she recited “A Petition for Shangyuan’s Army” from memory, shocking the entire court. Afterward it spread throughout Daimao and became a celebrated tale.

She saved him and also saved one hundred thousand troops of Shangyuan.

Later he heard she was framed by a competing concubine, mysteriously gaining weight after childbirth and falling from favor. When that weight became increasingly severe and could never be lost again, he wondered whether her fall to such circumstances was related to that Golden Hall petition.

The king had originally succeeded to the throne through power struggles, so he was especially wary and sensitive to any threats to his position.

She came from a family of poetry and propriety, with an upright nature. Though palace rules forbade women from interfering in politics, she often felt that as consort, she had the duty to counsel her husband, saying many unpleasant truths. Before the military clothing incident, their marital relationship had already gradually cooled because of this. Ming Yan’an hadn’t seen her for a long time, which led to her desperate act of carrying military clothing directly to the Golden Hall.

However, this act violated his greatest taboo even more—how sacred was the court hall, yet she dared to break in!

More fatally, that day in the Golden Hall, the king saw the consort’s talent and popular support, saw that many of his ministers actually had quite favorable impressions of her, actually showing a tendency where one word from her could rally all to respond.

Of course this was because upright ministers couldn’t bear to see a good general wronged, but in the king’s view, this was a threat to him—even his own consort was unacceptable!

After that incident, her reputation among the people also reached its peak, making the king even more intolerant.

Later when she became pregnant, he was still happy for her, but only learned afterward that this was when the revenge began…

It could be said that to save him that time, she paid an immeasurable price.

But at this moment, he had to watch helplessly as she was forced into desperate straits, watch her despair and madness, watch her spill blood beneath the city.

He couldn’t make any move because not far behind him, military supervisors were also watching.

Years ago she had risked her own safety to save him, a complete stranger, going to court to rescue someone; now he couldn’t speak up for justice or draw his sword to save her.

Because at this moment, behind him there were still countless innocent soldiers who needed his strong protection…

He closed his eyes sadly because of his own selfishness. Wind and snow struck his face, but it was his heart that felt cold.

“General Huang,” the military supervisor behind him said disapprovingly: “Earlier someone forced their way onto the city wall. Why didn’t you order them stopped?”

“This general was determining friend from foe, to avoid mistakenly harming our own people,” he explained blandly.

“That person seemed to be carrying…” the supervisor persisted.

He turned around, staring coldly at that eunuch, forcibly staring that person’s endless chatter back into his stomach.

“Go report to the king,” he said word by word. “Below Shangyuan city, the Queen died suddenly, the consort was killed.”

“…Yes.”

…

Chai Yu slowly opened her eyes to complete darkness.

Her gaze was somewhat confused.

Where was the Bridge of Helplessness? Where was Meng Po’s soup? Where were the eighteen levels of hell with tongue-pulling and bone-scraping? Where was that endless black karmic fire…

She felt she desperately needed a bowl of Meng Po’s soup to forget her past life, lest thinking of it now ignite unquenchable flames in her chest.

There was a small, soft body in her arms. She suddenly realized, frantically feeling around to confirm it was her Yue’er. For a moment her heart was sad, joyful, and pained all at once. Sad that Yue’er had indeed died with her, joyful that dying together meant they could travel the same path—a blessing of sorts, pained that because of her sins, she had implicated her child and made him go to hell with her…

She held the child, crying and laughing. The child’s soft little hands touched her face, wiping away her tears: “Mother… don’t cry… don’t cry…”

Tears flowed to her lips, bitter, while little hands were warm, and tears were warm too. She pressed her tear-streaming face against the child’s hands, murmuring again and again: “I’m sorry, Yue’er, I’m sorry… I’m sorry…”

She suddenly paused.

Little hands warm…

“Yue’er!” Her voice changed with shock as she urgently felt all over Ming Yue’s body. Before her was clearly a warm body, heart beating, breath warming her face.

She dropped her hands, collapsing powerlessly to sit on the ground. At this moment, she understood everything yet seemed to understand nothing.

She was originally clever, but after years of drug invasion had suffered some damage, and with long suppression followed by final stimulation, her mind had gone mad, making it difficult to distinguish the situation clearly. Only now did she come to her senses.

“Light a lamp…” she said chokingly. Some things had to be faced eventually.

Then she covered her face again, saying urgently: “No no, don’t light it. I… I have no face to see you all…”

Someone chuckled softly in the darkness, then lamplight brightened. Across from her, in a gentle halo of light, sat Master Mu.

Chai Yu didn’t see Jing Hengbo and immediately became anxious, hurriedly asking: “Where is Your Majesty?”

“That your first words ask about this is somewhat comforting,” Master Mu seemed pleased. “She’s fine, in a meeting up front.”

Chai Yu looked down at her arms—completely intact, it was indeed her Ming Yue. While hugging the child tightly as if afraid he might disappear, feeling him up and down, she asked quietly: “You stayed behind a step, saying you needed to prepare a wheelchair, but actually went to rescue Ming Yue, didn’t you… I should have thought of it. Just wear a mask if you’re afraid of being discovered—why risk preparing a wheelchair in Shangyuan city…”

“Your face can’t hide anything. Everyone knew your son must have had trouble, but to paralyze Ming Yan’an and leave Shangyuan quickly, we still had you leave first,” Master Mu said. “Concern leads to confusion. Someone as clever as you also became Ming Yan’an’s puppet because of your son.”

Chai Yu hung her head, her face full of shame. After a while she asked: “Then what fell from the city wall…”

“I had already taken Ming Yue away first. Since Ming Yan’an no longer had anyone to threaten you with, he randomly found a child to substitute. You couldn’t see clearly from that distance anyway,” Master Mu said. “Later we knocked that child down from the city wall, but someone hidden in the shadows caught him. We did remind you to look carefully, but who knew you’d immediately go mad. Later we thought it was better to go along with it—you didn’t know the truth, so your performance was realistic, making Ming Yan’an more at ease.”

“The Queen… the Queen wasn’t poisoned?”

Master Mu smiled: “Did you think you’d been fooling us all along? Did you think that with your unknown background, all of us would really trust you without question and bring you along?”

Chai Yu’s face turned red, suddenly feeling like a clown.

“You’re not stupid. Actually we didn’t suspect you too much at first,” Master Mu said gently. “But you couldn’t control your love for your child. You showed it too obviously.” He smiled: “Perhaps every mother in the world can play any deception, but cannot pretend in front of her own child.”

Chai Yu stroked Ming Yue’s soft hair, not knowing whether her heart felt bitter or grateful.

“The Queen once suffered from fingernail injuries. She got inspiration from the battle with Zhan Yu at the Xin tribe, and afterward often wore gloves on her hands that looked like real skin. Your fingernail only scratched through the glove—she wasn’t injured. The first layer of primer poison didn’t work, so the later powder naturally had insufficient effect,” he smiled. “But you still underestimated Ming Yan’an’s viciousness. The powder he gave you to hold in your mouth and spray wasn’t completely non-toxic. He feared the first layer of primer hadn’t worked well, so he added more poison to the second layer of powder. When the Queen smelled something wrong, she held her breath, but you yourself were poisoned, which is why you later vomited blood. Seeing things were wrong, we knocked you unconscious and brought you back for treatment.”

“I…” Chai Yu stammered, unable to speak, having no face to express gratitude or words to curse Ming Yan’an’s viciousness.

“What do you plan to do next?” Master Mu asked her.

“What to do…” Chai Yu repeated blankly.

“The Queen’s meaning is: everything is up to you. She promised to keep you and your son safe, and she keeps her word,” Master Mu smiled. “But as for trusting you… I think she would, but I wouldn’t agree.”

Chai Yu fell silent. She indeed had no face to ask for Jing Hengbo’s trust again. Not to mention how Jing Hengbo had treated her all along, even when she took the hostage, Jing Hengbo had given her chances, but she still attacked Jing Hengbo when she mistakenly thought her son was dead. Everyone present had seen it—she had no face to remain under everyone’s gaze.

She made up her mind, stood up, gently pushed her son forward, and bowed three times to Master Mu.

Master Mu showed no surprise, patting Ming Yue’s head.

“Have you decided?”

“Yes.” Chai Yu’s voice was low but firm. “The mistakes I made, the crimes I committed, I will wash clean in my own way.”

“The Queen is still willing to protect you.”

“I have no face to accept protection. To want others’ protection, I must first repay my own debts,” she said. “I’ll leave my son behind. I only ask that you protect him.”

Master Mu nodded with a smile. Rather than protection, this was more like a hostage.

Smart people don’t put it so bluntly.

“Do you have a way?”

“Five years as husband and wife—I understand him better than I understand myself.”

“Very good.” He handed out a stack of papers. “On top is a prescription to remove the poison from your body. After childbirth, someone poisoned you, causing obesity. The medicine you’ve been taking has been promoting this toxicity, so you first need to spend time clearing that poison from your body. Otherwise, over time, this could also kill you.”

“Good.” She accepted it.

She didn’t care about owing more favors, as long as she worked hard to repay them.

“The stack below is what the Queen wrote for you.” Master Mu pointed to the thick stack. “She wrote for an hour. She said that after the toxicity is cleared from your body, strictly follow her requirements for diet and exercise to recuperate. You’ll quickly slim down, slim to…” He remembered Jing Hengbo’s description and couldn’t help smiling. “Slim like lightning, striking dead all former fat people.”

“Good.” She still gave the same short response, with tears in her eyes.

“The last is money. Take care of yourself when you’re alone.”

“Thanks.” She didn’t refuse anything and didn’t look at her son again before turning to leave.

If she lingered, she feared she’d have another bout of her son-sickness.

Ming Yue didn’t call out to her either. The child, despite his young age, seemed to suddenly understand his mother’s difficulties. With tears in his eyes, he asked Master Mu: “Will mother come back?”

Master Mu smiled and gathered him into his arms.

“She will.”

…

Before long, Jing Hengbo finished her meeting and returned to the back hall. Seeing only Ming Yue there, she couldn’t help but be surprised: “Where’s Chai Yu?”

“Oh, she left,” Master Mu answered as if nothing had happened.

“Didn’t I say to let her have no burdens and stay to recuperate properly?” Jing Hengbo was even more surprised. “She refused? How could she bear to abandon Ming Yue?”

“Perhaps her conscience was troubled,” Master Mu’s expression was casual. “Anyway, she knows her son is entrusted to us, so she can be at ease.”

“Are you hiding something from me?” Jing Hengbo stared at him suspiciously.

“Whether hiding or not,” Master Mu’s smile seemed meaningful, “in any case, it won’t harm you.”

Jing Hengbo leaned on his chair, saying softly: “I just told them about Pei Shu… Ying Bai and the others don’t believe it. When I told them, my heart heated up again… I’m going to take Shangyuan. I don’t believe that such a passionate person would die like that… I don’t believe that pervert would really offend me to the end in Dahuang…”

Master Mu was silent, suddenly asking: “In your heart, regarding Pei Shu, what exactly… are your thoughts?”

Jing Hengbo was startled and turned to look at Master Mu. Their gazes met, neither avoiding the other.

After a moment, Jing Hengbo said slowly: “I like him.”

Master Mu’s eyes flashed, seeming surprised and uneasy, darkening one moment and brightening the next: “Like him?”

“My liking is different from your liking. It’s not that kind of romantic love between man and woman, not the kind of liking that wants marriage.” She shook her head. “I just like him as a friend, like an older sister likes a younger brother, the kind of liking that makes me happy just seeing him.”

He was silent, asking after a moment: “Then what do you like about him?”

This time Jing Hengbo answered quickly. She gazed into his eyes and said clearly: “I like his brightness, honesty, clarity, and naturalness. I like how he spreads all his thoughts before me, so I don’t have to grope around in fog.”

He fell even more silent. In the dim lamplight his profile was clear and handsome, long eyelashes dropping to catch a hint of dreamlike light.

Jing Hengbo waited a bit, finally sighing softly and turning to leave.

But he suddenly caught her hand.

Jing Hengbo paused, slowly turning back. He was looking up at her, his eyes holding faint pleading and uncertainty.

Jing Hengbo said nothing. Words had gone far enough—the choice was someone else’s, the thinking was her own.

Her heart grew more confused yet also clearer. Someday, she would force out the answer.

“Hengbo,” Master Mu finally spoke slowly. “I want to…”

Jing Hengbo was thinking about her own matters when she suddenly shuddered and turned back: “Your voice…”

Before she could finish, a sharp whistling sound cut through the air. A stone struck her back with a “thwack,” and she went limp, falling down.

Master Mu caught her and turned back. At the window stood a white-robed figure, appearing from nowhere.

Master Mu ignored him, first placing Jing Hengbo on the bed, removing her shoes, covering her with blankets, tucking in the corners, then turning to face the person at the window.

During this process, the white-robed figure simply watched quietly from the window.

Master Mu sat beside Jing Hengbo’s bed, gazing at her sleeping face, suddenly asking: “Why won’t you let me tell her?”

“It’s not time yet,” the one outside the window answered.

“Then when is the time?” Master Mu’s voice also carried anger. “Never mind that you should return my borrowed identity—aren’t you afraid she’ll never forgive you for deceiving her like this?”

“She might not forgive me anyway,” his voice was bland. After a pause he added: “Perhaps her not forgiving me is what’s best for her.”

Master Mu fell silent. He heard deep sorrow in that calm tone and couldn’t find words for a moment.

From his position, he naturally hoped Jing Hengbo would never forgive, but he also understood that as long as she didn’t forgive for even one day, she could never heal her heart’s wounds, and perhaps would never truly accept anyone.

All hatred existed because one still cared.

“Are you trying to drive her mad?” Master Mu said wearily. “If she were really stupid, that would be fine—you could toy with her as you pleased. But she’s actually very clever. She’s always suspicious, sometimes doubting and sometimes denying, sometimes confirming and sometimes confused again. Are you trying to torment her into madness?”

He was quiet for a moment, saying softly: “It won’t be long. In the future, you’ll be yourself, and she’ll gradually remove those doubts and truly be certain.”

“And you?” Master Mu asked.

He didn’t answer. Outside the window, the cold moon was melting and the wind was still. He stood among the rustling curtains.

“You’ll harm me,” Master Mu laughed coldly. “When she learns the truth, she’ll hate me along with you.”

“So what?” His answer was infuriating. “Why would I help you succeed?”

Master Mu was speechless with anger, but had nothing to say. He chose to hide things not for the other party either—ultimately he had his own selfish motives. The other party saw through this point, so was merciless.

But some things ultimately couldn’t be hidden forever. Before, she had been unwilling to face reality, so allowed herself to be confused. When she was truly willing to take that step, nothing could stop her.

To truly hide a secret permanently, one would have to permanently harm others. They could do it, but they both couldn’t bear to.

“You avoid her, hide from her, confuse her in various ways, yet won’t let go. How do you expect her to pursue her own happiness?” Master Mu finally said coldly. “Don’t you know you’re like a squirrel guarding its own pine nut—you can’t bear to eat it yourself but can’t bear to take it out to dry in the sun either. In the end, the pine nut molds.”

“Her heart is with her. If I tried to help her with someone, that would also be disrespecting her,” he answered blandly. “Yelu Qi, I exiled you from Di Ge, I disguised myself as Master Mu. Though I had my selfish motives, it also gave you a chance. However, Hengbo is unwilling.”

Master Mu took a deep breath and laughed coldly: “That’s because your ghost lingers. If you disappeared, how do you know she wouldn’t completely let go in the future?”

“Then you can wait for that day. If I’m truly powerless, if she really transfers her love to you, why would I obstruct her happiness?” he said lightly. “She’s not the pine nut—she’s the squirrel, guarding her own pine nut.”

Perhaps the pine nut was her happiness.

Neither spoke again, one sitting and one standing, watching the woman sleep in the moonlight.

Even the wind became gentle here, keeping watch over this moment of quiet guardianship by two men.

Her sleep was restless, brows slightly furrowed. Whether she worried for her friend’s life and death, was tangled over these two men’s disputes, or was uncertain about her own unresolved feelings.

Master Mu felt somewhat dazed and couldn’t help gently reaching out to smooth the wrinkles from her brow, his gesture loving.

He still stood by the window without moving. In this moment, he instinctively wanted to stop it—he didn’t like seeing any man’s coveting or approach toward her.

However, their earlier conversation ultimately reminded him that he might have to leave eventually, others would eventually be by her side, and he had to adapt to such scenes, even if such adaptation was heartbreaking.

…

Sunlight illuminated the darkness indoors, weaving brilliant golden patterns.

Jing Hengbo slowly opened her eyes.

She hadn’t slept too well this night. Vaguely there seemed to be people in the room, more than one, coming and going, seeming real yet dreamlike.

She felt fingers gently smoothing her brow, felt breath gentle as falling petals, felt tender and pitying gazes, felt behind those breaths, gazes, and touches, a cooler presence farther away, as if a snow-capped mountain stood in the distance.

She absently touched her own brow, as if the scent of last night’s fallen petals still remained.

Who had used hypnosis last night?

She remembered that position was behind her—it could have been Master Mu, or someone else.

She sat there stunned for a while, slowly supporting herself to sit up, but her palm pressed against something that made her wince with pain.

Looking down, she saw beside her pillow a brass clasp.

She stared at that clasp for a long time, puzzled at first, then her expression gradually changed.

She suddenly cried out with joy, leaped up, grabbed the clasp, and swept out like a whirlwind.

People in the courtyard cleaning, practicing martial arts, and exercising stared dumbfounded as Her Majesty the Queen rushed out wearing only undergarments and long pants like a madwoman.

“Master Mu! Master Mu!” Jing Hengbo was overjoyed beyond measure, forgetting everything. She searched frantically around the courtyard. Seeing Ah San sweeping, she grabbed him in a bear hug, laughing: “Haha his clasp!”

Ah San was embraced fully, feeling soft jade, warm fragrance, and soul-stirring skin. His face turned red immediately…

Ah ah ah, the Queen secretly loves me…

Ah San was considering how to respond affectionately to the Queen’s confession when whoosh—Jing Hengbo had already released him and bounced behind Tian Qi who was washing his face, bear-hugging his waist: “Hahahahaha bestie bestie I love you!”

“Get lost!” Tian Qi’s face nearly got shoved into the basin. He kicked her away, cursing loudly.

Jing Hengbo took a kick but happily pounced toward Ying Bai who had come out with a wine gourd: “Hahahaha scourges last a thousand years—I knew your good buddy was fine hahahahaha…”

Ying Bai quickly set down his wine gourd first, then extended his long leg, saying seriously: “Three-foot safety distance, please don’t approach, thank you.”

Jing Hengbo crashed into his big foot, getting a big footprint on her stomach. She turned around and saw Master Mu coming in.

She crashed onto his wheelchair with a bang.

“Master Mu, was it you? Was it you?” she chattered rapidly. “Did you put Pei Shu’s clasp by my pillow? Hahaha no wonder you knocked me out last night—you wanted to give me a surprise. Haha you’re so bad, but considering you brought such good news, I forgive you hahaha…”

Master Mu looked down slightly, seeing her bright, excited eyes and the brass clasp in her hand.

Slight bitterness rose in his heart.

He didn’t know how this clasp had appeared either, but presumably after he left Jing Hengbo’s room last night, that person had placed it there.

He had still found news of Pei Shu’s survival and comforted her immediately.

They both couldn’t bear her sadness, but it seemed heaven favored him—he could always do one step better.

He gazed at Jing Hengbo’s star-bright eyes. For a moment, he didn’t want to admit it.

This was a blow to his pride.

Yet at this moment she was in his arms, nearly throwing herself at him. She was so happy she forgot she was only wearing undergarments. Her black hair was like silk and her skin like milk—even the silk-white undergarments weren’t as crystal clear and white as she was. Having slept all night, her slightly disheveled hair draped over her pink cheeks like dawn sky just touched by the first hint of rosy clouds. Her body was so soft, her fragrance so enchanting one could willingly die drunk in it.

A man who loved her couldn’t resist this moment’s initiative approach.

He finally just hummed softly, raised his hand to stroke her hair, and smiled: “Quickly put on clothes, be careful not to catch cold.”

Only then did Jing Hengbo discover her disheveled appearance. Looking again, she saw throughout the courtyard: the sweeper leaning on his broom, the tooth-brusher holding his willow twig, the face-washer covering his face with a towel, the drinker holding his wine gourd—all their eyes rolling as they stared at her.

“Holy crap… sleepwalking, sleepwalking ha…” Jing Hengbo vanished at light speed.

The courtyard returned to normal order. People sighed lazily, regretting that the good show was too short. But Ying Bai and others were smiling—compared to yesterday’s solemn dignity and deathly atmosphere, today’s off-key Queen looked more familiar and dear…

Ying Bai smiled while drinking, glancing at Master Mu. He sat there gazing in the direction where Jing Hengbo had disappeared, his eyes holding faint helplessness.