He seemed to sigh softly, the tone making her even more furious. She straddled him and reached out to feel his face.

As long as he had no mask, she didn’t believe she couldn’t figure it out. Even with a mask, it didn’t matter—she’d tear them off layer by layer. Let him dare wear ten thousand layers!

He raised his hand to block hers. When she tried to pull her hand back, he wouldn’t let her. Instead, he took advantage of the moment to grasp her hand in his palm. She refused to give up and swung her other hand over. He caught it precisely, wrapping both her hands and pulling them down to press against his chest, then stopped moving.

Jing Hengbo was pulled down by him, bumping into his back with a thud, her hands pressed under his chest. Now she couldn’t get up either.

She was pressing down on him, yet he was also pressing down on her hands. It looked as if she was embracing him tightly.

The two lay on the ground in this strange position. Moonlight slanted across in patches of white, like a blanket that was both gentle and cool.

After the recent scheming and maneuvering, both seemed to feel tired and remained quietly silent for a moment.

In this situation, he didn’t want to say much more.

All along, there seemed to be many opportunities to get close to her, but each time was actually precious. He tried hard to avoid it, yet couldn’t control his own desire. Sometimes he felt he was contradictory too—knowing such closeness was inappropriate, not wanting her to discover it. But when she truly became suspicious, there was small joy in his heart.

Just like now, truly being caught by her like this—after a moment of surprise, his heart held faint pleasure. Though this pleasure inevitably carried several parts desolation and helplessness, at this moment she was here, her skin fragrant, her breath moist, her soft hair falling on his shoulders. On his back was her body, full and beautiful, trembling gently—the softest cloud-like quilt.

Jing Hengbo pressed against his back. The feeling of the body beneath seemed both strange and familiar. The contours were similar, but warmer, and that warmth was somewhat odd—sometimes cold, sometimes hot. His breathing had also changed.

People have habitual thinking. For someone once familiar to a shocking degree, the memories left behind are not easily changed. So she always remembered his body without warmth, his faintly cool breathing—that was who he was to her. Especially the warmth—she remembered his martial arts couldn’t be too hot. It was precisely because of this that she had suspected countless times, yet overturned her suspicions countless times.

However, at this moment, calming her heart and pushing through the fog, past that abnormal body temperature, she knew his shoulder width was so familiar, the feeling of his collarbone against her arms so familiar, the skin of his neck where her breath brushed so familiar. Even his body’s rise and fall was so familiar. The only thing that seemed wrong was his hair. She tilted her head to smell it, but he moved away. His full head of black hair brushed across her face, flowing like water across half the ground. She angrily bumped his back hard with her chin. He made no sound. She grew even more furious and opened her mouth to bite his shoulder.

At first it was just inner frustration—seeing anything made her want to bite it. But with that bite, the long-suppressed doubts and depression in her heart seemed to rush out like a tide. Some emotion roared and crashed in her chest, yet he made no sound, leaving her no outlet for release. She was lost in her own turbulence, unconsciously biting harder and harder. Suddenly she tasted something salty and metallic in her mouth. She didn’t stop. In her mind flashed blood and snow, Cui Jie’s empty-eyed corpse in the snow pile, the cold and pressing people before the palace, him in white clothes like snow at the end of the palace corridor, the dagger pulled from her chest, stained with his fresh blood and the black poisonous blood she had coughed up.

Her tears suddenly poured out, streaming down the corners of her lips. A sob was about to burst from her throat. She desperately held it back, producing strange choking sounds. This forced her to release her bite. Looking down, she saw his shoulder already soaked with bright red, the edges somewhat wet from slowly spreading—she knew those were her tears.

But at this moment she didn’t want to cry.

Old grudges and new accounts, complicated and numerous—there was much to settle with him, many questions to clarify. Otherwise, even unto death, she could not rest in peace.

She moved slightly, and the chains rattled. The chains were very sturdy—the man in brocade always provided good things.

Though the man in brocade really wasn’t a good person, at least in this matter he had helped her. This was also the real condition for his exchange of the Thousand Gold Umbrella. The few words he wrote on the back of that letter told Jing Hengbo that the coffin’s mechanism had been modified—it seemed locked but could actually be opened at any time.

Speaking to this point, if she still didn’t know what to do, her brain would have grown for nothing.

But he was always so difficult to deal with. Even at this point, he still had ways to avoid facing her. At this moment she was also pinned down, completely unable to move. Even wanting to break free from him depended on whether he would let her go.

Did this also foreshadow that in this relationship, she would always be passive? Controlled, oppressed, represented, toyed with?

After a long while, she said coldly, “Let me go.” Even she felt this sentence was absurd.

He said nothing, but moved his ankle, answering her with the rattling sound of chains.

You want me to let you go? You let me go first.

“Hehe.” Jing Hengbo said sinisterly, “I’ll send a signal, and my people will come. How long can you pin me down?”

He sighed and said, “In the future when you want to harm or deceive people, don’t take off your clothes. Your hands are very cold.”

Jing Hengbo was startled. Only then did she realize that his pressing her hands to his chest was a warming gesture.

He was using his chest to warm her hands.

This made her emotions complex—she really didn’t understand, really didn’t understand why he acted this way.

Why such decisive separation, yet such constant following? Why cutting down with such finality, yet constantly showing her deep affection?

Was this fun?

Her palm was right over his heart—hot, warm. At this moment she could feel his heartbeat, seemingly slightly faster than normal. Irregular heartbeats were normal for martial artists. She didn’t think much of it, but suddenly felt angry. Her fingertip poked at his heart as she said with killing intent, “If you don’t let me go, I’ll pierce through your heart…”

He suddenly groaned softly, his whole body trembling.

This sound was quite pained. She was startled, not expecting his reaction to be like this. For a moment she panicked, then remembered that her fingertip poke used no true force at all—even a child wouldn’t be injured by it. She immediately understood this person was putting on an act to deceive her again. She said angrily, “Is this really necessary…”

Her words stopped abruptly, because she suddenly discovered that the body beneath her was rapidly growing cold. Body temperature ebbed away like a tide. She watched with her own eyes as a layer of ice crystals slowly spread across the skin of his neck, and beneath his black hair, a faint white light flashed.

She was somewhat shocked. For so long, if she hadn’t guessed wrong, he had been controlling himself, never revealing ice-type internal force in front of her. What was happening now?

His hands suddenly loosened. The force pressing her down was gone. She pulled back her hand, her finger brushing across his lips—a faint stickiness. She raised her hand to look, but he suddenly pulled her hand down heavily. Her finger was pressed into the mud, covered with dirt. The sticky liquid from before could no longer be seen.

His body trembled slightly, as if enduring something with great effort. Jing Hengbo stared at him in confusion. Now she was full of uncertainty about all his behavior, not knowing what was real and what was fake. She had been deceived too long, had doubted too long—so long that her understanding of worldly things was becoming confused, full of suspicion about everything.

The cold grew heavier. He seemed to be releasing true qi externally, yet also seemed unable to control it. He reached out to push her, saying in a low voice, “Get down… get down…”

She couldn’t stay either. Getting any closer to him would freeze her to death. She had to roll off and crouch beside him, not daring to move him for the moment, just staring at him intently.

Ice and snow began spreading outward from his body, extending along the chains on his ankle. She watched with wide eyes as the chains became covered with ice and snow, even forming sword-like icicles. The ice and snow crackled past the clasps, spreading up the pillar in the room. The pillar instantly became an ice column, and ice sheets from the top of the ice pillar began extending toward the roof with crackling sounds…

She stared dumbfounded at this scene, like something from Frozen where the queen creates an ice palace with a wave of her hand. The scene was beautiful and magical, yet she began to doubt again—was this really Gong Yin? She remembered that although his ice techniques and Prajna Snow had been very magical before, they hadn’t reached this level.

The temperature in the room dropped at least several dozen degrees. In her thin clothes, she shivered from cold, yet stubbornly refused to move away. She had questions for him!

But he seemed to be resisting something with all his strength, his face buried in ice and snow. She instinctively felt something was wrong and couldn’t understand how that casual poke had turned into this. She couldn’t help reaching out to turn his shoulder.

“Move away—” he suddenly shouted low, his voice urgent.

She instinctively jerked her head around.

An ice sword shot out electrically from under his shoulder, slashing past her cheek with a scraping sound. It missed her eye by a hair’s breadth, and her eyelid almost froze shut immediately.

She hurriedly backed away, but he shouted again, “Behind you!”

She instinctively threw herself forward. An icicle on the chain behind her suddenly broke and scattered, brushing past her back and instantly refreezing in the cold air, clanging as it fell on the ice surface.

She lay on the ground, heart still pounding from fright. He had already called urgently, “Get up quickly!”

Only then did Jing Hengbo realize that warm skin meeting ice and snow could be stuck to flesh and blood. She tried to lift her hand but found she couldn’t. She had to pull forcefully, leaving a thin layer of skin from her fingertips on the ice and snow, with spotted bloodstains. The pain pierced her heart.

“Go!” he said.

Jing Hengbo looked up and saw even the roof’s thatch had frozen into ice, with the range still expanding. This place had become a snow house—she couldn’t stay any longer.

But him… was he really alright?

She had moved halfway out but stopped, looking back at him. He was still lying in the ice and snow, the ice surface beneath him growing higher and higher. He was still trembling slightly, causing the chains covered with broken ice to make tinkling sounds.

This sound reminded her. He was still chained to the pillar!

She immediately went over to try to unlock the clasp, but it had frozen into a thick mass. She first sent out a distress signal, then drew the knife from her leg and began chopping at the pillar. She couldn’t leave him here!

Instinct told her that leaving him like this would kill him!

No matter how many grievances, how much anger and incomprehension, she couldn’t just walk away like this.

She raised the knife high and swung down hard, using all her strength with each blow. The ringing sounds were like metal striking metal.

Ice and snow fragments splashed on her face, burning with pain. She didn’t wipe her face but stared wide-eyed, discovering that the knife had instantly gained a thick layer of ice, becoming an ice blade.

What she had just chopped off was only the ice on the pillar—the pillar itself didn’t even have a notch. Worse yet, in the moment she stopped chopping, the gap that had been cut quickly formed another thick layer of ice.

Too cold. Her teeth chattered, her hands were bloodless, her fingers frozen stiff. She felt even her blood might congeal.

Only now did she know what real cold was. Compared to this, the snow valley from before could be considered warm as spring.

The ice blade striking the ice pillar had no effect except scattering ice fragments. The chopped ice immediately refroze, each time thicker than before. It was completely useless work, not to mention that any movement in severe cold weather was extremely exhausting.

But she refused to give up, chopping fiercely blow after blow. The clanging sounds in the room never ceased.

If she couldn’t break it open, then they’d die together!

At this moment she felt no regret, only infinite anger at Heaven—I merely wanted a truth, why place me in such desperate straits! If transmigration goes against Heaven’s will, then let me die here!

Her strength nearly exhausted, her mind blank. At this moment she was burned by anger and her brain frozen by severe cold—she no longer wanted to think.

Behind her he suddenly said, “Go!”

This shout was extremely decisive. Immediately a great force swept over, lifting her up and smashing through the roof as she flew out.

She landed covered in snow and ice, but still struggled to open her eyes. In that moment of flying backward, she saw the ice and snow filling the room pause, then quickly disappear, as if he was struggling to draw the ice and snow back into his body. This struggle must be very difficult, like a master who had already struck but pulled back the force to hit his own internal organs. She faintly heard a muffled groan, then that groan was drowned by a thunderous sound as the house collapsed. She saw half the roof crumble, ice and snow scattering everywhere. The entire world seemed to become a crystal world. Through the blurry snow mist, she dimly saw a figure fly out from the window, dragging something behind—still tied to half a pillar…

He had actually broken the pillar at the last moment.

When the pillar broke, the house collapsed too. Jing Hengbo saw half the roof crash down on him, but fortunately it was a thatch roof, not enough to seriously injure him.

His form was somewhat askew, the pillar dragging far behind him, cumbersome as he swept across the sky leaving a trail of snow.

Her dagger flew out, snapping the pillar with a crack. His body lightened like a kite with a broken string, flying diagonally across the mountain valley.

Behind her came the sound of rushing footsteps—her subordinates had arrived. Seeing her disheveled state, they were all quite surprised.

Her subordinates had naturally followed her instructions to stay far away. By the time they rushed over, everything was settled. Everyone thought there wouldn’t be any problems—who knew that even a trap she set herself could leave her in such a mess?

Tian Qi kept turning to look toward the other side of the valley. Everyone asked questions, but Jing Hengbo lowered her eyes, feeling incomparably dejected.

She knew she needn’t bother searching. Since he had broken free, he wouldn’t give her another chance to find him.

After this time, it would be nearly impossible to trick him into showing himself again.

Unless it was a life-or-death situation…

She took a breath and held out her hand. The skin on all five fingertips had been frozen off by ice and snow, with dark bloodstains.

Ten fingers connected to the heart—the pain pierced through.

The pain pierced through.

…

This pain pierced the heart.

He pressed his chest and crashed to his knees with a thud. The grass around him immediately rustled and formed a layer of ice, freezing the white leaf tips.

Behind him, the large expanse of ice and snow he had brought swept over like a flying carpet, then soundlessly merged back into his body. Forcing internal energy to flow backward would naturally cause backlash to himself. His body tilted slightly as he spat purple blood onto the ice surface. The color was vivid, beautiful to the point of being deadly.

He breathed lightly, his chest still sharply painful. That was an area that couldn’t be touched. It had been fine before, but recently it was gradually moving forward, gradually reaching the point where even external touch would trigger severe pain. Jing Hengbo’s gentle poke had so coincidentally hit the crucial spot. That moment of heart-piercing pain—he thought he would die in front of her.

That moment, he was very afraid.

What he feared wasn’t death, but if he died like this in front of her, if he died because of her, would she spend the rest of her life immersed in infinite guilt? Would she still be able to live happily?

He knew that with her kindness, even if she hated him, she absolutely couldn’t accept him dying because of her mistake. Then everything he had done, everything he had worked for, would lose all meaning.

He wanted her to exist freely and powerfully in the world he couldn’t reach, forever surrounded by light, never again shrouded by shadows.

How could he let himself become her shadow?

In that moment of severe chest pain, his heart was ice cold.

Actually, when Jing Hengbo chained him and pounced over, a thought had flashed through his mind too.

Just like this then. No more hiding, deceiving, or avoiding. Right and wrong, grudges and gratitude—give her and himself a clear understanding.

Enemies from all directions, surrounded on all sides. Though he wasn’t completely prepared yet, since it had come to this, he would face it.

This long pursuit and protection was atonement, was guilt, and was also inability to let go. He wanted to see her growth soon, to determine how much he could release his hold.

As for himself, whether he was forgiven really wasn’t that important.

But when Prajna Snow became uncontrollable and ice and snow spread, nearly injuring even her, his impulse from a moment before was suddenly dispelled.

No, he couldn’t.

It wasn’t that he couldn’t fight alongside her, but the most terrifying thing was never the enemies in the open or hidden.

What they truly couldn’t overcome was time.

That deadly needle—no one knew when, from where, it would break through his body.

When that time came, how could she bear it?

Better that she not forgive him.

Better that she hate him.

Footsteps sounded around him. Guards silently gathered around but didn’t dare approach, because at this moment his true qi was flowing outward and could easily hurt people.

“Master,” a guard said softly. “The Kanglong Army seems to be making moves.”

His eyes flashed as he raised his head.

Had they come?

This news couldn’t make him angry, only feel that time was pressing. Hidden enemies came in wave after wave—which should be dealt with directly, which should be set aside for now, which needed temporary concealment, which could be used to train her—all had to be analyzed clearly and handled separately.

Before him also lay a precious chess game, each move carefully designed.

He was silent for a moment, seeming to consider.

Today’s sudden condition was very dangerous and couldn’t happen a second time.

Actually, there was another method that could push the crisis back slightly, but the price paid might be lifelong weakness.

But speaking of it, his life might not last long anyway—what was there to fear about lifelong weakness?

No matter what, this couldn’t happen again, couldn’t hurt her once more.

He sat still, closed his eyes, his face gradually becoming the color of frost and snow, transparent as ice crystal.

A wisp of Prajna Snow true qi went straight to his heart, slowly freezing the blood vessels around that needle.

Freezing that deadly needle could prevent its movement again in the short term.

Of course, the price of using a wisp of cold ice true qi to freeze important blood vessels long-term at such a vital spot was the health of his heart.

Worry showed faintly in the guards’ eyes.

But he sat majestically, white mist faintly surrounding him, like snow-capped mountains that had stood majestically on the earth for ages.

…

Meng Potian felt that the days in the small room could truly be called hell.

The person on the bed was too severely injured and remained unconscious. She didn’t know if it was because the medicine wasn’t good or care was lacking, but many of his wounds had already festered. When the bandages were removed, the stench of rotting flesh all over his body nearly made her faint.

After opening the bandages, those wounds were even more shocking to see. Black, yellow, red, green—unimaginable colors oozed from those gaping red holes. The smell was terrible, the sight even worse. For a moment, even with her great courage, she wanted to throw down the cloth and run away screaming.

But she bit her lip firmly, knelt by the bed, and used warm water to clean his wounds one by one. The water in the basin quickly became equally disgusting. Cloth after cloth was changed, basin after basin of warm water was changed. To clean all the wounds completely took eighteen basins of water. She was soaked through, even her hair stuck to her forehead as if a basin of water had been poured over her head.

Then applying medicine… bandaging… When washing wounds, her attention was entirely on that flesh and blood, so she didn’t realize. Only now, having washed everything clean, did she suddenly realize she was facing a young male’s completely naked body. This made her want to throw down the cloth and escape again. But in the end she gritted her teeth and stood firm, stuffing medicine into wound after wound. Many wounds went completely through—she had to hold that body and turn it over and over. Blood and pus covered her body. That body was limp as a pile of dead meat, completely without strength. She had to abandon a young woman’s modesty and shyness, spreading open his body, lifting his thighs, holding him to turn gently. The young woman’s smooth cheek pressed against that body nearly drained of life force and rotting…

Too exhausted and tense, she didn’t notice the figure quietly standing outside the window.

The man in brocade looked on with an ambiguous smile. Pei Shu’s eyes were dark as night.

That day, saving Meng Potian was driven by his responsibility as a man. He hadn’t thought about repayment, nor about anything related to feelings. He had encountered so many women and therefore understood that what he liked now was what he truly wanted.

However, at this moment, in that foul-smelling small room where ordinary people would vomit upon entering, everything that young woman was silently doing made his iron-hard heart tremble slightly.

What made her persist like this, made her so brave?

…

Night gradually deepened. Meng Potian, exhausted to death, refused the sleeping arrangements provided by the man in brocade’s guards. She only requested a long bench to sleep beside the person on the bed. She was so tired she fell asleep as soon as she touched the bench, but when she turned over she’d fall off and wake up. Upon waking, she would immediately rush over to check that person’s condition, check his temperature and pulse, wipe away the cold sweat on his body, gently help him turn over to prevent the wounds on his back from being compressed and festering. In the middle of the night she changed his medicine again. The kitchen kept fire burning all night to heat water. Bloody cloth strips were scattered all over the floor. Before dawn when the night was darkest, she had just finished wiping that person’s forehead when her head drooped and she fell asleep, her face against that hideous face, her bottom comically hanging far off the bench.

Outside the window, Pei Shu stood the whole time, his dark eyes like the night sky, flashing with bright and dim starlight.

…

Such days were nearly torturous. Just the first day and Meng Potian’s face had thinned a circle, her whole chin sharpened, her eyes ghostly—she looked like a ghost too. The man in brocade didn’t mistreat her, giving her a share of good food and drink, but in that damp, foul-smelling small room, facing such wounds and putrid stench, who could eat? Meng Potian only drank some water randomly. Her spirit was quite full, but that spirit looked somewhat abnormal—eyes blazing, both cheeks flushed with unhealthy red. Anyone could see this girl had taken on enormous pressure, but if she didn’t succeed, she would snap like an overstretched string.

Pei Shu had protested countless times to the man in brocade—either stop deceiving people or let him out. The man in brocade ignored him completely and didn’t approach him at all. The unlucky guards became toys for the very angry Pei Shu to vent on. The unluckiest was Ladingwen—when delivering food to Pei Shu once, Pei Shu grabbed his neck and nearly strangled him directly.

By the third night, except for the man in brocade who was enjoying himself, everyone felt they couldn’t take it anymore.

Then the light in that small room suddenly went out.

Moments later, everyone holding their breath heard Meng Potian’s crying.

That person—the one she had painstakingly cared for three days, wholeheartedly wanting to save his life—had finally died anyway.

Meng Potian held that twisted, terrifying corpse. The tears suppressed for three days finally fell. She cried for wasted effort, for life’s impermanence, for thinking she’d found hope only to end in despair, for her seventeen-year-old maiden heart like spring water that today came to nothing…

She cried heartbreakingly. Night birds flew up startled. The guards in the courtyard listened silently. Those guards who had seen life and death, who prided themselves on having hearts of stone, silently lined up and walked to the man in brocade’s room.

The man in brocade saw their formation and said, “Get out.”

He could be soft-hearted himself, but didn’t like his guards being soft-hearted. When subordinates’ hearts were too soft, enemies had openings to exploit.

The guards silently withdrew. But as Zhongwen was leaving, he said, “Master, you surely don’t want Miss Wen to cry like this either.”

The man in brocade’s hand paused. After a moment, he sighed, saying sadly and lonely, “I was clearly doing this for her good, helping her. Why does everyone still see me as a villain…”

Everyone pursed their lips—was this how you helped? Every time you “helped” someone, didn’t they suffer a fate worse than death? No wonder Miss Wen wrote on your birthday cake: “Death would be too good for you, your crimes are heinous.”

The man in brocade was stunned for a long while, sighed, and pressed a button.

A whirlwind swept past him, nearly taking him off the couch.

In the small room, Meng Potian had stopped crying.

After venting thoroughly, she would go on the road cleanly—no need to wait for others to urge her. Too unseemly.

She drew her knife. The bright blade reflected the young woman’s face, already haggard after three days, her eyes deep and lightless.

The most beautiful time of this human world seemed to have passed, there in that coffin that day, on that wheel.

She felt no regrets in this life. She had met the most brilliant youth, had argued with him, quarreled with him, had intimate contact with him, had him trade life for life for her in moments of life and death.

Even though she clearly knew what he gave wasn’t love, it was still beautiful.

The knife rose, reflecting her eyebrows and eyes, and also a pair of… dark pupils.

Pei Shu’s pupils!

The knife clattered to the ground.

The door burst open with a bang. He kicked in from outside while she kicked out from inside. The door shattered, their legs collided. Pei Shu raised an eyebrow, Meng Potian cried “Ouch,” then smiled through tears and threw herself into his arms.

Pei Shu was about to push her away when Meng Potian stepped on his boot.

“I knew you weren’t dead! But how could you bear to fake death!”

Pei Shu’s arm was somewhat stiff. The young woman in his arms trembled slightly—she was crying, yet cursing viciously with her mouth. This feeling made him somewhat dazed, wondering if Jing Hengbo would react this way in such a scene.

“Meng Potian, I want to tell you,” he gently pushed her shoulders, couldn’t push her away, so simply said in her ear, “The one I like is Jing Hengbo.”

The body in his arms stiffened, the crying stopped. After a moment, Meng Potian straightened up and looked directly into his eyes.

“I know,” she said clearly.

Pei Shu glanced sideways at her arms holding him.

Meng Potian released him.

Just as Pei Shu was about to breathe relief, Meng Potian suddenly stood on tiptoe and grabbed his chin.

Pei Shu’s handsome face was immediately distorted…

Before he could shake free or roar, he met her eyes.

Made larger by thinness, now shining brilliantly, almost compelling. He hadn’t expected she seemed completely unaffected by setback. For a moment he was stunned, forgetting to move.

She stood on tiptoe with her head raised, pinching his chin, forcing him to face her directly, saying word by word: “I also want to tell you. The one I like is Pei Shu.”

…