Jing Hengbo’s gaze swept through the crowd and discovered Fei Luo was missing.

The only female among the group was easily noticed.

Her heart jumped—this was bad. The hall was currently sealed, allowing Feifei’s urine smoke to work. If someone hadn’t come in and opened the door later, the wind and snow rushing in could make all her efforts futile.

But there was no good solution now. She could only hope Fei Luo had thought of the upcoming difficulties and was directly avoiding being pushed forward.

Thinking this, her heart stirred again, wondering why Gong Yin hadn’t followed.

What was he doing?

She raised her eyes, looking through the carved lattice windows at the wind and snow outside from her high position. Tonight’s snow was chaotic and complex, like a mass of cold hemp suddenly stuffed into her heart.

She felt vaguely uneasy, sensing something was happening.

At this time, the ministers’ reactions had begun to slow. Though still passing responsibility, their movements, expressions, and speech were all half a beat slower.

Someone said with delayed reaction: “Eh… where’s the female minister? She proposed the poisoning, and she’s also a woman. Having her send the Queen on her final journey would be most appropriate.”

With these words, everyone agreed.

“Where’s the female minister…”

“The female minister is perfect for this task…”

“Female minister…” Jing Hengbo rolled her eyes and smiled. “She went to my bedchamber. What, does everyone want to go find her?”

“She went to the bedchamber…” Some began turning around, others stood motionless in a daze, and still others frowned in thought.

Jing Hengbo felt anxious, shaking her skirts to ask the little monster about the current effects and why everyone’s reactions were inconsistent.

The little monster also shook her skirts, slowly shaking its head beneath her dress—the hall was too large, there were too many people, and everyone had different physical conditions, so naturally reactions varied.

No one could poison a large group uniformly. This result was already good. Feifei’s bodily fluids were colorless and odorless—even masters like Cheng Gumo couldn’t detect them.

“The female minister discovered good things in the bedchamber…” Jing Hengbo’s voice drifted slowly and leisurely in the curling smoke.

“I indeed discovered good things!”

Suddenly the door was kicked open with a bang! A large gust of cold wind rolled in with cold snow, rushing inside!

Fei Luo stood in the doorway with murderous eyes, dragging a cloaked woman with one hand.

Jing Hengbo stood up abruptly.

Terrible!

The cold wind rushed in, broken snow struck faces, immediately dispersing the smoke in the hall. Many people’s expressions changed as they suddenly woke and looked up.

Jing Hengbo saw this and sat down dejectedly.

Just one step short! Heaven truly didn’t bless her!

Feifei ground its teeth beneath her skirts—how much disgusting stuff had it eaten for this one urination!

Fei Luo sneered coldly at the doorway. Jing Hengbo felt depressed, leaning back on the throne to reconsider her options, too lazy to deal with her.

Fei Luo kicked open the door and dragged Cui Jie inside. Cui Jie stumbled upon entering, letting out a low “ah,” and Fei Luo supported her, whispering in her ear: “Everything you want is right before you. Do well!”

Cui Jie kept her head down looking at the ground, slowly nodding.

Jing Hengbo raised her head, her expression puzzled.

She had already recognized Cui Jie’s voice and couldn’t help wondering why she was appearing here at this time, dressed so concealed…

Just as she was about to ask, suddenly Cui Jie looked up at her.

When their gazes met, Jing Hengbo froze.

In Cui Jie’s eyes were anxiety, warning, unease, sorrow… a thousand words rushing forth. Jing Hengbo’s heart stopped, suddenly feeling an icy tide surge forward, shaking her consciousness.

She immediately swallowed all the words on her lips.

“Your Majesty,” Fei Luo raised her face with a triumphant smile at the corner of her mouth, “are you waiting for someone to present medicine? Here’s a ready candidate—your good sister, your good maid Jing Jun. Let her serve you on this final journey. Isn’t this minister particularly thoughtful?”

Jing Hengbo raised an eyebrow, glanced at Cui Jie who was trembling all over with her head down and remaining silent, and said: “If you want to kill me, do it yourself. Don’t make things difficult for my people!”

“This minister has good intentions, wanting to let Your Majesty experience deep sisterly affection before death. Why doesn’t Your Majesty appreciate the sentiment?” Fei Luo laughed sweetly, escorting Cui Jie slowly up the hall, walking to the foot of the steps and pushing her forward. “Go! Properly serve your master!”

Cui Jie stumbled and fell at Jing Hengbo’s knees.

Jing Hengbo immediately bent down to help her up. Cui Jie extended both hands, grasping her elbows.

When Jing Hengbo looked down at her hands, she felt all the blood in her body freeze instantly.

Blood covered her hands!

“Cui…” She had just lost her voice on one syllable when Cui Jie suddenly looked up at her.

“Don’t speak!” She pressed against Jing Hengbo’s knees, gripping them tightly.

Jing Hengbo’s whole body stiffened. Her hand hanging at Cui Jie’s side unconsciously touched something protruding from her lower back.

Cui Jie trembled, Jing Hengbo froze, her fingers touching again, then her mind thundered.

A knife!

Her fingers suddenly began trembling. Looking down at her hand, she saw her five fingers also stained red with blood.

Blood had seeped through the deep red thick fur cloak, staining her hands…

“Don’t move, don’t speak…” Cui Jie gripped her knees tightly, her sharp nails digging into Jing Hengbo’s kneecap skin.

Jing Hengbo bit her teeth hard to stop herself from immediately standing up, embracing Cui Jie, and teleporting away.

Her hands were bound—she might be able to teleport herself, but couldn’t take anyone with her.

“…Da Bo… I’ll speak… you listen…” Cui Jie’s voice came intermittently, sounding like sobbing.

Below the steps, Fei Luo looked satisfied. In her plan, Jing Jun should start by crying and acting weak to gain Jing Hengbo’s sympathy and guilt.

Jing Hengbo sat rigidly, her nails digging deep into her palms, nodding extremely slowly.

That knife—she had only touched the handle, and in such a vital spot. Some things she dared not think about.

Deep in her heart felt empty and hollow. Suddenly, she felt nothing—no conspiracies or plans, no battles of wit and strength, no present crises, no future schemes—all gone.

Before her eyes was a hazy snow, or perhaps the smoke Feifei had just created. Everything was blurred, only Cui Jie’s weak voice was clear.

“…Be careful of Jing Jun…”

“…Jing Jun’s identity must be unusual, she and you… cannot coexist…”

“…Be careful of those around you…”

“…I have a pill here… I think… they’ll still force you to take medicine… this one can neutralize a hundred poisons… you should take it…”

Cui Jie moved her finger, and a pill rolled into her palm. She numbly grasped it.

She gasped on her knees, her voice growing fainter.

“…When you helped me get revenge… I wasn’t intentionally scheming against you… In my lifetime… you’re my only friend… benefactor… I swore to protect you with my life… Da Bo… you must survive completely… don’t fail me…”

Jing Hengbo’s fingers moved slightly, wanting to explore her injuries, but Cui Jie shifted away, avoiding her. Just this light movement made her gasp continuously, and Jing Hengbo dared not move again.

She couldn’t see Cui Jie’s face, only her own fingers, stained with blood, hanging cold and stiff.

“…Promised you none would be missing, but still two are gone… in the future you must be well… at least Yong Xue and Zirui will be by your side… Da Bo… you seem warm but are actually cold… when truly hurt you become especially decisive… don’t be decisive… be yourself… after today… I still want to see the original you…”

“Jing Jun!” Below the steps, Fei Luo sensed something wrong and sternly urged: “What are you doing? Hurry up!”

Cui Jie suddenly picked up the tray beside her, raising the pill, and with her back to Fei Luo, waved her hand.

When she raised her hand, blood dripped from it. Fei Luo’s expression changed. Looking carefully at her back, she suddenly cried out in shock: “You’re not… who are you!”

Cui Jie didn’t answer, turning to give her a mocking smile.

“You’re right,” she said. “Someone like Da Bo will always have people willing to live and die with her.”

Turning her fingers, she gently placed the pill in her mouth. Without hesitation, she swallowed with a gulp, showing a satisfied and peaceful smile.

“Cui Jie!” Jing Hengbo’s voice suddenly broke.

Cui Jie turned her head to smile at her, her body suddenly softening and falling against her knees.

The black blood at the corner of her lips instantly stained Jing Hengbo’s knees purple.

She reached out with trembling hands, seeming to still want to wipe the blood stains for Jing Hengbo, while continuing to murmur with a smile: “…Can’t offend you, you still promised me a generous dowry, to find me a suitable husband, sigh, my generous dowry…”

Halfway through wiping, her hand fell powerlessly.

Jing Hengbo kept her head down, watching her body gradually slide backward weakly, slipping from her knees and falling diagonally to the ground.

Like so many vivid, intense participations in life, then a heart-stopping curtain call.

The cloak fell to one side, revealing a dagger buried to the hilt in her waist and a large bloodstain that could cover a person.

One cloak had concealed so many traces and so much pain.

In the final moment, she chose to chatter about household matters, worrying about money as before, seeming to want to use worldly warmth to awaken her, not to despair so much.

Jing Hengbo stared fixedly down at the person on the ground—the first friend she had made after transmigrating. She had trusted her and doubted her, been cold to her and confided in her. She remembered her haggard face emerging from kitchen steam, and remembered her once grasping her hand saying she would protect her. These events and words she had laughed off and forgotten. So many people surrounded her, so many people coming and going like flowers in brocade. Sometimes she truly couldn’t remember that somewhat tomboyish Cui Jie who later became somewhat conflicted, but regardless of how things changed, was destined to be unremarkable.

Then one day, in her moment of being pressured by ten thousand people, this woman she had neglected suddenly burst in, a knife in her lower back, swallowing the poison meant for her, dying on her knees.

She had used her life to fulfill her promise, but she didn’t know what she could use to repay this in her lifetime.

Deep in her heart seemed to suddenly have a dagger inserted, buried to the hilt. The dagger was cast from ice and snow, instantly melting upon meeting hot blood, forever lodged deep in her chest, never to be pulled out again.

The pool of cold, winding blood at her feet crept toward her silently like a snake.

She suddenly looked up.

“Ah!”

The angry cry shot to the clouds, and the flying snow throughout the sky stopped. Above the firmament seemed to show emptiness.

Purple light flashed between her brows.

With a struggle of both hands, “Snap.” The flexible tendon rope broke.

“Stop her!” The ministers rushed forward in alarm.

She had already bent down, scooped up Cui Jie’s body in one movement, and disappeared in a flash.

…

“She’s escaped!” The ministers were shocked and dismayed.

“Don’t worry!” Fei Luo’s face was iron-gray as she said coldly: “She can’t escape at all. Outside the palace city, everyone is surrounding her!”

Suddenly a woman’s scream came from the distance. Listening carefully, it came from the direction of the Queen’s bedchamber.

“She’s in the bedchamber!” Everyone’s spirits lifted as they hurried in pursuit.

…

Before the bedchamber door, blood trailed through the snow.

When the ministers reached the bedchamber, they saw the hall doors wide open, with Jing Hengbo holding Cui Jie, standing before the dressing table.

The bed was not far away, but she hadn’t placed Cui Jie on it.

Her bright yellow cloak was stained with mottled snow and blood, a trace of blood at the corner of her lips, making her face appear snow-white and her eyes black as deep night.

“The State Preceptor arrives—” The announcement came from far away, quickly reaching near.

Everyone turned to see Gong Yin in snow-white cloak, also like a handful of cold snow, having silently arrived in the courtyard.

He glanced at the ministers patrolling outside the door but not entering, and when he spoke his voice was like ice crystals: “Why not enter?”

The ministers were wary of the Queen and even more wary of him. With such a person behind them, their instinct was to retreat, so they all entered the hall.

Only after everyone entered did Gong Yin slowly step into the hall, his first glance going to Jing Hengbo.

Jing Hengbo was also looking at him, slowly lifting Cui Jie in her arms.

“Gong Yin,” she said, “Cui Jie is dead.”

Her tone was flat, seeming numb, as if it were merely a notification.

Gong Yin’s gaze swept over the blood traces at the corner of her lips and the abraded skin on her wrists, then he lowered his eyes.

When he spoke again he said: “Put her down.”

“Gong Yin, why weren’t you here just now?” she asked in a daze.

Her mind was somewhat empty, like suddenly being pierced with a deep black hole by a sword, or like suddenly passing through chaotic snow.

He remained silent.

A trace of broken snow drifted past his eyes. In that instant his gaze seemed to sigh, seemed to pity, seemed helpless, seemed resolute—like flowing light flashing past. The next moment it was still deep as a dark night, only reflecting this night’s flying snow.

She suddenly felt very far from him—not just the distance of half a hall, not just this crowd of opposing people, but also this shifting gaze, wordless explanation, and the corpse in her arms.

Her arms grew heavy, about to be unable to hold on.

She felt tired.

She didn’t want to ask anymore, didn’t want to think anymore, didn’t want to face this power struggle and competition, didn’t want to face this world full of hostility and traps.

She was originally just a wild and ordinary person from another world, coming here by chance. Without ambition or selfish desires, she only wanted to accompany three or five friends, be completely herself, see mountain and field scenery, live a carefree life.

All this fleeing and staying was her heart’s journey. What she wanted had always only been freedom.

Just that.

Could not be tolerated. Was not tolerated.

Today she lost one Cui Jie. In the future, what else would she lose?

Jing Hengbo slowly smiled.

Human thoughts indeed change in an instant. A quarter hour ago, she was still thinking about how to trick the ministers from the main hall to the bedchamber, using the unexpected discovery beneath this bedchamber, assisted by her modern methods, to force, deceive, and cajole these people into yielding.

As long as she could pass this hurdle, as long as Gong Yin remained in position, as long as she had patience to take it slowly, there would always be a day to reach her goal.

But now she suddenly didn’t want to anymore.

She didn’t want to rack her brains anymore, didn’t want to deceive and cajole anymore, didn’t want to waste her limited life and warmth on such cold and boring power struggles.

Cui Jie in her arms told her with her cold corpse: No, you’re not suitable.

Look, before it even began, what price has already been paid.

Indeed, life and death would tell a person a complete awakening answer.

This queen position—better not to take it.

But before that, any grudges must be repaid.

She suddenly stood on tiptoe, looking toward outside the hall with a delighted expression.

At the same time, there was a “snap” sound outside.

The ministers were startled and turned to look.

Gong Yin had originally stood at the back of the ministers, near the doorway, and instinctively swept backward.

Just in the instant when everyone turned around.

Jing Hengbo suddenly had a comb in her hand. She turned and quickly struck the phoenix tail behind her three times with the comb.

Then she held Cui Jie tightly, leaning against the dressing table, waiting for a moment of sinking.

No movement.

Faintly “click click” sounds, followed by “hehe” laughter.

Jing Hengbo’s body stiffened.

Gong Yin, who had swept outside the threshold, slowly stopped and turned around.

The bed curtains were suddenly lifted by a pair of pale hands.

The fingers were slender, nails clean and rounded, hands small and delicate, just appearing somewhat pale.

The gesture of parting the curtains was very elegant, as if even the fingertip curves had been carefully adjusted. For a moment Jing Hengbo almost thought she was seeing Zirui.

But it couldn’t be Zirui—she had just chased after them and was standing pale and mournful in the snowy ground before the hall.

The fingers deliberately paused at the curtain edge, attracting everyone’s gaze. The person behind the curtain laughed softly again and said: “Gong Yin, look, today’s snow is really beautiful.”

Jing Hengbo was shocked. She had already recognized this as Jing Jun’s voice, but hadn’t expected her first words to be directed at Gong Yin.

The sentence was unremarkable yet seemed to hold mysteries.

Gong Yin was shocked and looked up sharply.

A dark light flashed in his eyes, sharp as a blade’s edge for an instant.

“You… who are you!”

Another laugh, but no longer Jing Jun’s previous somewhat shy laugh—light, cold, with a distant quality.

The curtain lifted, and it was indeed Jing Jun who emerged, but her attire made everyone’s expressions freeze.

She was actually wearing queen’s robes—the deep red and black formal court dress. Round collar, large front opening, wide sleeves with right overlap, tasseled ornaments, nine-phoenix patterns.

Except for not wearing the queen’s crown, it was completely the dress of a queen holding court.

And her gesture of gathering her sleeves and slightly raising her chin truly reminded people of an emperor holding court. Amid the room’s splendor she maintained dignity, ruling over the world.

Jing Hengbo stared blankly at Jing Jun, never having imagined that a little white flower with a gentle, refined air like Jing Jun would actually look like an emperor wearing royal robes.

Perhaps anyone would look like an emperor wearing royal robes?

No, that’s wrong. Not everyone could master such magnificent and imposing clothing. Jing Jun’s current composed naturalness and air of looking down upon the world required experience as a superior for a considerable time.

The entire hall fell silent, ministers gazed with expressions seeming to share Jing Hengbo’s feelings. Some people’s eyes already showed recollection, as if Jing Jun’s queenly bearing reminded them of things that had passed.

Jing Hengbo only looked at Gong Yin.

He remained upright, standing under the corridor, half his body exposed outside, broken snow quickly covering half his shoulder, yet he seemed completely unaware.

Only staring at Jing Jun.

Jing Hengbo heard her own heart pound.

Jing Jun also only looked at Gong Yin, her hand slowly stroking the front of her robes.

“Sitting on my western pavilion bed, wearing my old clothes. Returning to find all forgotten, half a lifetime like a dream.” She smiled sadly. “Gong Yin, I am Ming Cheng.”

I am Ming Cheng.

I am Ming Cheng.

Those four words struck like lightning on Jing Hengbo’s head. She swayed and could no longer hold Cui Jie. She had to place her on a stool and reach back to steady herself against the dressing table.

Her vision repeatedly darkened, everything around her became blurred, and her ears buzzed continuously—whether from tinnitus, the shocked discussions of the ministers in the hall, or both.

Under the corridor, Gong Yin’s gaze flickered slightly as it followed her movements. Then he turned toward Jing Jun.

The crowd buzzed with discussion, but only he remained unmoved like stone.

Jing Jun stood in the hall, her face pale as paper amid the magnificent brocade and splendor, but her eyes were black and fixed, looking only at Gong Yin across the bustling crowd.

“I have returned,” she said.

“I have been back for a long time, but you have forgotten me. You have all forgotten me, and even I had forgotten myself. Then, everyone allowed a woman with ulterior motives and a vicious heart to occupy my position,” she said.

“These are my royal robes, my throne, my bedchamber, my Yuzhao Palace. But I wandered in foreign lands, and when I returned, I suddenly became an outsider,” she said.

“A true outsider has occupied my position. She uses my palace chambers, my bedchamber, my bed, my everything! She commands all those who should be commanded by me, enjoying the glory, service, and care that belong to me, even commanding and enslaving me, trampling upon me! I, the true master, am humiliated by a woman who has stolen my nest, yet everyone says I am ungrateful and treacherous—tell me, is there such reasoning in this world?!” she said.

“Gong Yin, why can’t you bear to part with this woman? Are you still thinking of protecting her even now? Do you think she won’t compete with you for the world and won’t harm you? Even though she has constantly caused you trouble and gradually eroded your power, you’d rather pretend not to know? Are you so bewitched by her beauty that you don’t believe there are female scorpions in this world who devour the male after their desires are fulfilled?” she said.

Outside the hall, wind and snow suddenly intensified, swirling above Gong Yin. He stood cold and clear in the snow, his eyes like frozen crystals.

“Impossible! Queen Ming Cheng is already dead! And she doesn’t have your face!” someone in the hall shouted.

“Yes,” Jing Jun touched her face ruefully. “I don’t even recognize this face myself. If I still possessed my original face, why would I have suffered so much?”

“What exactly happened?”

“What happened?” Jing Jun suddenly pointed at Jing Hengbo. “Ask her!”

Jing Hengbo slowly raised her head, her face even paler than Jing Jun’s. She laughed coldly, lazy and prolonged.

“Please trouble yourself to explain,” she said wearily. “I’m afraid my fabrication wouldn’t be perfect enough to satisfy you.”

“I won’t engage in verbal sparring with you. I’ll only speak with facts,” Jing Jun said coldly. “Part of the facts, Gong Yin knows.”

Jing Hengbo leaned against the dressing table without moving, her long hair falling to cover her expression.

She didn’t want to look at anything now, especially not Gong Yin’s face.

Having spent so much time together, she understood him well enough. His current expression—she feared that one more glance would pierce her heart forever, making salvation impossible to find.

“The so-called Dige Incident back then. Publicly, it was said the Queen died suddenly, but the court received news that Queen Ming Cheng had rebelled, and there were even some unspeakable rumors,” Jing Jun smiled mockingly. “Of course, you should know by now that I didn’t rebel, or I wouldn’t dare appear before Gong Yin at this moment.”

“But we clearly saw rebel forces surrounding Dige during the incident! They nearly broke the city! We saw the State Preceptor severely wounded by the Queen’s stabbing. If not for our Kang Long Army fighting desperately to rescue him, the State Preceptor would have died then!” Cheng Gumo refuted vehemently.

“Did you see it with your own eyes?” Jing Jun’s tone was light.

Cheng Gumo was speechless.

He remembered that night—when he arrived, he only saw the State Preceptor covered in blood in Yuzhao Palace, and Queen Ming Cheng’s corpse lying on the ground. Then came the rebel assault on the city, with the severely wounded State Preceptor struggling to the walls to repel the rebels. Afterward, Queen Ming Cheng was hastily buried, and everyone assumed the Queen had attempted to seize power, was killed by the State Preceptor, and was naturally dead. Death was taboo—no one could ask questions.

But today, a strange woman claimed to be the Queen, knowing such clear details of past events and showing no fear. Could she really be Queen Ming Cheng? Could there really be hidden circumstances in that incident?

“Gong Yin, someone tried to assassinate you that night, but it wasn’t me, and you didn’t see clearly, right?” Jing Jun pressed her hand to her heart, saying softly. “I had done wrong to you before and sworn never to harm you again. How could I violate my oath and try to put you in mortal danger again?”

In the wind and snow, Gong Yin slowly stepped forward, snow falling from his shoulders to accumulate in a thin layer on the deep red floor.

He gazed at Jing Jun, his eyes showing neither joy nor sorrow, not even surprise. Through the wind and snow, it was like watching someone else’s dream.

Jing Hengbo only looked at the wet footprints on the ground, feeling her heart being heavily trampled by such cold, damp footprints.

“If you claim to be Queen Ming Cheng, then stop beating around the bush and tell the truth!” Fei Luo’s brow furrowed, her eyes still filled with hostility.

The sudden appearance of another queen made her equally uncomfortable.

“Some matters are known only between Gong Yin and me. I need not explain to you,” Jing Jun said proudly. “But what I can clarify is that I never attempted to seize power, never instigated rebels, never harmed the State Preceptor! The night of the incident, I didn’t even have time to speak with the State Preceptor before losing consciousness. When I awoke, I had already been loaded onto a cart and taken from Dahuang. I had also lost my memory and even had my face changed. I no longer remembered my identity or past events. I no longer possessed health either. When I woke, I was in Da Yan, facing a couple who said they were my parents, and I believed them. Soon after, that couple committed crimes and were exiled, and I was sold…” She paused. “So when I saw Gong Yin again, though I didn’t know who he was, I felt an inexplicable desire to be close to him…”

Her tears fell as she spoke. “But he could no longer recognize me, and no one could recognize me. A woman had occupied my position. My instinctive approach to Gong Yin became interpreted as having ulterior motives to steal his affections. How laughable… hehe… how laughable!”

“Who orchestrated that conspiracy? Who took you away?”

“Whoever benefited from this incident is the culprit!” Jing Jun shouted.

Everyone was shocked and looked at Jing Hengbo in unison.

Jing Hengbo didn’t raise her head, laughing coldly and covering her mouth with her sleeve, coughing lightly.

She knew this accusation was coming.

Logically speaking, it was unassailable.

“The Queen came in response to my divination,” Gong Yin suddenly spoke, each word ice-cold. “She descended from heaven, having never been to Dahuang before.”

“How do you know she never came before? How do you know she truly descended from heaven? How do you know whether the guards who welcomed her colluded with her?” Jing Jun glared viciously at Jing Hengbo, then fixed her gaze on Gong Yin. “How do you know your divination was accurate!”

“I personally conducted the divination,” Gong Yin closed his eyes, saying flatly.

Everyone fell silent. When the State Preceptor personally conducted divination, it would indeed be difficult for anyone to interfere. This was the most difficult point for Jing Jun to explain in her account.

But Jing Jun showed no fear.

“In this Dahuang court, there is still one person who could alter your divination!”

“Who!”

“Sang Dong!”

The entire hall fell deathly silent. After a long while, someone let out a long breath.

Dead people—once mentioned, no one had thought of them. Only when mentioned did they realize with shock: yes, Sang Dong.

As the High Priest possessing the Priestly Tower, she naturally had complete tools and methods. The State Preceptor’s divination took place in the Priestly Tower. For the High Priest to interfere wouldn’t be difficult.

“You’re saying Sang Dong colluded with the Queen to frame you, then altered the State Preceptor’s divination to promote a new queen,” someone questioned. “But if they were in league, why did Sang Dong die, and precisely at the new Queen’s hands!”

“Haven’t you heard: when the cunning hare dies, the hunting dog is cooked!”

The hall fell silent again, with the wind suddenly growing fierce.

After a long while, the sound of everyone exhaling almost merged into a roaring wave.

“Still don’t understand?” Jing Jun’s ethereal voice echoed in the hall. “Sang Dong, and perhaps others, wanted to obtain higher positions. At that time, I was discussing with the State Preceptor about modifying Dahuang’s laws to allow male emperors to ascend the throne. If this law were implemented, there would be nothing left for Sang Dong and her kind. How could she be willing? Therefore, she set up a trap to frame me, instigated the Huangjin Tribe rebellion, causing the Dige Incident. Then she modified the reincarnated Queen’s divination and arranged for Jing Hengbo to replace me. But what she didn’t expect was that Jing Hengbo was also restless. After becoming Queen, she became ambitious. Sang Dong felt Jing Hengbo was gradually getting out of control and might end up with nothing. Serious disagreements arose between them over unequal benefits. At this time, Jing Hengbo had won Gong Yin’s favor through her beauty. With Gong Yin’s backing, she took the opportunity to strike at Sang Dong, also gaining popular support… What ‘Queen who loves the people,’ what ‘Goddess descended from heaven’—besides the Priestly Tower, where else could provide her with so many supposed miracles? What ‘destined Queen’! It’s clearly a conspiracy by petty schemers colluding to covet the throne!”

Jing Hengbo slowly raised her head and glanced at Jing Jun.

Such meticulous, seamless reasoning!

So-called political pundits who reverse black and white—with such logic, there were indeed no flaws!

But she felt that Jing Jun alone couldn’t have devised this conclusion!

That shadow again flickered faintly in the sky, snowflakes howling like his sinister cold laughter.

“If it was so thorough, why didn’t Sang Dong kill you to silence you?”

Jing Hengbo’s voice was also clear and light, yet like Jing Jun’s, it struck at the heart.

“Because I still held the secret of this Queen’s bedchamber,” Jing Jun answered quickly, obviously having prepared long ago. Her eyes slanted over with smugness and mockery. “Sang Dong changed my face and confused my memory precisely for the bedchamber’s secret. But in my consciousness, vigilance remained, and I consistently refused to reveal the secret. So you arranged for me to lose my family again, then had Jing Hengbo rescue me, hoping I would be grateful and, upon returning to the old place, would consciously or unconsciously leak the secret… Your calculations were very satisfactory and indeed worked out. Recently, unable to bear the stimulation, I finally inadvertently revealed the method to open the bedchamber, which was witnessed by your spy…” Jing Jun giggled. “Too bad you didn’t get the complete method. When you tried to open the door just now, couldn’t you?”

She turned to the ministers with a gentle smile. “Let me remind you all—the ground beneath your feet is hollow. If the secret door had truly opened just now, you would probably be in underground dungeons by now. Then, forget about forcing the Queen to commit suicide—I’m afraid even if you wanted to commit suicide, you’d have to see if the Queen agreed.”

“Of course,” she said leisurely, “if you stayed close to the hall’s furniture, you’d still be safe, like the Queen’s current position where she hasn’t moved a step.”

The ministers all turned their fiery gazes toward Jing Hengbo.

“Indeed a deceiving wench!”

“No wonder she’s full of demonic aura—she’s actually a nation-destroying beautiful snake!”

“With such a belly full of poison schemes, if we let you run rampant, wouldn’t you overturn our Dahuang!”

Angry curses filled the air. The ministers had chosen to believe Jing Jun. After all, the secret of the Queen’s bedchamber certainly wasn’t something ordinary people could reveal with one word. Moreover, regardless of whether Jing Hengbo had participated in such a far-reaching conspiracy, she was someone they had to eliminate. They just now had even more high-sounding reasons.

Jing Hengbo only looked at Gong Yin.

Others would believe—she knew this. She only wanted to know whether Gong Yin would believe.

He stopped under the corridor, never taking a step forward. The white fur on his cloak trembled slightly in the wind, making his face appear even more fixed like a statue.

His gaze toward both her and Jing Jun was so profound that this time she couldn’t discern his true emotions.

“Gong Yin!” Jing Jun suddenly shouted. “You should know I’m telling the truth! You clearly know her heart is impure! Why does she desperately approach you, seducing you with feminine wiles? She knows that you…”

“Enough!”

Gong Yin’s cold voice cut off Jing Jun’s cry like a blade.

He no longer paid attention to Jing Jun, his clear eyes looking toward Jing Hengbo. “Hengbo.”

She didn’t answer, slowly lifting Cui Jie’s body and looking up at him.

Their gazes met across this night’s lofty great hall, with cold wind and whistling snow.

“Is it true?”

Jing Hengbo slightly raised her chin.

For a moment, her heart ached beyond words. She could only try to hold her head high, not letting certain liquid suddenly surge from her eyes.

To ask meant he already doubted.

This past year of companionship, the trials they’d weathered together, their life-and-death understanding, their intimate affection—none could withstand a suddenly appearing queen’s few words.

Were all so-called rulers born this way, carrying the eagle’s sharpness, the tiger’s fierceness, the dragon’s pride, the fox’s suspicion?

One consideration after another, eyes confused by every rustle of grass and movement of wind.

Such bitterness, such bitterness—her breath seemed to surge backward in her nostrils. She barely suppressed her sobs, still telling herself not to be petulant.

Don’t be petulant.

Be a calm person. Never act on impulse at any time.

This was what he had taught her.

“False,” she answered.

He remained silent, eyes slightly lowered, impossible to tell whether he believed or not.

“Refute her,” he said.

Jing Hengbo thought for a moment, then shook her head.

Jing Jun’s words connected seamlessly, actually unassailable. Though there were still many doubtful points, those not truly involved couldn’t see them—such as what exactly was the relationship between Sang Dong and Jing Jun, whether Jing Jun was harmed by Sang Dong or had been colluding with her all along. These truths were in the hands of those involved. She only had doubts but no evidence. What she could use to refute were only those experiences shared with him along the way, but everyone could see those. Repeating them now would only make people think she had no words to respond, struggling desperately before death.

When others accuse you and you say “I’m not, I’m not”—how pale.

The ruthlessness of this trap lay in building everything on assumptions about the dead and past events. Sang Dong was dead, and the Sang family hated her to the bone—no one would emerge to clear her name.

With presumption of guilt first, anyone would find it difficult to prove their innocence.

Jing Jun’s very existence was the strongest evidence and greatest pressure against her. If the former queen wasn’t dead, the current queen would no longer possess any authority.

Indeed, she had nothing to say in response.

“Gong Yin,” she slowly raised her hand and pressed it to her heart. “You once said that well-planned traps won’t leave you any flaws to expose. All I can show you is my heart. For so long, so long—between you and me, was it genuine or false, intentional approach or unintentional attraction, wholehearted treatment or deliberate harm, seeking to seize power, or merely to seize your heart… Tell me you know.”

“He knows?” Jing Jun’s voice was shrill, ringing behind her. “He doesn’t know!”

She suddenly stepped back onto Jing Hengbo’s bed, lifted the bedding, took out a yellow silk scroll from beneath, and threw it on the ground.

The old Minister of Rites looked down and suddenly cried out: “The founding Empress’s Imperial Silk Scroll!”

With this cry, the crowd roared.

The Imperial Silk Scroll was one of the most mysterious treasures of Dahuang’s royal family. But it wasn’t some martial arts manual, treasure map, or palace defense plan, but rather a legendary prophetic book said to encompass past and present, predicting Dahuang’s national fortune for hundreds of years to come.

It was said that during the founding Empress’s era, supernatural arts flourished greatly. Dahuang produced many brilliantly talented figures who could overturn wind and clouds. After the Empress ascended the throne, perhaps due to excessive killing, the palace became restless with monsters and demons running rampant. The Empress gathered famous masters from throughout the realm atop the palace’s Armillary Tower, conducting rituals and divinations for seven days and nights. Whether the so-called spirits and demons disappeared after seven days and nights, no one knew, but the Imperial Silk Scroll emerged at this time. It was said that the Empress vomited blood the very night she saw the scroll, after which she established the reincarnated Queen system and secretly sealed away the Imperial Silk Scroll, never to be seen again.

Later, some descendants of those masters spread certain words—such as that the Imperial Silk Scroll revealed all heavenly secrets, exposed the rise and fall of dynasties, even reflecting major events of various eras. The masters who jointly calculated the scroll all died early as a result. The Empress also believed that for dynastic rulers, prematurely glimpsing heavenly secrets was absolutely harmful, so she sealed the scroll forever, never allowing future inheritors to obtain it.

Some also said the scroll had time limitations, ending abruptly at a certain dynasty. The final sentence was ambiguously worded, seemingly predicting Dahuang’s destruction…

Though legends varied, though this thing held no allure for ordinary ministers and common people, its importance to each generation’s rulers was imaginable. If one could obtain advance hints about important governmental affairs, the immeasurable impact on decisions and the future was clear.

But as legends said, no one could find the scroll. Even if found, it couldn’t be obtained. The scroll’s location was said to be sealed shut. Ten thousand people using their entire lifetimes couldn’t open it.

Someone once joked that whoever could open the door and obtain the scroll would probably be the legendary terminator of Dahuang…

Now, at this moment, the scroll lay quietly on the ground. Some elderly ministers well-versed in history could already recognize from the scroll’s ancient and strangely colored seals that this was indeed from the founding Empress’s era. That era’s seals, including inks, were unique and impossible for later generations to replicate. Each piece was now a priceless treasure difficult to obtain.

“You know I couldn’t have obtained this thing,” Jing Jun gazed at Gong Yin, her lips showing a strange smile. “You know even more that this scroll might contain things unfavorable to you.” She pointed at Jing Hengbo, her voice suddenly turning harsh. “If you claim to love him, if you claim sincerity, why did you obtain such an important thing yet not tell him! Don’t you know this thing concerns his very life and death?”