“Don’t you know this thing concerns his very life and death?!”

Jing Hengbo stared at that yellow scroll, flames seemingly igniting in her eyes.

She! Did! Not! Know!

She truly didn’t know!

This thing—she and Yong Xue had taken it from the underground palace, even using her supernatural abilities. She instinctively felt it was important, so she didn’t show it to Yong Xue and hid it herself. But she couldn’t understand the contents—all mysterious, mystical sentences. She only understood one line.

“Those not mandated by Heaven who dare to peruse shall perish, calamity extending three generations!”

Though written in classical style, she guessed its meaning. Having read tomb-raiding novels, this sentence was equivalent to “All who dare disturb my tomb shall have their lineage severed.” Even harsher than that curse, including three generations of descendants.

At the time, she had merely laughed it off. She had intended to give it to Gong Yin, but hesitated when the moment came. She thought that since Gong Yin was an ancient person, he should react to such curses. Didn’t books say martial artists couldn’t have mental obstacles? With mental obstacles, one might develop inner demons.

If there was a curse, let her bear it alone. The text in the silk scroll didn’t seem like treasure maps or secret techniques anyway, so she set it aside.

That it was related to Gong Yin—she only learned this now.

“Still don’t believe it?” Jing Jun’s voice was mournful. “She deliberately schemed against me, approached you, all for the Imperial Silk Scroll, the Queen’s throne! With the scroll, she could easily bring about your downfall. Once you die and I lose my memory, this Dahuang would truly be hers! Gong Yin… Gong Yin!” She stepped forward, spreading her arms. “If she truly loved you, how do you explain this private hoarding!”

“I couldn’t understand it! I didn’t know this thing was so important!” Jing Hengbo looked up sharply.

While refuting vehemently, her heart also sank into deep waters.

In love, one doesn’t fear setbacks but deception.

Such explanations remained pale. Lovers should share all things. If she couldn’t understand, she should have immediately asked Gong Yin.

Her mouth was full of bitter taste, mixed with faint fishiness—dead with no proof. That original sentence was written on the box containing the Imperial Silk Scroll. When she took out the scroll, the box had turned to ash by itself.

Across from her, Gong Yin’s usually calm gaze suddenly grew cold and chilled.

Also like the sandalwood in the bronze tripod incense burner, burning through the night, inch by inch, turning to ash.

“Oh my, such deep scheming thoughts. I, this Xiang Kingdom’s female minister, truly feel inferior,” Fei Luo’s laughter broke the hall’s silence. “One says beauty bewitches with evil intentions, the other claims pure love and complete innocence. If you ask me, whether the heart is true or false—why not test it?”

Jing Jun’s eyes flowed as she immediately responded: “…What does the female minister think would be an appropriate test?”

“All deception is for better survival,” Fei Luo smiled sweetly. “If someone isn’t even afraid of death, then one can’t say she deceived.”

She opened her palm, revealing another pill—who knew how many she had prepared.

“Exactly,” Jing Jun said. “The so-called demonstration of loyalty unto death should be thus.”

“State Preceptor,” she turned to Gong Yin, “I know you’ve been bewitched by this woman. No matter how much evidence I present, you’ll remain skeptical. But you should give everyone a fair chance to verify. Why don’t you let her prove her sincerity and innocence? Or…” She laughed lightly, her thin lips forming gentle words. “No matter what, you can’t bear to part with her, willing to abandon your position, determined to live and die with this demon woman who’s set on overturning Dahuang’s order?”

“Speaking of which,” Xuanyuan Jing suddenly said, “since Queen Ming Cheng has returned, we’ll have someone in charge from now on.”

Zhao Shizhi immediately said: “Queen Ming Cheng is wise and understanding, tolerant and merciful, always the master our Dahuang ministers respect and worship. Now that the Queen has returned, we should immediately welcome her back to her position, preventing state instruments from being controlled by treacherous people who act perversely and commit nation-destroying acts.”

As he spoke, he glanced sideways at Gong Yin.

Gong Yin’s white robes hung down. He seemed not to hear these half-suggested, half-threatening words and suddenly extended his hand, slowly making a complex gesture.

The gesture was very complex, like some kind of language. Jing Jun’s eyes brightened as she immediately raised her hand and made a gesture in response.

Once her gesture was made, Gong Yin’s raised hand immediately fell as if struck, instantly dropping.

Then he turned toward Jing Hengbo.

Jing Hengbo’s heart jumped. Her intuition told her that in those few gestures just now, Gong Yin had completed confirming Jing Jun’s identity.

Once Jing Jun was confirmed as Queen Ming Cheng, the accusations against her would be almost established.

Gong Yin’s dark eyes quietly fixed on her. Jing Hengbo desperately discovered that his eyes, usually flowing with brilliant light like ice and snow glass, now held still water, with thousands of years of snow falling.

She couldn’t see his current expression and mood clearly—it was a vast snowy wilderness, empty as far as the eye could see.

“Hengbo,” he finally spoke, his voice low but clear. “Prove it for me.”

Jing Hengbo’s heart thundered.

Instantly, darkness filled her vision and chaos filled her mind. She thought she had closed her eyes. She wanted to scream, to go mad, to throw all these people into the cold snow outside, letting them experience her current feelings.

But the darkness lasted only an instant. The next moment, there was still the vast hall, enemies filling the hall, and across the crowd, the person she cared about most looked at her unrelentingly.

His clear, cold eyes seemed to hold sorrow, or perhaps disappointment? She couldn’t tell.

Such a gaze made it impossible for her to pretend she had misheard.

“Gong Yin…” She steadied herself against the dressing table, trying to stand straighter. She heard her own voice echoing hollowly in the hall above. “…So it turns out, no matter how much I do, how much I think, it’s all just me… being presumptuous.”

“No,” he said quietly. “It’s me.”

Jing Hengbo felt like someone had punched her in the stomach, her body bending downward.

Looking down, she saw Cui Jie’s pale face.

She slept quietly, thinking her death had defended her safety, not knowing that before long-planned schemes, all sacrifice seemed meaningless.

“I can’t let you die in vain…” She supported herself on the stool with both hands, murmuring low, slowly wiping her mouth with her sleeve.

Then she took a breath, raised her head, and slowly stood straight.

“Fine,” she said.

The entire hall fell silent.

“But I have one request,” she said. “If I demonstrate my loyalty unto death and prove my innocence, can all those around me, including the dead Cui Jie, be free from pursuit and given their freedom?”

No one answered. After a long while, Xuanyuan Jing looked around and said: “Agreed.”

The guards blocking Zirui stepped aside. Zirui rushed over. “Your Majesty!”

The young woman wept, throwing herself at her shoulder and whispering: “Leave! Leave!”

Jing Hengbo took a breath—she couldn’t leave anymore.

Since Gong Yin entered, the energy field around her had changed. It was as if a wall had appeared before her, making movement difficult. She had a premonition that teleporting now would absolutely not get her out of this bedchamber.

This feeling had occurred when she first met him, which was why she couldn’t seize those three escape opportunities. After that, she never had similar feelings.

Today it returned.

Perhaps there was some mystical correspondence, echoing this beginning and ending.

Jing Hengbo looked around but didn’t see Yong Xue. She didn’t want to investigate whether she’d been killed or had betrayed—it no longer mattered.

Across from her, the ministers parted in a line, all watching Gong Yin.

Watching how Dahuang’s foremost person would handle this woman who had publicly betrayed him. Whether he would truly, after being moved to emotion, become ruthless again due to disappointment, striking with a hero’s hand to prove his determination and killing intent to the world once more.

Fei Luo held up the pill glowing with dark light, smiling lightly. “I say… this pill, you’ll eat it eventually.”

Gong Yin suddenly swept his sleeve, catching the pill, and said coldly: “I’ll handle her affairs.”

The pill paused in mid-air, then shot toward Jing Hengbo like lightning. Simultaneously, an air current pushed forcefully, tightening Jing Hengbo’s throat and forcing her mouth open involuntarily.

The pill shot into her mouth.

Except for Gong Yin, who turned his head to look at the snow outside the hall at this moment, everyone’s eyes burned as they stared at her, afraid she would immediately spit it out and then strike.

She didn’t.

She swallowed it decisively—everyone saw her throat move.

“I’ve taken it,” Jing Hengbo said when she spoke again, her tone calm. “Now, is that enough?”

Her speech was clear—the crowd relaxed, knowing she hadn’t hidden the medicine under her tongue.

But since she didn’t immediately show effects, everyone felt uneasy again. However, Fei Luo’s face showed a smile. “Your Majesty, this medicine was carefully prepared for you. It will gradually stiffen your body’s muscles and rot your organs to death. It takes three days and nights. After three days, you’ll become a zombie with lifelike appearance—this is a gift I’m giving you. Your beauty will be preserved forever. I think you’ll like it very much.”

Jing Hengbo stared at her intensely. “When you die in the future, I’ll definitely give you a death that preserves your beauty too.”

Fei Luo giggled, wanting to retort sarcastically, but her hook-like gaze made her feel creepy. She pursed her lips and looked away. “Anyone can make threats. Why should I argue with someone about to die?” She looked around. “Gentlemen, let’s all withdraw. Remember to seal the doors and windows before leaving, because the Queen will scream very miserably later, screaming for three days and nights. It might disturb Queen Ming Cheng and the State Preceptor’s peace.”

Jing Jun’s expression changed, then she smiled sweetly.

Gong Yin continued looking sideways at the flying snow outside, his profile cold and frozen like an ice sculpture.

“Your Majesty!” Zirui fell at her knees, embracing her knees in a posture that reminded her of Cui Jie’s final moments.

She bent down, entrusting Cui Jie to Zirui. “Leave the palace. Help me bury her outside the palace—she can’t remain in such a filthy place.”

Zirui tearfully accepted her, but said: “Your Majesty, I’ll accompany you.”

“Go,” Jing Hengbo simply waved her hand.

Zirui bit her teeth and embraced Cui Jie, thinking briefly before kowtowing three times to her and backing away with Cui Jie.

Jing Hengbo saw her clenched fists, blood showing where her nails had dug in.

The ministers also filed out. In the wind and snow, those retreating figures with high caps were like stone figurines standing solemnly in the courtyard.

Jing Jun walked over smiling, chin raised high throughout, never glancing at her once.

Fei Luo smiled as she greeted her, strange light flickering in her eyes.

Cheng Gumo spat hatefully and strode away.

Zhao Shizhi smiled sinisterly, reluctantly glancing at her before silently wheeling out.

Commander Cheng’s son left with raised eyebrows and proud bearing.

The Minister of Rites shook his head, silently supported out by subordinate officials.

Xuanyuan Jing laughed heartily, clasping his hands toward the direction of the former Priestly Tower before walking out.

Jing Hengbo watched each of their retreating figures, her gaze following their relaxed or heavy steps.

Everyone left. Finally, only Gong Yin remained.

Jing Hengbo’s gaze slowly turned to him.

Their gazes met again, each seeking answers in the other’s eyes.

He remained a pool of ice, calm and unrippled, sleeves hanging down, fixed as before.

Jing Hengbo stared at him intently, looking from his face to his hands. Her fingers trembled slightly and uncontrollably due to nervousness.

Under the corridor, Fei Luo and Jing Jun also stared intently at his back, at his hands.

Two waves of gazes locked in focus, only concerned with that one person’s actions.

Gong Yin finally moved.

He slowly stepped back, retreating toward the door.

Great joy exploded in Jing Jun and Fei Luo’s eyes. Jing Hengbo’s face instantly became snow-white.

Gong Yin retreated beyond the threshold. The deep red hall doors separated to both sides. Behind him were the snow-filled courtyard and the former Queen; before him was the stiffly standing Jing Hengbo, gradually being swallowed by dim light.

The hall doors slowly closed before him, shutting in this night’s snow, his consistently calm face, indescribably profound gaze, and her momentarily desperate expression.

Once the door closed, there would be two worlds—heaven and earth, person and soul, love and unlove, longing and separation.

Darkness was about to descend.

Suddenly there was snow light!

Cloud-like snow light!

A snow-covered tree in the courtyard suddenly exploded, great puffs of flying snow bursting in all directions, splashing everyone’s faces with icy cold. Everyone hurriedly closed their eyes. In the confusion, they only saw a red shadow shoot out from the flying snow like lightning, instantly radiating rainbow colors like burning snow.

As soon as the blood shadow emerged, it brought a fierce hurricane, like a red dragon shooting straight toward the steps. Wherever it passed, the accumulated snow on the ground hissed as it plowed deep furrows with scattered snowflakes.

“Clang.” A slight sound accompanied Jing Jun and Fei Luo’s screams as both toppled sideways, blood spraying from their shoulders.

The sword light didn’t pause, pressing forward relentlessly, heading straight for Gong Yin’s back!

Gong Yin was pushing the door panels closed with both hands. Sensing the strange phenomenon and hearing the howling wind, he knew turning back was too late. He pushed forward and lunged ahead. With a bang, the hall doors flew open wide as he fell forward. A slender sword had already pinned him to the ground!

Blood splattered as the red shadow stepped on his arm and charged into the hall, spitting forcefully in mid-air with a rolling voice.

“I hate ungrateful people most!”

Jing Hengbo looked up to see the red shadow charging toward her. The person grabbed her arm with fingers like steel and iron.

“Come with me!”

“Big Sister Da Bo!” Another sharp cry—Yong Xue’s voice. The little girl’s face was bruised and swollen as she scrambled up the steps holding Feifei and Er Gouzi, who had appeared from nowhere. “Trust him! Go!”

“Get up!” The red shadow lifted Jing Hengbo and ran outside.

Passing the hall entrance, Jing Hengbo looked down.

She saw Gong Yin rising from the ground, looking up at her with profound eyes.

Looking down and looking up—inexpressible hate and love.

A moment passed.

Suddenly her face felt cold. Jing Hengbo raised her head, feeling dazzling crystal light before her eyes as snowflakes struck her face.

They were out of the hall.

She saw stumbling Yong Xue sliding down from the steps and caught her arm with one hand. Seeing Zirui running over frantically, she immediately shouted: “Help me bring Zirui!”

“Damn, you’re really troublesome. How can I fly like this?” The red shadow cursed but still descended, shouting: “Grab onto me!”

Zirui leaped up to grab his hand. When she tried to embrace Cui Jie’s corpse, the red shadow had already taken to the air.

Zirui was alarmed and wanted to jump down. Jing Hengbo closed her eyes and said quietly: “Don’t jump!”

Zirui instinctively stopped. Jing Hengbo kept her eyes closed, looking up at the sky.

She wouldn’t look at the confusion and shouting below, wouldn’t look at the courtyard’s empty snow and scattered blood, wouldn’t look at Cui Jie’s abandoned corpse lying alone in the snow, her eyes that wouldn’t close in death looking up at her emptily.

Circling in the vast sky, growing more distant.

The dead are gone; the living must strive to live.

I promised you I’d live well.

A tear on her cheek froze into a pearl before falling, dropping from the sky with a heart-breaking sound.

Ting.

…

Wind howled overhead, snowflakes struck chaotically. In mid-air, they couldn’t see any scenery, only barely resisting the bone-piercing cold.

The red-clothed person had excellent martial arts. Like stringing grasshoppers, he carried several people yet still leaped like flying. His light steps barely touched the slippery glazed palace roofs before leaving pursuers far behind.

Tonight’s weather also helped—on this snowy night, visibility was extremely low.

Jing Hengbo never saw clearly who the red-clothed person was. She was held in his embrace with her head and face covered, only sensing it wasn’t Yélu Qi or Yi Qi.

She suddenly trembled, showing pain between her brows, startling Zirui beside her to turn and look.

“Your Majesty… Your Majesty…” Zirui tried hard to reach her. “You took poison… poison…”

“It’s fine…” She paused, saying softly: “Before Cui Jie died, she gave me an antidote… I already took it…”

Zirui and Yong Xue both exhaled long breaths simultaneously, relieved.

Her heart stirred slightly, tiny warmth igniting in the icy pool—at this desperate moment, people still worried about her life and death. How good.

Heaven treated her so complexly, removing all fuel from under her cauldron yet lighting a distant lamp in the wind and snow.

But did she still have the strength to pursue that faint light?

“Where are we going!” The red-clothed person oriented himself in mid-air. “Find the place with the fewest guards to break out!”

“To the Imperial Square,” Jing Hengbo said softly, thinking this person’s voice sounded familiar.

“What?” The red-clothed person was dumbfounded. “Are you crazy? The Imperial Square is full of your enemies right now!”

Startled, he didn’t watch his footing, stepped on something, and slipped. Yong Xue on his back was flung out.

He hurriedly reached to catch her. Just then, a sharp whistle came from below!

Looking back, they saw a heavy arrow breaking through the snow, its deep black arrowhead friction-screaming through the air, sending scattered snowflakes flying!

The arrow would pierce Yong Xue’s body first, then enter the red-clothed person’s back!

“Clang!” Suddenly another dark light flashed across, intercepting horizontally!

The sound of metal clashing was deafening, with what seemed like sparks flashing. The heavy arrow’s trajectory veered, brushing past Yong Xue’s head.

The dark light that stopped the heavy arrow was also falling. Jing Hengbo looked down to see it was a short spear.

She looked back—in the vast wind and snow, she couldn’t see the archer or the rescuer.

Neither the arrow nor the spear were standard weapons of palace guards.

On this snowy night, who was ambushing on her necessary path, wanting to deliver a killing blow?

And who was waiting here, throwing a spear to save her life?

Who was enemy? Who was friend?

She buried her head, feeling extremely exhausted.

“Damn, that scared me to death!” The red-clothed person overhead continued chattering. “Dangerous! Let’s go quickly. Make a decision—really going to the Imperial Square?”

Jing Hengbo nodded.

Yong Xue said softly: “Listen to Big Sister Da Bo.”

“Fine,” the red-clothed person smiled bitterly. “Meeting her just brings me all kinds of bad luck. I don’t mind having more bad luck!”

Jing Hengbo recognized whose voice this was.

It was Tian Qi, whose gender recognition had caused confusion!

He had appeared at this time to save her.

Jing Hengbo suddenly remembered that day in the portrait gallery when she said: “…You go protect him, don’t let him know.”

Something like reverse blood surged in her heart, breaking through twelve layers of towers. She tasted bitterness.

Portrait gallery momentarily.

Hehe.

Momentarily.

…

The Imperial Square was the nearest way out. After several trips, Tian Qi could see the dark mass of people in the square.

Though the wind and snow were heavy, these determined people still waited for their masters. Lights had been lit on all sides. Pale yellow lanterns swayed and rocked in the snow, looking from afar like clusters of ghostly flames.

In the square, only the founding Empress’s statue still stood silently, uninvaded by wind and snow, unchanged by wind and frost. Eyes lowered, deeply diving into this world’s changing winds and clouds, infinitely compassionate.

“You really want to go to the Imperial Square…” Tian Qi looked at the crowd hesitantly. With so many people and troops, he wasn’t confident he could get everyone out.

Jing Hengbo didn’t speak. Zirui and Yong Xue also didn’t speak, as if accompanying Jing Hengbo in death was nothing significant.

“Alright, alright, a group of women, each more stubborn than the last. Are all women like you?” Tian Qi stamped his feet, sighed, and lunged forward like a great red bird, gliding over the crowd.

People in the square who were resting and moving about to resist the cold suddenly felt something strange overhead. Looking up, they saw a huge dragging shadow breaking through darkness and flying snow, descending toward the center of the Imperial Square.

“The founding Empress’s statue…” Jing Hengbo said quietly.

Since they had come this far, there was nothing left to question. Tian Qi landed without hesitation beneath the Empress’s statue.

The statue was massive, blocking some wind and snow, making it slightly warmer with dry ground.

As soon as Tian Qi landed and turned around, he saw surging dark masses of people and arrows glinting coldly behind the crowd.

Simultaneously, the palace gates at the square’s end rumbled open as the ministers who had entered the palace poured out in fury, shouting from afar: “Surround them! Surround them!”

“I don’t understand why you’re walking into a trap. Do women lose all reason when they suffer heartbreak?” Tian Qi turned back to Jing Hengbo with a bitter smile. “I’ll say this upfront—I’m saving you to repay a debt, but I never planned to die for you. If we really get trapped, I’ll definitely leave first. You’d better commit suicide early.”

“Then go,” Jing Hengbo remained unmoved.

“Wait, don’t you have some special lightness skill?” Tian Qi suddenly remembered something, clapping his hands. “You should teleport away quickly! Without you as a target, I can take these two and still have hope of getting out.”

“No hurry…” Jing Hengbo focused on the opposite side. At some point, the crowd had parted to form a path. At the path’s end where the palace gates opened, Gong Yin was slowly riding out alone.

His clothes were stained with blood, his face showing shocking pallor even in this distant darkness.

Meeting Jing Hengbo’s gaze, he dismounted and stood quietly. His robes danced with the snow.

“My teleportation…” Jing Hengbo stared at him, murmuring. “I’m saving it for the crucial moment…”

Her body suddenly leaned forward. She immediately covered her mouth.

After a moment, dark blood slowly seeped through her fingers.

“Your Majesty!”

“Big Sister Da Bo!”

Zirui and Yong Xue’s alarmed cries rang beside her ears. She covered her mouth tightly and slowly smiled.

What use was Cui Jie’s antidote?

The antidote taken first, Gong Yin’s poison taken after—wrong remedy for the wrong poison.

She had thought it was just acting. She had thought his eagerness to provide the medicine was suspicious. Until the last moment, she kept waiting for him to secretly give her an antidote.

When the ministers withdrew, she waited.

He didn’t.

When he finally left and closed the door, she waited.

He didn’t.

When Tian Qi appeared and took her away as they brushed past each other, she waited.

He didn’t.

Countless times hope ignited, countless times disappointed.

In her daze, the past spun like these night’s snowflakes tumbling through memory.

This journey of meeting—he who had never disappointed her.

His figure diving down when she was lured off the cliff.

His hand steadying her confused steps while walking through mountain forests.

His protective sacrifice the night assassins entered the hall.

His defiant confrontation before Cheng Gumo’s hatred.

“State Preceptor! Who are you going to save!”

“Stand aside! Who gave you permission to touch the Queen!”

“State Preceptor! Is this truly killing the dog after the cunning hare dies!”

“I carry no weapons, set no guards, facing you all. Think clearly—do you want to charge over!”

Before Sang Dong’s fire carriage, he condensed ice as armor and solved the crisis with one sword.

“Gong Yin! I’m about to ignite the carriage! Why won’t you die!”

“Fine! But I must see the Queen is safe with my own eyes!”

In Zhao Shizhi’s mansion, he came calmly to resolve her danger.

“Master Zhao should bear heavy responsibilities for country and people.”

“The culprit has been captured—it’s unrelated to the Queen!”

…

So many times, so many times.

He had never disappointed her. Between the turning of wind and clouds, he showed her a man’s loyalty and strength. She couldn’t help trusting and approaching, giving her whole heart.

Yet in the final wind and snow atop the city walls, she saw the harsh coldness at heaven’s edge.

Her heart was repeatedly pained and ground in upheaval and torment, bloody and mangled.

Even so, she hadn’t given up hope—she didn’t believe it, didn’t believe he could be so heartless.

She didn’t believe that just based on Jing Jun’s few testimonies, he would leave her no opportunity.

When Sang Dong held her hostage, his defiant protection at Liuli Workshop, his sword technique at the Imperial Square—all vivid in memory. That sword had split her consciousness and also split open all her uncertainty and hesitation. In that day’s flying ice crystals and blood, she had solidified her resolve and from then believed his heart toward her was equally ice-pure and crystal-clear.

Yet in the Imperial City’s flying snow, in Tian Qi’s arms, when the poison took effect and her internal organs suddenly ached like cutting, she plunged into an icy abyss in that instant.

In that moment, she finally knew the taste of despair.

It wasn’t deception, wasn’t a duet performance, wasn’t using falsehood to confuse truth, wasn’t a coordinated conspiracy.

It wasn’t everything she had thought and hoped for.

The medicine was real, poisonous.

She swallowed a mouthful of reverse blood and raised her head. Across from her, that person’s robes were snow-white yet blood-stained, looking across the distance.

Through scattered snow, his gaze was invisible.

In her daze, it was still the earlier city walls.

Wind and snow just beginning.

Commander Cheng’s family carrying corpses in petition, she and he looking down from the walls.

“Letting these ringleaders in won’t allow us to do anything to them. In the end, you’ll more likely be pressured by them.”

“Then perform for them. Don’t they want to kill me? Then kill me for them to see.”

“Hmm? What do you plan to do?”

“In the name of making me commit suicide, let them in. If they want to bind me, let them bind me. If they want to deal with me, let them deal with me. You can play a heartless, cold superior who sacrifices his girlfriend for the empire. First gain their trust, then we’ll talk. After that, I have ways to make them give up opposing me, at least temporarily.”

“Are you sure you can do it?”

“I can. Gong Yin, I know I’ve caused you a lot of trouble. But I can’t retreat, because retreating means death. Even for your sake, I can’t die. Let’s work together to get through this hurdle first—preserve your Kang Long, preserve your position, preserve my life. Then slowly deal with them one by one. As long as you remain in power, as long as you keep controlling authority, as long as I’m more careful in the future, working together, there’s no reason we can’t eventually defeat them. What we lack is just time.”

“Yes… what we lack is just time.”

“Then let’s do it this way, let them have their way. Remember to act cold toward me.”

“I can’t act.”

“Just don’t show expression or speak. I think asking you to act might actually break character. Actually, though I can act, if you asked me to vehemently accuse you or something, I’d probably laugh… Gong Yin, let’s be a quiet handsome couple and sing this duet to the end.”

“Good.”

“Don’t let it become real. Remember to save me at the crucial moment.”

“Good.”

…

Those words still rang in her ears, yet were swept away by this night’s fierce wind and snow.

So it turns out.

The so-called duet deception was just her wishful thinking.

So it turns out the so-called ice-pure crystal heart could melt in an instant.

So it turns out he had long prepared to eliminate her.

Perhaps, perhaps at first he had planned to sing the duet with her, but when Jing Jun appeared, when she couldn’t explain hiding the Imperial Silk Scroll, that pill originally meant for the duet became real poison.

Perhaps life’s emotions are also like poison—the more devoted, the more confused, smiling while drinking poison in illusory splendor.

A long love affair couldn’t match ten thousand zhang of empire.

“Your Majesty, I grant you three escapes.”

“Meet several requirements and I’ll allow you to pledge yourself to me.”

“If you defeat me, for my entire life, I’ll protect and indulge you.”

“If I love her, I won’t make her love and hate my only guide.”

“If I love her, I won’t seek one life, one world, one couple.”

“I believe that with utmost effort, there’s no shore in this world that can’t be reached.”

…

Not seeking one life, one world, one couple—only seeking this hundred-year imperial diagram, ten-thousand-generation empire, the peak of power desire, endless imperial legacy.

Using utmost effort was to reach this moment of being on opposite shores.

She was foolish—occupying a puppet position yet wanting freedom, being in politics yet wanting love, experiencing all the scheming yet thinking it was others’ business, seeing him turn wind and clouds yet thinking it would never happen around her.

One poisonous pill injured tendons, meridians, flesh, and blood, curing human foolishness.

From now on, could she finally be clear-headed!

…

The square was silent, only a pair of gazes looking at each other. Standing at two ends, each stained with blood.

The long passage was covered with snow. She hazily remembered the original welcoming ceremony—also a long passage, but with bright red carpet. She had been nervous in the carriage like a new bride when the curtain suddenly moved, light and shadow flowing over, his hand gently extending in.

In that instant she almost mistakenly thought he would help her onto the red carpet, walking toward a hundred years of shared hearts.

That red carpet extending forward—for a very long time, she thought it truly led to shores of happiness and fulfillment.

Only now did she know that bright colors are always like blood.

In an instant, stars shifted—the blood-red carpet became white felt. Scattered snow flew like flowers blooming on the other shore.

The person on the opposite shore, blurred and indistinct.

She suddenly raised her head, her figure flashing.

The square erupted in cries like a tide, lifting flying snow high, suspended in mid-air without falling.

The next instant, her figure appeared ghostlike before Gong Yin.

A dagger simultaneously and decisively plunged into his chest.

Heaven and earth froze in an instant.

Only flying snow rustled, covering the sky and earth, blanketing his shoulders and her blood-stained hands.

He remained motionless, slowly lowering his eyes, seeming to look at his wound, or perhaps unable to believe it, or perhaps simply not wanting to look at her.

She also remained motionless, watching the dagger slowly push in, soaked with Cui Jie’s fresh blood and now saturated with his.

“Gong Yin.” After a long time she spoke, her voice ethereally cold and empty, as if coming from a distant polar region. “Thank you for teaching me heartlessness.”

Her internal organs suddenly ached, and a mouthful of black blood spurted out, dripping down the bright red knife handle. Her hand softened, unable to push the blade further.

Poisonous blood dripped onto his robes. He suddenly looked up at her.

But she had already averted her gaze, sighing once before decisively withdrawing the knife.

Blood splattered like peach blossoms from that year, blooming bright and luxuriant across the sky and earth, yet blooming in the wrong season.

This blood in the snow.

This spray of blood in the snow.

With strength exhausted, both he and she fell backward simultaneously.

Each separating.

In the final instant she forced herself to turn, her figure flashing.

A person traversed space in an instant, leaving story and thoughts in this night’s snow.

“Gong Yin! I’ve liked you for a long time! I like you so much! I want to be with you! People will age and die, time will pass, but land doesn’t decay, flowing water doesn’t decay, bridge stones don’t decay, trees don’t decay! The words I speak today—mountains and rivers, land and trees, heaven and earth, sun and moon, imperial heaven and earth—you all bear witness!”

“Gong Yin, Gong Yin, shall we transform new Dahuang together? Shall we create a new world together? Shall we be the happiest Queen and State Preceptor in Dahuang’s history together? I believe you can do it, I can too, and I only want to do these things with you. Shall we do it together?”

Together?

Together?

To… gether… not.

…

With another flash, she was back beneath the founding Empress’s statue. She silently looked up at the Empress’s eyes, walked a few steps, and stood still.

Around her were clamoring voices as the crowd, after extreme shock, finally reacted and surged like a tide.

“You should go,” she said softly. “Goodbye.”

“Your Majesty!” Zirui and Yong Xue rushed over.

She stood motionless beneath the statue, suddenly flicking her sleeve to push away Tian Qi, who wanted to pull her away with them.

Tian Qi stumbled, just colliding with Zirui and Yong Xue. Before he could steady himself, Jing Hengbo flicked her sleeves repeatedly, and scattered snow suddenly formed balls, pelting him mercilessly. Tian Qi was forced to retreat repeatedly, getting farther and farther from her.

Tian Qi was about to rush back when someone shouted loudly: “Release arrows!”

Faintly in the distance, someone shouted: “Stop!”

Farther away, Gong Yin was helped up from the snow, struggling to break free from supporting hands.

“Buzz.” Flying arrows shot in volleys, breaking through wind and snow.

Tian Qi and the others were in mid-air with nowhere to dodge.

“Snap!” From Jing Hengbo’s sleeve suddenly shot a white light.

The white light looked small from a distance, but shooting into the air, it suddenly burst with great brilliance, expanding into a fan-shaped, huge pale green light pattern in mid-air. The light faintly contained patterns, though they couldn’t be seen clearly in the flying snow. Only continuous faint buzzing sounds could be heard as arrows shot toward Tian Qi and others were instantly blocked by the green light.

Simultaneously, seven figures descended from the sky, catching Tian Qi and the others. The seven wanted to charge through the green light screen to grab Jing Hengbo on the other side. The leader extended his hand and immediately cried out strangely: “So painful!”

Ethereal light blazed, reflecting Jing Hengbo’s figure as slightly wavering as if in water waves, her complexion like snow, eyes black as eternal night.

“Farewell. Thank you for still being here at the end.”

Everyone read those lip movements in that instant.

Then they saw the woman raise her hand and point. With a crack, from the lowered eyes of the founding Empress statue overhead, two dark lights suddenly shot out, striking precisely at the ground beneath Jing Hengbo’s feet, just millimeters from her toes.

The moment the dark light hit the ground, radiating black light shot out like swords. Several people who had charged in trying to catch Jing Hengbo were swept by the dark light, screaming as they tumbled backward, blood spraying in mid-air.

Jing Hengbo lowered her eyes, glancing at Zirui and Yong Xue protected by the Seven Kills beyond the green light, then at the slowly opening hole beneath her feet.

…

Vaguely that day, she and Yong Xue had walked along the underground bedchamber passage, seeing an exit ahead and climbing up.

After emerging, both were stunned.

The founding Empress statue’s gaze gazed down, the square before them was spacious and clear as water. Moonlight washed over, seeming real yet illusory.

“Who would have thought the exit was here.”

“But it seems you can get out but not in.”

“Not necessarily. Look at this exit’s position—it seems to face the Empress statue’s eyes directly. Maybe the opening mechanism is in the statue.”

“I think this exit is also an entrance, perhaps connecting to other passages, though not necessarily safe passages. When I came over just now, I heard what sounded like water behind the wall.”

“Who cares what it is? We don’t need it anyway.”

“That’s not necessarily true. This must be a royal escape route.”

“I don’t need escape routes. With Gong Yin here, I won’t be in danger. If I am in danger, I won’t leave him either. Dying together with him in the Imperial City doesn’t seem bad. Then I’ll take him back with me to live sweetly in modern times. How wonderful.”

“Mm. We’ll definitely never need it in our lifetime.”

“Then let’s go back. When he has time, I’ll bring him here to play. Hehe, I won’t tell him first—I’ll give him a surprise.”

“Big Sister Da Bo, can you not mention the State Preceptor in every sentence?”

“Little girl, what do you understand? This is called being in love. When you’re in love, it’s like this—even saying a name feels sweet… Ah, forget it, you wouldn’t understand if I told you…”

…

Hehe, truly didn’t understand—this world’s love and hate.

…

The dark light was about to scatter, the hole only opened three parts, not enough for a person to enter.

Her figure flashed and disappeared.

With a bang, several people who waited for the dark light to scatter before rushing up to grab her or follow into the hole crashed into the closed hard ground, bloodying their heads.

The green light in mid-air also scattered at this instant. Something fell from mid-air, heavily striking the snow.

Square-shaped with rounded corners, its surface had a warm, lustrous milky white sheen, carved with openwork auspicious grass patterns. Through the openwork gaps, faint green light dimly showed.

Gong Yin’s gift from long ago.

The jade box hit the ground, and a withered yellow dried flower shook out from the box’s crevice, scattering in the snow.

In an instant it crumbled, falling as pale yellow powder, blown by wind into the snow and scattered away.

Seeking flowers in dreams—picking one, losing one.

Drinking poison with resentment—swallowing one life, lasting one lifetime.

※※※

(End of Volume)