The Solitary Isle was, well, an island—while Singing Sand Mountain was a desert deep within the continental interior!

How could the two possibly be connected in any way?

Ziqing thought about it for a long while, and could only arrive at one possibility: Singing Sand Mountain itself wasn’t a clue directly, but rather, it concealed within it some clue that would lead to the Solitary Isle!

Yet the Solitary Isle had once belonged to Nanzhao—how could it possibly have anything to do with Xijing? Historically, Nanzhao and Xijing had never had any conflicts, nor had they ever shared any religious ties!

There were only three clues in total: the sacred mulberry tree, the sea valley within Qinse Valley, and Xijing’s Singing Sand Mountain.

So far, all she’d learned from the old man at the Poison Den was that, according to Nanzhao legend, reaching the Solitary Isle required building a ship from the wood of the sacred mulberry tree.

But what connection could possibly exist between the sea valley of Qinse Valley and Singing Sand Mountain—no one seemed to know.

At Qinse Sea Valley, they had heard the climax of “Requiem of Parting.” Several sections following that climax could only be played using a fingering technique unique to Qinse Valley.

At Singing Sand Mountain, what might they hear there?

Could it be… At this thought, Ziqing was suddenly struck with alarm, every hair on her body standing on end!

Could the secret lie hidden within “Requiem of Parting” itself? And Xuanyuan Lige—how much did he actually know? Had his gift of the piece to her back then been purely out of that gentleman’s promise, or had there been some other purpose behind it entirely?

What Ziqing was only now considering, Jun Beiyue had already spent a long time pondering. The war between Xijing and Xichu posed no real difficulty for him—these past several days, this was exactly what he’d been occupied with!

To hear the voice of the god at Singing Sand Mountain, one needed an invitation from the Xijing royal family—this was an extremely secretive ceremonial ritual belonging to the Xijing royal house. On the day of the singing sands, only male members of the royal family, accompanied by the high priest, were permitted to approach Singing Sand Mountain to listen to the divine pronouncement.

Getting close to the Xijing royal family, and getting involved in this war, was undoubtedly only the first step. He still had two years to work with.

“Qing’er, let me hear ‘Requiem of Parting,'” Jun Beiyue said flatly. Physician Gu and the others discreetly withdrew.

Ziqing brought out her guqin, a flicker of hesitation crossing her eyes. Her delicate hand still settled gently onto the strings. “Requiem of Parting” contained a total of nine hundred and ninety-nine passages. Back on the Isle of Immortal Retreat, she had progressed to around the three-hundred-and-fiftieth passage, but since returning, she hadn’t practiced at all.

After the three-hundredth passage came an entire hundred passages that formed the climax—not because Ziqing had been lazy, but because this section, though it sounded effortless when heard performed at Qinse Sea Valley, proved incredibly difficult to actually play on the guqin herself. It grew progressively more challenging passage by passage, until eventually nearly every single note became more difficult than the last, requiring repeated practice again and again just to get each one precisely right.

But it wasn’t only the difficulty that had made Ziqing stop—it was her fingers, and her heart.

While playing through the climax, her fingers ached noticeably—not an unbearable pain, but something more like the dull, aching soreness of rheumatism, which left her fingers weak and directly affected the precision of the notes.

And it was also during the climax that the sensation of being ensnared by the music grew increasingly pronounced. Had her willpower not been extraordinary, she might well have become trapped within the sorrow of “Requiem of Parting,” unable to ever pull free!

Ziqing dared not speak of any of this to anyone, least of all to Xuanyuan Lige—not for any other reason, but because this was her most important clue in searching for the Solitary Isle, and also because she herself didn’t know exactly when it had happened, but somewhere along the way, she had become addicted to “Requiem of Parting,” almost like an obsession.

Every few days, the urge would strike her—even without formal practice, she wanted to play some passage she already knew, even just a short segment, just to satisfy the craving!

And it wasn’t only the qin she was addicted to—she was addicted to poison as well. While cultivating the poison within her, the sensation hadn’t been quite so obvious; she’d simply felt she couldn’t be without the poison inside her body. But now, she needed to take doses of poison on a regular schedule, or she would begin to suffer.

She understood perfectly well that her own behavior was no different from drug addiction. But she couldn’t control it—she could only be thankful that her constitution could withstand it, and that she could afford to supply herself with the poison she needed.

This was entirely her own private matter. No matter how serious it became, she had never once had the habit of confiding in anyone about it. Yet now, looking at the man across from her, eyes closed, his handsome face utterly composed and silent, she felt, for the first time in her life, a strange flutter of panic at concealing something—even though it was entirely her own affair.

“Twang…”

The music began. She played the opening section. “Requiem of Parting” was the most terrifying of sound-based assassination techniques, the only melody capable of killing the very person performing it!

Though playing it on an ordinary guqin, however skilled in the art of sound-based killing, couldn’t compare to the terrifying power Xuanyuan Lige’s demonic zither could produce, its destructive potential was still nothing to be underestimated!

Unexpectedly, Jun Beiyue said flatly, “I want to hear the climax.”

Ziqing’s hand froze instantly, the music cutting off abruptly. Jun Beiyue opened his eyes and looked over, his sharp, piercing gaze causing the guilt-ridden Ziqing to instinctively look away.

“All right,” Ziqing said flatly, beginning to play once more, but slowing the tempo considerably. After listening for a while, Jun Beiyue frowned. “What’s wrong with your hand?”

“This is a lethal sound-based technique—are you trying to get yourself killed?” Ziqing feigned composure, raising an eyebrow in response.

Jun Beiyue didn’t press the matter further, saying instead, thoughtfully, “Could Xuanyuan Lige actually perform the entire piece?”

“After the climax, there’s a section that requires the fingering technique unique to Qinse Valley to perform. He only ever played up to that point,” Ziqing explained.

To say Xuanyuan Lige had no ulterior motives was absolutely impossible. The two elders of Qinse Valley had no understanding of “Requiem of Parting” at all, nor did they even know that a later section required Qinse Valley’s specific fingering technique—all of this, Xuanyuan Lige had only revealed afterward!

But exactly what did he know, and how much of it did he know?

This was the first time Ziqing had ever wanted to see him again—actively wanted to see him.

Just as Ziqing pondered this, Jun Beiyue said flatly, “Qing’er, turn that map over and take a look.”

The back of the map?

Ziqing, puzzled, carefully flipped the map over, and upon seeing what lay on the reverse side, she sucked in a sharp breath of cold air!

It was it!

That same totem—the shape hidden beneath the thin membrane on her face, the one that had once been painted on the ceiling of a carriage, the very same design nearly identical to Nanzhao’s totem!

Looking at the ancient, weathered pattern before her now, just as she had once seen that same face reflected in a mirror, Ziqing’s heart pounded relentlessly, refusing to settle for a long while.

Had she not encountered it again, she might have forgotten it entirely—she would have preferred never to think of it again.

This was the only record within Nanzhao’s forbidden lore that bore any connection to the Solitary Isle.

Back then, Ziqing had been almost certain this had come from Consort Yi’s own hand—only Consort Yi had known that she’d survived the seductive fragrance without dying. But thinking back on it now, Xuanyuan Lige couldn’t be entirely absolved of involvement either!

Who exactly was behind this?

“This is…” Ziqing murmured.

“Unclear. Unless we bring it to Nanzhao, we’ll never find out,” Jun Beiyue said, the corner of his mouth curling into a cold, sinister smile.

Ziqing didn’t ask further. She had always known that Prince Nanzhao’s affection for Chu Feiyan had already exceeded whatever range they’d anticipated. Once Chu Feiyan secured his deep favor, Nanzhao would inevitably become entangled in the conflict between Xichu and Great Zhou.

This was exactly the situation Jun Beiyue least wanted to see. Given that this political marriage was already underway, and that Chu Feiyan had dared to request his personal escort, could she really expect to marry into Nanzhao so easily?

But at this moment, Ziqing had no time to think about any of that. For the first time, her mind was entirely occupied by another man—Xuanyuan Lige!

Back when she had lain unconscious in his hands, exactly how much had that man come to know?