After that, assassinations and harassment became almost routine. Most of the time, the targets were Gong Yin and Jing Hengbo. Even with three versions of Jing Hengbo, they couldn’t stop the assassins—only split their focus among three instead of one.
Gong Yin’s responses grew increasingly bizarre. One night, he invited Cui Jie to dine in his carriage. Halfway through the meal, a sword suddenly pierced up from beneath the carriage, slicing through the table and nearly taking off Cui Jie’s nose.
Gong Yin calmly used his chopsticks to snap off the sword tip and then flicked that broken tip straight into the assassin’s forehead.
That night, another batch of Gong Yin’s guards ended up injured.
On another occasion, Jing Jun timidly asked if she could take a bath. Gong Yin agreed and dispatched a large group of guards to escort her to a river at the base of a hill. Jing Hengbo wanted to join, but Gong Yin coldly dismissed her with, “Don’t bother going. River water can’t possibly wash off the three pounds of rouge on your face.”
Furious, Jing Hengbo grabbed him, determined to prove she wasn’t wearing any makeup. They stared at each other, still arguing—when suddenly, a scream echoed from the river.
Jing Jun was under attack.
An assassin had been lurking beneath the water and lunged at her with a sword aimed straight for her heart. If not for a guard’s quick reaction, the frail beauty would have been split in two.
Shaken, Jing Jun fell ill for several days and never dared to make another request. Even Jing Hengbo fell silent, realizing how perilous their journey had become. The constant danger left no room for idle bickering.
Finally, they entered the northern Yan territory. The landscape opened up, revealing rolling yellow plains with scattered clusters of green trees. In the distance, a small village lay nestled in the land.
They had been traveling day and night, resting mostly in desolate areas, rarely seeing other people. Gong Yin’s head guard, Meng Hu, led a group into the village to gather supplies.
From the outskirts, the convoy remained stationed as Jing Hengbo stretched her sore legs, gripping the carriage railing. She glanced repeatedly at Gong Yin, who sat under a tree on an ivory mat, reading. The sunlight lightened his eyes to a shade as cool as the sky over a highland plateau.
But like the sky, he felt far away—out of reach.
Jing Hengbo sighed. She climbed onto the carriage shaft and stretched her arms, inhaling the fresh air.
Her graceful movements accentuated the curves of her body, radiating an enticing, lively femininity. The scent of her skin lingered in the air. Nearby guards stole discreet glances, their eyes flicking back and forth beneath their lashes.
Jing Hengbo ignored them all, smiling even more brightly.
Not far away, Gong Yin remained immersed in his book. The pages hadn’t turned for a long time.
Jing Hengbo smirked, watching him from the corner of her eye. Could it be that his mind is filled with my reflection instead of words? She silently counted down—Three, two, one… Will he shut the book and leave out of propriety? If he leaves, I can finally take a walk.
Gong Yin put down his book.
Jing Hengbo’s lips curled up.
“You’re upwind.”
“…What?”
“You reek.” He gestured toward her arms, which were still stretched wide, then casually shifted his mat.
Jing Hengbo froze mid-stretch, arms still raised in a perfect ten-past-ten position.
Cui Jie snickered. Jing Jun’s expression turned awkward. The guards exchanged looks of sympathy.
Lord Right Minister was a man of few words, but each one was a dagger. He had once driven a clan leader to death with his sharp tongue alone.
This was nothing in comparison.
Jing Hengbo bent down, adjusting the ten-centimeter heels on her shoes, seriously contemplating whether smashing them into the back of his arrogant head would alter his sense of smell.
Before she could act, she suddenly caught a whiff of something.
Something delicious.
Her eyes darted toward the village entrance, where a few young girls carrying baskets had approached Meng Hu’s group, offering food for sale.
A sweet, crispy scent drifted through the breeze.
Jing Hengbo’s eyes sparkled.
She had never smelled anything like it before, but it was definitely fried food. After days of eating nothing but dry rations, she felt like she was turning into a walking piece of hardtack.
Her stomach growled loudly.
She sighed, knowing Gong Yin—aloof and detached as ever—would never agree to buy snacks.
Yet, just as she had that thought, Gong Yin put down his book again.
The rumbling sounds from behind him made it obvious who was responsible. The rest of the group ate little due to stress, yet this woman managed three meals a day plus midnight snacks—and miraculously, despite eating so much and exercising so little, her figure remained enviably curvaceous.
He coughed lightly, cutting off his train of thought.
For a moment, he seemed lost.
That slender silhouette… It reminded him of someone.
But that person barely ate. He had almost never seen her dine. The only time they had a meal together had been that fateful, perilous night…
The wind rustled through the pages of his book, slicing against his fingers like thin blades. A moment later, a faint red line appeared on his skin.
Life was like this—often, in moments of the greatest peace, the cold edge of conspiracy and death would slice through. A wound unnoticed in the moment, only to bleed long after, in the silence of the night.
Only he knew.
…
“Meng Hu.” His thoughts cleared in an instant. He gestured toward his guard.
Meng Hu, who had just finished purchasing supplies, hesitated before signaling one of the snack vendors to approach.
The guards observed the girl warily, ensuring she was unarmed.
The basket she carried contained deep-fried locust tree blossoms—a rustic, seasonal delicacy.
The light golden snacks, tinged with a faint purple hue, looked appetizing even to Gong Yin. He personally inspected them before ordering a purchase.
Jing Hengbo, along with Cui Jie and Jing Jun, eagerly crowded forward, hands itching to grab some.
As Gong Yin turned, he met Jing Hengbo’s expectant gaze and her open, outstretched hands.
His eyes skimmed over her fingers before he blinked, then handed the first piece… to Jing Jun.
Jing Jun seemed momentarily stunned, her face lighting up—only to abruptly freeze as realization dawned.
In that instant—
The snack vendor suddenly hurled her basket at Jing Jun!
The golden blossoms scattered, revealing a swarm of tiny black insects hidden beneath.
A single bug landed on Jing Jun’s silk sleeve—and instantly, the fabric disintegrated into a gaping hole.
Jing Jun screamed, clutching her face in terror. She instinctively grabbed Jing Hengbo’s sleeve for support, but Jing Hengbo smoothly pulled away.
Meng Hu lunged forward, seemingly pushing Jing Hengbo aside while shielding Jing Jun.
Gong Yin swiftly sprang forward, seemingly annoyed at Jing Hengbo for being in the way. He kicked her aside and personally shielded Jing Jun, pulling her back as his guards formed a defensive wall around them.
A perfect image of a knight protecting his queen.
Jing Hengbo tumbled down the slope—dragging Cui Jie with her.
Just before she hit the ground, she caught a glimpse of a single black insect bypassing the guards and grazing Jing Jun’s neck.
A searing black mark immediately scorched her pale skin.
In that moment, Jing Jun did not cry or scream.
She turned back amid her layers of protection, gazing at Jing Hengbo, tears streaming silently down her face.
Her lips moved soundlessly.
Jing Hengbo’s heart clenched.
She crashed into a tree at the bottom of the slope.
Then—bam! Cui Jie landed on top of her.
Dazed, she lay on the ground, the scent of blood filling the air.
Footsteps approached—calm, steady, unwavering.
She just knew it was Gong Yin.
Sprawled in the dirt, head pounding, she groaned, “This life is unbearable… I need freedom…”
He crouched beside her, pausing as if listening to her breath. Then, he reached out to lift her up.
Jing Hengbo suddenly grabbed his wrists, mustering all her strength—
And slammed him into the ground.
