The mad princess forces love upon him, and the aloof imperial advisor trembles every night.

"Have you heard? That old king of Beiming was skinned alive by her for thirty-seven days!"

"More than that! I heard that on the day she massacred the city, her blood stained the moat red for three days and three nights!"

"A woman leading an army to destroy a country, tsk tsk, this is the first time in the four hundred years since the founding of the Great Chu Dynasty."

"But she did indeed destroy Beiming! How many people in our border regions have been burned, killed, and plundered by Beiming over the years? Ninth Princess, this is... ridding the people of a scourge?"

"What do you know! This woman is so cruel, it goes against the natural order! I heard she even forced the old king to eat her own flesh..."

Amidst the clamor, the sound of orderly iron hooves echoed from afar.

"They're here!"

The crowd fell silent instantly. At the end of the long street, a troop of armored cavalry slowly approached. The leader rode a white horse, clad in silver armor, her scarlet cloak fluttering like a battle flag. She wore no helmet; her dark hair was loosely tied back with a white jade hairpin. A cinnabar mark between her brows resembled a blood curse, or perhaps divine punishment.

She was stunningly beautiful, yet coldly desolate.

His eyebrows were like blades, his eyes like abysses, and the smile on his lips was as faint as a dissipating mist, yet it was laced with deadly poison.

—The most beautiful woman in the Great Chu. A demon who crawled out of the blood-red night of the Northern Darkness.

Chu Qingyue's gaze passed over the thronging crowd, over the golden-armored guards, and fixed directly on the head of the officials' procession in front of Chaoyang Gate. The man was dressed in a purple robe, and his silver hair flowed like moonlight.

Si Chen, the Grand Preceptor of the Chu State.

Seven years have passed without leaving any trace on him. He remains as aloof and cold as the lone snowflake atop a snow-capped mountain. When his wide sleeves flutter in the wind, the star trail patterns embroidered on the cuffs appear and disappear, as if he might shatter the void and return to the Dao at any moment.

Chu Qingyue's fingertips dug into the reins.

The poisonous thorn buried deep in my heart for seven years began to grow wildly at this moment, piercing through every inch of reason.

Si Chen.

Her god, her calamity, the only light in her eight years at the Star-Picking Tower. She was also the one who, through divination and the saying "The Ninth Princess's fate is most suited for a political marriage," pushed her into the Northern Underworld... the one who played the game.

She suddenly smiled. The moment that smile bloomed, even the scorching summer sun paled in comparison.

"drive."

She gently spurred the horse, and the white horse moved forward slowly. The sound of its iron hooves striking the bluestone slabs was exceptionally clear in the deathly silence, each step feeling like it was treading on the tip of one's heart.

When Chu Qingyue reached a point three zhang in front of the officials, she dismounted.

Her silver armor clanged as she casually tossed her helmet to Chixiao, her black hair cascading down. In the morning light, she walked step by step toward Sichen, her red robes trailing on the ground, like karmic flames burning from the banks of the River of Oblivion all the way to the mortal realm.

Si Chen looked up at her.

The moment their eyes met, the astrolabe in her sleeve vibrated silently. Seven years ago, when she left the capital, although there was a dragon's aura between her brows, she was still just a young dragon lurking in the abyss.

Looking at it now—the black dragon has taken shape, coiled between the eyebrows, its horns sharp and menacing, its fierce aura soaring into the sky, almost breaking through the Ziwei star position.

The divination hexagram from that night's collapse of the observatory resurfaced in my mind: "A black dragon falls from grace, murdering brothers and fathers, staining the imperial city with blood, and the Great Chu will be overthrown."

He hid the divination text. He hid it for seven years. At this moment, Chu Qingyue stopped three steps in front of him.

She could smell the cool scent of cedar on him, mixed with the unique aroma of stardust from the Star-Picking Tower—the only warmth she had ever craved in the first half of her life, and now the poison that gnawed at her heart every night when she dreamed of him.

"Your Excellency, Imperial Preceptor."

She spoke, her voice clear and cold like shattered jade, yet carrying a hint of gentle venom that only he could hear: "Seven years have passed. How have you been?"

She took a half step forward, tilted her head slightly, and her red lips almost touched his earlobe, her breath warm:

"It was you who pulled me out of the icy pond fifteen years ago." "It was you who sent me to hell seven years ago." "And today, it is you who welcomes my 'triumphant return'."

She chuckled softly, a laugh tempered with the madness forged through seven years of trials and tribulations: "Our fate is truly the most exquisite joke of destiny—don't you think so, my... Grand Preceptor?"

Si Chen's eyelashes trembled slightly.

He was born with no senses, unaffected by heat or cold, and untouched by sorrow or joy—this was the foundation of the Way of Indifference, a constraint and a blessing bestowed upon him by the Way of Heaven.

For four hundred years, he has only needed to be the most accurate compass, the most stable foundation, and the container closest to the "Way of Heaven".

But at this moment—he smelled the stench of blood, mixed with a certain crisp, almost cruel fragrance emanating from her.

He felt the temperature, a wildly growing obsession that almost burned through his frozen blood.

The astrolabe within his sleeve trembled as if about to crack. His knuckles slightly bent, silently suppressing the warning from the heavens. "Your Highness is too kind," he said, his voice calm and still, like a deep pool without ripples. "His Majesty is unwell and has specially ordered me to welcome Your Highness's triumphant return."

He turned slightly to the side, his wide sleeves fluttering, and made a "please" gesture.

"Welcome back to the Ninth Princess, who has made unparalleled contributions and is now returning in triumph."

The officials echoed in unison. Their voices were uniform, but to Chu Qingyue, they sounded hypocritical and grating. She remained motionless, staring only at Si Chen's lowered eyelashes, and suddenly asked softly, her voice so soft that only the two of them could hear, yet every word pierced her heart:

"In these seven years, has the Imperial Preceptor ever... thought of me, even for a moment?"

Even just for a moment.

Si Chen looked up.

His pale gray eyes, like glass, reflected her face, but there was no ripple in them, as if he were looking at a jade sculpture that had nothing to do with him.

"Princess is too kind," he repeated, his voice still as steady as an ancient well. "His Majesty and all the officials and ministers have been thinking of the princess's triumphant return for a single day."

Chu Qingyue smiled. Her eyes crinkled into crescents, but her gaze was as cold as ice frozen for a thousand years. "Is that so?"

"That's quite a coincidence. I will never forget the great kindness of the Imperial Preceptor."

She spoke softly, then took a step back to create some distance, her voice suddenly rising with the ruthless authority of a battlefield commander: "Then please lead the way, Imperial Advisor. I have been away from home for seven years; it is time to report back to my father... properly."

Before he finished speaking, several princes came forward to greet him.

The eldest prince, Chu Xuanche, spoke first, his face beaming, but his eyes concealed a sharp edge: "Ninth sister has rendered such a great service, and I am honored by it! Was your journey long and arduous?"

Chu Qingyue returned the same insincere smile, her eyes icy cold: "Thanks to my royal brother, I've had a series of 'surprises' along the way. Especially the 'hospitality' shown by the three hundred assassins of the Blood Blade Sect when we passed through Black Wind Gorge, I will certainly 'repay' them properly."

Chu Xuanche's smile froze.

The Third Prince, Chu Xuanjing, stepped forward, fanning himself with a folding fan, exuding a gentle and refined air: "It's good that Ninth Princess has returned safely. The desolate and cold land of Beiming must have suffered a lot of injustices."

"Feeling wronged?" Chu Qingyue raised an eyebrow, her smile alluring. "It's quite amusing. Especially the Old King of Beiming, who eats a piece of meat every day, roasted to seven-tenths done, sprinkled with salt and spices, and watches him eat with relish, tears streaming down his face—that's how I feel that these seven years haven't been wasted."

She paused, then continued:

"If Third Brother is curious, I can demonstrate it myself at the Imperial Palace another day. I've heard... that Third Brother loves roasted meat the most?" Chu Xuanjing paused with his folding fan, his knuckles turning white.