At this point, Sima Qing had clearly laid his cards on the table.
He had long known about Jiu Yue’s past connection with Prince Ping.
Jiu Yue let out a soft scoff and shook her head slightly. "Who knows? I’m tired of putting on an act for him every day."
"You really don’t rember?" Sima Qing pressed.
Jiu Yue declared with utmost seriousness, "I’ve genuinely forgotten everything from before."
Now that things were out in the open, there was no reason for her to lie.
Sima Qing was inclined to believe her.
They had already analyzed her behavior in the Regent’s residence—none of it seed like an act.
"As for Prince Ping, he probably just can’t bear to lose my skills but is also afraid I’ll suddenly rember the past and turn against him," Jiu Yue shrugged, leaning back and closing her eyes slightly.
At the end of the day, Prince Ping was an utterly selfish man. Whether it was the original host or Consort Xue, they were all just tools to him.
Sima Qing stared into the fire, silent for a mont before speaking. "Then today’s stab wound should ease his suspicions sowhat."
Jiu Yue froze, listening as he continued.
"Last ti, you only stabbed my leg," Sima Qing said, narrowing his eyes with a faintly ominous tone. "Prince Ping probably understands your abilities better than anyone. Even if you claim it was an accident during the assassination attempt—that you fell off a cliff—he wouldn’t fully believe it."
"But today’s stab wound was delivered in front of everyone. You drove the blade into my chest with your own hands," Sima Qing t her gaze directly. "He saw it with his own eyes… That’s the wound he’ll truly believe."
Jiu Yue’s eyes widened slowly, realization dawning.
…So this impromptu stab was ant to dispel Prince Ping’s doubts about her.
Sima Qing had aid the strike with precision—just an inch lower, and he’d have been at death’s door.
Her expression grew increasingly complicated as she looked at him.
Even his own life was part of the sche… Did these people have no fear of overcomplicating things?
For a mont, she was silent. Then, as if rembering sothing, she asked, "So, you’ve known from the start that I had ties to Prince Ping."
Though phrased as a question, her tone was matter-of-fact.
Sima Qing lowered his head, inspecting his wound.
Silence spoke louder than words.
Jiu Yue was thoroughly displeased, feeling like a fool.
"If you knew I was targeting Prince Ping, why toy with all this ti?"
Sima Qing sighed, eting her irritated gaze. "I thought it was another one of Prince Ping’s sches… It wasn’t until our eting at Mist Lake that I realized what you ant by ‘cooperation.’"
Jiu Yue: "…"
A spark crackled in the fire. Seeing her on the verge of an outburst, Sima Qing’s eyelid twitched. He weakly raised a hand to his shoulder, as if urging her to calm down.
"Are you trying to finish off?" Pale from blood loss, he looked frail yet spoke with shaless boldness—almost like a challenge.
Jiu Yue: "…"
Just monts ago, he’d been too embarrassed to stay in the cave. Now, he had the audacity to act like this?
She gritted her teeth, deciding to let him off for now.
"Then apologize," she demanded, frowning.
Sima Qing: "…?"
He’d taken the wound.
He’d paid the price.
He’d been deceived too.
And now he had to apologize?
In that mont, Sima Qing gained a whole new understanding of the word "victim."
After a pause, under Jiu Yue’s death glare, he finally muttered, "…Sorry."
Jiu Yue crossed her arms. "And compensation. Call it emotional damages."
"Oh, and the undercover mission in Prince Ping’s circle—that deserves extra reimbursent, right? I had to bribe people there too. No objections?"
"And most importantly!" Her face twisted briefly as she rubbed her arms.
"Prince Ping is a wolf in sheep’s clothing! A handsy creep who can’t keep his paws to himself! That counts as workplace harassnt—do you know how much I endured!?" She glared at him, aggrieved.
"…You’ve suffered," Sima Qing conceded, closing his eyes. "I have money."
Jiu Yue sniffed, cheerfully resting her head on her hands. "Many thanks, Your Highness. Working with you is such a pleasure… A few thousand taels will do, I suppose."
Sima Qing couldn’t help but laugh. "You’re a professional."
Jiu Yue tilted her head. "Huh?"
"At extortion," he clarified.
Last ti, she’d slamd the table demanding a hundred taels. Now, she was seizing the mont for thousands.
Sima Qing even looked at her curiously. "Why not just rob my chambers directly?"
Jiu Yue: "…"
She shot him a deadpan stare. "Cheapskate."
But Sima Qing studied her for a mont. "After Prince Ping is dead… will you leave?"
"Obviously," she answered without hesitation.
"Got other plans?" he pressed.
Jiu Yue shook her head, then nodded, eyeing him strangely. "Why do you ask?"
Sima Qing replied casually, "Just wondering… If you ever run out of money, you can co to ."
Jiu Yue eyed him suspiciously. "Since when are you this generous?"
His lip twitched as he closed his eyes again. "Perhaps you could see it differently—I’m not being generous. Just securing a talent."
"A peerless talent."
Jiu Yue’s lips curled smugly.
Life was looking up—she’d actually gotten a complint from this sarcastic man! Her skills must’ve won him over.
Heh.
The storm had co and gone swiftly, leaving the air fresh with vitality.
Jiu Yue heard the commotion just past the Hour of the Ox.
Sima Qing, after all, was injured and had long since fallen unconscious.
She crept closer, checking his breathing.
Still alive.
Relieved, she quickly changed into her now-dried maid’s attire, deliberately dirtied Sima Qing’s outer robe by dragging it on the ground, and slipped out of the cave.
She didn’t have to wait long before a group of torch-bearing guards arrived nearby.
Leading them was Fu Yu, his face tense with panic.
Assured, Jiu Yue silently withdrew.
…
"We found him! His Highness is here—"
Fu Yu’s eyes lit up.
"Disaster! His Highness is dead—"
Fu Yu’s face went ashen.
"Stop spouting nonsense—he’s still breathing! Barely, though…"
Fu Yu’s heart leapt to his throat. Fed up with the unreliable reports, he shoved his way to the front.
As torchlight flooded the cave, he imdiately spotted Sima Qing slumped in the far corner.
His hair was disheveled, robes torn, face marred with scratches and dried blood.
When had his lord ever been reduced to such a state?
Tears welled in Fu Yu’s eyes as he choked back a sob and rushed forward to examine him.
The wound below the shoulder had been bandaged. Scattered herbs lay by one of Sima Qing’s hands, the short blade by the other.
"Your Highness... this subordinate has arrived too late. Please hold on a little longer, Your Highness..." Fu Yu wiped away his tears, carefully avoiding Sima Qing's wounds as he lifted the prince into his arms.
"Inform His Majesty at once! Summon the imperial physicians!" Fu Yu shouted hoarsely.
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