This is the most secluded spot in the Song Mansion.
A small pavilion stood by the lake, its eaves curving upward at the corners.
The lake wasn’t large, and the water was still, dark and heavy, like a piece of ink jade forgotten in the garden.
It was very dark all around.
The distant corridor had no lanterns lit. Only a slender moon hung in the sky, cold and clear.
The light it cast was equally cold and thin, spread thinly across the ground.
In the daytime, this place was excellent.
It had the shimmer of the lake, the shadow of the pavilion, flowers, and trees—one of the most elegant scenic spots in the Song Mansion.
But at night, all that remained was chill and solitude. Even the chirping of insects was sparse.
Song Ning, supported by Xia Ling, walked under the pavilion.
He reached out, groped for the edge of the stone chair, and slowly sat down.
“You two go back first.”
“I have a few words to say to Junyue.”
Xia Ling froze, puzzled, and asked:
“Young Master, we should stay here to serve you.”
In the past, for many matters, Song Ning would at least keep one of the two sisters by his side.
Today, he wasn’t keeping a single one? In a place this dark and unlit?
Her gaze swept through the darkness. The lake was black, the trees were black, the pavilion was black—nothing was clear.
And with the Young Master’s eyes unable to see, what if something happened?
Xia Shuang, holding her sword, stood to the side, her gaze fixed intently on Qin Junyue.
She was clearly uneasy, completely uneasy about leaving Qin Junyue alone here.
Song Ning shook his head, his tone faint:
“It’s fine. You two stay far away. If anything happens, I’ll call for you.”
He sighed helplessly inwardly.
On a normal day, he would at least have kept Xia Shuang by his side. Otherwise, it would be too inconvenient.
He couldn’t see, and there would be no one around. But today’s matter—how could he let them know?
The fewer people who knew about that night’s incident, the better.
Xia Ling opened her mouth, about to say more:
“But Young Master, here…”
Qin Junyue interrupted with a smile, her voice clear and bright:
“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of Young Master Song here. Nothing will happen.”
Song Ning’s expression didn’t change. He nodded:
“I have important matters to discuss with her. Hurry along.”
Xia Ling bit her lip and tugged at Xia Shuang’s sleeve.
“Alright.”
Xia Shuang glanced at Qin Junyue, then at Song Ning. Finally, she turned and followed Xia Ling.
Their footsteps gradually faded away, growing lighter and lighter, farther and farther, until they disappeared into the night.
The wind blew quietly.
Ripples spread across the lake’s surface. Moonlight leaked through the gaps in the clouds, falling on the pavilion’s roof, on the stone chair, on the two people.
Qin Junyue quickly took off her outer robe and draped it over Song Ning’s shoulders.
“The night is deep.” Her voice carried a hint of flattery, a hint of caution.
“Young Master Song shouldn’t catch a chill. If you get sick, it would be so worrisome.”
Song Ning felt the warm outer robe on his shoulders and coughed lightly twice, his voice indifferent:
“Thank you for your concern.”
He tilted his head, “looking” in Qin Junyue’s direction.
“Are they far enough away?”
Qin Junyue mobilized her internal power, sensing the two sisters’ auras.
In the distance, two auras—one strong, one weak—were slowly moving farther away, growing fainter and fainter, receding beyond the range of hearing.
“They’re far enough.” She withdrew her internal power and replied.
“What does Young Master Song wish to say to me?”
Under the pavilion, she sat beside Song Ning, leaning her cheek on her hand, gazing at his face in the darkness. Her heartbeat quickened slightly.
Another gust of cool wind blew.
The water ripples on the lake shattered even more. Moonlight was kneaded into scattered pieces of silver foil, floating on the surface.
In the dead of night, silence settled between them.
Song Ning didn’t speak.
He just sat there quietly, his fingers resting on his knees, motionless.
But Qin Junyue knew something was about to happen. A wave of indescribable unease surged in her heart.
“I’m sorry, Young Master Song.” She lowered her head, her voice carrying apology and regret.
“It was my fault. I shouldn’t have mentioned you in front of Prince Xin, and I certainly shouldn’t have said everything. I caused you trouble.”
“In the future, I won’t make this mistake again.”
She bowed her head very low, her posture respectful, like a student who had made a mistake, standing before the teacher, awaiting punishment.
Qin Junyue respected him too much.
Not because he had saved her life before, not because he had taught her military strategy and ancient texts, and not because he had given her so much guidance.
Simply because he was him. The person who had lived in her heart since she was a teenager.
The person she had looked up to for all these years.
In her heart, she wished she could place Song Ning on a pedestal in the heavens.
Song Ning shook his head.
He lifted his hand from his knee and reached toward Qin Junyue.
“Give me your hand.”
Qin Junyue was a bit confused but didn’t hesitate. She obediently placed her hand in his.
Song Ning touched this hand.
His fingers slid from the back of her hand to her fingers, from her fingers to the spaces between them, from the spaces to her palm.
This hand—too familiar.
The knuckles were distinct, the bones prominent when touched. The fingers were long and strong.
This hand, on that night, had lifted him up entirely.
This hand had groped all over his body, from top to bottom, from front to back.
This hand had inserted fingers into his mouth, sucking, stirring, with mockery and possession.
He couldn’t possibly mistake it again.
Song Ning’s breathing grew heavier.
He let go of her hand, raised it, and placed it on her face.
His fingers touched her cheek.
Her face had higher cheekbones, a sharper jawline.
This face.
He was completely certain of his conclusion.
The person that night was not Qi Chuyao.
It was Qin Junyue.
No wonder.
No wonder that night, “Qi Chuyao” had never spoken a complete sentence.
Song Ning remembered now—that night’s “Qi Chuyao” had barely uttered a single coherent sentence.
From beginning to end, she only said a few words, all slurred, as if drunk, or as if intentional.
So she hadn’t dared to speak! Afraid that opening her mouth would give her away, afraid her voice would be recognized, afraid he would know it was her.
Song Ning’s hand stopped on her face, motionless, his fingers trembling slightly.
Qin Junyue could feel his fingers against her cheek, cool, trembling faintly.
She could feel his breathing grow heavier, his chest heaving more widely.
A terrifying thought gradually surfaced in Qin Junyue’s heart.
Could it be… could it be that he already…
She didn’t dare think further. Her ears buzzed, her mind went blank.
She wanted to say something—explain, apologize, beg for mercy, anything—but her throat felt blocked, and not a single word could squeeze out.
Silence fell between them once again.
The water ripples on the lake smoothed. The moon hid behind the clouds. Even the wind stopped.
The entire world seemed to hold its breath, waiting for an answer.
With a thump,
Qin Junyue dropped to her knees in front of Song Ning. Not on one knee, but both.
Her body leaned forward slightly, her hands on the ground, her head low, her forehead nearly touching his knees. She looked up at him from close range.
From his knees upward, she saw his hand, his chin, his lips, his eyes.
Those white eyes were fixed on her, unfocused, but she knew he was looking at her.
Suddenly, a strong wind gusted.
The night wind swept across the lake, howling.
The outer robe on Song Ning’s shoulder was caught by the wind, tumbling through the air, before fluttering softly to the ground, landing beside Qin Junyue’s knee.
Moonlight leaked through the gaps in the clouds again, brighter than before. It shone coldly on the pavilion, on the lake, on the two of them.
Beneath the moonlight, the female general knelt and looked up.
The young man sat on the stone chair, one hand touching her hand, the other touching her face.
“Qin Junyue.” Song Ning finally spoke.
Qin Junyue’s body trembled violently.
“You have some nerve,” he said through gritted teeth.