“Whoosh.”
Jing Hengbo, having steadied herself, raised her eyes to survey the surroundings. Before her lay a ferry crossing, where drooping willows swayed gracefully, their pale green branches sweeping across the dark prow of a black awning boat.
Her heart leaped with joy.
“Hey! Boatman!” She raised her hand to hail the ferryman sleeping on the boat. “Take me to the other side!”
The boatman lazily rose and poled the boat over.
“Ten copper coins for the crossing,” the boatman said in a low voice.
“No problem!” Jing Hengbo patted the emerald at her waist, flush with wealth.
Emeralds were priceless treasures—one alone was worth at least a top-tier villa in a first-class city. She was practically carrying seven or eight luxury homes as she wandered the world!
She stepped onto the gangplank and looked back. The path she’d come stretched endlessly behind her, empty and devoid of any human figures.
“Idiots, can’t catch up now, can you? Haha.” Jing Hengbo laughed heartily and prepared to duck into the cabin.
The boatman, wrapped in a straw raincoat, sat at the bow with his back to her, gazing distantly toward the opposite shore.
As Jing Hengbo bent down to enter the cabin, she suddenly felt a flutter of unease, sensing something was wrong, though she couldn’t pinpoint what.
She turned back to look at the boatman.
The boatman kept his head down, focused on working the oar, appearing perfectly normal.
Jing Hengbo had always been lazy—if she couldn’t figure something out, she absolutely wouldn’t rack her brains over it. She shrugged and simply gave up. Only now, with her mind somewhat at ease, did she notice how unbearably dirty her face felt. Abandoning all propriety, she crawled to the boat’s edge to scoop up water and wash her face.
The river water was clear and bright, reflecting her face—reflecting skin as lustrous and pure white as magnolia petals, a pointed chin, lips redder and more alluring than most, and those eyes that sparkled with precious light. Her eyes weren’t particularly large, yet they possessed extremely graceful curves. Her double eyelids lifted at the outer corners like a pair of spread butterfly wings, their tips carrying dancing spring light. Her lips naturally curved upward, always seeming to hold three parts joy, but upon closer inspection, it looked more like allure—such bold, provocative charm that made hearts itch with the fear of encountering a thorned rose.
Such beauty always intoxicated narcissistic souls. As Jing Hengbo washed, she became entranced for the ten-thousandth time: “Such beautiful skin… such lovely eyes… so beautiful…”
The boat seemed to shudder.
The flowing river water made her reflection ripple with brilliant red—she wore a body-hugging crimson dress, tight-fitting, hip-hugging, low-cut, revealing magnificent cleavage.
Jing Hengbo’s hand froze.
She remembered what had seemed wrong!
Dressed as she was—which would be considered outrageous exotic attire here—how could this ferryman show not the slightest surprised expression?
Her heart began pounding faster and faster, nearly leaping to her throat. In an instant, she wanted to turn and look at the ferryman, wanted to scream, wanted to jump into the water immediately. Yet after several thoughts flashed through her mind, she remained motionless.
She merely shifted her gaze to look at the ferryman’s reflection in the water.
She saw that the ferryman’s oar wasn’t even touching the water’s surface, yet the boat moved swiftly forward.
She saw the ferryman’s spine was perfectly straight with a graceful posture.
She saw the ferryman’s shadowy reflection in the water, his face distorted by the ripples, revealing only the vague outline of longish sideburns falling along his cheeks.
Jing Hengbo drew in a breath and began slowly moving toward the stern, her hands clenched tight.
Her expression grew strange, as if she were gathering strength to do something, to the point that beads of sweat appeared on her nose.
The moment her body shifted, the ferryman—as if he had eyes in the back of his head—turned around.
…
Before Jing Hengbo could see his face, she only caught sight of those long sideburns sweeping outward as she immediately raised both hands and swung them fiercely.
“Get down!”
“Splash!” The unsuspecting ferryman fell backward into the water.
Jing Hengbo stood on the boat, instantly drenched in sweat, her fingers trembling, her face flushed red.
She could teleport herself and move objects through space, but her previous experiments had all involved small items—she’d never tried anything as large as a human body.
Using every ounce of strength she had, she’d managed to succeed in one attempt, instantly hurling the large object into the water.
“Splash!” The large object surfaced, black hair plastered wetly to his face, exposed skin gleaming with crystalline light.
He stared at Jing Hengbo, the anger in his eyes fading, replaced instead by intense curiosity.
He was certain that just moments ago, Her Great Majesty the Queen had absolutely, definitely not touched so much as a single hair on him, nor could she have possibly touched him.
How had she struck? Was it the most advanced and mystical martial technique—striking a bull from across a mountain?
But it didn’t look like that at all…
Jing Hengbo gaped, watching the black-robed beautiful State Preceptor slowly rise from the water.
Holy crap.
This was like a sci-fi movie.
Dawn had broken, and sunlight set half the river surface ablaze with gold. The man’s limbs remained motionless as he rose gracefully from the waves, water droplets continuously rolling off his clothes, spreading ripples in the pale golden aurora of daylight.
This pose resembled a lotus bloom opening in the wind—unfortunately, it was black.
Jing Hengbo watched as his skin became nearly transparent in the sunlight, his wet black hair quickly drying strand by strand, the black locks gently lifting in the breeze…
Jing Hengbo rushed to the bow, grabbed the oar, and began frantically rowing!
At first the boat spun in circles on the water’s surface, but fortunately she’d always been clever and learned quickly. After a few strokes, the boat began moving backward, though painfully slowly. Anxious, she glanced back—