Feng Jiu’er startled faintly, and then remembered that she was still holding Ninth Imperial Uncle around the waist.

Ninth Imperial Uncle’s waist, she had to admit, was extraordinarily comfortable to hold — it seemed she had no wish whatsoever to let go.

But she was a composed and proper young lady — she had only hugged him just now by accident, and now she absolutely could not continue to behave so improperly.

She must be composed. Composed… ahem!

“Ninth Imperial Uncle, are you certain you want to look at my face?” The little young lady buried in his chest tilted her lips into a faint, mischievous smile.

“Why shouldn’t I?” He had deliberately avoided looking at her just now, originally intending to give her a proper scolding.

Only, that one line of hers — “you spoiled me that way” — had left him completely without words of rebuttal.

Fine. He had spoiled her. He accepted that. Now, he simply wanted to look at her properly.

How long had it been since he had seen this girl?

In truth, it hadn’t seemed very long at all — yet why did it feel as though three autumns had passed?

“Ninth Imperial Uncle, I am going to lift my head now!” Feng Jiu’er let out a soft laugh, and then suddenly lifted her face from his chest.

Zhan Qingcheng’s gaze fell upon her face — and in the next moment, his five fingers clenched tightly, and a flash of cold fire passed through the depths of his eyes!

“Ninth Imperial Uncle, it really is me! I’m not a substitute!” One look at his expression and Feng Jiu’er knew she had startled him.

She hurriedly said, “The scar from before — I stuck it on deliberately!”

He said nothing. His gaze remained fixed on her face, yet his five fingers stayed tightly wound.

That large hand of his was still resting on her head. Feng Jiu’er very much wanted to remind him that he was pressing down so hard it hurt.

But beneath his stunned gaze, she decided to endure it.

At last, his hand slid down from her head, coming to rest on her face, his fingertips slowly tracing along her cheek.

Where once a scar had been, there was now only smooth, flawless skin.

She knelt sitting on the floor, looking up at him; he looked down, gently stroking her face.

In that moment, everything around them seemed to vanish, and time itself appeared to stand still. A quiet, tranquil beauty of the fleeting moment filled both of their hearts.

His silken hair slid from his shoulders, falling across Feng Jiu’er’s face, then drifting to her shoulder, where it intertwined with her own strands of hair.

That hand with its long, defined, pale fingers continued to softly stroke her smooth cheek, and within the depths of his contemplative eyes, a gentle luminescence shone through.

Feng Jiu’er looked up, gazing at this man whose beauty was so extraordinary it put even women to shame, and her heart grew heavy with a sweet sorrow — a single clear tear slid down the corner of her eye.

How heartachingly bittersweet it was, to be able to look at Ninth Imperial Uncle like this. She truly felt so fortunate — so fortunate that her heart wouldn’t stop aching, the ache making even the act of breathing difficult.

Zhan Qingcheng’s long finger swept across the corner of her eye, curling that single tear onto his fingertip. Then he lifted his hand, and brought that tear to his lips, tasting it.

The faintest saltiness, the faintest sourness, the faintest trace of her presence — that taste was branded upon the tip of his heart for a lifetime.

Feng Jiu’er drew a deep breath, steadied herself, and made the effort to push a smile toward him. “Well? Are you not wonderfully surprised by how beautiful I am?”

Zhan Qingcheng merely looked at her again with that same unhurried gaze, and then suddenly reached out, sweeping her entire person off the floor and pulling her up.

“Ninth Imperial Uncle!” Feng Jiu’er was nearly frightened out of her wits. Was he not gravely ill? How could he still exert such strength!

In an instant she fell into his embrace, and when she looked up again, his peerlessly beautiful face was right there, so very close.

“What is there to be surprised by? My Feng Jiu’er should always be this beautiful.”

Those words drifted into her ear like a clear breeze brushing over her heart, leaving her with a tingling, numbing warmth that was impossible to describe.

The two of them seemed not yet to have noticed that in holding each other like this, they had already moved far beyond the realm of ambiguity.

What worried Feng Jiu’er was whether Ninth Imperial Uncle’s body could bear the strain. “Ninth Imperial Uncle, let me down first.”

“Go where?” They had finally met again. To let her down — somehow, he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

“I’m afraid I’m too heavy — that I’ll press down on you.”

In response, Zhan Qingcheng lifted her once more and weighed her for a moment. “…You’re lighter.”

Feng Jiu’er muttered under her breath, “But I just ate so much in the kitchen — how could I possibly be lighter?”

“You are lighter.”

“……” Fine. Whatever Ninth Imperial Uncle said must be true. If he said she was lighter, then she was lighter.

Still, to keep holding her like this — it didn’t quite feel right.

“Ninth Imperial Uncle —”

“Mm?”

“Let me down first.” How strange — a few days apart, and yet this reunion felt more intimate than before.

Zhan Qingcheng finally obliged and set her down — but the moment Feng Jiu’er was placed on the bed, his tall frame pressed down over her.

“Ninth Imperial Uncle —” Feng Jiu’er’s entire body went taut in an instant.

If the posture from just moments ago had not quite been called ambiguous, then this — this was absolutely, undeniably so.

Him above, her below. What — what was he doing?

She bit her lip, so nervous her heart was thumping wildly — they hadn’t seen each other in days, and yet the very first meeting was this scorching. Her poor little heart could barely take it.

Especially after what she had promised him back at the Ninth Prince’s residence — that scene returned to her mind in a flash.

Her small face flushed a burning red. Could it be that Ninth Imperial Uncle wanted her to honor that promise, right now?

But — she hadn’t quite made up her mind yet…

Though after surviving this ordeal of life and death together, she did miss him deeply and terribly — yet he was Ninth Imperial Uncle, someone she was meant to respect, an elder — wait, was he actually her elder?

But Ninth Imperial Uncle was someone to be respected regardless. How could she possibly…?

Ah, ah, ah — Feng Jiu’er, what on earth are you thinking?

And yet, him pressing down on her like this — wasn’t he about to…?

“Ninth Imperial Uncle, you — you can’t —” Feng Jiu’er’s voice had grown so faint she could barely hear herself. “…Don’t do this.”

He leaned his head down; she instinctively turned her face away; his face thus came to rest against her neck.

His breath was not burning hot as it had been that other time — instead, it was slightly cool.

“Ninth Imperial Uncle —” Feng Jiu’er bit her lip, torn with conflict.

She should push him away — the two of them were truly not suited to this — yet Ninth Imperial Uncle… Ninth Imperial Uncle in the frail beauty of illness was simply breathtaking, staggering!

Her hand was trembling with the urge to act, every cell in her body crying out. She desperately wanted to forcefully knock him down, to pin herself on top of him, to tear apart his robes —

No, no — she hadn’t been thinking anything so barbaric, absolutely not!

It was only that Ninth Imperial Uncle, in his ill state — heavens! He was so alluring! So enticing! So devastatingly attractive!

Her fingers had already started to move. She was still holding herself back with all her might. She couldn’t — she absolutely could not — she couldn’t tear Ninth Imperial Uncle’s robe —

But if she told herself she couldn’t, then why were her hands clutching his lapels, trying to pull them apart?

By the time Feng Jiu’er realized her own hands were gripping Ninth Imperial Uncle’s lapels and already pulling them outward, she was utterly undone!

She had come so very close!

“Ninth Imperial Uncle, you — you — let me up first!” She really couldn’t hold on much longer!

But the person above her made no response. He only lay over her, gently holding her.

“Ninth Imperial Uncle —” Feng Jiu’er furrowed her brow slightly and turned her head to look at his face. “Ninth Imperial Uncle?”