Tonight, I’ll keep A’Jiu company…
The Empress’s words left most of the people in the tent stunned for a moment.
They had seen shameless before, but never shameless to this degree!
She was the reigning Empress, mother of the nation, who had even borne the Emperor a son — and that son, the Crown Prince, was now nearly the same age as the Ninth Prince.
The Crown Prince was closing in on twenty-five; the Ninth Prince himself was only twenty-six.
A woman old enough to have a twenty-five-year-old son, standing before an accomplished young man of twenty-six and declaring she’d spend the night looking after him in bed — it was disgusting enough to make anyone want to die.
Feng Jiu’er felt a little like throwing up — and she wasn’t joking. She’d probably just been sleeping poorly lately, and her stomach hadn’t been great to begin with.
She pressed a hand to her chest, trying to settle her breathing.
“Where does it hurt?” With so many people crowded into the tent, Zhan Qingcheng’s attention could really only ever land on a handful of them.
The moment Emperor Ji uttered the word “Father,” his gaze had returned to his Jiu’er and refused to leave her again.
The Empress had been startled at first that A’Jiu would call this old man “Father” — but then, A’Jiu had always been fond of wanderers from the martial world, so taking one as an adoptive father wasn’t anything strange.
The imperial household had so many rules, yet none of them had ever applied to A’Jiu — he never bothered with such tedious formalities.
But seeing how much A’Jiu fussed over Feng Jiu’er, her composure shattered in an instant. “A’Jiu, men and women ought to keep their distance — if Feng Jiu’er is unwell, let a physician examine her!”
No one paid her any attention; it wasn’t even clear what tone she thought she had any right to address the Ninth Prince with.
Still, Leng Yue actually agreed with the Empress’s words — men and women should keep their distance, so why was he always holding her this way and that?
If Feng Jiu’er wasn’t feeling well, shouldn’t she simply see a physician?
“I’m fine.” Jiu’er shook her head. With so many people crowded inside the tent, it genuinely felt suffocating to breathe.
She gently pushed away the large hand Zhan Qingcheng had wrapped around hers, and glanced at Yu Jingfeng.
Yu Jingfeng immediately set the food down on the low table and carried the whole table over in front of the couch.
Zhan Qingcheng looked at Emperor Ji. “Father, will you join us to eat?”
Emperor Ji said nothing, but Leng Yue had already wheeled him past Nanmeng Rong and up to the table.
Nanmeng Rong’s expression darkened by degrees, but to expect a man as proud as Zhan Qingcheng to pay her any mind — even she knew that was impossible.
Feng Jiu’er, not wanting to stir up more trouble, looked at her and said, “Your Majesty, would you like to join us?”
She was still standing there holding the tray, looking rather out of place.
Though Nanmeng Rong truly disliked having Feng Jiu’er play hostess and extend her such an invitation, this at least gave her a way to save face.
She had no choice but to carry the tray over, personally setting out the pastries in front of Zhan Qingcheng.
“A’Jiu, I had these pastries made with great care — try them.”
The way Nanmeng Rong looked at Zhan Qingcheng was utterly girlish, brimming with adoration, with no attempt whatsoever to hide it.
Now that she’d left the capital to come all this way, Empress Rong no longer felt any need to conceal her feelings for the Ninth Prince — could this be called devotion enough to move heaven and earth?
If she hadn’t had a husband and a son already, perhaps a feeling like this truly could have shaken the world.
Feng Jiu’er’s stomach began to churn faintly again, but to spare the Ninth Imperial Uncle from worry, she could only bear with it.
She lifted a bowl, hesitating over whether to feed the Ninth Imperial Uncle by hand — after all, there really were a lot of outsiders present.
Normally, when she looked after him, it was just the two of them alone, and no matter how affectionate things got between them in private, it never felt strange.
But now, under so many watching eyes, anything affectionate felt distinctly off.
She wasn’t Nanmeng Rong — she didn’t have skin quite that thick.
Zhan Qingcheng’s gaze settled on her, his brow knitting slightly. “What is it?”
“Nothing!” Feng Jiu’er could only steady her nerves, and without caring who was watching anymore, scooped up a spoonful of porridge and brought it toward his lips.
Nanmeng Rong and Leng Yue’s faces both darkened at once — this insufferable woman, how could she be so shameless!
With so many people in the tent, elders included, she dared to act so brazenly toward the Ninth Prince!
Feeding a man by hand — utterly shameless!
Feng Jiu’er had genuinely felt a bit awkward at first, but the Ninth Imperial Uncle had simply never been the sort to care what anyone else thought.
He took the spoonful of porridge she offered without so much as a blush, perfectly composed, not the slightest bit uneasy.
His tall frame sat on the soft couch, his long legs with nowhere to stretch out, forced instead to fold beneath him.
Feng Jiu’er’s arms simply weren’t long enough; to feed him properly, she had no choice but to lean her weight onto his legs, and gradually ended up practically lying across them.
She really hadn’t meant to — but whose fault was it that the Ninth Imperial Uncle’s legs were so long? Without leaning on them, there was simply no way to reach the spoon to his lips.
After she’d finally fed him two full bowls of porridge and was about to start on the pastries, Zhan Qingcheng suddenly reached out and scooped her straight into his arms.
Two murderous gazes immediately swept over toward them.
Pulled into the Ninth Imperial Uncle’s embrace, Feng Jiu’er felt her scalp prickle, and her stomach grew more unsettled by the moment.
Zhan Qingcheng said nothing — he simply held her against his chest, then picked up a pastry and brought it toward her lips.
Sweet as the gesture genuinely was, with this many people watching around them, it was more than a little uncomfortable to witness.
But the Ninth Imperial Uncle never bothered himself over people who meant nothing to him — whatever he wanted to do, no one had ever been able to stop him, not since he was a child.
Even Emperor Ji, watching this scene now, had eyes full of indulgence and tenderness, without a trace of reproach.
It was as if his precious adopted son could commit murder and arson right in front of him, and he would only think his boy was being charmingly willful.
Ah, with a doting father like that, no wonder the Ninth Imperial Uncle had grown up without any sense of propriety!
Though Feng Jiu’er didn’t fully understand the relationship between Emperor Ji and Zhan Qingcheng, she always felt that, as a child, the Ninth Imperial Uncle must have spent most of his time with this adoptive father.
The pastry was already at her lips, and it was the Ninth Imperial Uncle himself feeding her by hand — how could she refuse?
She opened her mouth…
“A’Jiu, I want some too!” Beside them, Nanmeng Rong, torn between fury and urgency, finally let her anger melt into a pout. “I want to eat some too!”
Zhan Qingcheng ignored her, but everyone else’s stomachs were turning over one after another.
Worst off was Feng Jiu’er — after her stomach churned violently once more, she finally couldn’t hold back and opened her mouth to retch!
Since she hadn’t eaten anything that morning yet, even retching brought up nothing at all.
She heaved, mouth open, but nothing came out!
Leng Yue froze, Yu Jingfeng startled, and Zhan Qingcheng’s brow furrowed tightly. “Where does it hurt?” Emperor Ji and Nanmeng Rong’s hearts both jolted, and the looks they gave Feng Jiu’er suddenly turned strange.