“I—ngh—” Before Feng Jiu’er could finish speaking, she suddenly shoved him aside and ran out past everyone.

Behind her, a figure in plain white robes flashed past — by the time Feng Jiu’er had steadied herself, he was already at her side.

She was retching, and Zhan Qingcheng, at a loss for what to do, finally pressed his large hand to her back, sending a warm surge of true qi flowing into her at once.

“Ninth Imperial Uncle, I’m not unwell, I… ngh — it’s just my stomach, it’s not feeling right.”

“No— A’Jiu, she isn’t sick, don’t do anything rash.”

With outsiders present, Emperor Ji couldn’t bring himself to call out the name “Wuya” — but then, he hadn’t called Zhan Qingcheng by that name since he was very small anyway.

In the end, he, too, like Nanmeng Rong, could only call him A’Jiu.

Zhan Qingcheng didn’t understand what was happening; all he knew was that his girl looked terribly unwell.

So the true qi pressed against her back, far from being withdrawn, seemed to grow heavier by the moment.

“Ninth Imperial Uncle, I’m fine, please stop!” Feng Jiu’er, startled pale by him, said, “Ninth Imperial Uncle, your true qi — your true qi is making me feel worse.”

Zhan Qingcheng froze, and at last the true qi in his palm slowly faded, until he was only patting her back gently.

Back when he himself had been unwell, Jiu’er had patted his back in just this same way.

The Ninth Prince had never once looked after anyone in his life; now, tending to Miss Jiu’er, even his movements were unmistakably clumsy.

Still, all the brothers standing nearby felt their hearts warmed by this gesture from their prince.

Ever since Miss Jiu’er had appeared, this kind of warmth the prince now showed could practically charm anyone — including, ahem, the men among them.

So beautiful, so devastating — and yet why did he have to be born a man?

Of course, a thought like that could never be allowed to reach the Ninth Prince’s ears, or else… it would surely mean death without pardon!

“I’m all right now, Ninth Imperial Uncle, really.” Feng Jiu’er pressed a hand to her chest, finally managing to steady her breathing.

She was a physician herself, and yet she had no idea what was actually wrong with her — why would she suddenly start retching for no reason at all?

Perhaps it had simply been the Empress’s pouting display just now — truly too much to bear — that had given her fragile stomach an unexpected jolt.

“I really am fine now. Ninth Imperial Uncle, if you’ve finished eating, let’s take some pastries and get back on the road.”

There was no time to lose — time was already short, and besides, before entering Nanman, they still needed to find a way to shake off the Empress first.

In short, there was simply too much to deal with; not a moment could be wasted.

Zhan Qingcheng said nothing. He simply bent down suddenly and swept her up into his arms.

“Ninth Imperial Uncle, your body—”

“In your eyes, am I really so fragile?” He glanced down at her, a trace of displeasure in his eyes.

Feng Jiu’er bit her lip and dared not say another word — wasn’t that practically doubting his abilities as a man? A man as proud as the Ninth Imperial Uncle could never be allowed such doubt.

That would be a crime worthy of execution… no, worthy of seeking out one’s own death.

Behind them, Leng Yue watched with a surge of fury, wishing she could march over, tear Feng Jiu’er from her lord’s arms, and hurl her right off the mountainside.

Knowing full well their lord’s body was still unwell, still bearing such heavy injuries, and yet that woman dared let him exert himself carrying her!

This Feng Jiu’er really was growing more and more reckless!

And yet, remarkably, neither Nanmeng Rong nor Emperor Ji showed any reaction at all to seeing the injured Zhan Qingcheng carry Feng Jiu’er in his arms.

They merely watched the two retreating figures, lost in thought.

Once the pair ahead had boarded the carriage and disappeared from sight, Emperor Ji finally came back to himself, his voice still somewhat wooden. “Yue’er, let’s go.”

Leng Yue wheeled him along, walking sullenly toward the carriage.

Along the way, Emperor Ji still couldn’t help glancing back at Wuya’s carriage in the distance.

That girl, Feng Jiu’er… could she have gotten pregnant?

According to what Yu Jingfeng had said, back when they were still at the Ninth Prince’s estate, the two of them had already been sleeping together — counting the days, it had been nearly a month now.

Did that mean… the Di family finally had an heir? Truly, an heir at last?

Heavens! The Di family finally had someone to carry on the line…

“Your Majesty, shall we… also get on the road?” Qing Ye stood carefully beside the Empress, gently reminding her.

The Empress’s expression looked dreadful, like storm clouds pressing down — everyone knew that at any moment she might erupt in fury and take it out on whoever was nearby.

But surprisingly, today the Empress broke entirely from her usual temper — she simply lowered her head and quietly returned to her own carriage.

Once seated inside, she said nothing more, and gave no further instructions.

The Longqi Army’s procession set out, and Qing Ye could only direct their own ranks to follow along.

Sure enough, once they emerged from the ravine, the Empress’s own retinue of over a hundred people was already waiting there.

The two groups merged into a procession of over two hundred people, which made for a rather imposing sight.

Still, the road to Nanman ahead would pass through quite a few treacherous stretches.

Now that even the Empress was here, word would soon spread through the capital that the Ninth Prince and the Empress had set out together.

This act of the Empress’s was, to the imperial family, nothing short of a complete loss of face.

…And indeed, back in the capital, the news was already stirring up a storm!

“Your Majesty, the Empress’s conduct has been improper — this much is already fact. As Sovereign of the realm, if Your Majesty does not act, I fear it will be difficult to silence the murmurs of the people.”

“Your Majesty, the very reason the Empress dares act this way is that the Nanmeng clan’s influence at court has grown so unchecked. Were that not so, would a woman of the inner palace ever dare to be so brazen?”

These were two of Emperor Qiwen’s most trusted confidants — Chancellor Yang Zhongliang, and the Imperial Preceptor, Cui Yuansong.

Both had followed Emperor Qiwen for many years; otherwise, they would never have dared say such things directly to the sovereign’s face.

Yang Zhongliang wore a deeply worried expression, his brow furrowed tight, the lines at his temples deep and heavy.

He said gravely, “Your Majesty, the Nanmeng clan’s influence at court grows greater by the year. I fear that before long, the Empress will hold Your Majesty in even less regard.”

“Your Majesty, it is time the Nanmeng clan’s power was reined in!”

Seated on his jade throne, Emperor Qiwen looked conflicted. He shook his head. “A’Jiu would never have any improper affair with the Empress… A’Jiu is simply not that sort of man.”

“Your subject knows the Ninth Prince has never had much interest in women — besides, the Empress is old enough to be his mother.”

Who would ever believe that the Ninth Prince and the Empress were carrying on in secret?

“But Your Majesty, the truly critical matter now is that the common people know the Empress went there to chase after the Ninth Prince.”

This was no longer a question of whether a secret affair existed — it was that the imperial family’s dignity had been utterly destroyed by this act of the Empress’s.

“Even if the Ninth Prince has no interest, and it’s only the Empress’s one-sided infatuation, this kind of matter cannot easily be explained away.” The Imperial Preceptor shook his head as well, helplessly. “Unless the Ninth Prince personally deals with the Empress to prove his innocence to the world… but the Ninth Prince has never cared what others think of him. Asking him to go out of his way to prove his innocence — I fear the Ninth Prince would have no interest in doing such a thing.”