Her collar was pulled open. The cool touch of early autumn seeped in from the nape of her neck down to her collarbone. Feng Jiu’er was startled and hastily pulled her clothes back together.

“Ninth Imperial Uncle, you —”

“What of it? I am not permitted to look at your body?” Zhan Qingcheng’s expression remained exactly as it always was, yet it carried a sharpness that was more cutting than usual.

The cold air between his brows told Feng Jiu’er clearly — this man was angry.

What had he become angry about? Had he discovered something amiss?

“Ninth Imperial Uncle, your body is not well — let me attend to your bath instead, and rest early. Tomorrow there is still —”

He leaned back against the edge of the bed, his gaze resting on her body, his tone distant. “This Prince told you to undress.”

Feng Jiu’er went still. She knew he was not joking — he was genuinely angry right now.

The Ninth Imperial Uncle had always been indulgent with her. And that was precisely why she had forgotten — the Ninth Imperial Uncle had never been a man of gentle temper. In truth, his temper was not gentle in the slightest. Tonight’s Ninth Imperial Uncle was cold and unyielding in a way that made the heart flinch.

“You… what exactly are you trying to say?” She lowered her head, clutching the collar he had pulled loose, but she did not move.

“Does this Prince need to say it a third time?”

“Ninth Imperial Uncle, how can you be so fierce? I —”

“Put away that glib expression of yours!” Zhan Qingcheng’s gaze darkened with displeasure, and his voice sharpened. “Undress.”

Feng Jiu’er’s fingertips trembled. It had to be said — even in his current state of grave injury, the authority and chill he radiated were not to be underestimated. To face the Ninth Imperial Uncle’s anger head-on truly felt… quite difficult. Wheedling and cajoling would get her nowhere. Tonight, it seemed she truly could not escape this.

Feng Jiu’er had no choice. She took a deep breath and pulled off her upper garment.

But when the fabric reached her arms, she instinctively stopped.

One more pull, and he would see the wound on her arm. But given how angry the Ninth Imperial Uncle was tonight — had he already guessed?

How long could a single lie hold before the Ninth Imperial Uncle? Had his physical state not been so poor these days, leaving him little attention for anything else, such a small thing would have been exposed long ago.

No one could maintain a deception at the Ninth Imperial Uncle’s side for long. She had been rather fortunate.

At last, she had no choice but to let the garment fall away. The linen wrapping around her forearm was immediately and plainly exposed.

Zhan Qingcheng’s gaze fell on the wound, and his already cold face held not the faintest trace of warmth.

Feng Jiu’er felt a creeping unease. Having a grown young woman undress before a man like this — left with nothing but a thin inner garment — was already deeply uncomfortable in itself.

But what she feared far more now was that upon seeing her wound, the Ninth Imperial Uncle would be furious enough to tear her apart.

He detested being deceived above all else, did he not? Then what she had done — did this count as deceiving him?

Yet he still said nothing. Feng Jiu’er did not know what to do. She wanted to explain, but in truth there was nothing to explain.

Time passed, one moment at a time. Neither of them had moved. Neither had said another word.

How long it went on, she could not say. Feng Jiu’er drew a slow breath and finally raised her face, stealing a glance at him. “Ninth Imperial Uncle…”

From outside came the sound of several sets of footsteps.

Only then did Jiu’er suddenly remember — she had told them to bring bathwater for the Ninth Imperial Uncle. When they delivered the bathwater, usually, if they had a free hand they would knock, but when no one was available to do so, they would simply push the door open and come straight in.

The Longqi Army brothers were not here now. Only the Feilong Shi’er Qi remained, and every one of them had tasks to attend to. There would certainly be no spare hands available.

They were going to push the door straight open.

The footsteps had already reached the door. Feng Jiu’er was so frightened that her heart nearly seized. There was no time to pull her clothes back on now.

A sudden gust rushed past her. Jiu’er stumbled, barely able to stay upright, and crashed headlong into a broad, solid chest.

When she came back to her senses, a quilt had fallen over her, covering every inch of her half-exposed body.

And she… found herself sprawled against the Ninth Imperial Uncle’s chest, held fast and secure in his arms.

They were pressed impossibly close — her chest pressed against his firm torso — and the feeling was… indescribably mortifying.

The door swung open. Long Twelve and Long Eleven each carried two buckets of water inside. When they looked up upon entering, they were met with the sight of the two people tangled together on the bed. Long Twelve froze on the spot and entirely forgot to step forward.

“Twelve, what are you blocking for?” Long Eleven, just behind him, kicked him.

Under normal circumstances, Long Twelve would never have taken notice of such a casual kick. But his mind was not exactly functioning at its sharpest right now. Long Eleven’s kick sent Long Twelve tumbling straight to the ground. The two buckets of bathwater splashed and spilled everywhere, leaving the room in a sudden, spectacular state of chaos.

Long Eleven stood wide-eyed, wondering if he had seen a ghost — what on earth had gotten into Twelve?

But when Long Twelve fell, Long Eleven finally got a clear view of what was happening on the bed.

The Ninth Prince was holding Miss Jiu’er in his arms, both of them covered by the quilt. The Prince’s clothing was still more or less in order, but what he had caught a glimpse of just now — that was Miss Jiu’er’s shoulder, accidentally exposed…

Miss Jiu’er had no clothes on, and the Prince was holding her in his arms. The two of them were… oh, oh, oh! Why was the door not locked? No — it had seemed to be closed. But then why hadn’t they waited for the bathwater to be delivered and bathed and changed first before… before doing that?

He hadn’t meant to see it! If only he had known, he would never have kicked that leg out no matter what.

Now here he stood, gaping at the two people on the bed holding each other, Twelve flat on the floor — and the awkwardness of it all was simply unbearable.

“Your… Your Highness, please forgive us!” Both of them finally snapped to their senses.

Long Eleven immediately dropped to one knee. Long Twelve, who had barely managed to pick himself up from the ground, had bath water dripping from his hair, the sodden strands now plastered flat against his face. He too dropped to one knee, absolutely terrified, and pleaded, “Your Highness — please forgive us. It was… it was all Eleven’s fault…”

“Pfft.”

From beneath the quilt on the Ninth Prince’s bed, the girl who had been buried under it finally could not hold it in — and burst out laughing. “Ha — hahaha, hahahahahahaha…”

All three men in the room wore equally darkened expressions, a string of exasperation written plainly across their faces.

Was it really that funny? Did she even know what she looked like right now? Bare-skinned and draped across a man, and she still had the audacity to laugh this shamelessly?

Long Eleven and Long Twelve were truly terrified. So the Ninth Prince and Miss Jiu’er really were… truly that kind of relationship.

Yet Miss Jiu’er was, after all, a young unmarried woman. Now that they had walked in on this, would they be silenced?

Well — perhaps that was thinking too ill of Miss Jiu’er…

At last, the Ninth Prince’s cold, flat voice put an end to all the awkwardness: “Get out.”

“Yes, Your Highness — this subordinate is getting out immediately!”

Long Eleven and Long Twelve hastily grabbed the water buckets from the floor and made their gleeful exit. Not having been silenced was, of course, entirely delightful.