Of course, with the Ninth Imperial Uncle present, how could anyone possibly let Feng Jiu’er fall to her death?

At first, they truly did fall with the wind, their descent growing faster and faster. The gale lashed at her face, making it completely impossible for Feng Jiu’er to open her eyes. Afterward, the Ninth Imperial Uncle had her rest against his chest, and she could only bury her face there.

The howling wind still roared in her ears, making her head spin and her consciousness gradually grow hazy.

She had thought her own inner strength was already quite formidable. Yet this very night, even Shan Yi Dao had been startled by the power she had kept hidden.

But it turned out that her cultivation was still no match for even a tenth of the Ninth Imperial Uncle’s. He remained as calm and composed as ever, while she herself had nearly fainted.

There is always someone stronger — one mountain always rises higher than the last. Someone of the Ninth Imperial Uncle’s level was likely an existence she could never surpass in her entire lifetime.

At some point she could not pinpoint, the wind stopped. Her ears were comfortable again, and even her face, which had been stinging raw, gradually returned to calm.

The air around them was utterly tranquil. A breeze passed through, but it was cool and soothing — not the slightest bit unpleasant.

Where were they? The descent had been so violent, so painful — yet now she felt nothing at all. If anything, she felt comfortable.

Could it be that they had already ascended to heaven and were now living a heavenly life?

Feng Jiu’er lifted her head from Zhan Qingcheng’s embrace. What met her eyes was his face, incomparably handsome.

The Ninth Imperial Uncle simply gazed ahead with quiet detachment. His eyes were still as water, and he had always carried the ease of wind and the cool indifference of still waters.

Feng Jiu’er noticed that beyond his usual aloofness, he truly rarely wore any other expression.

Whether angry or happy, stirred or sorrowful — all of those emotions seemed to have nothing to do with the Ninth Imperial Uncle.

Even just moments ago, what he had done to her could only be called shameless and utterly mortifying — yet his face had remained perfectly calm, not a single ripple in his eyes.

If she could not feel that faint thread of care he held for her, even Jiu’er herself would have had to wonder whether the Ninth Imperial Uncle had a heart at all.

He doted on her — that much was obvious. And yet she still could not feel any warmth from him. It was as though a solemn father or elder brother were indulging his daughter or younger sister.

She could not see through what he truly felt toward her. But Jiu’er knew — there was indeed a little doting there, even if she did not understand why the Ninth Imperial Uncle would dote on her at all.

He said nothing. His large hand gave her a light push at her waist.

Feng Jiu’er was about to ask where they were, but in an instant, the sight before her struck her breathless and shook something deep within her soul.

“So beautiful…”

Fireflies danced through the air — so many, so many of them, as though they outnumbered even the stars in the sky.

Countless fireflies lit up that entire stretch of world. Though not as bright as daylight, their glow was more than enough for a person to see everything around them with perfect clarity.

“Little golden chrysanthemums!” She froze. Why were there so many little golden chrysanthemums? Blanketing the hillsides — blanketing everything! The fragrance was soul-stirring!

So the scent she had breathed in earlier — the one she had taken to be the fragrance of heaven — had been the little golden chrysanthemums all along.

Because she loved them so dearly, Jiu’er had always believed that whatever heaven smelled like, it must be exactly this: a boundless, all-encompassing chrysanthemum fragrance.

She let go of Zhan Qingcheng’s sleeve and ran forward. She stood within that sea of chrysanthemums, with dancing fireflies that seemed close enough to touch.

She stretched out her palm, and to her astonishment, a firefly truly did alight upon her fingertip, dancing lightly there.

How beautiful! How lovely! How truly heart-stirring!

A perfect night, a perfect scene — the language of insects, the perfume of flowers!

She forgot everything she had been through that night. She even forgot who she was. She only knew that even if the whole world were that dark, there would always be a place like this somewhere.

This place — bright, harmonious, tranquil, and warm.

This place had the little golden chrysanthemums she loved, had the fireflies she had adored in her modern life yet so rarely had the chance to see, and had the Ninth Imperial Uncle — familiar to her…

In that sudden moment, she realized she truly, truly liked this man.

In the instant she turned to look back at him, he stood tall and graceful amid the sea of chrysanthemums, fireflies swirling around him, casting a mysterious yet serene radiance upon his refined features.

That robe — forever plain white and immaculate — swept lightly in the wind, his sleeves billowing, his hair streaming. It was truly beautiful. Words could not capture how beautiful.

She suddenly stepped forward and ran to him, throwing her arms around him in one swift motion.

“I’m sorry, Ninth Imperial Uncle. I only wanted a hug — just one hug.”

She truly only wanted it — a sudden, overwhelming urge to hold him. Nothing improper. Nothing disrespectful.

It was simply that, all at once, she felt how familiar they were to each other, how deeply she depended on him.

This kind of dependence — she had never felt it even toward her parents when she was small.

Everyone knew that she, Feng Jiu, was strong. She had been strong from the very beginning.

Everyone believed she needed no one to lean on, that she was capable of what others could not do.

At sixteen, she had taken first place in the national surgical simulation competition. After that, she had been directly admitted to the Military Medical University ahead of the usual process. For all these years, she had been one of the top students at the school.

Completing a master’s program alongside her bachelor’s degree was already beyond the reach of most people — and yet, while still a student, she had already been accompanying special forces units on missions.

So young, yet with a spirit anything but small. Everyone knew — Feng Jiu was simply that formidable. She had absolutely no need for any man!

And yet, Jiu’er truly needed someone right now. When she was lost and helpless, when she was suffering and in pain, when her heart ached and she did not know what to do — she needed someone to offer her a shoulder, so she could cry freely without holding anything back.

It turned out that no matter how strong a woman was, no matter how cheerful she appeared on the surface, there would always be a thread of fragility hiding at the deepest part of her heart.

Zhan Qingcheng pressed her head gently into his embrace, and Feng Jiu’er finally began to sob softly.

“Ninth Imperial Uncle, you let me handle this matter — were you trying to tell me that in the future, there may be even more situations like this? That perhaps even more people I trust may betray me?”

He said nothing. His large hand settled on her back, moving gently over it.

Jiu’er wept until she was breathless, her voice hoarse beyond description. “Ninth Imperial Uncle, is killing truly the only way to deal with betrayers?”

Why couldn’t there be a gentler resolution?

“Was it you who killed him, or did he seek his own death?” he asked calmly.

Jiu’er was briefly taken aback. She looked up at him through tear-filled eyes. “He… himself…”

“So, since the killing was not something you caused, it was not something within your control. Why torment yourself with guilt?”

“I did not kill Boren, yet Boren died because of me.” Tonight’s plan had ultimately been arranged by her own hand. She simply could not yet be certain — whether it had been Shan Yi Dao or Xing Zizhou.

“If he had brought ruin to the Imperial Academy, or even plunged the entire Bei Mu nation into chaos, then weigh it yourself: his one death, against driving ten thousand people into suffering — which is the greater burden?”

Feng Jiu’er clutched his lapels and buried her face in his chest. She did not speak. She only wept without a sound.