How smitten she’d become? That was just a casual expression!

But that voice…

Jiu’er’s head snapped up. In the next instant, that face of breathtaking, flawless beauty filled her vision — and her knees nearly gave way beneath her.

As for why she was so frightened her legs turned to jelly, Feng Jiu’er herself had no idea. All she knew was that her legs had genuinely given out, completely, to the point where she could barely stand.

“N-Nine… nine nine…” Yet today he was dressed in ordinary clothes, without a retinue of guards following behind.

An outfit like that — it must be something like the Emperor traveling incognito.

So Feng Jiu’er lowered her voice and changed how she addressed him: “Ninth Young Master…”

That gaze — enough to frighten anyone out of their wits. She was so startled she genuinely couldn’t find her footing for a good long moment, her whole body limp and soft, leaning right against him, still in exactly the position she’d stumbled into.

The young women nearby were practically grinding their teeth with envy. They had watched this girl crash into the Ninth Young Master and then just stay there, leaning in his arms without the slightest intention of moving!

Was this the latest method of courtship?

Everyone was kicking themselves internally. If they’d known, they would have done the same — thrown themselves right into the collision. That way, it would be them in his arms right now.

But they weren’t as shameless as this girl! They still had their dignity!

Could they really stoop to the tricks of a shameless woman? Absolutely not.

It took Feng Jiu’er considerable effort to gather her thoughts. She looked up again — and yelped inwardly. Why was she still in Ninth Imperial Uncle’s arms?

No wonder so many burning, resentful gazes were cutting toward her like blades. She had gone and done something thoroughly shameless.

How could she keep leaning in Ninth Imperial Uncle’s arms without getting up? Absolutely audacious!

“Nine… how did you come to be here?” In front of Ninth Imperial Uncle, the usually bold and carefree Jiu’er was, for once, a little bashful.

Yanu stood to one side. Being unable to speak, his silence was perfectly natural — though his fine-featured eyes remained fixed on the two of them.

“Miss Jiu’er, my Lord and I have just returned from outside the city,” Yu Jingfeng said at once, all smiles.

“Oh!” Jiu’er nodded, pulling Yanu by the sleeve over to where the two men stood. “He’s my friend. His name is Yanu.”

Yanu inclined his upper body slightly toward Zhan Qingcheng. Zhan Qingcheng gave only a brief nod in acknowledgment, and said nothing.

The atmosphere was a touch awkward. The young man called Yanu looked scholarly and composed — entirely guileless in appearance.

Their Prince was cold as frost, and it was plain to see he was displeased about a certain young woman dressing another man just moments ago.

Yet Yanu looked genuinely harmless — not the kind of person who warranted the Prince’s wrath.

And that made it all the more awkward. If the other man had been someone formidable, the Prince might have sent him flying with a single kick.

“Well then, the hour being what it is, shall we — ha — go for a midday meal?” Smoothing over awkward moments was always Yu Jingfeng’s responsibility.

Feng Jiu’er caught on immediately and added: “As it happens, I’m hungry too. Let’s go eat.”

——

In a fine teahouse somewhere in the imperial city, a corner table on the second floor by the window acquired several handsome figures.

Feng Jiu’er stole a glance out the window. In modern time it was barely around eleven in the morning — eating a midday meal this early was quite something.

Still, the mood back there had been what it was. And Yanu hadn’t shown Ninth Imperial Uncle any particular deference or compliance — because that was simply how Yanu was. He was used to serving only Jiu’er.

As for anyone else, whether they came at him with a whip or a blade, he rarely reacted much. Behaving with the kind of subservient meekness others might expect of him — that, as far as she could recall, had simply never happened.

The more she thought about it, the more Yanu struck her as a remarkably proud person. Of course, all that pride dissolved entirely the moment he was in front of Feng Jiu’er, softening into pure gentleness.

She had been living in comfort all this time without realizing it. A shame…

As for Ninth Imperial Uncle — he bore no outright hostility toward Yanu, but he was clearly in no good mood. Anyone could feel it.

“Ninth Imperial Uncle, when do you set out on your campaign?” With no one else around, Jiu’er could finally address him this way.

Zhan Qingcheng’s cool gaze fell on her face. With just one glance, Jiu’er felt a faint tingling creep across her scalp.

Had she said something wrong? It was just a passing question.

Oh right — affairs of state were confidential. Not something to be asked about carelessly, was it?

But she’d only spoken on impulse, without thinking it through — ignorance was no crime, wasn’t it?

“That — if it’s not something I can ask, just pretend I didn’t—”

“In such a hurry for this Prince to leave on campaign — is that so you can go about flirting left and right the moment this Prince is gone?”

What? What was Ninth Imperial Uncle implying? Was he talking about her?

He sounded exactly like a husband worried his wife might stray.

Nonsense, nonsense, nonsense. What husband and wife? What was her relationship with Ninth Imperial Uncle? How could she even let those words enter her head?

Yu Jingfeng sat beside them, concentrating very hard on his tea. Who would dare say a word?

Yanu couldn’t speak anyway, so he sat in quiet composure and drank his tea.

Feng Jiu’er gave a light cough, looked up to meet Zhan Qingcheng’s cold, unnerving gaze, and forced the corners of her mouth into something resembling a smile.

“Ninth Imperial Uncle, what are you saying? How could I possibly go around flirting with anyone?”

No, wait — saying it that way felt wrong. Didn’t it imply she acknowledged some responsibility toward him?

“No — that’s not what I meant. What I mean is…”

“Not that — then you’ve already decided to go about drawing every bee and butterfly to your side?” The crease between Zhan Qingcheng’s brows deepened, and his eyes darkened.

“I haven’t!” Feng Jiu’er was nearly ready to admit defeat. Wasn’t she supposed to be the eloquent one? How had it come to this — where everything she said came out wrong?

And Ninth Imperial Uncle’s choice of words was highly questionable — flirting left and right, drawing bees and butterflies — the phrasing painted their relationship in an unmistakably intimate light.

Feng Jiu’er decided to abandon the subject altogether and redirected: “I simply wanted to know when you were setting out, so I could mentally prepare myself.”

“Afraid this Prince might leave before you’ve had the chance to miss him?”

Well — this time, Feng Jiu’er actually paused to think about it. And it seemed… that wasn’t entirely wrong.

“Miss Jiu’er clearly can’t bear to let the Prince go — she could always follow him on campaign,” Yu Jingfeng offered helpfully.

“I can go too?” The battlefield — that had always been a wish of Jiu’er’s.

She was trained in medicine. On a real battlefield, she would be of use.

Unexpectedly, Zhan Qingcheng’s expression cooled. “No.”

“Why not? My fighting is no inferior to others, and I’m trained in medicine — serving as a field physician would be absolutely no problem!”

Even with the Prince’s forces being as elite as they were, with their exceptionally rigorous standards — she refused to believe she lacked the ability to be chosen.

Back at the academy, even within his own military ranks, she had proven herself capable, hadn’t she?

So Feng Jiu’er looked thoroughly unconvinced: “Why won’t you let me go? Ninth Imperial Uncle — I want to go too!”