Nanmen Rong could not stand this self-assured side of her — but just what did Feng Jiu’er mean by this?
It seemed as though… she was asking something of her?
After a long silence, Nanmen Rong suddenly asked, “What do you want?”
“Lady Consort Rong truly is straightforward. It truly is Jiu’er’s good fortune to be working with someone like Lady Consort Rong…”
“Silence. Get to the point!” Nanmen Rong shot her a glare. On the verge of death and she could still chat away with such ease — not the least bit afraid.
“Very well, then I shall get to the point.” Feng Jiu’er looked at her with a small smile, then suddenly let the lightness fall from her face and grew serious: “I want to be the Crown Princess.”
“What?” Nanmen Rong could scarcely believe her ears. The Crown Princess? Was she joking?
Had she not always been in love with A’Jiu? How could she suddenly say she wanted to be the Crown Princess?
“Feng Jiu’er, stop trying your tricks on this palace. If you speak such nonsense again, this palace will not forgive you!” Nanmen Rong snapped.
The matron standing at her side also wore an expression of bewilderment. Of course, no one believed that Feng Jiu’er truly wanted to be Crown Princess — it was simply out of the question.
She was so thoroughly cherished and doted on by the Ninth Prince — and now she was saying she wanted to marry another man?
“The Ninth Prince has lost his position now. I’m afraid I can no longer become the Ninth Prince’s Consort…”
“The position of Ninth Prince’s Consort — you could only dream of it!” Nanmen Rong cut her off at once.
The very thought of Feng Jiu’er ever having harbored ambitions of becoming the Ninth Prince’s Consort stabbed at her heart with sharp, successive waves of pain — not just anger, but anguish.
What wounded her most was that A’Jiu had allowed this woman, who had always coveted him, to remain by his side all this time. A’Jiu truly was too naive.
“Why couldn’t it have been mine?” Feng Jiu’er appeared entirely unfazed, giving a cold little scoff. “The Ninth Prince cares so deeply for me and has treated me so well — if not mine, whose would it be?”
“You shut your mouth!” Nanmen Rong seized a cup and hurled it straight at her face.
Fortunately, though Jiu’er had suffered internal injuries, she had known her words would provoke a reaction and had braced herself in advance. The moment the cup came flying toward her, she tilted her head aside and dodged it in time.
Staring at the shards of porcelain scattered across the floor, Jiu’er felt a lingering chill. If that cup had truly struck her face, her fair, lovely complexion would probably be ruined beyond saving.
“All right, I won’t say things like that anymore. It’s all in the past anyway. Would it kill you not to be so angry all the time? Getting angry this easily makes you age faster.”
Feng Jiu’er slid a sideways glance at her, utterly unconcerned. Those who held great power and high rank truly were something else — always as if their own life were the only one in the entire world that mattered. Insufferable!
The matron, seeing Nanmen Rong’s temper ignite, hurried over and gently patted her back to help her breathe easier.
“My Lady, it seems Feng Jiu’er still has more she wishes to say.”
Nanmen Rong said nothing, only stared fixedly at Feng Jiu’er.
In truth, the last time she had been struck by Zhan Luori, she had been grievously injured, and even now the imperial physicians had been urging her not to let her temper flare or to exert herself. Yet just now she had both lost her temper and lashed out physically — and her breath was ragged again.
The matron looked at the bound Feng Jiu’er sitting on the floor and spoke with a carefully measured tone: “Say what you have to say. What was it you wanted back then?”
“Since the Ninth Prince has nothing left now, what else is there left for me to want?” Feng Jiu’er muttered, pouting slightly. Her manner was no different from what it had always been — not at all the behavior of someone trying to curry favor with Lady Consort Rong.
Had she turned on a face full of flattery and heaped Nanmen Rong with honeyed words, that truly would have invited suspicion. It would never have been sincere.
The matron glanced at Nanmen Rong with a look that said: hold off, let her finish speaking before deciding whether to be angry — there’s time for that later.
Feng Jiu’er leaned against the wall and slowly steadied her breathing.
After being injured by the black-robed man, there had been a churning of blood energy somewhere within her chest ever since — as though she might vomit blood at any moment.
She suppressed it with every bit of effort she had, barely managing to hold back the urge.
“Lady Consort Rong, I know you have never liked me being close to the Ninth Prince. If you agree to my terms, I can promise not to pursue the position of Ninth Prince’s Consort in the future.”
In any case, the Ninth Prince was probably not truly the Ninth Prince at all — since he and Mu Mu were blood brothers, his identity as the Ninth Prince was likely a false one.
Whatever her future with the Ninth Imperial Uncle would hold, the position of Ninth Prince’s Consort was not one she would be taking.
Nanmen Rong had no way of knowing how many schemes ran through Feng Jiu’er’s head. But hearing this now — to allow Feng Jiu’er to be with her Heng’er — that was naturally in her favor.
Even if she still could not entirely understand what advantages the Phoenix girl might bring them, or in what way, the very fact that she was the Phoenix girl meant she had value. Having the Phoenix girl by Heng’er’s side — was that not precisely what she had always wanted?
She had gone to such lengths before, putting in so much effort to get that craven Emperor to agree, only for the matter to be shelved when both Feng Jiu’er and A’Jiu had met with trouble, one after the other. Now that Feng Jiu’er had returned, the matter could be raised again.
“But — are you not with the people of Yemei Palace?” Word had spread far and wide on the outside. Although Nanmen Rong had been confined to the palace, her network of informants was extensive enough that she had a reasonably clear picture of the general situation.
“I didn’t know at the time that Mu Mu was from Yemei Palace!” Feng Jiu’er knit her brow, looking a little put out. “I only thought that someone of Mu Mu’s talent — keeping a person like that at my side would be an asset to me in time.”
“You pursued a relationship with Mu Mu purely for your own future benefit?” Nanmen Rong studied her face carefully.
This side of Feng Jiu’er was somewhat refreshing — a revision to her previous impression of her.
Though for Nanmen Rong, Feng Jiu’er had never been anything close to a good person.
When someone is viewed with prejudice, and that person then openly admits to having ulterior motives, it is not especially hard for Nanmen Rong to believe it.
In the end, Nanmen Rong gave a cold, dismissive sound. “You truly are calculating. I never imagined that behind all that perfect posturing — those men falling for you one after another — you are, in truth, such a shameless creature.”
“Lady Consort Rong, can you at least be reasonable when you speak? What ‘shameless creature’? Does it have to be so ugly?” Feng Jiu’er cut her a sideways look, entirely unmoved. “Everyone acts in their own interest — otherwise the heavens would strike them down. And everything you have done, Lady Consort Rong — has it not all been for yourself?”
“You—”
“My Lady, please do not lose your temper.” Feng Jiu’er’s attitude was always like this — she truly was an untameable, wild girl. This was normal, and even the matron felt nothing unusual about it.
The matron leaned close and whispered something into Nanmen Rong’s ear, and Nanmen Rong gave a slight nod — still staring at Feng Jiu’er, who looked thoroughly impatient.
She turned things over in her mind for a moment, as if weighing whether to trust this girl’s words. But in the end she narrowed her eyes and looked at her askance. “Do you truly want to be the Crown Princess?”