“Both of you, please come in.” Feng Jiu’er’s voice carried from inside the room.

Emperor Ji and Ye Luocha exchanged a glance. Ye Luocha pushed the door open and was about to enter along with Elder Shi.

But then they heard Feng Jiu’er add, “Please have Elder Shi and Miss Leng Yue stand guard in the courtyard outside. Long Yi will arrange your positions.”

In other words, not only were they to be excluded from tonight’s conversation, they were to keep their distance — for fear they might overhear it.

No wonder the guards in the courtyard had suddenly been pulled back so far — there wasn’t a single person nearby; Long Yi must have already arranged it all.

Feng Jiu’er had made the atmosphere so heavy — what on earth was she going to tell them tonight?

Ye Luocha and Emperor Ji exchanged another glance, an unnamable stirring rising in their hearts all at once, one that refused to settle.

Leng Yue said angrily, “Why won’t you let us in? I want to stay by Father’s side!”

Who did Feng Jiu’er think she was, to be giving orders!

Hadn’t Feng Jiu’er offended Father before, and even been struck and injured by him for it? Hadn’t that wretched woman learned her lesson yet?

Suddenly, a figure appeared before them — Feng Jiu’er stepped out of the room and walked straight up to Emperor Ji and Leng Yue.

“Sir, this is the Ninth Imperial Uncle’s wish — please be sure to comply.” She didn’t address Leng Yue at all, because Leng Yue had no standing to speak here right now!

Emperor Ji nodded. “Leng Yue, go and stand guard outside the courtyard.”

“Father…”

“Please.” Jiu’er’s word was spoken quietly and calmly enough, but no one expected that the moment it left her mouth, there came a sharp crack — a slap had already landed across Leng Yue’s face.

“Ah—” Leng Yue was sent flying by the blow, landing on the ground with a thud.

Emperor Ji’s expression changed at once — he never imagined Feng Jiu’er would dare strike Leng Yue right in front of him!

“You—”

“Sir, the Ninth Imperial Uncle is waiting for you.” To avoid being caught in any retaliatory strike from Emperor Ji, Feng Jiu’er had already stepped back into the room right after acting, watching them now from behind the door.

With the Ninth Imperial Uncle right there inside, Emperor Ji wouldn’t possibly strike her once he calmed down — what she feared was an unconscious, reflexive counterattack, just like the night before.

Emperor Ji’s face darkened with displeasure for a moment, but he did calm down.

Leng Yue scrambled up from the ground and, furious, rushed forward to strike Feng Jiu’er. “Who do you think you are! How dare you hit me!”

“You were the one who struck me first last night. Shall I tell the Ninth Imperial Uncle the whole story from beginning to end?”

“You—”

“What happened last night?” That cold, proud figure appeared lightly before them all just as Feng Jiu’er’s words faded.

He hadn’t known his girl had been wronged the night before — in truth, once he’d gone in to channel energy into Mu Mu last night, he hadn’t seen Jiu’er again.

Seeing Zhan Qingcheng standing behind Feng Jiu’er, the chill in Leng Yue’s eyes froze for an instant, and she instinctively retreated behind Emperor Ji.

“This Prince is asking you — what did you do to Jiu’er last night?” Zhan Qingcheng’s eyes darkened slightly, his formidable internal energy surging toward Leng Yue like a cold wind in an instant.

“My Prince, I—” Leng Yue stumbled, staggering back several steps before landing on the ground with a thud.

For a moment her qi and blood churned violently, and she couldn’t even get back to her feet.

“It’s nothing — I’ve already settled the score myself.” Feng Jiu’er tugged at Zhan Qingcheng’s sleeve, smiling. “Ninth Imperial Uncle, it’s only a little squabble between women. You’re far too noble to dirty your hands over something so trivial.”

“Nothing concerning you is trivial,” he said evenly. The chill from a moment ago dissipated almost entirely the instant he spoke with Feng Jiu’er.

Who was it that said the Ninth Imperial Uncle disliked talking and was poor with words? Why did Feng Jiu’er always feel he was so good at it!

Just one or two simple lines, and suddenly her face flushed red, her heart pounding away furiously?

“Never mind, Ninth Imperial Uncle, business matters more.” Jiu’er tugged at his sleeve again, finally coaxing him back into the room to sit down.

Ye Luocha let out a breath, looking somewhat helpless.

Even an old soul like herself could sense plainly the sweet air between the two young people. But if they were happy together, what would become of Mu’er?

Mu’er… was so foolishly devoted too. How would this all end?

“Go stand guard outside.” Ye Luocha said, glancing back at Elder Shi.

Elder Shi nodded. He would certainly not make a scene like Leng Yue had — even with a stomach full of curiosity and quiet excitement, he could only retreat to stand guard outside the courtyard.

Leng Yue felt utterly wronged inside — the Sect Master’s heart held only Feng Jiu’er, never asking so much as a single question before he’d already taken her side.

And yet, precisely because the Sect Master protected Feng Jiu’er so fiercely, Leng Yue dared not do anything to her whenever he was around.

Wounded as she was, in body and spirit alike, she could only force herself up and leave the courtyard.

Ye Luocha glanced at Emperor Ji, hesitated only briefly, then personally wheeled his chair through the door and turned to close it behind them.

Inside the room, Zhan Qingcheng sat on the bench. Though his breath was still steady, the look of exhaustion on him grew more pronounced by the day.

If Mu Mu’s condition hadn’t improved enough to allow him to pause the energy transfer, then even with an iron body, he might not have been able to hold out much longer at this rate.

Seeing his pale face, Emperor Ji naturally felt for him, and Ye Luocha, too, felt a vague pang of discomfort at the sight.

Such striking beauty made it all the harder to look at him directly.

“Please, both of you, sit.” Feng Jiu’er poured a cup of clear tea for each of them. This time, she didn’t stand behind the Ninth Imperial Uncle, but stood facing the three of them instead.

Tonight’s meeting had been arranged by Feng Jiu’er. By this hour, everyone should already have been in bed — dawn was only two hours away, the very best time for rest.

But since Jiu’er had asked them to come, there was clearly something important at hand. Zhan Qingcheng was in no hurry either, sitting quietly in his chair, waiting.

Ye Luocha’s and Emperor Ji’s gazes also settled on Feng Jiu’er — clearly, even Zhan Qingcheng didn’t know the purpose of tonight’s gathering.

“Jiu’er, what is it that’s brought us here at an hour like this? Has something changed out there?”

Feng Jiu’er had just come back from outside — perhaps she knew of something they didn’t.

Jiu’er shook her head. “Things outside remain as they were — all sorts of factions are still searching for the Ninth Imperial Uncle and Mu Mu. His Majesty has even issued an edict: anyone who sees the two of them is to kill them on sight, no exceptions.”

Ye Luocha’s and Emperor Ji’s expressions darkened.

This Emperor Qiwen was truly ruthless — though who could say whether he was truly being coerced by Nanmeng Ye, or whether this was entirely his own will.

In any case, that he could go this far even against his own brother only proved the saying — no ruler without ruthlessness!

“I asked you both here tonight only because I wanted to show you something.”

Jiu’er glanced at the three of them, and before any of them could ask another question, she removed the chain from her wrist.

Then, bending down, she lifted the hem of her skirt…