Emperor Ji had already been urging Leng Yue to leave, yet Leng Yue remained fixed on Feng Jiu, without any reaction at all.

She was Feng Jiu’er — she was absolutely certain of it!

Just now, the Venerable Lord had actually listened to her words! One had to wonder — how many people in this world could truly persuade the Venerable Lord?

From the time Leng Yue had come to know Zhan Qingcheng until now, more than a decade had passed, and in all that time, whenever the Venerable Lord had set his mind to something, there had truly been no one who could talk him out of it — not even her adoptive father.

Then, just over half a year ago, this woman had suddenly appeared out of nowhere, and she could actually accomplish what even her adoptive father could not.

Whenever the Venerable Lord threw a tantrum, or was in a foul mood, or sulked over something, only Feng Jiu’er could bring him around. It was exactly like coaxing a child — others watching found it childish — yet their Venerable Lord simply responded to it!

Only Feng Jiu’er!

And now, out of nowhere, there was yet another Feng Jiu. What was the meaning of this?

Such obvious signs — and neither her adoptive father nor Ye Luosha had noticed?

Feng Jiu was clearly Feng Jiu’er. Otherwise, how could the Venerable Lord possibly be so meekly coaxed by her?

“Yue’er, it is time to go.” Emperor Ji, seeing that Leng Yue still had not moved, raised his voice.

Leng Yue finally snapped back to herself. She bit down hard on her lip. Seeing that Zhan Qingcheng had already walked far ahead, she had no choice but to push Emperor Ji’s wheelchair and leave.

As she passed Feng Jiu, she swept a frigid, venomous gaze over her.

She was Feng Jiu’er — did she think Leng Yue could not see through her?

She would find a way to force Feng Jiu’er to reveal herself. Just wait and see!

Feng Jiu met her gaze with cool indifference and even offered her a gentle, unhurried smile.

So what if she truly was Feng Jiu’er? At this moment, who would believe it?

Leng Yue had not expected her to dare provoke her so boldly! She nearly lunged forward to tear her apart, but Emperor Ji’s icy voice stopped her cold: “You cannot even match her in skill — do you wish to humiliate yourself further?”

“Adoptive Father…” Leng Yue was nearly beside herself with fury.

Just now, it had only been because she had been careless — far too careless. That was the only reason she had lost to Feng Jiu’er!

If given another chance, she would not necessarily lose.

“Let us go.” Emperor Ji gave the armrest of his wheelchair a tap. This time, without needing Leng Yue to push, the wheelchair rolled swiftly forward on its own.

Leng Yue had no choice but to bite her lip and quicken her steps to follow.

Even after they had gone some distance, Leng Yue refused to let it rest. She fixed her gaze on the back of Emperor Ji as he sat in the wheelchair, her heart full of grievance.

“Adoptive Father, she truly is Feng Jiu’er. Can you not see it at all?”

“She is not.” Emperor Ji had no wish to keep tangling with her over this matter. He said in a low, firm voice: “If you make trouble again, your adoptive father will be angry!”

This girl had been perfectly fine for half a year — why had she become so strange again today?

Half a year ago, he had indeed come to feel that she was no longer suited to be paired with Wu Ya. Yet over these past six months, Leng Yue had always conducted herself with discipline and propriety, presenting herself before everyone as gentle and well-mannered. Emperor Ji had begun to think that perhaps her earlier behavior had only been a momentary impulse.

But now, tonight, for no apparent reason, she had reverted entirely to the state she had been in half a year ago. It was truly unsettling.

Leng Yue caught a glimpse of his cold, stony profile and immediately recalled the life she had lived over these past six months.

Six months of carefully watching her every word and deed, terrified of missteps, maintaining a gentle and compliant face before everyone.

She had played the role of a virtuous woman for half a year, and she still did not know what had caused her to lose control again tonight.

Everything was the fault of that wretched woman, Feng Jiu’er!

But for now, she truly could not afford to anger her adoptive father any further.

After all, whether she could one day marry the Venerable Lord depended greatly on her adoptive father’s opinion. She could not afford to lose this powerful backer, at least not yet.

“I am sorry, Adoptive Father. I was simply too stunned.” In an instant, she had composed herself back into her graceful bearing and smiled softly: “It is only that Mister Feng Jiu’s figure resembled Feng Jiu too closely. It was Yue’er’s mistake.”

Once everyone had gone, Feng Jiu finally turned her steps toward Tianji Hall.

Seeing those people tonight had left her feeling somewhat restless, though once she thought of the Ninth Imperial Uncle’s current situation, her agitation eased a little.

The most unsettled one was the Ninth Imperial Uncle, was it not?

The Ninth Imperial Uncle clearly had misgivings about these people, yet given that Ye Luosha and Emperor Ji stood in the relationship they did — one was his birth aunt, the other his blood uncle — and with his parents gone, those two and Mu Mu were the closest kin he had left in this world.

What could the Ninth Imperial Uncle do? His helplessness was what truly ached the heart.

The night had grown very deep, long past midnight. Feng Jiu looked up at the moon, now fuller and more luminous overhead, then reined in her scattered thoughts and quickened her pace, employing her lightness technique. Before long, she was back at the rear gate of Tianji Hall.

Entering through the rear courtyard, she could faintly sense the presence of several night watchmen. Yet with Feng Jiu’s current level of lightness technique, if she chose not to alert anyone, these few individuals would have no means of detecting her passage.

Tonight she felt somewhat restless and had no wish to explain herself, so she moved through without disturbing a soul.

Those four had come rushing to take the Ninth Imperial Uncle back — had something serious happened again? Was it some new difficulty?

Where had Mu Mu gone? How was he doing now? Half a year had passed — surely whatever injuries he had carried would have healed by now, would they not?

She was almost to her bedchamber when Feng Jiu suddenly stilled, her presence contracting in an instant, and her footsteps drew back.

There was someone in the room!

The presence was steady and calm, carrying not a trace of killing intent — not even the faintest thread of hostility. And yet, the feeling was one she inexplicably could not name. It was achingly, unmistakably familiar.

He…

After pausing for only a moment, Feng Jiu suddenly quickened her pace and pushed open the door.

She had not yet decided what expression to wear when she faced this person, had not even begun to formulate what to say — how to deny it, or how to explain.

Nor had she considered why he would have come here.

But before she had sorted out any of it, this person suddenly leapt from the chair. A palm strike launched without a sound, swift and silent. If this had been the Feng Jiu of the past, she likely would have been struck dead by it before she even knew what had happened.

Half a year had not passed in vain — his martial arts had advanced considerably.

He had always been a supreme master. Now his inner power had deepened to an unfathomable degree.

Feng Jiu reached back and quietly closed the door behind her. In the face of the fatal palm strike rushing toward her, she made not a single move to respond.

The palm wind, which had been flowing calmly, suddenly surged — like a great gust of wind sweeping up the loose strands of hair that had fallen near her ear. There was a swishing sound, and her cheeks stung from the force of it.

It was, without question, a strike capable of ending a life. And yet, she simply stood there looking at that silhouette in the darkness, utterly unmoved.

There came a sharp tearing sound — something unseen had been sliced by the palm wind. But in the very instant that the strike was about to reach Feng Jiu, it was abruptly pulled back.

In an instant, the room returned to silence. A stillness so complete that even the sound of a pinpoint dropping would have reached both their ears.

No — it was not a pinpoint that fell. It was only her hairpin.

Her hair cascaded loose, like black silk brocade, strand by strand, smooth and flowing.

In the dim night, Feng Jiu’s face still resembled that of a man’s. But this cascade of dark hair — this belonged, without a doubt, to her.

To the true Feng Jiu’er.