It was not the calming medicine from the incense burner — Feng Jiu’s body held no reaction at all to ordinary medicines like these.

She had simply been on the move all day, and now it truly was time to sleep.

But Mu Mu was still here. How could she sleep?

“Jiu’er, come and lie down too.” Mu Mu’s voice had taken on a slight roughness, and breathing in the faint fragrance drifting from the incense burner, his whole body had fallen into complete ease. He was… deeply drowsy.

“All right.” Feng Jiu gave a light reply, yet only settled back against the headboard and looked over at him. “Mu Mu.”

“Mm?” Even his response had gone foggy. He had said he would not sleep, yet he had barely lain down before drifting between wakefulness and slumber.

“Mu Mu.” Jiu’er kept her gaze on his handsome, composed face, while that full head of white hair continued, now and again, to tug at her heart with a sharp ache.

“You now…” She paused before asking: “Have you begun to remember things from the past?”

“Things from the past…” Mu Mu’s head tilted slightly to one side, as though sinking deeper into sleep.

He did not answer the question. What he spoke instead were words that seemed entirely unrelated.

“He… searched everywhere for you. I had never seen that side of him — so panicked, so utterly without reason, like a man who had gone mad…”

The words were imprecise, the person barely half-conscious, and yet Feng Jiu caught every syllable.

“I envy him a little… Jiu’er, were you afraid we would fight? I will not fight anymore… I will not go looking for him to settle things by force… Come back, Jiu’er…”

After that, not a sound more.

By the modern measure of time, from the moment he lay down to the onset of deep sleep — less than three minutes.

How utterly exhausted must he have been, to fall asleep so swiftly?

The Ninth Imperial Uncle… had he truly been like a man who had gone mad, all for the sake of finding her?

Yet when she had seen him again tonight, though she had recognized his weariness and seen a body worn thin by strain, he had at least been composed.

The Ninth Imperial Uncle like a madman — Feng Jiu still found it impossible to picture, could not conceive of what such a sight would look like.

But at least one thing could be said with certainty: those two were no longer at odds, and Mu Mu had no intention of going to the Ninth Imperial Uncle for a decisive battle now.

Her departure back then had not been by choice — it had been entirely forced. Yet later, she had come to feel that removing herself for a time had perhaps been the right thing.

And now, seeing both of them again, she found she still did not know whether her leaving had been right or wrong.

But at the very least, they were now united as brothers, having brought half the realm of Bei Mu under their command together. That, at least, had to count for something good, had it not?

She climbed down from the bed and went to sit beside the chaise, looking at Mu Mu’s sleeping face. “Can you promise me,” she said softly, “that if I do not leave again — that you will never fight a duel with the Ninth Imperial Uncle?”

Mu Mu’s brow furrowed slightly. It was as though, even in his dreams, he could hear her words — and yet he gave no reply.

Feng Jiu could not quite let it go. She spoke a little louder: “Mu Mu, can you promise me?”

He still gave no response. Perhaps he had truly sunk into sleep deep enough to hear nothing.

Feng Jiu breathed out a soft sigh and was just about to give up and move away when Mu Mu’s lips made the faintest movement, letting slip a whisper so quiet it was nearly beyond hearing: “Only if… you never leave again.”

Feng Jiu had only managed to close her eyes and doze lightly, sitting upright in the chair.

When she opened them again, the sky had indeed grown bright.

After a night of exhausting movement without rest, were it not for the youth of this body, she likely could not have recovered even by midmorning.

But after half an hour of shallow sleep, when she woke, her energy had been nearly fully restored — enough to carry her through an entire day.

She looked up and found Mu Mu still sleeping on the chaise, with the faint sound of soft snoring just barely drifting over.

Still sleeping so soundly…

She could not bear to wake him. From the look of it, he was much the same as the Ninth Imperial Uncle — she did not know how long it had been since he had last slept properly.

But this sleep had been far too brief — not even a full hour.

She thought about it, and decided to let him sleep a little longer. She pulled on her long boots with quiet, careful movements and was about to step out the door when, from the corridor outside, came the faint sound of soft footsteps gradually drawing nearer.

It was Xue Gu.

Feng Jiu glanced back toward the chaise. Mu Mu had already sat up, his gaze still carrying a scattered, unfocused look as he stared at her — yet by force of deeply ingrained habit, even in his dreams, the moment he sensed an unfamiliar presence approaching, he had snapped awake.

Feng Jiu shook her head at him, signaling him not to act rashly. She opened the door herself and stepped out.

But behind her, a faint whisper of shifting air arose. She turned back — and Mu Mu was already gone.

He had likely sensed the depth of Xue Gu’s inner strength and reckoned that with her level of power, his presence in the room might be detected.

His leaving was, perhaps, for the best. Ye Luosha’s people had been searching for him through the entire night — he ought to return.

“Xue Gu, what is it?” From all appearances, Mu Mu had departed just in time. Xue Gu gave no sign of having detected his presence.

Feng Jiu went forward to meet her. “Is it something to do with Yan…”

“No. I only came to ask what has been going on with you these past two days.” With Feng Jiu’s current level of martial ability, ordinary rogues and vagabonds would find it no easy matter to harm her.

Under normal circumstances, Xue Gu would not often inquire about her movements.

Yet over these past few days, it seemed as though a great deal had happened. Xue Gu had been dimly aware of much of it — only she had chosen not to press, not to question, leaving Feng Jiu to handle matters herself.

Feng Jiu hesitated for a moment. This particular matter was not something she ought to disclose to Xue Gu, regardless of who might be affected.

But she needed someone to help her think it through — and Xue Gu was quite possibly someone who knew what had truly taken place in the imperial palace all those years ago.

The veiled consort had appeared to be in her early twenties — still strikingly young and beautiful. Yet when Feng Jiu had examined her leg and felt her pulse, it was plain that the woman was already in her thirties.

A consort in her thirties who had entered the palace in the ordinary fashion would likely have done so at around sixteen or seventeen. That meant she had been at court for at least ten years or more.

And ten or more years ago would have been the time when Xue Gu was most active.

Though Xue Gu had never stated her identity explicitly, Feng Jiu had long since understood within herself that she was connected to those notable figures of that era.

The greatest connection of all was through her mother — Long Feiyan.

Last time, Xue Gu had mentioned that over a decade ago she had served a mistress. Only at the time, Feng Jiu had not pressed for more.

It was as though she already knew, and simply did not want to keep asking.

So it was possible that Xue Gu held some knowledge of what had happened all those years ago.

“Let us go sit in the pavilion.” Feng Jiu thought of something and added: “Wait just a moment. I will go back and fetch my writing materials.”

Taking her specially prepared brush and paper, Feng Jiu and Xue Gu made their way to the pavilion.

Once she had dismissed all the servants who had come to serve the morning meal, Feng Jiu said: “Last night I entered the palace and examined the leg of a woman who appeared to be in her thirties but looked remarkably young. Her face was covered, so I could not make out her features.”

“Even Emperor Qiwen was exceedingly deferential toward her. When the woman refused to let him through the door, he truly waited outside throughout.”

Feng Jiu fixed her gaze on Xue Gu and asked in a low, measured voice: “Xue Gu, do you know — over a decade ago, was there any consort in the palace who was so deeply favored?”