Feng Jiu came out. She dried the male prosthetic skin and put it back on once more.

Too many things had happened recently. Although her martial arts had genuinely improved considerably, she still felt no real sense of security.

Only with this skin on did she feel even the slightest bit safer.

In this turbulent imperial city, who could truly be safe anymore? From the Emperor above to the common people below, no one could know whether their days would continue to pass in peace.

This imperial city concealed far too many killing intentions. There was no knowing how long such days would have to be endured.

Yet she could not leave now. There were still too many riddles she had to unravel within this imperial city.

Who in the end had brought ruin upon the Long Family? Were there truly no surviving kin of the Long Family left?

She had just stepped out from behind the screen when the door was pushed open. The dark-robed man who had been sitting in the tree swept in across the rooftop and walked straight inside with complete ease.

He actually came in through the door — was it because he knew his presence had already been detected, and so felt no need for caution?

Feng Jiu was not pleased. She had no desire to see him to begin with. But the moment she made out the two small red spots on his face, there was no need for further thought — she picked up the ointment and walked over.

“Mosquito bites?” How had she not thought of it — in this season, there truly were quite a few mosquitoes in the trees.

The Ninth Imperial Uncle, so graceful and otherworldly in bearing, had two mosquito-bite lumps on his face. This was a sight Feng Jiu had never seen before.

Zhan Qingcheng sat down in the chair and let her apply the medicine.

Her long fingers glided across his face. The soft, gentle sensation stirred something in the hearts of both of them at once.

Feng Jiu grew briefly lost in thought. The Ninth Imperial Uncle’s face… he was clearly a man who had spent years on the battlefield — so how could his skin be so smooth and tender? It would put even a woman to shame.

Knowing the Ninth Imperial Uncle’s temperament, he would never pay any attention to skincare. So this was simply the gift of heaven-bestowed beauty — something one could envy but never attain.

And yet to have been born a man… Feng Jiu could not help but let out a quiet sigh. If the Ninth Imperial Uncle had been a woman, he would absolutely have been the kind of bewitching enchantress that brought dynasties to ruin.

Pft, what was she even thinking?

Her long fingers lingered on his face. Zhan Qingcheng held back for a long time, and at last could not restrain himself — he raised his hand and wrapped her small hand firmly in his grasp.

The sensation of being enveloped brought Feng Jiu sharply back to her senses. Looking at her hand held in his grip, she furrowed her brow and immediately yanked it back with force.

“Your Highness, please conduct yourself with propriety. I am a full-grown man — how dare you subject me to such humiliation?” She stepped back quickly, snapped the lid on the ointment with a sharp click, and tossed it carelessly aside.

Zhan Qingcheng set his large hand on his knee. He only looked down at his own hand, as though turning something over in his mind.

A moment later, he said: “Mister Feng Jiu has been touching this Prince’s face this whole while — and yet you speak of propriety?”

“I—” Feng Jiu’s face flushed red. She nearly choked on her own shame. This man — was he not usually someone who barely spoke? How was it that whenever he did open his mouth, he struck straight to the heart?

Those words truly left her with nowhere to hide her embarrassment. Had she actually, just now, been touching his face this whole time?

Yet she had been seething with a belly full of frustration all evening. Why would she be willing to lose ground to the Ninth Imperial Uncle in a battle of words as well?

“What I was doing just now was treating your injury. Your Highness, are you perhaps reading too much into things?”

“Indeed. This Prince was presumptuous.”

Feng Jiu froze. All the words she had ready lodged in her throat, and she found she could not produce a single one.

The most infuriating thing in an argument was when the other person simply agreed to everything. It was clearly their way of refusing to argue further — if they agreed to everything you said, what was there left to fight about?

He couldn’t even be bothered to quarrel sincerely. What in the world had this man come here for?

“Your Highness, the hour is late. Should you not return to the Prince’s Manor?” Feng Jiu said coolly, her tone one of absolute impatience.

With an attitude like this alone, had it been anyone else, they would long since have outstayed their welcome with Zhan Qingcheng.

Yet he paid not the slightest mind to her unfriendliness. His voice instead grew gentler: “If you feel the hour is too late, then…”

Feng Jiu assumed he was finally showing some generosity, granting her a peaceful night at last.

Instead, the man actually stood up, walked to the bedside, and sat down just like that: “Then, let us sleep.”

“Your Highness!”

“It is all right. The bed is small, but this Prince is not particular.” He even lay down, turning on his side to look at her: “Were you not going to rest? Why are you still not asleep?”

Feng Jiu dearly wanted to kick him straight out of the room: “Your Highness is sleeping in my bed…”

“Are you not accustomed to sleeping on the long chair?”

“…” She so badly wanted to wring his neck. Even if he was dead set on refusing to leave, should he not at least show some decency and take himself to the long chair?

This was her room. Her bed. He had occupied it without a second thought and wore the most self-evident expression about it. Did he think being a prince made it his right?

Zhan Qingcheng had likely read the resentment written all over her face, for he said in a mild tone: “You are petite. Lay a padded mat on the long chair, and it will be perfectly comfortable.”

Was that supposed to be a consolation? That was clearly an insult!

So what if he stood nearly six-foot-three — what of it? She was five-foot-four or five, which was perfectly fine! He called her short-statured — he was looking down on her height!

This was complete and utter nonsense delivered with a perfectly straight face. She was not considered short among women at all! With height-boosting shoes, disguised as a man, she could easily reach five-foot-seven.

Shoes a little higher, and she’d hit five-foot-nine in no time at all. Where exactly was the shortness?

He called her petite! Outrageous!

“Jiu’er.”

The half-reclining man on the bed called out softly. The sound that left his lips was like the resonance of a stone chime — low and magnetic. On a night like this, it was simply entrancing.

Feng Jiu’s heart gave a start, and as though compelled by some unseen force, she answered before she could stop herself: “Mn.”

The very next instant, her expression darkened completely: “Your Highness, I am a full-grown man. I do not feel the name ‘Jiu’er’ is appropriate for me. I would ask Your Highness to please…”

“This Prince is naturally quite heavy. If you do not believe it, come and try carrying me.”

Such a heavy person — what self-restraint was there even to speak of?

Feng Jiu nearly rolled her eyes. Had he picked up such glib banter on his own? Had someone actually taught him to speak like this?

Though, given the God of War Ninth Prince’s frame — all that muscle concealed beneath his robes, combined with his height — how could he not be heavy?

She decided she was done speaking to him. She had been filled with anger and frustration all evening, and now here, in front of him, she found she could not even muster the energy to give him a proper scolding.

This roiling frustration — it seemed there was truly no releasing it.

She lay down on the long chair with a certain defiance, shut her eyes, and resolved: out of sight, out of mind.

But the man on the bed was clearly not sleeping at all. He stared at her slender back, and his gaze gradually deepened and stilled.

She had been wronged. He knew that. There were things he could not explain — and things he had no right to explain.

Yet he could not simply let her scold him a few times and then leave. If he was not watching over her, his heart would not be at ease.

“Jiu’er,” he said — he had his own stubbornness. Everything else he could defer to her. But on certain things, once he dug in, no ordinary person could change his mind.

“The bed is more than large enough. How about coming up and sleeping with this Prince?”