Jiuqing seemed somewhat unwilling, probably unaccustomed to being so close to someone.

A hero was indeed a hero — trying to get even slightly closer to him was so difficult.

Feng Jiu’er withdrew her gaze, looking up at the stars overhead.

The night sky of ancient times was especially beautiful; even the stars looked particularly clear and lovely.

The air was so good — everything looked pleasant, and even a single breath felt especially refreshing.

But tonight, there seemed to be an extra heaviness in every breath.

“I kind of want to eat some sunflower seeds,” she said wistfully.

She’d assumed someone as cold as Jiuqing would never bother with her request, but unexpectedly, he actually jumped down from the roof.

Of course Jiuqing wouldn’t go fetch sunflower seeds himself, and at this hour, there was no telling where he could even find any.

He merely went down to instruct someone else, then returned to the rooftop, watching her closely in case she accidentally rolled off and hurt herself.

Feng Jiu’er began to feel disgusted with herself again — now she couldn’t even manage to climb a roof properly, and even sitting here alone required someone to watch over her.

“I really am useless,” she sighed deeply.

Jiuqing said nothing. Feng Jiu’er continued, “You don’t need to comfort me — I know I’m still quite useful. I’m not useless at all.”

“I wasn’t trying to comfort you,” Jiuqing said coldly.

Feng Jiu’er turned her head to look at him, unable to resist glaring: “Can’t you tell I’m very unhappy tonight? Can’t you say something nice to cheer me up?”

This guy really was cold through and through!

Madam Xue had actually suspected he was the Ninth Imperial Uncle — how could that be possible? The Ninth Imperial Uncle was cold too, but at least he wouldn’t ignore her like this, all the time.

Jiu’er withdrew her gaze, looking at the stars on the horizon, her expression gradually growing solemn.

From today onward, she truly had no home.

A person transmigrated from the twenty-first century — no, more accurately, just a lone, drifting soul.

She’d had no home for a long time already; her family and friends from the modern era were all gone.

After arriving here, she’d finally managed to gain a new identity, a new home.

Although the people of the Feng family didn’t treat her particularly well, at least a few of them still regarded her as one of their own.

So she’d worked hard to play the role of Feng Jiu’er well, and had increasingly come to feel that she truly was Feng Jiu’er.

Compared to the nearly blank, hazy memories of the past decade, the memories of Feng Jiu’er before age six felt much clearer.

Sometimes she even let her thoughts wander, wondering if perhaps she really was the original Feng Jiu’er, and that a fire at age six had simply sent her soul across time into the modern era.

Otherwise, why did she have no memory at all of her modern self before the age of six?

And then, was it possible that she, Feng Jiu’er, had lived ten years in the modern world, and that once Jiu’er’s body reached sixteen, her soul had finally crossed back?

Even though she knew full well such a thought was far too outlandish, she had already completely merged into Feng Jiu’er’s life.

If anyone were to tell her now that she wasn’t the real Feng Jiu’er, she would reject the notion entirely, body and soul.

It turned out that, without realizing it, she had already come to think of herself as the real Jiu’er.

Her birth mother was Long Feiyan, and her uncle was Long Buqu, known as Lanyue, the Lord of the First Manor Under Heaven!

Her grandfather was the former lord of the First Manor Under Heaven, Long Di!

That’s right! She still had a home — she still had an uncle and a grandfather!

As for her birth father not wanting her — so be it. After all, with so many daughters, he’d never given her much fatherly affection growing up anyway.

If he didn’t want her, fine — forget it then!

“Hmph!”

She rolled over, her small mouth pouting high, her face full of stubborn refusal to admit defeat.

Jiuqing stood not far away, watching the girl alternately whimper, scowl, and clench her fists.

She was clearly furious to the point of no return, yet still pretending to be strong, pretending not to care.

Perhaps no one could truly be indifferent to their own father — after all, he was the source of her surname.

No matter how optimistic she appeared, some part of her heart must still be troubled by it.

But this was the kind of thing an outsider couldn’t help her with.

A figure stirred below, and Jiuqing leapt lightly down from the roof. Before long, he floated back up again.

This time he carried a small package, walked over to Feng Jiu’er, and casually tossed it down beside her.

“Why are you being so rough!” Jiu’er sat up abruptly, glaring fiercely at him.

Couldn’t he tell she was in a bad mood? And yet he threw something at her!

But once she opened the bag, Jiu’er’s eyes lit up at once, and all her complaints vanished.

“Sugar-roasted chestnuts!” Still warm, too!

“There were no sunflower seeds,” Jiuqing scoffed, walking over to sit down nearby. He picked up the flask in his hand, pulled out the wooden stopper, and took a sip.

“Smells so good.” Feng Jiu’er had always loved sugar-roasted chestnuts — the sunflower seeds had just been an offhand remark. With this hot bag of chestnuts in hand, who needed sunflower seeds anyway?

Things from ancient times really were delicious; even the chestnuts were sweeter than the modern kind.

It wasn’t sweet because of the sugar-roasting — they were simply naturally this sweet.

Feng Jiu’er ate several in a row without pause, and gradually began to feel a bit uncomfortable.

“So dry…” Seeing Jiuqing leisurely drinking something, she scooted over and snatched the flask from his hand.

“What’s so delicious — let me try it.”

Before Jiuqing could say anything, the girl had already lifted the flask and taken a hearty gulp.

In truth she knew it was wine — its fragrance was so strong it could be smelled from far away, clearly a fine vintage.

But Jiu’er herself wasn’t fond of alcohol; it was just that tonight, she suddenly felt like having a couple of sips.

On top of that, the chestnuts had really been quite dry, so one sip wasn’t enough — she took two more big gulps.

The last mouthful made her choke on the fumes, and she suddenly burst into a fit of coughing.

Jiuqing instinctively reached out to pat her back, but the moment his large hand extended, he pulled it back.

“If you can’t drink, then don’t,” he said, once Feng Jiu’er had stopped coughing, reaching out to take the flask back.

But Jiu’er turned away and dodged him.

“Who said I can’t drink? I just drank too fast by accident, that’s all.” Having finally caught her breath, she kept drinking.

Jiuqing said flatly, “This wine tastes mild, but it has a strong aftereffect — don’t overdo it.”

“Are you worried about me?” Tch — or was he just afraid she’d drink all the good wine?

“Even my own father doesn’t want me — what right do you have to be concerned about me?”

In the blink of an eye, half a flask of wine had gone down, the fumes rushing up; she let out a hiccup, and her mind finally began to blur.

Other people, once drunk, would talk nonsense or throw drunken tantrums, but this girl, once drunk, instead hugged her own legs, sinking into quiet, focused thought?

What was there to even think about in a state like this?

Jiuqing stared at her.

Her large eyes gazed vacantly into the distance, and there was no telling whether she was deep in thought or simply zoning out.

Still, her small expression carried a touch of seriousness.

Suddenly, the girl murmured softly, “Ninth Imperial Uncle…”