Zhan Qingcheng’s eyes darkened, and the entire Princess’s Palace fell silent, as though a storm were about to break.

Jian Yi stood off to the side, unnoticed, the corner of his lips curling slightly.

It didn’t matter to him where he lived, but having Zhan Qingcheng housed in the inferior west wing—now that was entertaining!

Mu Mu’s expression remained blank, as though the matter had nothing to do with him at all.

Of course, the only thing he truly cared about was Feng Jiu’er—taking part in the consort-companion selection had simply been a means of staying by her side.

An’bao’s scalp prickled with unease, and he shifted his gaze anxiously, casting a pleading look toward Feng Jiu’er.

Knowing that her Ninth Imperial Uncle was angry, how could Feng Jiu’er possibly spare any thought for anything else?

Ever since hearing An’bao say this man would be housed in the west wing, she had felt uneasy the whole time—now, she finally understood where that unease had come from.

Her Ninth Imperial Uncle was so noble—how could he possibly be willing to live somewhere considered inferior? And yet, an imperial decree could not be disobeyed!

“Um…” Feng Jiu’er looked at Zhan Qingcheng, even her words coming out unsteady. “I…”

Of the remaining seven consort-companions, two had been chosen by Feng Jiu’er herself at random, both of considerable standing, while the other five had been personally appointed by the Emperor, their status especially illustrious.

Seeing how a certain someone, relying solely on his looks, hadn’t even bothered to attend the banquet, they had already been displeased.

Now that the princess had left the banquet early for the sake of this very man, the five sons of powerful court ministers were even more incensed.

Fortunately, the Emperor was wise—a man of such lowly status, no matter how extraordinary his looks, could only be housed in the west wing, utterly beneath comparison to them.

“Ninth—” Feng Jiu’er swallowed hard, biting back the words “Imperial Uncle.” “We…”

“I’m hungry.” Suddenly, the elegant man standing before the princess spoke softly.

As his words fell, the chill in the air around them slowly began to dissipate.

Feng Jiu’er stared at Zhan Qingcheng without blinking, momentarily unable to find any words.

Those standing behind her fell completely silent, as if anticipating something.

Here was a man of nothing but common birth, who didn’t even seem to hold their princess in any regard—utterly audacious!

Just as everyone expected the princess to send him away, something unexpected happened.

Before everyone’s watching eyes, Feng Jiu’er suddenly stepped forward and took hold of Zhan Qingcheng’s hand.

A dignified princess, taking the initiative to hold another man’s hand—how could this be allowed?

“Come on, let’s go to my place. There’s good food.” She looked at him and smiled faintly.

Feng Jiu’er didn’t think too much of it—her Ninth Imperial Uncle deserved nothing less than the very best place to stay. Since he didn’t like the west wing, then he simply wouldn’t go there.

Ignoring everyone’s astonished stares, Feng Jiu’er led Zhan Qingcheng by the hand toward her own chambers.

An’bao stood stunned for a good while before coming to his senses and saying, “Princess, Young Master Zhan’s belongings have already been arranged in the west wing. Later…”

“Just bring them all over here. Young Master Zhan will be living in my quarters from now on.” Feng Jiu’er left only those words behind, without so much as turning her head.

Even she herself didn’t quite know what had come over her—sweat beaded at her temples, her palms damp—but no matter what, she simply couldn’t bear to see her Ninth Imperial Uncle unhappy.

She seemed acutely aware of one fact: if her Ninth Imperial Uncle’s displeasure was her fault, she was absolutely doomed!

An’bao was quite distressed. He had meant to remind the princess that even if Young Master Zhan Qingcheng didn’t go to the west wing now, he would still need to eventually.

With the sons of several powerful ministers watching behind him, and the princess having chosen of all things to bring a commoner into her palace, he couldn’t simply do nothing.

Yet unexpectedly, the princess had said that Young Master Zhan Qingcheng would henceforth live in her own quarters, moving directly into the princess’s own chambers.

It wasn’t that she didn’t know An’bao still had more to say, but Feng Jiu’er had nothing further to say herself.

She led Zhan Qingcheng by the hand, walking straight into the main hall.

Those behind An’bao could only watch helplessly as the princess walked away, unable to utter a single word.

What was most infuriating was that there was a man right beside her.

This man was nothing more than somewhat good-looking—how could he possibly earn the princess’s exclusive favor?

The five ministers’ sons radiated a chilling aura; one didn’t even need to look to know how furious they were.

But then, who would dare say Zhan Qingcheng was merely “somewhat good-looking”? No one dared!

“Princess.” A palace maid hurried forward to greet her.

“Go prepare dinner for Young Master Zhan.” Feng Jiu’er waved her hand, then, feeling uneasy, glanced back once more. “Close the door!”

If she didn’t close it, what would she do if An’bao came in later?

But then again, he likely had too much else to arrange and probably wouldn’t come in.

“Yes, Princess.” The maid nodded, withdrew, and closed the door.

No sooner had Feng Jiu’er given the order and turned to go inside than she found Zhan Qingcheng’s tall frame already seated upon the main seat.

That had originally been a seat arranged for the princess, decorated warmly and comfortably, with a touch of girlish charm.

The chair was certainly not small for Feng Jiu’er, but for someone as tall as Zhan Qingcheng, it was absolutely too small.

Once the handsome man had sat down, there wasn’t an inch of space left over—it was a rather endearing sight.

But Feng Jiu’er had little energy left to appreciate how endearing he looked—her Ninth Imperial Uncle was clearly angry again.

Why was she always so afraid of his anger? Even Feng Jiu’er didn’t know. Was she worried he would hit her? How could that be?

His martial skill certainly looked impressive, but she was, after all, a princess, and surely such a perfect man wouldn’t lay a hand on a flower-like beauty such as herself, would he?

“Come here.” Zhan Qingcheng looked at the girl standing dazed in the middle of the hall and beckoned with his hand.

“Mm.” Without giving it any thought at all, Feng Jiu’er immediately stepped forward, her steps even somewhat hurried.

She climbed the steps and came to a stop only once she stood before him.

Zhan Qingcheng extended his large hand, not only pulling Feng Jiu’er toward him but settling her down between his legs.

Startled by this sudden turn of events, Feng Jiu’er lifted her gaze, staring wide-eyed at the man before her, simply unable to react.

With the little lass back in his embrace once more, Zhan Qingcheng’s aura at last grew considerably gentler.

Just as his large hand was about to touch the top of her small head, someone knocked on the hall doors from outside.

Feng Jiu’er took a deep breath and immediately edged backward a little.

What… position was this? She had nearly ended up sprawled across him. Feng Jiu’er suddenly came to her senses and stood up.

“Princess, this servant is coming in.” After the maid’s voice carried through, she pushed open the hall doors and entered with her head bowed low.

The two maids carried the prepared dinner to the side hall, and upon returning to the main hall, still didn’t dare lift their gazes.

Had it been only the princess present, it would have been one thing, but now there was a consort-companion in the princess’s chambers—a man of unmatched handsomeness, yet radiating a chilling air—who would dare look at him for too long?

“Princess, dinner is all ready.”

The maid showed no sign of leaving, uncertain whether she was meant to stay and attend them.

Feng Jiu’er felt somewhat at a loss, glancing back unconsciously at the man behind her.

Sensing the faint displeasure radiating from her Ninth Imperial Uncle, she waved her hand without even turning her head.

“You may go.”

“Yes, Princess.”

The two maids backed away several steps before hurriedly turning and leaving.

The hall doors closed once more, and within the chamber, only Feng Jiu’er and Zhan Qingcheng remained.