“If I hadn’t lost my memory, would I need to ask you?” Feng Jiu’er slowed her pace.

She had no idea where the Ninth Imperial Uncle had gone — would he be able to come back safely?

Feng Jiu’er’s footsteps eventually came to a complete stop, and she turned back to look at Jian Yi.

“That presence from whoever came just now — why does it feel somewhat familiar to me? As if I’ve encountered it somewhere before?”

“When exactly was it? Jian Yi, you really…” Suddenly, the furrow between her brows eased slightly. “That’s right, just last night.”

“He came last night too — last night, on the roof of my chamber, there were two people. Jian Yi, do you actually know who came or not?”

Jian Yi plucked a small cluster of golden chrysanthemums, stepped forward, and tucked the flowers into Feng Jiu’er’s hair.

He admired his handiwork for a good while, nodded, and said, “Not bad — fresh flowers to match a beautiful girl!”

“Jian Yi, I’m asking you something.” Feng Jiu’er glanced up, her gaze falling on Jian Yi once more.

“Whether the Ninth Prince knows whoever came, I’m not sure, but as for myself — I shouldn’t know them.” Jian Yi replied softly.

“Her martial arts skill is formidable, definitely above my own — she’s a woman.”

Feng Jiu’er didn’t find it strange that the person was a woman, but the fact that even Jian Yi was no match for her made Feng Jiu’er all the more worried.

After pondering for a moment, she gave Jian Yi a gentle push.

“Go and watch over him — I’ll be fine going back on my own.”

“Let’s go.” Jian Yi furrowed his brows and continued walking forward. “I already told you I’m no match for her — if you send me there, it’d just be throwing my life away for nothing.”

“Jian Yi.” Feng Jiu’er turned to look at the person walking away. “Then surely you can’t just stand by and watch him die without helping?”

“Don’t worry, he won’t die that easily.” Jian Yi really did leave — at the very least, he didn’t stay behind any longer.

Feeling somewhat uneasy in her heart, Feng Jiu’er had no choice but to follow after him.

Perhaps she ought to trust the Ninth Imperial Uncle, but with him so gravely wounded, how could she not worry?

…

Not long after walking into the deep woods in the back garden of the Princess’s Palace, Zhan Qingcheng came to a stop.

Suddenly, a fierce gust of wind swept in, and a woman dressed in plain nun’s robes appeared before him.

Her entire face had been almost completely ruined, yet facing the stunningly handsome man before her, she remained calm and composed, neither hiding nor covering herself.

“Master.” Zhan Qingcheng looked at the woman before him and called out softly.

Nun Jingxin looked at his pale face, shook her head, her gaze carrying both heartache and a disappointment she couldn’t quite hide.

With just a slight furrow of her brow, she had already arrived in front of Zhan Qingcheng, taking hold of his hand.

Her long finger probed at the pulse on Zhan Qingcheng’s wrist; Nun Jingxin’s gaze grew several shades darker, the chill radiating from her entire body growing ever more intense.

Without uttering a word, she gave her hand a forceful flick.

The woods instantly stirred up countless leaves; by the time the leaves had settled, the two of them in the woods were already seated cross-legged atop a patch of withered branches.

Nun Jingxin’s two palms pressed tightly against Zhan Qingcheng’s broad back, a stream of true qi flowing from her palms into his body.

All around lay perfect stillness, as if one could even hear the sound of leaves drifting through the air.

For over an entire hour, the two of them in the woods remained in their original posture, seated cross-legged on the grass.

Zhan Qingcheng’s complexion seemed to have improved considerably, but Nun Jingxin’s complexion — even with the layer of scarring covering her face — could easily be seen to have turned pale.

Nun Jingxin’s closed eyelids stirred slightly, and she slowly withdrew both palms.

Opening her eyes to look at the person before her, who stood a full head taller than herself, she let out a light sigh.

“Reducing yourself to this state for the sake of one woman — is it truly worth it?”

Her low voice still lingered in the woods; she had risen to her feet at some point, standing firm amid the fierce wind.

Zhan Qingcheng, standing not far before her, gave no response.

Whether it was worth it or not — he had long since had his answer in his heart.

“Don’t tell me — she’s a daughter of the Feng clan. Does my disciple, who’s meant to win the world, really need to rely on some woman?” Nun Jingxin said coldly.

Yet no matter how angry or how disappointed she was, the man before her still said nothing, not even the slightest change showing on his expression.

In the end, Nun Jingxin clenched her fists, her breathing growing ragged, her eyes furrowing involuntarily.

“Master.” Zhan Qingcheng stepped forward, his expression finally showing at least a trace of change.

He did care about her.

Nun Jingxin raised her hand, stopping Zhan Qingcheng from coming closer.

“If you truly care about me, then go back — go back to where you ought to be.”

Zhan Qingcheng halted his steps, looking at the person before him.

Withered, yellowed leaves fell upon his peerlessly handsome face, leaving not a single trace.

“Master, I’m sorry! Where she is, there I’ll be.”

Nun Jingxin took a deep breath, then slowly exhaled.

He wouldn’t leave with her — hadn’t she known that all along? To even get this one line out of him had truly not been easy.

“If you insist on staying, no one can force you otherwise. Don’t waste any more of my internal energy — fend for yourself from here on!”

The moment the words left her mouth, she turned and walked away, leaving him with nothing but the sight of her disappointed retreating back.

By the time Nun Jingxin had vanished into the woods, Zhan Qingcheng’s tall figure had also disappeared from sight.

The woman standing in the tree watched the direction in which the man had left, furrowed her brow, and pressed a hand over her heart.

…

Feng Jiu’er returned to the Princess’s Palace and waited a full two hours, but instead of Zhan Qingcheng returning, what came instead was news that the Second Prince, Feng Yan, had taken poison and ended his own life.

“What did you say? My Second Imperial Brother took poison and killed himself?”

Looking at the maid who had come in to report, Feng Jiu’er’s eyes were filled with disbelief.

“Yes, Princess.” The maid nodded.

“What’s the situation now?” Feng Jiu’er set down the cup in her hand and stood up.

“Reporting to the Princess, I heard… it’s quite serious. His Majesty has summoned all the imperial physicians, I’m afraid that…”

Before the maid had even finished speaking, Feng Jiu’er’s figure was nowhere to be seen in the main hall anymore.

The Second Imperial Brother taking poison and ending his own life — how could that be possible?

Feng Yan, poisoned by a deadly toxin, was still in his own hall, with imperial physicians crowding both inside and outside it.

At the moment he was informed of this news, Feng Qiongcang had been in the Yaxiang Hall, sipping tea with Noble Consort Ya.

By the time Feng Jiu’er arrived, the last batch of imperial physicians to go in had also come back out.

“Your Majesty.”

Everyone knelt together before Feng Qiongcang, and only the one kneeling at the front lifted his head for a glance.

“The Second Prince… is beyond saving.”

How could Feng Jiu’er have ever imagined that the moment she stepped into the hall, she would hear such unwelcome news?

She strode in swiftly, pushing past the eunuch guarding outside the bedchamber, and vanished from everyone’s sight.

Looking at the man lying on the bed, his face pale yet tinged with a dark hue, Feng Jiu’er strode forward and pushed Gu Mingcheng aside.

Gu Mingcheng dropped to his knees in a fluster.

“Princess, please, I beg you, save the Second Prince. He won’t die — why give up? The Second Prince is still alive — why give up?”

Feng Jiu’er extended her long fingers, probing repeatedly at the acupuncture points on Feng Yan’s body — one, two…

“Jiu’er.” Feng Qiongcang, who had followed her in, stood not far away.

“Father Emperor, let me try, let me try again.” Feeling no trace of life at all, Feng Jiu’er’s movements grew more and more frantic.

Everyone in the chamber seemed to have nearly stopped breathing.

In the end, Feng Qiongcang walked over and grasped Feng Jiu’er’s slightly trembling shoulders.

“Jiu’er, your Second Imperial Brother… is gone.”