“Mm.” Zhan Qingcheng nodded, glancing around at everyone. “As for what’s left, I’ll leave it to all of you.”

“No trouble at all, no trouble at all.”

“Your Highness, please rest well. Don’t worry, we’ll get this finished soon.”

“That’s right, that’s right. Miss Jiu’er, please take good care of the Ninth Prince.”

“Miss Jiu’er, we’ll leave the Prince in your hands.”

Some shook their heads, some nodded, but everyone wore a smile.

Feng Jiu’er had just withdrawn her gaze from the crowd when she saw the tall man beside her slightly raise his arm.

She pressed her lips together, then smiled and looped her arm through his.

“Ninth Imperial Uncle, let’s go.”

Out of everyone’s sight, Zhan Qingcheng’s brow furrowed slightly as he strode forward on his long legs.

Watching the Prince leave, everyone present let out a sigh of relief.

The townsfolk hurried over, taking the lanterns—some still unfinished, some nearly done—from the hands of the Twelve Flying Dragon Riders and several other skilled fighters.

“Generals, please go rest as well.”

“That’s right, we can handle things here just fine.”

Let alone the Prince—even seeing warriors who normally fought fiercely on the battlefield doing such trivial chores made the townsfolk uneasy.

Feng Jiu’er taking Zhan Qingcheng away was, in truth, a great favor to everyone; the people couldn’t bear to see the Prince suffer such hardship.

By the lakeside in the distance, beneath the shade of the trees, the chill surrounding Ye Luocha was cold enough to freeze the nearby lake surface.

Their Crown Prince had been made to dance about like a monkey by a mere woman.

“Feng Jiu’er, how detestable!” Ye Luocha stared at Feng Jiu’er’s retreating figure, waves of killing intent rolling off her.

Elder Shi stood to the side, shaking his head repeatedly. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to see the Crown Prince smile, but with their great enmity still unavenged, now truly wasn’t the time.

“Feng Jiu’er really thinks she’s something, daring to make the Sect Master do such things.” Leng Yue walked over, not bothering to hide her displeasure.

“Senior Ye, this matter cannot reach Father’s ears. He’ll surely be furious.”

“Why can’t he know?” Ye Luocha shot Leng Yue a glance. “If it weren’t for his carelessness, someone like Feng Jiu’er wouldn’t even exist.”

“That damned Feng Jiu’er, I—”

Recalling Di Ji’s warning, Ye Luocha gritted her teeth and swallowed the rest of her words.

Catching sight, out of the corner of her eye, of someone approaching on horseback not far off, Ye Luocha’s brow creased and she turned to leave.

Elder Shi shook his head and turned to follow.

By the lake, only Leng Yue remained, having slipped away on her own.

She glanced at Feng Jiu’er, then at Mu Mu walking off from the other side, and the smile at the corners of her mouth deepened.

Feng Jiu’er had no idea that the Ninth Imperial Uncle’s help had made her brothers and the townsfolk so uneasy; had she known, she certainly wouldn’t have let him help.

At the time she’d only wanted him to seem more approachable to the people, happier—who knew it would become such a burden for the townsfolk?

She turned her head to glance at the man beside her, the corners of her mouth curving with quiet amusement.

If the Ninth Imperial Uncle knew he’d been looked down upon, what would he think? She was almost curious to find out.

But for her own sake, and for the sake of her brothers and the townsfolk, she decided to let it go.

Looking up at the lantern hung high above, Feng Jiu’er said with a smile, “The Ninth Imperial Uncle really is different—even hanging a lantern, he makes it especially sturdy.”

“If you have something to say, just say it.” Zhan Qingcheng lowered his eyes to look at her, brow furrowing slightly.

Meeting his gaze, Feng Jiu’er asked in a low voice, “What do you mean by that? Are you saying even a compliment from me must have some hidden motive?”

Zhan Qingcheng’s lips curved up slightly. He looked away without responding.

Feng Jiu’er watched him, her crescent brows knitting slightly.

“Think about it—I’ve praised you a lot more than usual today, which isn’t quite like me.”

“Mm.” Before Feng Jiu’er could finish, Zhan Qingcheng nodded lightly.

Turning her head to look at his face, which didn’t seem to be joking at all, Feng Jiu’er abruptly pulled her arm back from his.

“That doesn’t necessarily mean I have some motive either, does it? Or is it that the Ninth Imperial Uncle simply lacks the confidence to be praised by me?”

The moment Feng Jiu’er’s words fell, Zhan Qingcheng reached out with his long arm and pulled her into his embrace.

He didn’t answer her question, simply holding her close as he walked forward.

“Girl, I’m hungry.”

Feng Jiu’er looked up at the tall figure beside her, pushing against him to get away, but couldn’t break free.

Who could say why she’d praised him so much today? But seeing everything happening in Phoenix City, she just couldn’t help herself.

“Fine, let’s say I—”

Before Feng Jiu’er could finish, Zhan Qingcheng suddenly stopped in his tracks.

“Didn’t you say there were delicious pastries? I’m hungry.”

Meeting the man’s gaze, Feng Jiu’er blinked.

“Really hungry?”

“I didn’t have time for breakfast, and it’s not early now,” Zhan Qingcheng said softly.

Looking at that face—handsome enough to provoke the heavens, yet with a touch of sulkiness—Feng Jiu’er took a deep breath and looked away.

“There is. What do you want to eat? Anything.”

“I’m hungry too.” Suddenly, a familiar voice came from behind.

Feng Jiu’er tried to turn, but Zhan Qingcheng’s brow furrowed slightly as he turned with her.

Seeing Mu Mu walking up behind them, leading his horse, a flash of delight crossed Feng Jiu’er’s eyes.

“Mu Mu.” She called out softly, wanting to step forward.

But she found herself held fast, unable to move even if she wanted to.

Mu Mu glanced at Zhan Qingcheng, raised an eyebrow, then turned his gaze back to Feng Jiu’er.

“Didn’t you say there was something delicious?”

“Of course.” Feng Jiu’er nodded with a smile.

There were inns and eateries up ahead—surely some would be open, and good food wouldn’t be lacking.

She turned back to the man beside her and said softly, “Let’s go, I’ll take you both to get something good to eat.”

Calling for Qiao Mu, and with Xing Zizhou and Xiao Yingtao having just returned, Feng Jiu’er reserved an almost entirely open space on the second floor of an eatery.

She’d heard it was meant to be a private room, but in truth it didn’t look like one at all.

It had no walls on three sides, no screens—it was almost like a pavilion.

Sitting in this unusual room, one could see the street, and almost the entire lake.

A light breeze blew in, carrying the warmth of the sunlight, so no one felt cold.

The waiter brought up a table full of food with a beaming smile, then withdrew.

Before returning to the city, Feng Jiu’er had also been starving, but after running into Zhan Qingcheng, she’d actually forgotten about something so important.

Looking at the table full of food, Xiao Yingtao was the first to pick up her bowl and chopsticks.

“Jiu’er, eat.” She glanced at Feng Jiu’er, then her gaze landed on the man beside her. “Ninth Prince, eat.”

Like Feng Jiu’er, Xiao Yingtao was famished too.

More importantly, they’d been rushing along the road for so many days, never eating well even once—now with good food in front of her, who could remember there was a prince at the table?

Xing Zizhou raised the corners of his mouth slightly, picked up a chicken thigh, and placed it in Xiao Yingtao’s bowl.

“Eat up, the Ninth Prince won’t mind.”

Xiao Yingtao glanced at the plump chicken thigh in her bowl, pressed her lips together, and looked up at the man sitting across from her.

“Eat,” Feng Jiu’er gave her a reassuring smile.

She picked up her bowl, ladled out a bowl of soup, and turned her gaze to Zhan Qingcheng.

“This soup’s pretty good—want to try it?”