“All right.” Zhan Qingcheng nodded lightly.

“Cough…” Qiao Mu really hadn’t meant to—she’d accidentally caught a glimpse of the Ninth Prince’s earnest expression and ended up actually choking on her own.

“My apologies!” She pulled out a handkerchief, covered her mouth, and turned away to cough softly.

Sure enough, the Ninth Prince really did have a soft spot for this—there was just no helping it!

Just to serve a woman well, the War God Prince had actually promised to learn how to peel shrimp shells.

Just how good was Feng Jiu’er’s fortune? Only she could afford to be this willful.

Even Feng Jiu’er hadn’t expected the Ninth Imperial Uncle to respond like this. She pressed her lips together, a sweetness blooming in her heart, and completely ignored Qiao Mu.

Meeting Zhan Qingcheng’s gaze, the words on the tip of Feng Jiu’er’s tongue suddenly wouldn’t come out.

“Here, the hot water’s here.”

The moment Xiao Yingtao’s voice came through, Xing Zizhou walked into the room carrying a basin of water.

“Here it is.” Xiao Yingtao looked at Feng Jiu’er and Zhan Qingcheng with a smile. “The Ninth Prince really is one of a kind—going through fire and water, all for Jiu’er!”

Feng Jiu’er stood up and pulled over a chair.

Xing Zizhou set the basin down on the chair beside Feng Jiu’er.

Not knowing what had happened, the innkeeper hurried over after them.

Watching Feng Jiu’er clean Zhan Qingcheng’s hands, he took a deep breath and stepped closer.

“Ninth Prince, what—what happened?”

For the Ninth Prince to come dine at his establishment and seem to have run into some kind of mishap was naturally cause for alarm.

“It’s nothing, he just pricked his hand while peeling shrimp,” Xiao Yingtao said softly.

“Pricked?” The innkeeper grew even more nervous. “I-I’ll go prepare some medicine, some ointment right away, little—”

“It’s fine, Jiu’er’s here, there won’t be any problem.” Xiao Yingtao waved her hand at the innkeeper. “Go about your business, with Jiu’er here, it’s fine.”

Seeing that the Ninth Prince showed no reaction at all, the innkeeper looked at Feng Jiu’er, not daring to speak, nor daring to leave.

Feng Jiu’er held Zhan Qingcheng’s hands in the warm water, then pulled a small bottle from her sleeve and poured some medicinal liquid into the water.

Setting the bottle down on the table beside her, she picked up the dampened silk handkerchief and carefully cleaned his injured fingers.

“Disinfecting it—it’s fine, just don’t let this happen again.”

She let out a soft sigh, then pulled out another handkerchief and tucked it into Zhan Qingcheng’s palm.

“Wipe it dry yourself.”

With that, she set the basin aside and stood up.

“Innkeeper, take this away, it’s nothing serious.”

“Yes, yes.” The innkeeper hurried over to take the basin. “Whatever you need, Miss Jiu’er, just say the word—I’ll be right outside.”

“It’s fine, go on and tend to your work, we’ll come find you if we need anything.” Feng Jiu’er waved her hand.

As she withdrew her gaze from the innkeeper, a spot of red caught her attention.

Looking closely, Feng Jiu’er realized that Mu Mu, sitting to her left, had also pricked his finger.

Mu Mu pressed at his injured finger, then wiped it nonchalantly with a cloth.

Perhaps sensing Feng Jiu’er watching him, he looked up.

Feng Jiu’er’s crescent brows knit slightly as she watched the innkeeper’s retreating figure.

“One more basin of hot water—General Mu’s hurt as well.”

The Ninth Prince injured, and General Mu too? The innkeeper’s body stiffened as he turned around.

“Just prepare a basin of hot water, no need to worry.” With that, Feng Jiu’er sat back down.

“Yes.” The innkeeper nodded and hurried out of the room.

Sitting back down, Feng Jiu’er took the cloth from Mu Mu’s hand and grabbed his pricked finger.

“How many?”

“One.” Mu Mu replied softly.

“On purpose?” Feng Jiu’er’s brow furrowed, her voice dropping low.

“Mm.” Mu Mu nodded.

Feng Jiu’er stopped what she was doing and stared unblinkingly at the man in front of her.

She’d only been asking casually, never expecting him to actually say “yes.”

“Mu Mu, you pricked your own finger on purpose?” Xiao Yingtao, who had just sat down a moment before, frowned and asked.

At some point, without anyone quite noticing, Xiao Yingtao had let go of her crush on Mu Mu.

Now, everyone was like friends, like family—and there was nothing wrong with that.

Mu Mu met Feng Jiu’er’s gaze with a calm expression, completely ignoring Xiao Yingtao’s question.

“Why?” Feng Jiu’er asked in a low voice, momentarily stunned.

“Doesn’t hurt.” Mu Mu withdrew his hand from Feng Jiu’er’s grip, picked up the shrimp from his own bowl, and tipped it into hers.

“Eat up, stop fussing over this.”

“Did this king say it hurt?” Zhan Qingcheng set down the cloth he’d been using to dry his hands and glanced at Mu Mu.

“Putting on an act!” Mu Mu raised an eyebrow, picking up his bowl and chopsticks to eat. “Jiu’er, eat, the food’s getting cold.”

What was going on between these two brothers? Something about it seemed off, no matter how you looked at it.

Let alone Qiao Mu—even Xing Zizhou and Xiao Yingtao couldn’t make sense of it, and neither could Feng Jiu’er.

The three of them looked at Mu Mu, then at Zhan Qingcheng, and finally their gazes settled on Feng Jiu’er.

Did Mu Mu’s “putting on an act” mean that the Ninth Prince wasn’t actually in pain but was pretending to be, just to make Jiu’er feel sorry for him?

The Ninth Prince, faking pain he didn’t feel? Was there really nothing wrong with what Mu Mu had said?

Feng Jiu’er could clearly feel the chill radiating from the man on her right grow noticeably colder. She froze for a moment, and just as she was about to say something, she heard footsteps approaching from outside.

“Miss Jiu’er, the water’s here.”

Unaware of the tense atmosphere inside, the innkeeper hurried in carrying the water.

Sensing the slightly oppressive mood, he came up to Feng Jiu’er and said nothing more.

Feng Jiu’er stood up and took the basin, waving her hand.

“You can go, there’s nothing more for you here.”

“Yes, Miss Jiu’er.” The innkeeper nodded, not daring to look at anyone, and left with his head bowed.

Feng Jiu’er set the basin aside and once again took out the medicine bottle, pouring a bit of the liquid into the water.

“Whether it hurts or not, it still needs to be disinfected—don’t let my medicine go to waste.”

Mu Mu turned to glance at her, set down his chopsticks, and placed his injured hand into the basin to soak.

“Hurry and eat your fill, then go rest—you’ve already got dark circles under your eyes.”

Feng Jiu’er nodded and sat back down.

Just as she was wondering how to deal with the “wronged” man on her right, she found that the man’s icy aura had eased somewhat.

As she turned her head, a bowl of food, already served for her, was held out before her.

She met Zhan Qingcheng’s gaze, her brow furrowing slightly.

“Ninth Imperial Uncle, did you serve this for me?”

“Mm.” Zhan Qingcheng nodded. “Eat your fill, then come serve me again.”

Feng Jiu’er’s crescent brows lifted slightly as she took the food he’d served her.

She’d thought the Ninth Imperial Uncle was being so attentive out of concern for her, only to realize he was actually still minding the fact that she’d just been tending to Mu Mu.

Couldn’t these two brothers ever just sit down and have a peaceful meal together?

One was childish, the other petty—but considering she’d eaten the shrimp both of them had peeled, she decided not to make an issue of it.

Feng Jiu’er glanced back at Mu Mu and said softly, “All right, just soak it for a while, it’ll be fine. My medicine’s good, it definitely won’t leave a scar.”

“Still, don’t pull a foolish stunt like that again.”