“Who would I be thinking of?” Xiao Yingtao pressed her lips together, still unable to hide her delight.

“Yinan said he’d be back in a day or two, so it should happen sometime soon. As for where he is right now, he didn’t say.”

“Once Qiaomu wakes up, you should head back. Xing Zizhou can’t manage Dragon Shadow on his own.”

Feng Jiu’er drank a cup of tea and stood up.

“Jiu’er.” Xiao Yingtao looked at her, frowning slightly. “You’re all going out, and you’re not planning to bring me along?”

“There’s no need.” Feng Jiu’er shook her head. “As soon as Qiaomu wakes up, she won’t need anyone looking after her either. I’ll bring Qinchun along to help with a few things.”

“You need to stay back at Dragon Shadow.”

Xing Zizhou had already started complaining about always being left to drag her around everywhere.

Besides, Dragon Shadow Pharmacy had just begun offering consultation services, so it really was necessary for Xiao Yingtao to stay.

“Fine.” Xiao Yingtao nodded helplessly.

Feng Jiu’er and Jian Yi left. Xiao Yingtao went to another side room to continue studying medicinal herbs, leaving only Feng Jiang in Qiaomu’s room.

After nightfall, Qiaomu showed signs of waking, and Feng Jiang did not dare to step away even for a moment.

In truth, Qiaomu had already woken up long before, but with only that man in the room, she didn’t know how to face him, so she kept her eyes shut.

Today, she had heard everything—what Feng Jiu’er and Xiao Yingtao said, even what Feng Jiang had said.

She wasn’t prepared for any of it, and had no wish to face it at all.

It wasn’t until she’d been conscious for over an hour, her stomach growling, that Qiaomu was finally forced to open her eyes.

“Qiaomu.” Feng Jiang’s face lit with surprise as he gripped her hand. “You’re finally awake? How do you feel? Is anything uncomfortable?”

Qiaomu met the man’s gaze, withdrew her hand from his palm, and turned onto her side, her back to the person at the edge of the bed.

Watching her like this, Feng Jiang’s heart clenched again.

“Qiaomu, it’s me. Don’t you remember me?” Jiu’er had said there was a chance she’d lost her memory.

Qiaomu didn’t know how to answer. If she could, all she wanted was a bowl of noodles—her stomach was so hungry.

Where were Jiu’er and Xiao Yingtao? Why had they left only this fellow behind? She wanted noodles. Her stomach hurt, and her head was spinning!

“Qiaomu, turn around and look at me.” Feng Jiang stood and gently wrapped his arms around her shoulders.

“Do you really not remember me? I’m—”

“I’m hungry.” Qiaomu didn’t turn back, just rubbed her flat stomach.

He actually meant to say his own name—had he gone mad? If the walls had ears, would he be able to escape the consequences?

“Hungry?” Feng Jiang clearly hadn’t grasped her meaning.

Did Qiaomu truly not remember him? Had she really lost her memory?

He was worried—genuinely worried!

“Mm.” Qiaomu nodded slightly.

“All right, wait here. I’ll go prepare something to eat right now.” Feng Jiang dropped the words and turned away.

But he still felt uneasy watching her, and turned back again.

“Don’t go anywhere. Wait here for me, and don’t be afraid! I’m here. I’ll be back soon.”

Qiaomu didn’t respond, but her heart pounded—thump, thump, without stopping.

She recalled what Feng Jiang had said earlier, and her face flushed a shade redder.

But were those his true feelings? Why did it feel like he’d been forced into saying them?

It was all Jiu’er and Xiao Yingtao’s fault—why did they have to go blabbing about it?

Feng Jiang’s departure gave Qiaomu a brief moment to rest.

But soon enough, the man who had left returned—and it seemed he had come back alone.

“Qiaomu, it’s ready. Yang Sheng had them make meat congee. Sit up and eat a little.”

Feng Jiang set down the tray in his hands, turned, and came back to the bedside.

“Qiaomu, come—”

“Don’t touch me.” Qiaomu shrank back and sat up.

Feng Jiang looked at her, his body stiffening for a moment, and didn’t come any closer.

Qiaomu turned and got out of bed at the foot.

After two days of sleep, her body felt stiff all over.

She stretched out both arms, kicked her legs a bit, walked over to the table, and poured herself a cup of tea to rinse her mouth.

Then she drank the tea and ate the congee, seeming perfectly normal.

Qiaomu never once looked at Feng Jiang the entire time, which only made him more anxious inside.

“Qiaomu.” He watched her for a while, then came around to sit across from her.

Qiaomu kept her head down, eating the congee, still not looking at him.

One mouthful, two mouthfuls, until she’d finished the entire bowl. She picked up the handkerchief in front of her, wiped her mouth, stood, and stepped toward the door.

The air in the room felt too strange; Qiaomu just wanted to get outside for some fresh air.

Jiu’er must have left because of something urgent—but why hadn’t even Xiao Yingtao stayed behind? Were they really so at ease leaving her with Feng Jiang?

As Qiaomu pushed open the door, she couldn’t help rolling her eyes.

She had grown up well, with a good figure too, and after all these days following Jiu’er around, her skin had only gotten better.

Such a beauty, and yet they’d abandoned her, leaving her in the care of a man—how infuriating!

Qiaomu knew Feng Jiang was following behind her, though she had no idea where she herself was headed. Once out of the room, she simply walked straight ahead.

“Qiao.” Feng Jiang grabbed a cloak and chased after her once she’d left the room.

“It’s late, and it’s chilly outside. If you need anything, I’ll go get it for you.”

Feng Jiang caught up to Qiaomu and draped the cloak over her shoulders.

Qiaomu’s steps only paused for a moment. She took the tie of the cloak from Feng Jiang’s hand, knotted it at her neck, pulled the cloak close, and kept walking.

Could someone please rescue her? She didn’t want to talk to him, and even less did she want to be alone with him.

Feng Jiang watched the figure walking away and kept his pace, following after her.

“Qiao, you’ve only just woken up. You mustn’t catch a chill. You—”

“Qiao.” Yang Sheng, who was keeping watch outside the courtyard, heard movement and glanced back.

He watched Qiaomu, awake and well, and felt a joy he couldn’t put into words.

Over the years, Yang Sheng had no idea how many people he had saved, but being saved himself—that was a first.

Seeing Qiaomu safe and sound, he felt deeply grateful.

Qiaomu now had her long hair falling loosely, her complexion still somewhat pale, but she looked gentle, beautiful, lovely to behold.

The moment Qiaomu raised her eyes and saw an outsider, she immediately lowered her head and turned back.

Of the four people who had come to Bao Manor, only Feng Jiu’er and Xiao Yingtao were wearing human-skin masks.

Jian Yi still looked like herself, except her attire was different, and her skin had been darkened several shades by Feng Jiu’er.

There was no way around it—Jian Yi’s fair, breathtaking beauty meant Feng Jiu’er wasn’t comfortable letting her go out looking like that.

Qiaomu hadn’t worn a mask either; she had simply dressed as a man, and with her skin matching the “blackened” Jian Yi, there was no real difference between them.

“Qiao, I mean no offense.” Yang Sheng chased after her. “If it weren’t for you that day, I might have perished in that fire.”

“Qiao.” Yang Sheng caught up in front of Qiaomu and dropped to his knees with a thud.

“Doctor Long has already told everyone about your condition, so please don’t be alarmed! I only wanted to thank you in person.”

Kneeling there, Yang Sheng looked up at Qiaomu, his face full of sincerity.

Qiaomu lowered her gaze to look at him, her fine brows furrowing slightly. “You—who are you?”

That night, Qiaomu had drunk a great deal of wine. Just as Feng Jiu’er had said, the reason she’d entered the west wing was because she’d seen someone whose silhouette resembled Feng Jiang’s go inside.

She hadn’t paid much attention to the people of Bao Manor at the time, so it was only natural she couldn’t immediately place Yang Sheng.