Qiaomu’s memory hadn’t failed her—that was roughly how it had gone.

She’d thought she was still back at the mountain stronghold, that she liked him, so she’d dragged him back to make him her consort in the bandit den.

How had she forgotten she was no longer at the stronghold?

Suddenly, Qiaomu’s brow furrowed.

So what if she wasn’t at the stronghold anymore? Back in the day, she’d dared to seize even the War God Prince right in the middle of the street—now that she’d left the stronghold, had she gone timid?

She was, after all, the famously notorious leader of Clear Wind Stronghold—since when did she act all bashful and hesitant like this?

Qiaomu decided she must have been spending too much time with Jiu’er and Xiao Yingtao.

Her newfound shyness had clearly rubbed off from them.

“Hmph!” The arm circling the man’s head tightened. “The man I, Qiao Mu, have set my eyes on belongs to me, even in death.”

She had no idea that her sudden “awakening” had caused her grip to hurt the man somewhat, and he had come to.

Qiaomu narrowed her eyes slightly, and as she looked down, her gaze met Feng Jiang’s.

She swallowed hard, masking her own discomfort.

“What are you looking at? Go to sleep!”

Feng Jiang’s deep, bright eyes blinked once, then closed again, and he even pressed his head back against her chest of his own accord.

Feeling Feng Jiang’s deliberate closeness, Qiaomu swallowed audibly.

The man was hers now—though, given their current position, wasn’t this all a bit strange?

“She’s fine, she woke up yesterday. Wasn’t Mister Bao here all last night? Where’d he go?”

Xiao Yingtao’s voice had just carried in when the door was pushed open from outside.

The moment Feng Jiu’er and Xiao Yingtao entered and saw the scene on the bed, they both froze in their tracks.

Qiaomu snapped back to her senses and kicked Feng Jiang square in the abdomen.

Feng Jiang grunted in pain and sat up.

Her body felt a bit chilled, and when Qiaomu looked down, she realized her clothes had been pulled open by someone—the situation could only be described as…

“Ah—”

Feng Jiang’s gaze followed Qiaomu’s, and before he could look away, a gust of palm force struck him head-on.

The force of the palm sent Feng Jiang, who had been sitting on the bed, standing at its edge.

But his gaze remained fixed on Qiaomu.

Then, abruptly, he dropped to his knees.

Qiaomu had just finished straightening her clothes, and when she looked up, she saw the man kneeling before her.

“What’s the meaning of this?” she asked in a low voice.

“I want to marry you!” Feng Jiang’s reply held not the slightest ambiguity.

Behind him, Feng Jiu’er looked at her third imperial brother and nearly gave him a thumbs-up.

“Why should I marry you?” Qiaomu got out of bed and smoothed the wrinkles from her clothes.

“Don’t think that just because you’re my man, I have to marry you. I was born a mountain bandit—do you have any idea what number you are among the men I’ve dragged back?”

“Get up. If you behave well, I won’t drive you away. If you don’t behave, well, that’s another matter.”

Qiaomu paid Feng Jiang no further mind and went to stand before Feng Jiu’er and Xiao Yingtao.

“What’s the situation? Can we set off today?”

Feng Jiu’er and Xiao Yingtao both looked at her, then their gazes shifted to the kneeling man.

“You’re really that irresponsible?” Feng Jiu’er withdrew her gaze, gave Qiaomu a sidelong glance, and arched an eyebrow.

“Is this your first day meeting me?” Qiaomu frowned.

“Don’t forget how we even came to know each other. If I hadn’t taken a liking to your man back then, we’d never have had the chance to meet.”

“I, Qiao Mu, don’t easily hang myself on one single tree. Mister Bao, you can get up now.”

Qiaomu waved a hand and turned to walk out.

Once out of the room, she let out a long, satisfied breath.

Qiaomu touched the spot on her chest where the man’s warmth still lingered, the corner of her mouth curving up slightly, and pushed open the main door with a look of delight, stepping outside.

When Feng Jiu’er, Xiao Yingtao, and Feng Jiang came out of the side room, Qiaomu and Yang Sheng were already having breakfast in the courtyard.

Seeing everyone come out, Yang Sheng stood up.

“My lord, Doctor Long, Lady Xiao Yingtao, please, come have a meal.”

Yang Sheng wasn’t particularly old, and didn’t usually stand on much ceremony. When Qiaomu told him to sit down and eat with them, he simply sat.

Qiaomu could tell this young fellow hadn’t gotten proper rest in a long time, and she felt for him.

She must have saved him, mustn’t she? Otherwise he wouldn’t keep saying such things.

Still, that hadn’t been her original intention, and really, he didn’t need to act so overwhelmed with gratitude.

Seeing that Qiaomu had returned to her usual spirited self, Feng Jiu’er and Xiao Yingtao didn’t press her with more questions.

Feng Jiang, on the other hand, was rather pitiable—his very first proposal, asking a woman to marry him, and he’d actually failed.

But seeing Qiaomu’s rosy complexion, the gloom in his heart cleared away too, and he sat down beside her.

The five of them gathered around a single table for breakfast, and no one had much to say.

Feng Jiang finished eating quickly. He wiped his mouth and looked at Yang Sheng. “Are you coming along on this trip to the poison-breeding farm?”

Yang Sheng set down his now-empty bowl and hastily wiped the corner of his mouth, looking up at Feng Jiang.

“Master Lei didn’t originally arrange for me to go—I volunteered to come along with you all myself.”

“If he didn’t send you, who did he arrange?” Yang Sheng picked up the teapot and poured tea for the three women present.

“No one.” Yang Sheng shook his head. “Master Lei’s meaning was that since you, my lord, dislike being constantly watched, he didn’t assign anyone at all.”

“He said this whole route passes through territory belonging to Lijun City, so even if you went alone, there’d be no real danger.”

“Master Lei said he’s already arranged for people to wait for you and Doctor Long at the designated location, so you needn’t worry.”

“So all told, besides you, it’s just the three of us going?” Feng Jiu’er looked at Yang Sheng and asked softly.

“Mm.” Yang Sheng nodded. “If you have no other arrangements, my lord, it’ll be just the two of us, plus all of you from Dragon Shadow.”

“No, wait, there are also three coachmen. Master Lei has prepared three carriages for us.”

“He said the situation isn’t actually too severe, so we can travel by carriage, stopping at inns along the way—there’s no need to rush.”

“Master Lei said that no matter what, Doctor Long is still a woman and shouldn’t be overworked.”

As soon as he finished speaking, Yang Sheng picked up his handkerchief and stood.

“My lord, if there’s nothing else, I’ll head out. Brother Jian Yi is keeping watch outside—he probably hasn’t eaten yet. I’ll go bring him in.”

“Go ahead.” Feng Jiang waved a hand.

Yang Sheng left, and Jian Yi came in. Feng Jiu’er prepared breakfast for her.

Jian Yi sat down and began eating without asking a single question.

Feng Jiu’er had already eaten her fill. She glanced around, then let her gaze settle back on Feng Jiang and Qiaomu.

“If Qiaomu’s condition allows it, we can set off today. We can discuss anything else along the way.”

“What condition could I possibly have?” Qiaomu raised an eyebrow, picked up a piece of meat with her chopsticks, and put it in her mouth.

“And what about you?” Feng Jiu’er looked at Feng Jiang. “The one whose proposal just failed.”

Feng Jiang choked on Feng Jiu’er’s words.

A failed proposal—not a phrase he’d ever heard before, but the meaning was unmistakable; there was no way he could fail to understand it.

Yes—it had indeed failed!

He coughed lightly, set down his cup, and turned to look at Qiaomu.

“Wherever she goes, I go.”