The first moment Feng Jiu’er looked at Jian Yi, his gaze was still fixed on Yu Jingfeng. Even in that single glance, Feng Jiu’er could already see that something was off about him.

His eyes had lost their former clarity; his pupils had grown deep, his gaze even somewhat murky, impossible to read.

And yet, the instant Jian Yi turned to look at her, Feng Jiu’er felt he seemed normal again.

What in the world was going on?

“Jian Yi.” Feng Jiu’er, momentarily distracted, stepped toward him.

“Jiu’er.” Jian Yi called out softly too.

Hearing him say her name, Feng Jiu’er let out a small breath of relief.

“Jian Yi, Yu Jingfeng meant no harm—I asked him to—”

“Jiu’er.” Jian Yi glanced around at everyone there, cutting off Feng Jiu’er’s words.

“Who are they?”

Jian Yi’s question left everyone present utterly stunned.

“Jian Yi, you don’t remember us?”

Xiao Yingtao hurried over, standing behind Feng Jiu’er, not daring to get too close to Jian Yi.

Jian Yi’s gaze swept briefly over Yu Jingfeng, Feng Yi’nan, and Xiao Yingtao, then quickly returned to Feng Jiu’er, as though Xiao Yingtao had never spoken to him at all.

“Jiu’er, I’m very hungry.”

“All right.” Feng Jiu’er composed herself, burying her own feelings. She turned back to Xiao Yingtao and said softly, “Yingtao, go prepare something for Jian Yi to eat.”

“Mm.” Xiao Yingtao pressed her lips tight and nodded. She looked at Jian Yi, blinked her damp eyes, and turned to leave.

“Jiu’er.” Jian Yi tried to stand.

Feng Jiu’er went over and held his arm, making him sit back down.

“Yi’nan, give me the medicine.” Once seated, Feng Jiu’er looked at Feng Yi’nan.

Her words snapped Feng Yi’nan out of his shock at what Jian Yi had said. He nodded and went to hand the medicine bowl to Feng Jiu’er.

Feng Jiu’er took the bowl, and when she turned and lifted her eyes, she found Jian Yi watching her without so much as a blink.

“What is it?” she asked gently.

“Jiu’er, I want to go back to our room. There are too many people here.”

Jian Yi was still watching Feng Jiu’er, his expression no different from usual.

“This is your room,” Feng Jiu’er said, lifting the bowl and blowing gently on it.

She raised her eyes to Yu Jingfeng and Feng Yi’nan and said softly, “Yi’nan, go see if Yingtao needs any help.”

“Yu Jingfeng can stay here.”

“Yu Jingfeng, go stand guard outside. I still need to check on Jian Yi.”

“I’m fine,” Jian Yi said, his hand settling on Feng Jiu’er’s shoulder.

Feng Jiu’er glanced sideways at his large hand resting there, her moth-wing brows furrowing slightly without her meaning to.

“Jiu’er, then I’ll head out first,” Feng Yi’nan said with a nod, turning to leave.

Yu Jingfeng, however, clearly sensed something was wrong with Jian Yi and didn’t dare leave.

“Miss Jiu’er, I—”

Feng Jiu’er drew her gaze back from Jian Yi’s hand and looked up to meet Yu Jingfeng’s eyes.

“Stand guard outside the tent. If anything happens, I’ll call for you.”

Yu Jingfeng looked into her eyes, and finally nodded.

“All right. I’ll stay right outside. Miss Jiu’er, just call if you need anything.”

He wouldn’t go far—only a few steps away. Leaving was leaving, but not really.

What on earth was wrong with that fellow Jian Yi? Not remembering the rest of them, yet remembering Miss Jiu’er?

That thing Miss Jiu’er had once mentioned, selective amnesia—was that really a real thing?

Or was it because he’d taken off Jian Yi’s clothes, and Jian Yi, angry about it, had deliberately claimed not to remember any of them?

Yu Jingfeng didn’t understand, and he didn’t dare ask further. He turned and went out, letting the tent flap fall.

Feng Jiu’er blew on the medicine in the bowl once more and brought it to Jian Yi’s lips.

“Jian Yi, drink the medicine first. You’ll feel better once you do.”

“Jiu’er, feed me.” Jian Yi lowered his gaze to the little figure beside him, the corner of his mouth curling slightly.

Feng Jiu’er looked at this Jian Yi who now felt somewhat unfamiliar to her, unsure what to do.

In the end, she said nothing, simply bringing the bowl to his lips. Jian Yi didn’t refuse either, drinking down the medicine in a few gulps.

Feng Jiu’er set the bowl aside, and taking hold of the hand Jian Yi had rested on her shoulder, she turned to look at him.

“Lie down. Let me check on you.”

“Check what?” Jian Yi reached out his other hand and took hers. “I’m not hurt. Why would you need to treat me?”

Though he didn’t understand, he obediently lay back down.

Feng Jiu’er met his gaze, withdrew her hand from his palm, turned to the side, and extended her long fingers to rest on his pulse.

“But you don’t remember Yingtao and the others, do you?”

“Are they important people?” Jian Yi asked unhurriedly, holding her gaze.

“Mm.” Feng Jiu’er nodded, giving him a firm answer.

“Jian Yi, you still remember me—there’s no way you could forget them.”

“I only remember you,” Jian Yi said softly.

Feng Jiu’er’s brow creased, and Jian Yi’s voice continued, “If Jiu’er thinks they’re important, then I’ll remember them.”

He was still that same Jian Yi who never wanted her to worry—so then why…

Feng Jiu’er found his pulse steady, even, and strong—nothing at all like someone who was ill. The long finger she had withdrawn from his wrist pressed down again, with a touch more force. But no matter how she probed, she still couldn’t find anything wrong.

So then the question remained—why did Jian Yi remember only her?

“Jiu’er, what’s wrong?” Jian Yi reached out his long arm and used a finger to smooth the crease from her brow.

But the moment his fingertip left, the crease returned.

“Jiu’er.” Jian Yi sat up and took both her hands in his.

“What exactly is wrong with me? You look like you’re in pain.”

Feng Jiu’er pressed her lips together, smoothing out her furrowed brow.

“It’s nothing much. Your body is perfectly fine—it’s just that you can’t remember anyone else.”

“Jian Yi.” She met his gaze and asked, very seriously, “Besides me, who else do you remember?”

“Who?” Jian Yi frowned and shook his head. “I only have Jiu’er as my wife. I don’t know anyone else.”

Wife? Feng Jiu’er understood even less now.

But this was still Jian Yi—earnest, simple-hearted. In his eyes she could see no trace of joking, no trace of deceit.

“Jian Yi.” She tried to pull her hand from his grip, only to find his hold tightening.

He didn’t want to let her go.

“Jian Yi, who told you that I’m your wife? I’m not,” she said, shaking her head carefully.

“Jiu’er.” Jian Yi pulled hard, drawing Feng Jiu’er into his embrace.

“Why would you say that? Did I do something wrong? Don’t you want me anymore?”

“I want to remember everyone else—I said I do, I remember all of them.”

“Jiu’er, you’re the only family I have left in this life. Please don’t leave me.”

The force of Jian Yi’s embrace was a little too much, his voice and body both trembling faintly.

Feng Jiu’er was struck dumb for a moment.

What in the world had that old demon of Black Mountain done to Jian Yi?

What exactly was wrong with him?