Qiao Mu said nothing, her silence unsettling.

Xiao Yingtao handed her a piece of softened dried meat.

“Eat up, you’ll see him soon.”

Qiao Mu glanced sideways, took the meat without a word, and began chewing.

Di Wuya raised his head and looked around at everyone, his gaze landing on Long Shiyi.

“Pass the order — if there’s still no news by tomorrow morning, we continue the attack.”

Long Shiyi set down his bowl, stood, and cupped his fists.

“Yes!”

“My lord.” A voice came from outside.

A brother lifted the tent flap and strode in.

“My lord, Miss Jiu’er.” The brother was out of breath, clearly having hurried over.

“He’s… he’s back.”

“Who?” Qiao Mu shot to her feet.

“It’s Young Master Jiang. Young Master Jiang is back,” the brother said, turning to look at Qiao Mu.

Before he had even finished speaking, Qiao Mu had strode out and vanished from sight in the blink of an eye.

Outside the tent, Feng Jiang was being supported as he was helped back.

Qiao Mu had gone only a few steps when she caught sight of him.

She stopped in her tracks, staring unblinking at that face, pale as paper, her heart clenched painfully, her breath caught.

Feng Jiu’er and the others emerged from the camp a step behind her.

“Little Jiang.” Xiao Yingtao murmured his name softly, looking at Feng Jiang.

In less than two days, he had changed into this — even she found it hard to accept.

Feng Jiu’er clenched her fists tightly and glanced up at Qiao Mu.

Qiao Mu finally came to her senses. Her face expressionless, she stepped forward.

Feng Jiang moved his arm slightly, and the brother, understanding, let him go.

He was truly exhausted, yet the moment he saw this small woman, all his strength returned in an instant.

Feng Jiang took a step forward on legs that were long yet felt heavy.

Qiao Mu reached him and threw herself at him with force.

Feng Jiang stopped, his body swaying, and firmly caught the woman in his arms.

Qiao Mu had crashed into him on purpose — did he know how much her heart ached?

Why did he keep hurting himself, again and again? Did he even have her in his heart at all?

Qiao Mu raised her fist, meaning to strike his back, but in the end, she couldn’t bring herself to do it, and her hand stilled.

She drew a sharp breath, let go of him, and grabbed his arms instead.

“Do you still remember the way back?” Her voice trembled, tears glistening in her eyes.

He was back. He was finally back!

Even though it hadn’t yet been forty-eight hours, she had nearly gone out of her mind waiting — did he know that?

Feng Jiang lifted a large hand, his fingers long, pale, and weak, and brushed them across that startled, aching little face.

“This much, I owed you.”

His body swayed again, and Qiao Mu held him up with all her strength.

She draped his arm over her shoulder and, as she turned, called out loudly: “Prepare medicine! Prepare the best medicine!”

Her man was badly hurt — internal injuries! And it seemed he had been poisoned as well.

Yu Jingfeng strode over, supporting Feng Jiang from the other side.

Those standing outside the tent all made way.

“Jiu’er, I’ll go get the medicine box.” Xiao Yingtao, coming to her senses, hurried off.

“I’ll go to the rear camp for medicine.” Xing Zizhou strode off as well.

“I’ll go bring some food.”

“I’ll go get blankets.”

“I’ll fetch hot water.”

“….”

Those who had turned back to look scattered at once.

Qiao Mu and Yu Jingfeng supported the badly wounded Feng Jiang through the door, with Feng Jiu’er following close behind, not leaving his side for a moment.

She, too, could see it — Third Imperial Brother’s condition wasn’t good.

Behind the main seat, there happened to be a low bed.

Di Wuya strode over and moved the table aside, clearing the space.

The moment Feng Jiang lay down, he coughed lightly and spat out a mouthful of dark blood.

Qiao Mu, sitting beside him, immediately took out a handkerchief and wiped the corner of his mouth, her hands trembling badly.

“Jiu’er, the Fourth Imperial Uncle… isn’t in Feng Jin’s hands, but I found…”

Feng Jiang pulled a letter from his waist and held it out.

“Cough…” Feng Jiang began coughing again.

Qiao Mu took the paper, and Feng Jiang spat out another mouthful of blood.

The bloodstained letter was set aside.

“Jiu’er, Jiu’er, what should we do? Jiu’er…”

She was overcome with boundless fear.

Feng Jiu’er went over and took Feng Jiang’s hand. “Help him sit up,” she said in a low voice.

Di Wuya and Qiao Mu each took one side and helped Feng Jiang sit upright.

Feng Jiu’er took his pulse, then immediately produced a pill and placed it in his mouth.

“Third Imperial Brother, did Feng Jin poison you?”

Feng Jiang sat up, and after swallowing the pill, stopped coughing.

As long as he didn’t cough, his condition seemed to improve somewhat.

Feng Jiang didn’t respond to Feng Jiu’er’s question — he didn’t want the little girl to be too disappointed.

“The Fourth Imperial Uncle isn’t in the camp. I searched, searched everywhere, and found a letter.”

Qiao Mu glanced at the letter, then picked it up and unfolded it.

“It’s from Feng Qiongcang to Feng Jin. Feng Qiongcang ordered Feng Jin to wipe out everyone south of Songjiang, and only needed to bring Hanying back.”

“Ha…” Qiao Mu let out a cold laugh.

“Everyone — including you, Jiu’er, and even the Night Prince, is that right?”

“This madman, Feng Qiongcang — everyone has the right to condemn him!”

“Ninth Imperial Uncle.” Feng Jiu’er furrowed her brow and set down Feng Jiang’s palm. “Third Imperial Brother’s condition resembles that of the brothers we rescued.”

“I think they were all poisoned with the same substance.”

“The battle is in your hands now. Since Father isn’t in Feng Jin’s grasp, and Third Imperial Brother is back, don’t give them any chance to catch their breath!”

“Good.” Di Wuya stood. “Focus on treating him with peace of mind.”

He ruffled Feng Jiu’er’s small head, turned, and strode out.

Xiao Yingtao, carrying the medicine box, crossed paths with Yang Sheng, who was carrying a basin of water. The two entered one after the other, right after Di Wuya had left.

“Xiao Yingtao, prepare today’s medicine.” Feng Jiu’er glanced over.

“Yes.” Xiao Yingtao set down the medicine box and quickly opened it, searching through the contents.

“Yang Sheng, come here and steady Third Imperial Brother with Qiao Mu. I’ll circulate his energy to expel the poison.” Feng Jiu’er’s voice continued.

“Third Imperial Brother isn’t just poisoned — he’s also suffered internal injuries. His condition is worse than the other brothers’. We can’t afford any carelessness.”

“Xiao Yingtao, prepare the medicinal broth and silver needles, to be used after one stick of incense burns down.”

“Yes.” Xiao Yingtao nodded again.

Yang Sheng had already come to sit on the other side of the low bed, gently supporting Feng Jiang together with Qiao Mu on the opposite side.

The lights in the camp stayed lit throughout the entire night.

Several people came and went, everyone’s steps hurried.

Time seemed to pass in the blink of an eye — the moonlight grew fainter and fainter, and the eastern sky began to whiten.

Inside the tent, several people had been busy for half the night, their faces somewhat pale, but looking at the person now sleeping soundly on the bed, they all felt it had been worth it.

The battle, which had only just stopped, began again soon after.

Feng Jiu’er didn’t know how things were going at the front lines, but she had always had faith in her man.

“Qiao Mu, come drink some hot porridge.” Xiao Yingtao went out and brought back a bowl.

“Drink it, and after, get some rest with him.” Feng Jiu’er wrung out a towel and wiped her hands.

Before they knew it, it was already the second day of the new year. If not for this battle, two pairs among them would already have become newlyweds.

Qiao Mu, Xiao Yingtao — I, Feng Jiu’er, owe you both. I will surely repay it.