Feng Jiu’er looked at Di Wu Ya’s face, pinched red yet still devastatingly handsome, and felt a bit better.

Honestly speaking, when picking a husband, looks absolutely mattered! Even wanting to stay angry, she just couldn’t manage it.

“Alright, let’s eat.” She returned to her seat and sat down.

Di Wu Ya casually touched his own face, smiled indulgently, and picked up his chopsticks again.

How had he forgotten? This girl never let herself take a loss on anything.

Long Shi’er, having been given his task by Feng Jiu’er, didn’t appear again afterward—the other brothers delivered the rest of the meal to the room.

The two of them ate the familiar dishes, the atmosphere growing more and more harmonious.

“Girl, eat this.” Di Wu Ya fed Feng Jiu’er a piece of meat.

“Ninth Imperial Uncle, you eat this.” Feng Jiu’er passed him half a vegetable.

Feng Jiu’er looked at Di Wu Ya’s gentle gaze, truly wishing their days could stay this settled forever.

They didn’t need much of a place in this world—just a small corner would do, as long as they had each other, her father, and their brothers.

Unfortunately, as long as her identity and her father’s identity remained what they were, Feng Qiongcang would never allow such a simple thing to exist.

Everything was Feng Qiongcang’s own doing—there was no one else to blame!

Feng Jiu’er bit down on the piece of meat at the tip of her chopsticks.

In that moment, it didn’t feel like she was eating meat at all—it felt more like she wanted to tear Feng Qiongcang apart, bones and all.

A warm large palm landed on her shoulder, and just as Feng Jiu’er raised her eyes, her body was pulled to the right.

She fell into the man’s warm embrace.

“What is it?” Feng Jiu’er pouted and asked.

Di Wu Ya released her shoulder, gently rubbed her small head, and said, “Eat well!”

Feng Jiu’er looked into his deep eyes, the corner of her mouth lifting, and nodded.

“Got it.” She withdrew her gaze, leaned forward, and picked up more food.

“Ninth Imperial Uncle, this is delicious!”

Feng Jiu’er placed a piece of meat in Di Wu Ya’s bowl, then leaned forward again to pick up another piece.

“Once we’re full, let’s go boating and have tea. There’s a lake behind the inn—I’ve already had Long Shi’er prepare it in advance.”

“Mn.” Di Wu Ya nodded slightly, saying nothing further.

About a quarter hour later, Feng Jiu’er set down her chopsticks and picked up the teapot.

“Full?” Di Wu Ya set down his chopsticks as well.

“Mn.” Feng Jiu’er poured a cup of tea and turned around.

She saw Di Wu Ya wiping the corner of his mouth with a handkerchief, and the corner of her own mouth lifted slightly. “Is Ninth Imperial Uncle full too?”

“Mn.” Di Wu Ya accepted the tea she handed him.

Feng Jiu’er turned and poured another cup, then took out a handkerchief and wiped her lips.

“Long Shi’er prepared a lot of hometown pastries. I deliberately ate less of the meal—you don’t need to indulge me over something this small.”

“Girl.” Di Wu Ya’s voice, like the sound of nature, drifted down.

Feng Jiu’er turned her head, tilting her chin up. “What is it?”

“I want to eat osmanthus cake made by your own hands.” Di Wu Ya’s thumb brushed across the woman’s cheek.

Feng Jiu’er blinked and nodded.

“No problem!” She took a sip of tea and stood up. “Wait for me a moment, I’ll be right back.”

Not long after Feng Jiu’er left, Yu Jingfeng pushed the door open and walked in.

Whenever Di Wu Ya left the manor, Yu Jingfeng was required to accompany him.

“Your Highness, I have something here—” Yu Jingfeng took out a brocade handkerchief and was about to present it.

Di Wu Ya waved his large hand, cutting him off flatly. “Summon the Feilong Shi’er Qi immediately!”

Half an incense-stick’s time later, the door opened again, and Yu Jingfeng strode out briskly.

“Lord Yu, where are you headed?” Long Yi, standing outside the door, asked.

“Come on, I’ll explain as we walk.” Yu Jingfeng didn’t even spare Long Yi a glance.

Long Yi hadn’t seen such urgency in a long time and immediately fell into step behind him.