Inside a cave in the back mountain.

By the faint moonlight seeping in, Zhen Jiu’er lowered her head, looking at Lu Beicheng’s legs.

He stood right in front of her, his back turned to her as he kept watch for the assassins outside.

Jiu’er had been pulled behind him, hidden deep within the cave.

His legs stood firm on the ground, just as she’d imagined—straight and long.

But he didn’t look very comfortable; the large hand gripping hers was covered in cold sweat.

He must have been enduring tremendous pain.

Was it because of his legs?

Running the whole way here just now, his legs—having just regained the ability to stand—hadn’t had a moment’s rest. It must have been agonizing.

Yet from start to finish, he hadn’t paused once, hadn’t even let out a single groan.

An iron-willed man, just like… her Ninth Imperial Uncle.

Outside, several assassins passed by.

The moonlight was dim, but still clear enough to make out that, aside from the one whose tranquilizer gun Jiu’er had seized, the rest were still armed.

Though these weapons weren’t lethal, once someone was hit, the assassins could do as they pleased with them.

Their fate would rest entirely in the enemy’s hands.

Finally, after the assassins passed by, they moved off into the distance.

Lu Beicheng stepped outside a little, with Jiu’er following behind him.

Though the assassins had moved away, there was no telling when they might circle back. For now, this place was relatively safe.

Lu Beicheng had no intention of going out yet.

If the assassins were lying in wait nearby, walking past them would play right into their hands.

Whoever could act in the open or in secret—by staying still, one could counter all movement.

Once the two of them relaxed, Lu Beicheng finally released his grip on Jiu’er, bracing himself against the cave’s stone wall instead.

“Are your legs in a lot of pain?” Jiu’er walked to his side and supported him. “Sit down and rest for a while first.”

This time, Lu Beicheng didn’t refuse, and with her help, he slowly sat down on the ground.

Jiu’er sat down in front of him, laying his legs flat before she began massaging them.

“Did it hurt a lot just now?” she couldn’t help but ask.

Lu Beicheng stared at her face and didn’t answer the question.

But with his face and forehead covered in cold sweat, Jiu’er knew he must have been in a great deal of pain.

“Actually, the nerves in your legs healed long ago. Whenever you were willing, you could have stood up at any time.”

Yet he had never been willing to try, and she had no idea why tonight, of all nights, he’d suddenly found the courage to stand up on his own.

Was it purely to save her?

In that moment, Zhen Jiu’er’s emotions were indescribably complicated.

She couldn’t help but glance up, only to find Lu Beicheng staring intently at her.

Their eyes met, and Jiu’er’s heart tightened slightly. She hurriedly looked away from his gaze.

“You took a punch from me just now—are you hurt?” she asked, seizing on a topic to fill the silence.

“With that little strength of yours, it wouldn’t even be enough to scratch an itch,” Lu Beicheng said with a hint of disdain.

Jiu’er pouted, unconvinced: “If it weren’t for this body…”

But she swallowed the rest of her words, forcibly biting her lip to stop herself.

This body’s constitution really was poor, its strength far too weak—but how could she possibly explain that to him? He’d never believe her anyway.

It was something with absolutely no scientific basis.

Lu Beicheng didn’t press further either, though whether he hadn’t noticed the oddity in her words, or had noticed but simply didn’t want to make things difficult for her, she couldn’t tell.

“Why are you so familiar with the paths around this manor?”

Jiu’er didn’t know how to explain, and Lu Beicheng asked further: “Did you come scout it out yesterday?”

Jiu’er nodded, immediately seizing the excuse he’d offered her.

But she hadn’t expected Lu Beicheng’s next question to put her right back on the spot: “Does your Ninth Imperial Uncle have some connection to this manor?”