A bit of snake venom was, of course, nothing to Feng Jiu’er.

She had dealt with all manner of poisons since childhood, and her own blood naturally carried a trace of toxicity.

When she was poisoned, the toxic elements already present in her bloodstream would automatically dilute whatever foreign poison had entered.

This was precisely why she had dared to reach her hand into the wooden box even knowing there was a venomous snake inside.

Feng Jiu’er slept soundly and comfortably, and when she woke, she found herself in a room furnished in a classical, antique style.

The air around her carried a faint scent of sandalwood — a fragrance that gave one a sense of peace and tranquility.

There was still a faint stinging sensation on the back of her hand…

She looked down, and saw that the bite wound on the back of her hand had been treated and neatly bandaged.

There was someone else in the room.

That cool, indifferent gaze fell upon her face with an air of complete detachment.

Before she had even had a proper look, Feng Jiu’er furrowed her brow and whimpered, “It hurts — Jiu’er hurts so much…”

The man made not a single movement, his gaze fixed on her face the entire time.

So cold. So indifferent. And yet so unwavering in its focus.

Feng Jiu’er followed the chill drifting toward her and looked over — before she could even feel awestruck, her little mouth began to murmur: “Jiu’er hurts so much…”

She had only been in this era for a few short days, and already she had lost count of how many times she had deployed the act of playing mad and feigning stupidity.

But the Ninth Prince standing before her — forever dressed in that aura of cool and lofty elegance — showed no reaction whatsoever to her feeble-minded act. No contempt, no pity, no reaction of any kind.

Feng Jiu’er gently bit her lip. Faced with a man in whose eyes not even the faintest ripple stirred, she was beginning to feel uneasy.

This man was truly too cold and indifferent.

“I want some water.” After some indeterminate stretch of silence, Jiu’er dropped her pretense of “normalcy” and spoke softly.

Zhan Qingcheng, seated on the long chair, gave a slight flick of his slender fingers — and a cup of warm water appeared before her as if from thin air.

Jiu’er’s heart lurched. She hastily raised her hand and caught it by pure reflex.

The cup was in her grasp, but a thread of panic had begun to rise in her chest — she had exposed herself.

“Rather nimble,” remarked Zhan Qingcheng, leaning back against the chair. His long fingers gave another flick, and something flew out.

This time, what flew out was a wooden box — and it moved with far greater speed than the cup, carrying far more force. It came hurtling directly at her face.

Jiu’er had no time to even think, and scrambled frantically to deflect it.

With a crack, the wooden box landed on the ground. Her face was uninjured, but the arm that had blocked the box went numb with a shooting ache.

It hurt!

“Your Highness!” He was testing her!

Since he had already seen through her act of feigning madness, continuing to pretend would only infuriate him.

Feng Jiu’er met his calm, unhurried gaze. She had expected him to be severe, given that he had seen through her performance.

But the Ninth Prince’s expression seemed to remain exactly as before — cool and detached, with no trace of displeasure whatsoever.

That single look, and she was instantly drawn in by his incomparably magnificent bearing — and whatever fear she had nearly been feeling, she almost forgot entirely.

He was looking at her — studying her. She was looking at him — guarding against him.

An indeterminate stretch of time passed before footsteps were heard outside.

Yu Jingfeng arrived: “Your Highness, the meal has been prepared — may it be brought in?”

“Mm.” Zhan Qingcheng gave a brief assent. His voice was so soft that Feng Jiu’er genuinely worried the people outside would not hear it.

But clearly her concern was unnecessary — Yu Jingfeng’s hearing was far keener than she had imagined.

Yu Jingfeng pushed open the chamber door, leading the servants behind him in carrying a table laden generously with dishes.

Once the door had been closed again, the Ninth Prince’s calm voice rang out: “Come.”