Xu Qi An lifted Mu Nan Zhi horizontally in his arms, walked into the bedroom, and laid her down while pulling back the cotton quilt.

While she had been cooking in the kitchen, Xu Qi An had already made the bed.

When they left the capital earlier, the bed sheets and quilts had been properly stored in the wooden cabinet with mothball sachets, so they could be used directly now.

“Sleep!”

Xu Qi An quietly withdrew the anesthetic vapor emanating from the poison, sat down at the edge of the bed, and grasped Mu Nan Zhi’s ankle to gently remove her embroidered shoes.

Then the white socks.

Soon, a pair of delicate, crystalline feet were exposed before him.

They were only as big as Xu Qi An’s palm, with smooth arches and rounded toes, neatly trimmed toenails, and faint blue veins visible beneath the fair skin…

Her soles were pink, and holding them felt like the world’s most exquisite and soft jade.

Xu Qi An’s thumb pressed lightly on her heel. Unlike his heels which had thick calluses from years of martial arts training, hers were soft.

“Know your limits, know your limits…”

He forced himself to put down the small feet, pulled up the quilt, and covered the Princess Consort’s infinitely beautiful body.

Then, he placed the little white fox in the quilt as well.

After thinking for a moment, remembering past incidents of Bai Ji kicking frantically while suffocating, he took her out from under the quilt again and wrapped her in a robe instead.

After blowing out the candle and closing the door, Xu Qi An came to the courtyard and stroked the little mare’s face:

“Little mare, I’ll leave the task of watching over them to you.”

Having just finished eating beans, the little mare was in a good mood and nuzzled his hand with her face.

…

Shao Yin Palace.

Behind the three-panel screen painted with “Peonies and Double Cranes,” steam rose in the spacious and luxurious bedroom.

Water splashed in the red-lacquered bathtub as a pair of jade legs stepped out. Two palace maids in thin gauze robes attended at the side—one immediately spread out silk cloth to carefully dry their mistress’s body.

The other took down clothes hanging on the screen to dress their mistress.

Shortly after, Lin An emerged from behind the screen with her hair up in an elegant bun, wearing light blue silk undergarments paired with a sapphire blue dress, its hem trailing on the ground.

She sat cross-legged on the bed and asked:

“Did you get the pills I asked you to fetch from the Imperial Pharmacy?”

The palace maid on the left answered in a sweet voice:

“The pills, silver, clothes… everything has been prepared.”

The palace maid on the right covered her mouth and smiled:

“What does Your Highness need these things for?”

The left palace maid gave her a light slap and teased:

“Playing dumb and daring to mock Her Highness—watch out or I’ll tear your mouth.”

The two palace maids giggled together.

Though Her Highness said she would cut ties with that person and have no more relations, she was secretly preparing medicine, money, and clothes—worried he might be injured with no medicine to take, lack money while traveling the jianghu, or have trouble with clothing while wandering about.

She had considered everything from food to clothing to shelter to transport.

In all their years serving Her Highness, they had never seen her like this.

Who was Princess Lin An? The pampered princess was deeply loved by the former emperor. Those who were too spoiled usually had no cares at all—when had she ever been so attentive to a man?

Biaobiao glared at them and casually asked:

“Was there any news from the residence today?”

By “residence,” she meant the Lin An Manor in the imperial city, the mansion bestowed to her by the former emperor.

Biaobiao’s tone was calm as if asking offhandedly, but there was an expectation in her enchanting, moist eyes.

The two palace maids suddenly went still, exchanged glances, and carefully replied:

“There was no news from the residence.”

The hope in her phoenix eyes dimmed, and she forced a smile and nodded with a soft “Oh.”

She had waited in the palace for a day, but he hadn’t come to explain himself. Since that night they parted at the Bureau of Astronomy, it was as if she had been forgotten.

Now, with no message delivered from the princess’s mansion in the imperial city, it meant Xu Qi An hadn’t gone there to leave word either.

She was blank for a moment, then said softly:

“I’m tired.”

The two palace maids tactfully withdrew from the bedroom to the outer chamber.

They could tell Her Highness was in low spirits—she might hide under the covers and cry secretly later.

Though the palace maids knew Lin An well, they still underestimated her strength of character. She didn’t hide under the covers to cry because the tears were still pooled in her eyes, not yet falling.

She lay curled up on her side under the soft cotton quilt.

Even now, Biaobiao couldn’t understand how the Imperial Teacher, a woman even her father couldn’t obtain, could be so blind as to fancy her dog servant.

Thinking of how Lo Yu Heng had shown off and been so aggressive that night made her angry—she wanted to tear that old woman apart with her bare hands.

But she only dared think it in her heart.

If Lo Yu Heng was her love rival, Lin An had no confidence at all. Although she was a princess and proud of her beauty, Lo Yu Heng’s status as just the Human Sect Leader was enough to crush her.

She couldn’t help but recall bits and pieces of the past, remembering the times Xu Qi An had accompanied her in conversation and chess. The tears in her eyes finally fell.

Biaobiao felt she was experiencing heartbreak, though she didn’t know this word.

More and more tears rolled down as she lay on her side, half her face buried in the soft pillow.

“You shouldn’t cry before sleeping, or your eyes will get inflamed.”

At this moment, from the inner side of the bed, someone handed over a handkerchief.

Biaobiao said “Oh” and took the handkerchief to wipe her tears. Then her delicate body suddenly stiffened as she noticed something was wrong. She bounced up from the bed with a piercing scream.

As she screamed, she saw the person on the inner side of the bed, wearing a blue-gray robe and jade crown, dressed like a wealthy young master.

It was her dog servant.

“Bang bang!”

Knocking sounds came from outside as two palace maids knocked on the door, calling:

“Your Highness, Your Highness?”

Lin An glared fiercely at Xu Qi An, pulled up the quilt to cover him, and said in a low voice:

“Don’t make a sound…”

She sniffled and cleared her throat to make her voice sound normal, then said: “Come in.”

The scream just now had been too horrifying to be dismissed with just an “I’m fine,” as the maids would wonder if their mistress was being threatened inside.

They were palace maids who had undergone strict training and weren’t easily fooled.

The bedroom door was pushed open, and one palace maid entered with an anxious expression while the other remained outside, cautiously not entering so she could run for help at any moment.

The maid who entered looked around, then towards the bed, asking:

“Your Highness, what happened?”

Lin An said coolly: “I just had a nightmare, but I’m fine now.”

The palace maid stared at her red-rimmed eyes for a few moments, suddenly understanding and believing somewhat, then scrutinized the large bed again.

Fortunately, since the treasury was empty, Emperor Yong Xing had reduced the expenses for palace consorts and royal relatives, including the costly beast gold charcoal.

They could no longer use charcoal freely as before, so Lin An’s bedding had changed from light “silk” and “quilts” to thicker “coverlets.”

The quilt stuffed with wool and duck down was thick and fluffy, perfectly concealing Xu Qi An.

“Your Highness, are you too hot? Your face is burning.”

The palace maid asked with concern.

“I’m fine.”

The more panicked Lin An felt inside, the colder she appeared on the outside.

“Princess, you’re breathing heavily—is it too stuffy?”

“It is a bit—open the window some.”

“Should this servant stay in the room?” the palace maid asked.

“No need, I’m in a poor mood and want to be alone.”

Hearing this, the palace maid didn’t insist. She swept her gaze around the room once more and withdrew.

After she left and closed the bedroom door, Lin An yanked back the quilt and pushed at the head resting on her chest, feeling embarrassed, angry, startled, and happy all at once as she raised her delicate brows:

“Dog serv—”

Just as two words left her small mouth, Xu Qi An covered it. He gestured toward the door with his eyebrows and said in a low voice:

“They haven’t left yet.”

Lin An turned her head to look and indeed saw a shadow by the door, seemingly eavesdropping on the sounds inside.

Xu Qi An pulled up the quilt to cover them both and said with a quiet laugh:

“I hadn’t realized your servants were so alert.”

He hadn’t noticed before.

“They were all trained by the palace matrons—the senior palace maids serving the imperial consorts are even more vigilant.”

Lin An agreed, then with a face flushed red with shame, she angrily said:

“Dog servant, how dare you be so bold as to climb into my bed.

“Get out, get out, go climb into Lo Yu Heng’s bed instead.”

She extended her small hands and pushed hard.

Xu Qi An grasped her wrists and drew closer until their breaths intermingled:

“Your Highness, during my many days of travel, I thought of you constantly. Every day and night I regretted not having wings, or I could have ridden the wind to see you.”

From his time spent with the philandering Holy Son, Xu Qi An had thoroughly mastered the art of comforting young women, comprehending a core principle he hadn’t understood before.

When consoling a woman, one must first see things from her perspective, then contemplate what she wants to hear and what attitude she desires.

One cannot view it from one’s perspective.

If you try to comfort her from your viewpoint, you’ve already lost.

For instance, from Xu Qi An’s perspective, the Imperial Teacher had risked the burning of karmic flames to help stop the Black Lotus. Now her karmic flames had rekindled, and without dual cultivation, she would die in the Heavenly Tribulation.

If he had any humanity, he should drop his pants for morality’s sake.

Explaining it this way would make Lin An explode right now.

But from her perspective, what did she want to hear? What attitude did she desire?

“Your every smile and frown is deeply etched in my mind, haunting my dreams,” Xu Qi An wrapped his arm around Lin An’s slender waist, his gaze sincere, his tone earnest.

“But I know I’ve done wrong. Today I was so worried at home that I dared not face you. Yet I cannot deny my heart, the heart that admires Your Highness.”

Lin An’s heart raced as she listened to these sweet words, her cheeks burning.

All her grievances dissipated like smoke, and her determination to stay angry melted away by this honeyed bombardment.

She humphed, forcing herself to harden her heart as she pushed away the arm around her waist and turned her head:

“Does Sir Xu speak this way when coaxing other women?”

She attempted to suppress this man with her cold attitude.

Xu Qi An stared at her crystalline small earlobe, strongly resisting the urge to taste it. He sighed:

“Ah, it seems no matter what I say, Your Highness won’t forgive me. I must leave the capital tomorrow, and I have but one request of Your Highness.”

The first half of his words made Lin An’s heart sink with anxiety, but hearing the latter half, she quickly asked:

“What is it?”

Then, feeling her tone lacked dignity, she humphed: “This princess will consider it.”

“I wish to ask the princess to accompany this humble official in viewing the world’s most brilliant lights.”

Hearing these words, Lin An was stunned for a moment, not understanding his meaning.

But in the next instant, she saw the dog servant pull up the quilt to cover both their heads.

Then Lin An fell into endless darkness. After an unknown time, light appeared before her eyes, and she heard the howling wind.

The night was deep, with a lonely moon hanging high.

She stood between heaven and earth, facing the cold wind—desolate yet free.

Lin An looked around in surprise. She stood on a floating artillery platform. Above was the moon casting its cool radiance, and below…

Her eyes suddenly widened, those moist enchanting pupils reflecting countless household lights.

Below was the entire capital city. The outer city was mostly dark, with only occasional scattered lights.

The brightest and most brilliant was the imperial palace, like a massive firework. Around this firework was the imperial city, equally brilliant and bright with countless lanterns protecting the palace.

The inner city, where wealthy families lived, was like the outer flames of a fire, clusters twinkling like stars.

Lin An had never seen the capital’s night view before, and she was mesmerized.

The most romantic thing she could imagine was Xu Qi An’s poem “A Boat Full of Pure Dreams Pressing Down on the Starry River,” but now, this man had shown her yet another different view.

“Don’t catch a cold.”

Xu Qi An walked over, took off his robe to drape it over her, and naturally drew the beauty into his embrace.

Lin An seemed intoxicated, her eyes becoming alluring, her cheeks flushed, swaying as if drunk.

This response didn’t surprise Xu Qi An; in fact, he had expected it. Lin An loved romance and could hardly resist such an offensive.

Later he would return the artillery platform to Sun Xuan Ji. This move wouldn’t work on Huai Qing… He should be nicer to the Holy Son in the future, after all, he had learned something from him… As Xu Qi An’s thoughts wandered, he heard Lin An’s dreamy voice:

“Dog servant, why don’t you ask my imperial brother for my hand in marriage?”

In Lin An’s view, their relationship had been confirmed in that passionate kiss when Xu Qi An left the capital.

This man wasn’t just someone she had feelings for, but her lover.

“I will.”

Xu Qi An gazed at her alluring oval face: “But not now.”

Both he and Da Feng would face enormous challenges.

If they won, he would have Lin An on his right, Huai Qing and the Imperial Teacher on his lap, and the Princess Consort hidden behind.

If they lost, he would go quietly into his next reincarnation.

…

The night deepened.

A palace maid carefully pushed open the door, tiptoed into the bedroom, and approached the bed.

Princess Lin An was wrapped in her quilt, sleeping peacefully, her lips curved up as if dreaming of something happy.

The palace maid was relieved and about to leave when her expression suddenly changed—she saw kiss marks scattered across Her Highness’s snow-white neck.

This… The palace maid’s scalp tingled instantly as she looked around in terror.

After a while, she seemed to understand something, and her expression softened.

…

On the same night, in a small city.

Ji Xuan stood on a roof ridge, looking down at the combat below.

It was Liu Hong Mian toying with her opponent, a jianghu wanderer who hosted scattered dragon qi.

In these days, they had found several dragon qi hosts through the channels of the Bureau of Astronomy’s spies.

There were wandering jianghu experts, refined scholars, even yamen clerks on duty, and unmarried young ladies.

Ji Xuan planned to collect as many scattered dragon qi as possible, accumulating bit by bit to attract the hosts of the nine dragon qi.

Of course, this might also attract Xu Qi An.

“Hong Mian, stop wasting time,” Ji Xuan reminded me.

Liu Hong Mian immediately knocked out her opponent.

Ji Xuan took out a palm-sized bronze cauldron from his chest, chanting as light shot from the cauldron’s mouth, collecting that dragon qi host within.

The bronze cauldron was called the Four Directions Cauldron, one of the gifts the Imperial Teacher had sent after learning about the events in Yong Prefecture.

Unlike ordinary storage magical items that could only hold objects, this one could contain people.

Ji Xuan put away the small cauldron and looked northwest, murmuring: “Xu Qi An!”

…

The next day!

At Ling Bao Temple in the capital.

In the meditation room, Luo Yu Heng, who had slept for a day and two nights, slowly opened her beautiful eyes.