But Feng Miaojun knew that was impossible.

Another woman hearing this would have melted completely, but she heartlessly pushed him away: “Go to sleep.”

“An’an is angry.” He blinked at her, once, twice, blinking until she felt dizzy. “Why?”

“I’m not.” She kept her face tense. “How would I dare?” Who did she think she was?

With her little mouth pouting like that, how could she claim not to dare? Yun Ya suddenly felt an impulse to taste those lips. He hadn’t had enough cherries last summer, and now he felt somewhat parched.

But this little one had such thin skin, that she didn’t even like him touching her waist.

He let out a long “Oh,” as if suddenly realizing: “I made a bet with Xiao Yan, and An’an is angry about that?”

See, he knew all along! Feng Miaojun couldn’t help but shoot him a glare. Why was he pretending earlier?

She tried to remain calm: “I remember the young master made a promise never to give me away to anyone else.”

“Never give away.” He suddenly reached out and grasped her waist, pulling her close, his expression rarely solemn. “An’an is mine.”

His seriousness made her heart skip a beat, and her next words rushed out without thought:

“Then why did you use me as a stake in your bet?”

They both heard the anger, reproach, and hurt in those words. For the first time, she had so clearly and unambiguously expressed her emotions.

Feng Miaojun bit her lip hard, but Yun Ya chuckled softly: “He can’t win.”

“What if he does?”

“Even then, he can’t win. Believe me, I have a hundred ways to make him lose.” He traced the delicate contours of her face with his fingertip. “An’an is mine, I won’t give her to anyone.”

The last sentence carried a childish defiance. Feng Miaojun couldn’t tell which was the real him—the one who would cheat even in a bet, or the one who was now holding her and constantly acting spoiled?

She said coldly: “Not everything in the world will go according to the young master’s wishes!”

Yun Ya immediately grasped the key point, not bothering to explain further, but instead said: “Fine, I was wrong. I’ll never do it again, alright?”

Taking advantage of his agreeable mood while intoxicated, she boldly asked: “Do what again?”

“Never use you as a stake in a bet, and never give you away to anyone else.” When the little kitten showed her temper, he knew he should stroke her fur. “Let it go, hmm?”

She stared at him: “A man of honor, his word weighs nine tripods.”

“Yes, my word weighs nine tripods.” After saying this, Yun Ya looked at her and tilted his head slightly. “Other people’s maids serve their masters, only my An’an needs to be coaxed.”

Feng Miaojun sighed deeply, knowing she should stop while she was ahead.

To him, she was just a maid. What good would staying angry do? This man probably just saw her as a pet he kept, occasionally willing to coax her when she threw a little tantrum. If she continued showing him attitude, he might run out of patience, and that wouldn’t be pleasant.

Yun Ya assumed her inner conflict was resolved and smiled: “I’m thirsty.”

Feng Miaojun immediately poured him a cup of clear tea. Though this wasn’t what Yun Ya wanted to taste, he still accepted it and drank it all at once.

They looked at each other silently, neither able to find words.

After quite a while, Feng Miaojun noticed his head slowly drooping, clearly affected by the alcohol. She had to help him lie down:

“Why not use your spiritual power to force out the alcohol?”

Yun Ya pointed to his chest and shook his head.

She understood: his heart condition had flared up for too long this time, and he had suffered too much. He wanted to use the alcohol to help him sleep well.

The State Preceptor was the envy of cultivators throughout the world, yet Yun Ya had always carried such a heavy burden of injury.

She asked softly: “When will your heart ailment be cured?”

For the first time, she wasn’t concerned about her survival but lamented that this elegant, refined man, like her, struggled to live in ways others couldn’t understand.

She deeply understood the desire and helplessness of trying to stay alive.

“When…”

His voice was too soft, and Feng Miaojun had to lean closer to hear: “…my mission is completed.”

Mission? What mission? Did someone like him also have a mission that had to be completed?

Feng Miaojun was completely confused. As she was about to ask more, Yun Ya suddenly wrapped his arm around her, pulled her onto the bed, and quite domineeringly pressed his long leg over hers.

The distance between them suddenly became zero.

Feng Miaojun was startled, pressing both hands against his chest to keep herself away from him, urgently saying: “Let go!”

He didn’t release her. Instead, his chin nuzzled her beautiful hair twice, and he seemed to take a deep breath as if confirming her scent.

And then, there was nothing more.

Feng Miaojun found herself against his chest, realizing his breathing had become deep and steady—he had fallen asleep.

She remained rigid for a moment longer before carefully moving his hands and feet away and climbing out.

Staying beside a sleeping Yun Ya was extremely dangerous. Feng Miaojun lowered several layers of curtains and tiptoed out, not noticing that behind her, the sleeping Yun Ya’s eyelids twitched slightly.

She first sealed the tent entrance, then unfolded her bedding.

The sleeping gear issued by the Wei army wasn’t a small bed but resembled what she had used in her previous life—a sleeping bag, though not quite as convenient. What they provided her was certainly high-quality, different from what ordinary soldiers used. The inner layer was filled with duck down for warmth. Once inside, her whole body would be warm in no time. Below, she could set up a frame to ensure the sleeping bag wouldn’t directly touch the cold, damp ground, also preventing disturbance from insects and ants.

The State Preceptor had recently become increasingly fond of touching her, which troubled her somewhat.

She had her purpose for staying by his side. Although her cultivation was progressing well, she had no clues about breaking the curse. Yun Ya appeared unconcerned about sharing spiritual power with her. Not knowing the truth about the curse, unaware that their lives were connected, he naturally wouldn’t be eager to find a solution.

But if she told him the truth, would her fate be nothing more than to be hidden away like a precious treasure?

The relationship between them had become increasingly strange, and she sensed the danger in it. Yun Ya was like a poppy—so beautiful to look at, addictive up close, but poisonous, capable of making one fatally obsessed without realizing it.

Should she withdraw before becoming too deeply involved and continue her journey of seeking?

Feng Miaojun stared into the darkness, thinking she would remain sleepless, but gradually she grew tired, yawned several times, and drifted off.

The next morning, even the noise of people coming and going outside couldn’t wake her. It wasn’t until a soldier reported: “Master Lu has arrived.”

Feng Miaojun climbed up to wash with half-closed eyes, wondering who Master Lu was. Then she remembered—the soldier had mentioned yesterday that Yun Ya’s confidant, Lu Ming, would arrive today.

Lu Ming was a shrewd and capable young man, though he had a likable baby face. Looking at him, Feng Miaojun was reminded of Chen Dachang and wondered how he was doing in Caixin City.

Lu Ming had heard that his master now had a beautiful maid by his side, but when they met, he was still greatly surprised, not expecting her to be this beautiful.

“The master hasn’t risen yet?” He was very familiar with Yun Ya’s temperament and constitution. Seeing the low-hanging curtains, he knew his master had once again transformed into the god of sleep.