This Empress Rong bore the full name Nanmeng Rong.

When Feng Jiu’er was very young, she had once seen her — but those memories were dim and distant, and the woman’s face had long since faded from recollection.

Seeing her again now, Empress Rong was clearly well-maintained, but it was equally clear that she had grown older.

Upon seeing Feng Jiu’er standing ramrod straight in the center of the main hall, Empress Rong’s brow furrowed lightly.

Matron Qin, catching the look, immediately shrieked: “Audacious Feng Jiu’er! In the presence of Her Majesty the Empress, you dare not kneel!”

Only then did Feng Jiu’er seem to come to her senses, as though just noticing — she looked at Empress Rong, then dropped somewhat blankly to her knees.

“Your Majesty, you… you are so beautiful! Jiu’er was quite lost in looking at you!”

Beautiful?

Word was that Feng Jiu’er was a simpleminded fool, and the words of a fool, like those of a child, were nothing but the unfiltered truth.

Empress Rong, whose expression had been one of open displeasure, felt her mood lift considerably on account of those few words.

Though — who had said Feng Jiu’er was cunning and not the least bit foolish?

The Empress’s sharp gaze fell on Matron Qin. Matron Qin gave a startled flinch and quickly said: “She… she wasn’t like this just a moment ago!”

Empress Rong settled into her jade seat, her delicate brow furrowed, and looked down at Feng Jiu’er standing below: “You are the Ninth Miss of the Feng Family?”

“Yes, yes!” Feng Jiu’er nodded vigorously, radiating pure and artless innocence: “Your Majesty, Jiu’er feels as though she… she met Your Majesty many years ago.”

She still remembered her?

A flicker of something passed through Empress Rong’s eyes, and her gaze became complicated.

Feng Jiu’er continued: “Yes, I must have met Your Majesty before — at our Feng Manor… Your Majesty looks not a day older than when Jiu’er first met you. The person Jiu’er saw back then was precisely Your Majesty!”

Over a decade — and her appearance not changed at all?

Was there any flattery more pleasing to the ear than those words?

The coldness in Empress Rong’s eyes eased a little. Her finger, adorned with a vivid crimson manicure, glided slowly across the arm of the jade seat.

“We are told that you wish to marry this palace’s son — Crown Prince Zhan Yuheng?”

Feng Jiu’er blinked her wide, dewy eyes, as though she couldn’t quite make sense of what was being said: “The Crown Prince? Who is that?”

“Impudent!” Matron Qin rebuked sharply.

Feng Jiu’er was startled by the outburst and shrank back instinctively: “Your Majesty, Jiu’er won’t marry, Jiu’er won’t marry anymore — Jiu’er wants to go home, Jiu’er doesn’t want to marry the Crown Prince anymore.”

She had never intended to marry Zhan Yuheng to begin with. After all, Zhan Yuheng no longer cared for the real Feng Jiu’er.

And even if he had — whatever tender feelings had stirred in him at that meeting belonged to the real Feng Jiu’er.

She herself was merely a passerby.

She wasn’t going to marry him?

Empress Rong’s brow furrowed again. She hadn’t expected Feng Jiu’er to agree to the broken engagement so readily.

She had prepared so many approaches — and now, it seemed, none of them were needed?

“Matron Qin.” Empress Rong called out lightly.

Matron Qin immediately leaned in close, drawing near: “Your Majesty, the betrothal was a casual remark made by the late Emperor in jest — though it was casual, it was nonetheless spoken aloud.”

“For a Feng Family miss to break off the engagement, she must still personally say so before His Majesty the Emperor for it to be deemed valid.”

Empress Rong gave a slight nod. The original plan had been to intimidate Feng Jiu’er into declaring before the Emperor that she would not marry.

But in her current state, the girl had simply agreed on her own.

“Then—”

“Your Majesty, this matter is not as it seems.” Matron Qin leaned close to Empress Rong’s ear, her voice so faint that even she herself could barely hear it: “She… may be feigning the foolishness.”

Those words, Feng Jiu’er — long trained to sharpen her senses — had already caught.

On her body… how could there be that dense floral fragrance, richer even than datura blossoms?