Feng Zhiwei blinked… No way, you’re really not going to let me off?

Unfortunately, the Tiansheng Emperor thought it made perfect sense. He was old and after this frightening shock indeed felt somewhat uncomfortable and needed the imperial physician attending nearby. Besides, in these times, who with a bit of learning didn’t know medicine? So he nodded in approval.

Feng Zhiwei looked up at the sky in sorrow and had no choice but to go over. Gu Nanyi followed step by step. Feng Zhiwei saw this wasn’t working and quickly said, “I’m going to change clothes… change clothes!”

Gu Nanyi frowned, looking at that black screen, seeming to find this excuse unbelievable. Feng Zhiwei had a headache and continued coaxing, “The toilet! Really!”

At least Young Master Gu gave up following and stood three steps before the screen, staring as Feng Zhiwei went in to “use the toilet.”

As soon as Feng Zhiwei turned behind the screen, she saw Prince Chu’s expression black as the bottom of a pot—very obviously, he had heard that statement “toilet” just now.

Fine… This young lady unintentionally insulted you once… Feng Zhiwei smiled awkwardly.

The person sitting on the brocade stool didn’t look at her and just straightened out his hand.

Feng Zhiwei stared blankly at that blood-stained sleeve.

“Change my clothes.” His Highness sat as usual, coolly instructing Miss Feng who had clearly worked as a servant boy but had never learned to serve others.

Feng Zhiwei smiled faintly. “Your Highness, three steps to your left are palace servants. Three steps to your right are attending eunuchs.”

The implication being—for such a small matter, you need not trouble this lowly, untalented Unparalleled Talent here.

Ning Yi glanced at her. In his black-as-lacquer eyes was something sharp and cold that made Feng Zhiwei squint. Then he nodded to the palace maid impassively. The palace maid responded and came forward. Just as she touched his sleeve, he suddenly flicked his wrist.

The palace maid couldn’t stand steady and stumbled backward, knocking over the injury medicine in another palace maid’s hands onto the ground. Amid low exclamations, the two quickly knelt to beg forgiveness. Ning Yi had already scolded with great displeasure, “Clumsy and crude! All of you get out!”

The palace maids and eunuchs retreated completely in an instant. Only then did Ning Yi turn to look at Feng Zhiwei, the earlier anger already completely gone, replaced by a face with a slightly cool smile.

Feng Zhiwei was helpless—if she persisted further, the unfortunate ones would be those innocent palace servants.

She had long known that people like Ning Yi, who seemed casual and romantic but were actually forbearing and resolute, would absolutely not yield easily.

She crouched down to pick up the injury medicine that had rolled to her feet. Just as she bent down, a boot tip suddenly stepped on her fingers.

Looking up, that person slightly bent down. The brocade black boot tip lightly rested on her fingertip without applying force. Because of the downward posture, he was extremely close. That face renowned throughout the Imperial Capital, beautiful as a flower, pressed right before her.

Face to face like this, so close that breathing could be heard, in the faint bloody scent, his breath was gorgeously cool, her breath warm and hazy, silently intertwining together. The clamor from outside, reaching into this narrow space behind the screen, also seemed suddenly distant and inaudible.

He didn’t speak, and Feng Zhiwei didn’t know what to say either. All her feigned warmth and hidden cleverness had no need to be displayed before this person. She only felt that being so close was truly intimate, so she leaned back.

She retreated, and he inclined forward. With that inclination, Feng Zhiwei’s face felt a chill.

She raised her hand to lightly touch—her fingertip deeply red. In a trance she remembered that day in the small courtyard, a cinnabar beauty mark had also fallen on her brow. Then she heard him say indifferently, “That day my blood also fell on your face—were you happy? Were you proud?”

His tone was light, yet within that lightness was a kind of gritting teeth meaning. Feng Zhiwei looked up in astonishment, not understanding why he asked this. Yet before her, that person’s eyes were deep black, pressing down like a mass of dark clouds. She actually couldn’t speak for a moment.

After a long while she said awkwardly, “…What are you saying…”

She felt her attitude was sincere, but he felt it was perfunctory. Suddenly nameless fire surged from the bottom of his heart. His long eyebrows raised, and he suddenly grabbed her up.

Feng Zhiwei didn’t know what he wanted to do and struggled instinctively. With this struggle, swirling air currents arose within her body. The strength in her hands suddenly increased greatly. Pushing hard, she didn’t know what she pushed, then heard him grunt in pain.

Feng Zhiwei was startled and quickly let go. In a daze, Ning Yi’s hand had already reached her throat.

There was blood on his fingers, resting at her neck. That bit of bright red made the skin at her neck appear even more like jade, perfectly carved. She opened her eyes wide to look at him. In her gaze was no panic or pleading, but gradually a mist arose—not the mist of tears, but naturally misty with moisture, hazy as a dream.

Like a flower blooming before dawn, condensed with ice-clear dew drops, in loneliness and darkness, solitary and fragrant.

His fingers suddenly trembled.

As if at first meeting—the woman in the water with fine black eyebrows dark as feathers, a pair of eyes that after killing still flowed mistily, beautiful and bright.

Such grace that could not be destroyed by any storm in the mortal world.

Fingers at the neck.

Heart in chaos.

She knew too many secrets. She could very possibly ruin his plans. She was so deep and cunning. She was a malignant tumor he must remove by any means, a root of disaster he must eliminate. Yet when she looked at him so silently and firmly, his five fingers suddenly lost the strength to close and tighten.

If she pleaded, he would kill her.

If she cried, he would kill her.

Yet she did nothing, calmly facing his killing intent. He suddenly remembered everything he had seen of her since encountering this woman.

That soul like his own, trapped in a lonely city for many years, trying to struggle and unwilling to sink.

His fingers slowly loosened.

Like a sudden hurricane that suddenly slowed when passing through a lush sea of flowers, giving up the destruction of that beauty and delicacy.

At the moment his five fingers completely left her neck, he silently sighed in his heart, consoling himself—killing her now isn’t appropriate, there are too many people outside, it can’t be explained… yes, that’s the reason.

Feng Zhiwei slowly touched her own neck.

No finger marks, no feeling of suffocation. Just now he hadn’t even revealed killing intent. Yet she clearly knew that this time, of all the many times, he truly wanted to kill her, and she was also closest to death this time.

In that moment just now, her mind had also been completely blank. All her schemes lost their power and had no place to be used. She just looked at him like that, wanting to know what he was thinking in that moment.

She didn’t know what reason ultimately made him give up silencing her. This made her rarely silent and melancholy for a long while.

Then she slowly moved closer, picked up the injury medicine on the ground again, silently walked to his side, removed his outer garment, and applied medicine for him.

Ning Yi hadn’t spoken all along, silently cooperating with her. The two, changing from their earlier surging undercurrents and drawn swords, were rarely in accord and quiet.

Garments half removed, the man’s skin was smooth as jade, having both the strength and elasticity of one who practiced martial arts, and the fine smoothness of one raised in luxury. His collarbone was exquisite, his shoulder and neck lines flowing and taut—an extremely beautiful body.

Yet Feng Zhiwei was shocked and alarmed by that bloody penetrating wound on his shoulder. It had nearly pierced through the shoulder blade. The wound with flesh turned outward was very vicious. With such severe injury, it was rare he remained composed and boldly pursued. Feng Zhiwei sucked in breath, feeling as if her own shoulder had also begun to ache.

Ning Yi raised his eyes to look at her expression. The dark expression between his brows brightened slightly.

Feng Zhiwei gently poured the injury medicine on that wound. Ning Yi trembled slightly. Feng Zhiwei immediately said, “Does it hurt?” Suddenly she bent down and gently blew on the wound.

This move made Ning Yi laugh. He truly hadn’t expected this cunning, shrewd woman would also make such a childish gesture. His mood improved somewhat, and he couldn’t help asking, “What are you doing?”

Feng Zhiwei somewhat embarrassedly moved aside, lowering her eyes and saying, “I remember when I was small and scraped my knee, Mother also blew on it like this…” Her voice slowly lowered.

Ning Yi gradually restrained his smile. He naturally knew how Feng Zhiwei had left the manor.

After a long while he said softly, “Having someone blow on it for you is also good…”

Feng Zhiwei froze, looking up at him in disbelief—was he comforting her?

Once the words left his mouth, Ning Yi felt he had misspoken. Seeming somewhat annoyed, he coughed lightly and said no more. Feng Zhiwei pressed her lips together and continued applying medicine for him. Her hair hung down, brushing against his shoulder. Ning Yi felt slightly ticklish. He wanted to move away but suddenly didn’t want to move.

Her breath was close by his ear, her scent sweet, like these early summer half-bloomed crepe myrtle flowers.

Outside was very noisy. It seemed someone was arguing about something. Though he should clearly be paying attention, Ning Yi felt lazy and completely couldn’t listen.

Feng Zhiwei also didn’t pay attention to listen to that clamor. She looked at that bloody hole exposing bone fragments, thinking of the various causes and consequences of this matter, and suddenly felt her heart ache. She couldn’t help saying softly, “Why suffer like this!”

Ning Yi stiffened, then slowly turned his head to look at her.

Feng Zhiwei didn’t speak—why suffer like this? Painstaking scheming, not hesitating to harm himself, injured like this, without even one person to ask after him. Were this great throne under heaven, this imperial glory, truly worth it like this?

Ning Yi quietly looked at her, reading her meaning from her eyes. He didn’t get angry. After a long while he said indifferently, “You don’t understand.”

Feng Zhiwei was silent, thinking perhaps I may not necessarily not understand? You lost your mother young, you have injuries and illness, you have outstanding talent yet have been suppressed for years, you are close as brothers with Xin Ziyan yet must pretend to be strangers, you clearly originally controlled Qingming Academy yet were forced to yield it to the Crown Prince, you aren’t favored by the Emperor and have no choice but to depend on the Crown Prince yet often take the blame for that fool… You have too many hidden wounds and secrets, never truly pitied by anyone, so you don’t care about being even more ruthless to yourself.

She slowly took the cloth strips from the table and slowly wrapped Ning Yi’s wound. Suddenly she said leisurely, “Today you spared me. One day, I will also spare you once.”

Ning Yi looked at her in surprise. Feng Zhiwei looked back calmly and resolutely.

After a long while Ning Yi smiled, shaking his head dismissively, yet didn’t say anything.

His life was to be grasped in his own hands. What he wanted to obtain, he must succeed in getting. With her, just a little woman, even if supremely intelligent, how could she possibly have the opportunity to control his life and death?

Feng Zhiwei saw his dismissal but didn’t argue. She smiled, carefully tied the final knot, and said, “Done.”

The words had just fallen when she suddenly heard an angry rebuke from outside.

“Nonsense!”