Feng Jiu’er gave chase as well. Now that matters had come this far and were clear, she understood — Ninth Imperial Uncle had known all of this from the start.

But there was no energy now to pursue that line of questioning.

She looked at Zhan Luori and gave a small nod. “Noble Consort Jing suffered greatly today, and yet it was under Zhan Yuheng’s protection that her life was spared.”

“She hates Nanmeng Rong with such ferocity, and yet it is Nanmeng Rong’s son who saved her life. And still, she not only administered the poison, but also issued the extermination order.”

Feng Jiu’er tugged at Zhan Luori’s sleeve and spoke earnestly. “Noble Consort Jing’s state of mind right now must be truly conflicted. If it were you, what would you do? I imagine you yourself would not know which path to take going forward.”

What Noble Consort Jing needed most right now was someone who could speak with her. If she were left to brood alone, something terrible would happen.

Zhan Luori was torn within. He ached to charge into Xuanhua Palace this very moment and kill that Empress — that woman cruel enough to be utterly devoid of conscience!

But what of his Imperial Mother? If even he were to meet with misfortune, could his Imperial Mother still go on living?

At long last, Zhan Luori calmed himself. He looked at Zhan Qingcheng and said, “Ninth Imperial Uncle, I… will go see Imperial Mother first.”

He had truly never known that his Imperial Mother had been bearing such tremendous suffering. Now, beyond vengeance, his only thought was to take good care of her from this day forward.

To let her be free from dread and worry. To let her be free from sorrow. And never to make her angry again.

Whatever his Imperial Mother asked of him — wearing women’s clothing, playing the part of a woman, training his martial arts relentlessly, severing ties with everyone around him — he would obey. He would do whatever she wished.

As long as his Imperial Mother could live well, he asked for no other wish for the rest of his life.

Zhan Qingcheng had not yet spoken when, from ahead, a small palace maid came hurrying forward.

Was that not one of Noble Consort Jing’s palace maids? Zhan Luori stepped forward quickly to meet her, and Jiu’er and Zhan Qingcheng exchanged a glance before following.

“Rushing about in such haste — what has happened?” The unease in Zhan Luori’s heart had been swelling all this time. He could not quite say what it was about today, but he simply felt deeply unsettled.

“Seventh Imperial Princess, this servant… this servant pleaded with the guards for a very long time before being permitted to leave…”

“What is the matter, exactly?” Zhan Luori had little patience left and only wished to return as quickly as possible.

The palace maid said, “Noble Consort Jing… the Noble Consort wishes to see the Ninth Miss of the Feng Family.”

Zhan Qingcheng went to the Empress Dowager’s sleeping chambers to make arrangements for people to prepare her things so that she might recuperate at the Ninth Prince’s Manor for a time.

The imperial palace was rife with murky and suffocating atmosphere — how could anyone truly recover here?

After receiving Ninth Imperial Uncle’s permission, Jiu’er followed Zhan Luori to Noble Consort Jing’s sleeping chambers.

Upon entering the gate of this sleeping quarter, even the name plaque above the entrance was barely legible.

Climbing vines covered the name board entirely, and the whole courtyard was blanketed in lush green — the air was certainly fresh, but dwelling within it, one felt only a sense of having hidden away, of not wishing to be seen by anyone.

Just like that name plaque — so obscured that even the characters could not be made out. How desperately must the mistress of this place have wished for her very existence to go unseen?

She was frightened. She was afraid. In truth, she had never lived a day free of anxiety.

She had watched with her own eyes as her child was strangled to death by Nanmeng Rong. That she, as a mother, had managed to survive was itself no small feat.

Noble Consort Jing’s entire life — perhaps, beyond vengeance, she had harbored no other wish.

As Zhan Luori moved to enter the gate, the guards stepped forward at once to block the way. “Seventh Imperial Princess, the Crown Prince has given orders — no one is permitted to enter or leave this place.”

Having just let a palace maid slip out, and now here she came back with so many people in tow — if they were all allowed in, how would they answer to the Crown Prince?

Feng Jiu’er stepped forward and held out the token Zhan Yuheng had given her, presenting it before the guards.

The two guards’ expressions shifted at once. They stepped back immediately. “Please, enter.”

As Jiu’er and Zhan Luori passed through the gate, it was Hongying who came out to receive them.

She had assumed it would only be the Seventh Imperial Princess returning. She had not expected Feng Jiu’er to appear as well.

“What are you doing here?” Hongying’s hostility toward Feng Jiu’er was plain for anyone to sense.

This time, the Seventh Imperial Princess had risked her own safety for this young woman’s sake and ended up thrown in the imperial prison! An indignity like that — their Seventh Imperial Princess had never had to bear such a thing in her entire life!

Zhan Luori had no mind to concern himself with strife between women. He simply walked quickly toward the inner quarters. “Where is Imperial Mother?”

“The Noble Consort is resting in the sleeping chambers!” the small palace maid who had followed behind promptly answered.

“I will go look in on her first.” These words were addressed to Feng Jiu’er. He glanced back at her, the urgency in his eyes impossible to conceal.

Feng Jiu’er gave a nod, and Zhan Luori immediately set off toward the sleeping chambers.

Hongying still stood in Feng Jiu’er’s path, and now as she stared at her, her face was a mask of undisguised loathing — she looked ready to tear her to pieces with her bare hands!

Jiu’er said in a calm, flat tone, “The scar on your face — it’s no longer possible for it to disappear entirely…”

“Feng Jiu’er, what are you saying! How dare you rub salt in the wound!” Hongying’s palm clenched tight. She almost could not restrain herself from striking out!

That scar was left on her face at the banquet this woman had hosted. Should this wretch not be held responsible?

And now, here she stood saying something like this — twisting the knife!

“What I mean is, I can prepare some medicine for you that will lighten the scar — at least to the point where it would be invisible beneath make-up. But to make it disappear completely, that I cannot do.”

There was no advanced equipment here — nothing of the sort — and no possibility of laser surgery.

What was more, these were burns from a powder explosion. Even with laser surgery, some faint scarring would likely remain.

Hongying did not quite understand the reference to “make-up covering it,” but she heard one sentence clearly: “It can truly be hidden?”

“Once my apothecary opens, you’re welcome to come have a look. But let it be said in advance — there is a fee.”

“How petty…”

“If a person in business were to be generous, what profit would they be making?” Feng Jiu’er gave a cool huff and stepped into the side parlor.

“As if I have no money — as if I cannot pay the fee?” Hongying gave an equally cool huff. She did not follow her in. “I just worry your medicine won’t even work.”

“You don’t have to come and try. Either way, it’s no loss to me.” Toward someone who harbored hostility toward her, Jiu’er’s patience was not notably deep.

After all, the injury on her face was not something she herself had caused.

Hongying still wanted to volley a few more words back, but thinking on it, she found there was nothing worth volleying about.

It was nothing more than wanting her own face to heal. And if it could not heal — a whole life stretched out ahead, dim and colorless…

When Zhan Luori entered Noble Consort Jing’s sleeping chambers, Noble Consort Jing was seated at the edge of the bed, her mind absorbed in some unknown thought.

At the sound of someone entering, she did not even turn to look. It was as though simply by the sound of those footsteps alone, she already knew who had come.

“Where is that girl?” she asked.

Zhan Luori walked over and sat down at the edge of the bed, looking at her. “Imperial Mother.”

“Has the girl come? Or is she unwilling?”

“Jiu’er has come. She is in the courtyard. I simply wished to come see you first.” It had been only a single day apart, yet his Imperial Mother’s face looked even more gaunt and ashen.

And especially now — her eyes had lost even the faintest glimmer of light.