Staying here day after day, channeling inner energy into a gravely ill person — his own cultivation was continuously being depleted, and his body was growing more exhausted and worn by the day.

A Ninth Prince in such a state — how could anyone not be worried?

And beyond that, how many people on the outside were watching him with predatory eyes, scheming by every means to strip the military power from his hands, to bring about his death?

“A’Jiu, I know you are doing this for that girl Jiu’er — you don’t want to disappoint her. But can you truly, for her sake, throw away everything you have?”

Emperor Ji was genuinely furious now. His A’Jiu had never been this willful before.

“And furthermore — if you bring Mu Mu back to life, what choice will Feng Jiu’er make in the end? Are you truly willing to give her that choice?”

When had Ninth Prince become so reasonable? Was it not his way to simply take back whatever he wanted?

A young woman — why should one throw everything aside just to please her?

Long Yi did not wish to speak ill of Feng Jiu’er behind her back. After all, the Prince cared for her, and Long Yi would respect that.

But the situation had come to this point, and truly they could not go on like this any longer.

“Your Highness, regardless of everything else, the present situation is tense, and we truly cannot stay here any longer. Even if you do not return to court to personally clear your name, you should at least return to your forces and lead the army in resisting the Ruhe troops.”

“Your Highness, this subordinate knows he should not speak out of turn before you, but Your Highness — given the current condition of Yemingong’s young Palace Master, the likelihood that he will recover…”

“He will recover.” The door was pushed open, and Feng Jiu’er walked in carrying a bowl of warm soup.

The moment Lengyue saw her, her displeasure flared immediately: “That young Palace Master of Yemingong is your sweetheart, so of course you would…”

A gaze swept over, cold as a winter draft. Lengyue bit her lip and could only bow her head, not daring to finish the sentence.

The Prince disliked her speaking about anything between Feng Jiu’er and Mu Mu, so she would leave it unsaid. Yet were not some things self-evident to everyone in the room?

Lengyue tugged at the hem of Emperor Ji’s sleeve. Emperor Ji had already had words on his mind — he needed no prompting from her.

He fixed Feng Jiu’er with a piercing gaze: “If you truly have feelings for A’Jiu, you ought not be spending your thoughts on others.”

Lengyue was taken aback, and at once a sense of grievance welled up in her. How could Emperor Ji’s words carry such ambiguity? Should he not be telling Feng Jiu’er to leave the Prince’s side?

Yet the way she heard it, it sounded less like driving Feng Jiu’er away from the Prince — and more like urging Feng Jiu’er to stay wholeheartedly by the Prince’s side. What if Feng Jiu’er actually agreed to stay?

Though Lengyue had been reproaching Jiu’er just moments ago, what she wished for most was for Feng Jiu’er to insist on staying by Mu Mu, after which the Prince would leave in cold fury, and the two of them would never see each other again for the rest of their days.

Emperor Ji’s voice sharpened: “Do you understand what price A’Jiu must pay to stay here? And yet what you are doing is all for the sake of another man!”

Though the precise nature of the entanglement among the three of them was not entirely clear to him, what he did know was that Yemingong’s people had once taken Feng Jiu’er and used her to threaten A’Jiu.

And Long Yi had explained to him clearly enough how all of this had unfolded, and why Mu Mu had come to be wounded.

“Our A’Jiu owes nothing to that young Palace Master of Yemingong. Were it not for Yemingong’s own people stirring up trouble, how could A’Jiu have ended up in this state?”

“And even if Yemingong’s young Palace Master took a sword strike for A’Jiu in the end — A’Jiu has channeled his inner energy into him for many days now. That should make them even!”

Emperor Ji’s anger was understandable. The situation outside was truly dire, and Feng Jiu’er was occupied entirely with an outsider — where did that leave his A’Jiu?

“Young Miss Feng, if you are still willing to consider A’Jiu today, you should not be urging him to stay. Unless you truly have no place for A’Jiu in your heart at all!”

No one spoke. The room fell into a silence deep as death.

Did she truly have no place for Ninth Imperial Uncle in her heart? If she did, then why was she not willing to consider his position? Why, even now, were all her thoughts on Mu Mu?

After a long moment, Jiu’er finally stepped forward and placed the warm soup before Emperor Ji, her voice quiet and even: “Have some warm soup first.”

Emperor Ji gave a cold snort and did not so much as glance at the bowl.

Feng Jiu’er did not press him. She had offered it to him first because he was the elder here, and it was a gesture of respect.

As for whether she needed to attend to him further — that was not something she was obligated to do.

She set the soup on the table, then glanced at Long Yi and Lengyue: “You may have some while it’s still warm.”

After all, there was a bowl for each person.

Lengyue gave a cold snort as well and ignored her. Long Yi felt a trace of helplessness, and his voice was quite subdued: “Thank you, Miss Jiu’er.”

Feng Jiu’er lifted another bowl and walked to stand before Zhan Qingcheng, her voice gentle and soft: “Ninth Imperial Uncle, have a bowl.”

Zhan Qingcheng said nothing — that was simply how he always was, not given to words.

But the days Jiu’er had spent at his side were not few by now, and she had come to know him fairly well.

Even when his silence was the same, Jiu’er could usually tell what lay beneath it — whether acceptance or refusal, she could more often than not read correctly.

She sat down beside him and picked up the ladle, feeding him spoonful by spoonful.

For Ninth Prince to accept a woman’s attentiveness — it was something no one but Feng Jiu’er could manage without drawing looks of surprise. Yet with Feng Jiu’er, it seemed that aside from Lengyue, even Emperor Ji and Long Yi had come to accept it as natural.

Ninth Prince had never been fond of women drawing near him. Only toward this one Feng Jiu’er was he different.

If Feng Jiu’er could stay wholeheartedly by the Prince’s side, Emperor Ji, even if he did not like it, could manage to accept it — after all, he had witnessed just how far A’Jiu was capable of going out of his mind over Feng Jiu’er.

The child was fond of her — let him be. She was just a young woman. As long as A’Jiu did not truly throw away his very life for her… and yet the truth was, A’Jiu had already shown himself willing to throw away everything for her.

Emperor Ji felt truly helpless — utterly without recourse.

But as things stood, how was he to stop A’Jiu from throwing himself so obstinately further down this path?

“A’Jiu, given that Feng Jiu’er is so set on treating another man well — is there truly nothing in your heart? Are you honestly willing to be the lesser presence in her eyes, inferior to another?”

Emperor Ji’s words were too direct, too blunt — yet they cut straight to the heart of the matter.

Zhan Qingcheng continued to drink the warm soup, but his gaze rested on Jiu’er’s face.

That face, so close, yet carrying a softness that he could not quite see through.

He did not like this particular softness. He wanted to see her fully and clearly — wanted to pull her close with force, to have her face him honestly and openly with her own lips.

His fingertips tensed involuntarily for a brief instant. Feng Jiu’er’s breath grew faintly unsteady — she could almost feel the shift in Ninth Imperial Uncle’s inner state.

“Ninth Imperial Uncle, give me a little more time, alright?”

She knew that he cared about others occupying her thoughts, and Ninth Imperial Uncle would surely not be pleased.

But she still needed a little time. She needed to go and confirm something.

“Give me a little more time, Ninth Imperial Uncle.”