Beneath the pavilion, that figure draped in pure white remained effortlessly graceful, like an immortal.

Seen from a distance — if one were not swept away by the breathtaking elegance of his bearing, one certainly was not a woman.

But at this moment, Feng Jiu’er had only one thing on her mind.

And that was — whether he was truly Di Wu Ya!

She quickened her steps and walked toward the pavilion.

Yu Jingfeng stepped forward, blocking her path: “Miss Jiu’er, His Highness the Prince and the Head Scholar are playing chess. You…”

“I need to see the Ninth Imperial Uncle!” Feng Jiu’er had nearly been thoroughly devoured by Di Wu Ya in the mountain forest just now!

Her garments had already been tugged down by him, and his hand had even… Though she had no idea why he had suddenly found his conscience, the humiliation from that encounter still left her burning with indignation.

“Miss Jiu’er…”

“What does this Prince’s presence concern you?” From beneath the pavilion, Zhan Qingcheng held a white chess piece between his fingers, placed it down with an unhurried air, and then turned his head to glance in this direction.

That single glance was enough for Feng Jiu’er to feel a crushing weight pressing down upon her from above.

She had suffered a grievance, and her heart was seething with resentment — which was why she had charged over without thinking, wanting to prove that the Ninth Imperial Uncle was Di Wu Ya.

Yet now, meeting the Ninth Imperial Uncle’s gaze… in all honesty, she felt just a little… deflated.

Steeling herself, Feng Jiu’er walked forward — and suddenly stumbled on something underfoot, lurching forward with a rush.

“Ah…” That cry was, perhaps, a touch exaggerated. But if she didn’t cry out like that, it wouldn’t look quite like an accidental fall, would it?

Head Scholar Fang Zheng, who had been playing chess with the Ninth Prince all along, was startled and immediately moved to help.

But Jiu’er had deliberately aimed herself at the Ninth Imperial Uncle, so naturally she gave no one any opportunity to intervene.

She was close enough — and in an instant, she had tumbled straight into Zhan Qingcheng’s lap, wrapping her arms around his waist.

Her face, as if carried by momentum, was buried in his abdomen.

Sandalwood! Why was there such a heavy scent of sandalwood on him?

Yet in the mountain forest, what she had caught was a faint, delicate medicinal fragrance — very subtle, but unmistakably the scent of medicine!

Head Scholar Fang Zheng’s hand was just about to close around the back of Feng Jiu’er’s collar to haul her up, but he was stopped by the icy sharpness of Zhan Qingcheng’s gaze.

His Highness the Ninth Prince… did not want him to touch this girl?

Fang Zheng had no choice but to slow his steps, inclined his head in acknowledgment, and returned to his stone seat.

Come to think of it, he wasn’t sure whether it was from sitting here so long, but his mind had felt strangely foggy throughout — which was why his reaction had been so much slower than usual.

Otherwise, with Fang Zheng’s skills, he would never have allowed Feng Jiu’er to embrace the Ninth Prince so brazenly, without the slightest decorum.

Though if His Highness the Ninth Prince was not permitting him to intervene — what did that mean? Could it be that His Highness had some particular feeling toward this girl?… But this girl’s looks were really rather plain!

“Are you not going to get up? Did you hurt your foot?” Zhan Qingcheng looked down at the little creature clinging tightly to him, rubbing against him this way and that, and a deep, enigmatic glimmer passed through his eyes.

“My foot…” Feng Jiu’er had been smelling for quite a while and still could not detect that faint medicinal fragrance. Left with no recourse, she had to take his words as a ready-made excuse.

“My foot hurts a little, but it shouldn’t be serious.”

She stood up, then turned to give a slight bow toward Fang Zheng, who was seated to one side: “Head Scholar, sir.”

Fang Zheng gave a nod. Since he was uncertain of this girl’s relationship with the Ninth Prince, he didn’t dare presume to put on airs.

Feng Jiu’er’s gaze swept over the stone table — a chess board lay upon it, and sure enough, there was also a burner of lit sandalwood incense.

No wonder the Ninth Imperial Uncle smelled so heavily of sandalwood. He must have been sitting here for quite some time, with the sandalwood scent seeping into his robes. She looked at Fang Zheng and asked with a cheerful grin: “Sir, have you and the Ninth Imperial Uncle been playing chess here the entire time? How long has it been?”