Seeing the man’s handsome thick brows furrow, Feng Jiu’er immediately waved her hands.
“No, no — I certainly did not mean to drive you away. How could I possibly think that?” She simply did not dare!
“I was thinking, if you truly dislike the west wing, staying here with me is perfectly fine. The main hall has several more wing rooms, none inferior to the west wing, and even compared to the east wing…”
“Have someone bring in the bath water. I wish to bathe.” With one long stride, Zhan Qingcheng left Feng Jiu’er with nothing but the broad view of his back.
Feng Jiu’er stared after him, utterly at a loss.
Arranging bath water was, of course, a given — she needed to bathe every day herself. But what did he mean by wanting to bathe? Had he not yet decided where he would be sleeping tonight? Which wing room was she supposed to send the bath water to?
“Ninth Imperial Uncle.” Feng Jiu’er hastily followed after him.
She watched Ninth Imperial Uncle leave the side hall, walk through the main hall, and continue further inside.
“Ninth Imperial Uncle, shall I take you to look at the other wing rooms first? I can…”
Before she could finish, Feng Jiu’er watched the man walk straight into the inner chamber, and she stopped dead in her tracks, eyes wide and round.
Only after the man’s figure had vanished from her sight did Feng Jiu’er finally come to her senses, and she quickened her steps.
“Ninth Imperial Uncle, this… is my bedchamber.” Surely he was not intending to stay and share it with her?
“I despise those who go back on their word.” Zhan Qingcheng said plainly, and began removing his outer robe.
While admiring the man’s flawless physique, Feng Jiu’er was also carefully turning over his words in her mind.
Going back on her word? When had she ever gone back on her word? Could it be…
“Ninth Imperial Uncle, are you referring to what I said about letting you stay here with me?”
From the look of things, he had no objection to the Princess’ Hall at all.
“That is what I said, yes.” Feng Jiu’er pursed her lips and continued, “But that was because you disliked the west wing, was it not? I never said you would be sleeping in my room tonight, did I?”
“Aside from the east and west wings, there are several more wing rooms in the main hall. I will take you to choose one — you are an honored guest, you may have whichever you please.”
“I have already chosen. Have someone bring the bath water.”
The man gave his outer robe an absent flick of the wrist, and it fell like a kite with its string cut, drifting to precisely where it belonged.
Its owner, meanwhile, took a long stride forward and came to rest at the edge of the bed.
Feng Jiu’er had barely glanced at the man now seated on the bed before she completely lost her composure. She was suddenly seized by an overwhelming urge to go over there and push him down.
Ninth Imperial Uncle was such a breathtaking sight, with a figure that was — good heavens — and on top of that, he had taken the initiative to stay of his own accord…
It was not her fault, all right? One could only blame this man for being too perfect, too dangerously alluring, too devastatingly captivating!
She stifled a cough and forcibly suppressed the wolfish impulse rising within her. Feng Jiu’er looked at Zhan Qingcheng with what she hoped was a properly composed expression.
“Ninth Imperial Uncle, if you truly mean to stay tonight, then starting from tomorrow morning, I think… that is to say — the matter of one’s reputation.”
She was a princess; she did not particularly mind. But he was different, was he not?
“I will not say it a third time.”
The moment Zhan Qingcheng’s low, measured words fell, Feng Jiu’er’s figure was already nowhere to be found in the inner chamber.
“Just a moment!” Her voice still lingered, but the person was gone.
It was not long before the wing room grew busy — or rather, not so much busy as simply livelier, with more people filling the space.
Palace maids carrying bathing water filed in one after another, busy readying the bathing chamber for them.
They poured the water, scattered flower petals, and laid out all the bathing necessities. In no time at all, everything that needed preparing was done.
Anyone who did not know better might have thought they were dressing a bridal chamber.
Between five and six palace maids appeared before Feng Jiu’er and Zhan Qingcheng in succession, yet not a single one dared utter so much as a half word extra, nor did any dare raise her eyes.
After all, this wing room held not only the Princess, but also a man who seemed like an immortal banished from the heavens — hauntingly beautiful and cold, like a luminous glacier, something to be admired from afar but never approached.
The palace maids curtsied and withdrew. The inner chamber was left with only Feng Jiu’er and Zhan Qingcheng.
Feng Jiu’er walked over to the table and picked up the travel bundle the maids had brought in — the one belonging to Zhan Qingcheng — and weighed it in her hands.
“Ninth Imperial Uncle, this…”
This little bundle — was this truly his only luggage? It felt like it held no more than two changes of clothes at most.
But was he not a prince of the kingdom of Bei Mu? How could he be so… threadbare?
The maid had said it was his only bag, so that was the truth of it. Yet looking at the bundle in her hands, Feng Jiu’er felt a quiet ache in her chest.
Perhaps he had been in such a rush to enter the palace that there had been no time to bring more.
“Ninth Imperial Uncle, the bath water is ready. Please go and bathe.” Feng Jiu’er did not quite know when she had already come to stand before Zhan Qingcheng.
She held out the travel bundle to him.
Meeting Zhan Qingcheng’s gaze, Feng Jiu’er felt as though something was subtly off.
She found herself seized by an urge to attend him while he bathed — but not only was he a man, he was Ninth Imperial Uncle. How could she possibly entertain such a thought?
“Ninth Imperial Uncle.” Feng Jiu’er called out to him once more.
Her eyes drifted to his beautifully shaped lips, which somehow looked utterly inviting — and she had an inexplicable urge to take a bite. Feng Jiu’er caught herself licking her own lips.
When her gaze returned to the man’s deep, fathomless eyes, Feng Jiu’er felt a chill run through her.
She gave a light cough and set the travel bundle down beside him.
“The room is yours — make yourself at home.”
If she did not leave now, Feng Jiu’er was genuinely afraid she might end up consuming the man whole, bones and all.
How in the world could there exist a man this impossibly magnetic? She was a princess, yes — but even she could not simply do as she pleased!
And yet, barely a step taken toward the door, a reluctance she could not quite name was already tugging at her. What was she supposed to do about that?
“Serve me.” A low, resonant voice sounded from behind her.
Feng Jiu’er stopped in her tracks at once. In an instant, it felt as though the entire world had lit up.
He was the one who said to serve him — she was not deliberately trying to spy on him. Absolutely not, not at all.
With what she hoped was a convincingly indifferent expression, she turned and made her way back to the edge of the bed.
She glanced at the man’s collar, slightly open at the neckline, and drew in a quiet breath, willing herself to breathe normally.
“Ninth Imperial Uncle, you want me to attend you?” Wonderful! She desperately wanted to see his well-built…
“Mm.” Paying no mind whatsoever to the girl’s unmistakably enchanted gaze, Zhan Qingcheng rose to his feet before her without the slightest trace of self-consciousness.
Then he spread his arms wide.
Looking at the jade belt at his waist, Feng Jiu’er could not quite recall how her own hands had moved of their own accord.
All she remembered was that she had helped him undress, and in doing so had rather thoroughly taken in every inch of him.
Ninth Imperial Uncle had quite simply the most magnificent physique she had ever seen. She had not only looked — she had also managed to touch more than a few times.
It was truly not intentional. Serving someone properly required this, did it not?
Feng Jiu’er had genuinely been completely dazed by a beautiful man. It was only when she lay on the chaise longue, her mood gradually unwinding, that she realized something seemed rather amiss.
“Ninth Imperial Uncle.” She turned to look at the man who had just ordered her to sleep on the chaise longue, and furrowed her brow.
She had actually spent the night under the same roof as him, and had even followed his arrangements like a perfectly obedient girl — sleeping on the chaise longue and giving up the bed to him.
The person in the bed had already closed his eyes, breathing evenly, as if on the very verge of sleep.
Looking at his slightly pallid face, Feng Jiu’er felt something pull painfully in her chest, and whatever she had meant to say slipped entirely from her mind.
Sprawled on the chaise longue, chin resting in her hands, she kept her gaze fixed on the man in the bed. She did not know how much time passed before her body felt suddenly heavy and her eyes drifted shut.