“Your Highness, I believe Miss Jiu’er’s suggestion is sound. The situation in Phoenix City is critical — we must return at once.”

Long Yi looked at Zhan Qingcheng across the room, his expression carrying a weight of gravity.

“Moreover, judging by Lord Yu’s letter, when he wrote to us, the troops heading for Desert City had only just departed.”

“By the time they arrive at Desert City, it will still be some days away. And if the battle for Phoenix City…”

“Do you truly think the Eighth Prince is so easy to deal with?” Zhan Qingcheng looked at Long Yi, his voice low and deep.

The man attacking Phoenix City this time was the Eighth Prince — no one could predict exactly how things would unfold. Once a battle began, there were far too many things to contend with; there would be no room to divide one’s attention. Everyone understood that.

Knowing that his words lacked the power to persuade, Long Yi lowered his gaze and held his tongue.

Feng Jiu’er was anxious. She could wait; Desert City and Ming City could perhaps wait too — but the people of Phoenix City could wait no longer. Surely Ninth Imperial Uncle understood this better than anyone.

“Ninth Imperial Uncle, give me a chance to try. I will not let you down.” She raised her eyes and looked steadily at the man before her.

Zhan Qingcheng fixed his gaze on the map, not even glancing at Feng Jiu’er.

Feng Jiu’er slipped into his arms and grasped both of his forearms, looking up intently at his resolute jaw.

“Ninth Imperial Uncle, you know as well as I do that sooner or later, I must reclaim the Feng Clan.”

“Your reluctance now will only harm me — do you understand that? I will always have to face battle. And I have the ability to do so. Don’t you think so too?”

The others said nothing, their expressions varied — no telling what calculations were turning in their minds.

Jian Yi was indifferent to it all; so long as he could remain by Feng Jiu’er’s side, nothing else mattered.

Qiaomu felt the same, though when it came to battle, she carried one extra thing that Jian Yi did not — an eager, burning anticipation.

Xue Gu knew very well what Long Feiyan’s nature had been, and Feng Jiu’er, being her daughter, inspired in Xue Gu a complicated mix of feelings — though worried as she was, she nonetheless hoped to watch Feng Jiu’er grow into her own.

Feng Li had not spoken a single word throughout, as though the matters at hand had nothing to do with him. Yet in truth, the pain lodged in his heart was something no one else could fathom.

“Your Highness.” Long Eleven drew a slow breath before speaking softly. “I believe Long Yi is right.”

“Miss Jiu’er’s plan is, for the time being, the best arrangement available.”

“If you are still not at ease, then besides Long Yi, the rest of the Feilong Shi’er Qi brothers and I—”

“I disagree.” Feng Jiu’er turned to face Long Eleven and cut him off. “Do you think the Eighth Prince is so easy to deal with?”

“Phoenix City is the heart of all Ninth Imperial Uncle’s territories. If Phoenix City falls, the outlook for all his other cities becomes grim as well.”

“Your task is weighty. Do you understand that?”

She gave a cold snort and turned back to face Zhan Qingcheng.

“Ninth Imperial Uncle, give the order. The people of Phoenix City are all waiting for you to return.”

Zhan Qingcheng’s strong brows drew together. With one palm he pressed against the girl’s waist, pulling her close against him.

Looking up to meet the man’s deep-set eyes, Feng Jiu’er steadied her breath and tried to appear as resolute as possible.

She held his gaze without wavering, feeling the anger-tinged heat radiating from him — and in the end, she could barely recall what he said.

But at the very least, Ninth Imperial Uncle had agreed.

Parting was always the most painful thing, especially when the one being left behind was someone she worried about most. If she could, Feng Jiu’er would not have wanted to be separated from Feng Li at all — but she needed her whole heart for the battle ahead and would have no capacity to look after him.

And so she could only entrust her father to Ninth Imperial Uncle’s care.

As the first rays of dawn spilled down, everyone was already mounted, riding swiftly onward.

Feng Jiu’er’s destination was Yamu City — that city which had once owed a debt of favor to Nanmeng Rong and did not fall under Emperor Qiwen’s jurisdiction.

“Young guests, what would you like to eat?” Spotting the young couple stepping through the door, the inn attendant greeted them warmly and led them inside.

A man and a woman — both looking perfectly at ease — settled down at a low table.

The table was not particularly tall, which made the strikingly tall man look a little cramped, yet the smile on his face never dimmed, as though he was entirely unbothered by the situation.

“Sir, what would you like to eat?” The inn attendant looked at the tall man and asked softly.

The strikingly handsome man casually lifted the bundle from his shoulder and handed it to the attendant.

“We’ll be staying the night. Arrange your best room.”

“Right away.” The attendant took the bundle immediately and slung it carefully over his own shoulder.

By the time he thought to ask anything further, the handsome man had already turned to gaze with deep affection at the carefree young woman beside him.

“My dear, what would you like to eat?” The man’s voice was tender.

“I want meat — braised mutton, cold.” The young woman pouted, rubbing her small hands together.

She glanced around and then looked back at the man, and said with complaint: “My love, didn’t you say the weather in the south would be warmer?”

“But I’m still cold — what should we do?”

“Don’t be afraid.” The man leaned in close and took her hands in his. “It is milder here than in the north.”

“Knowing that you, my dear, cannot bear the cold, that is exactly why we chose to head south. It is not cold — eat well and you won’t feel cold anymore.”

Feng Jiu’er lifted her eyes and met the one pair of eyes she had always found familiar, very nearly unable to keep herself from bursting into laughter.

Master Jian Yi, after she had worn him down for several days, had actually transformed into a man who doted on his wife with great tenderness.

With her hands held in Jian Yi’s grasp, Feng Jiu’er felt no discomfort whatsoever — she had long since concluded that even if a certain someone shared the same bed with her, that person would never harbor any such notions.

“Mm.” The little wife gave a sweetly spoiled nod. “My love, I want meat.”

“Alright.” Jian Yi gave her hand a gentle pat and shifted his gaze to the inn attendant.

“Two jin of braised mutton, two liang of white wine, vegetables, steamed rice — and after the meal, bring a bowl of bird’s nest soup. Make it quick.”

“Yes.” The attendant nodded at once. “Then allow me to put away your belongings first, sir, and arrange your room once you have finished dining.”

“Mm.” Jian Yi gave a single nod, and his eyes returned to Feng Jiu’er.

He had not forgotten — Jiu’er had told him that a good husband keeps his gaze mostly on his wife and is reluctant to look away.

Meeting the look that a certain someone was giving her — clearly fishing for praise — Feng Jiu’er rewarded him with an approving glance, then drew her hands back from his.

“My love, I’m so hungry.”

“No rush — it will be ready soon.” Jian Yi reached up with one large hand and gently tucked a loose strand of Feng Jiu’er’s hair behind her ear.

Whether in the way he looked at her or in his gestures, Jian Yi played the role of the devoted husband with considerable skill.

She gave Jian Yi another smile of silent praise. Feng Jiu’er — also wearing a disguise mask — then turned her gaze toward the doorway, where two men had just walked in.

“Gentlemen, please come in.” Another attendant spotted them and hurried over to greet them.

In walked a tall, powerfully built man, accompanied by another man who was comparatively shorter. But even though the second man was not as imposing in stature as his companion, the extraordinary air he carried about him was impossible to overlook.