Feng Jiu’er was carrying the meal over when she saw Long Shiyi standing guard outside the tent.

“Miss Jiu’er, it’s been so long!” Long Shiyi said, looking at Feng Jiu’er as he stepped forward to greet her.

“Long Shiyi, it has been a long time.” Feng Jiu’er looked at him, the corners of her mouth lifting slightly.

Yesterday she hadn’t seen Long Shiyi either, and she didn’t know whether they’d simply missed each other or he had arrived later.

Seeing that he was doing well, Feng Jiu’er felt good too.

Coming up to Feng Jiu’er, Long Shiyi glanced at the tray in her hands.

“Miss Jiu’er, do you need any help?”

“No need.” Feng Jiu’er shook her head with a smile.

She glanced at the tent behind Long Shiyi, then brought her gaze back to him.

“When will the Ninth Imperial Uncle be done with his business? I want to bring him something to eat.”

“If Miss Jiu’er wants to go in, the Prince welcomes you anytime. Please, go ahead!” Long Shiyi turned and waved her forward.

During those days when they hadn’t slept day or night, how they had wished Miss Jiu’er were by the Prince’s side.

Without Miss Jiu’er there, the Prince hadn’t taken care of himself at all — even the men who saw it had felt for him.

Now it was good — Miss Jiu’er had finally returned to the Prince’s side.

In the days ahead, everyone was looking forward to seeing their Prince fattened up nicely by Miss Jiu’er.

Feng Jiu’er arched her brows, the corners of her mouth lifting slightly, and continued forward.

Since it wouldn’t be a bother, she went in.

With a full stomach, things would go twice as smoothly; besides, once the stomach was ruined from overwork, recovering it would be both troublesome and painful.

With Long Shiyi’s permission, Feng Jiu’er didn’t even bother knocking — she simply lifted the curtain and walked straight in.

The thing was, what door could a tent possibly have anyway?

Glancing back for a moment, Yu Jingfeng turned his head again and continued giving his report.

Feng Jiu’er looked at the two of them, walked over, and set down what she was carrying on the table.

She didn’t interrupt right away; instead, she pulled over a chair and sat down by the table.

Resting her head in both hands, she gazed at that perfect profile not far away, and found herself thinking it was actually a pleasure to watch.

This man truly was a devastatingly attractive one — even when he was being roguish he was captivating enough, but now, seriously discussing state affairs, his charm was simply impossible to resist.

Feng Jiu’er stared at Zhan Qingcheng without blinking, only occasionally batting her big round eyes.

Not until Zhan Qingcheng waved her over did she snap back to herself and stand up.

“Ninth Imperial Uncle.” She gave a light cough, coming back to her senses after having been lost in thought.

“Miss Jiu’er, this subordinate will step out first.” Yu Jingfeng came before Feng Jiu’er and gave a cupped-fist salute.

“Mm.” Feng Jiu’er nodded, picked up the tray, and walked toward Zhan Qingcheng.

Yu Jingfeng, having been all but ignored, smiled and glanced back.

“Your Highness, Miss Jiu’er, please rest assured — this subordinate guarantees no one will be within six zhang. Take your time talking.”

Hearing Yu Jingfeng’s hint about “within six zhang,” Feng Jiu’er nearly tripped over her own feet.

She shot a faintly resentful glance back, but Yu Jingfeng acted as though nothing had happened at all and turned to leave.

“Come here.” Zhan Qingcheng’s voice rang out through the tent.

Feng Jiu’er glared at Yu Jingfeng’s retreating back, arched her brows, then turned and stepped forward.

Setting the tray down on the table, Feng Jiu’er took out the food, one dish at a time.

“Ninth Imperial Uncle, eat first. It’s not good to hurt your stomach by going hungry.”

She ladled out a bowl of soup and held it out to Zhan Qingcheng, looking at him as she blinked.

Zhan Qingcheng didn’t take the soup; instead, he made a bit of room on the bench beside him.

Lowering his gaze to the woman before him, he patted the empty space with his broad hand.

Feng Jiu’er composed herself and sat down beside him, scooping up a spoonful of soup and bringing it to his lips.

At first, she still felt some resistance to being put to such servile use.

But seeing him obediently open his mouth and take a sip, looking as if he wanted more, she willingly brought him a second spoonful.

Zhan Qingcheng made no fuss about it, as though being waited on this way was something he’d always been used to.

What Feng Jiu’er didn’t know was that being allowed to serve the Ninth Prince this closely was an opportunity not even men had, let alone women.

He had simply grown used to being cared for by her, that was all.

The bowl of soup was soon finished, and Feng Jiu’er stood up and filled a bowl with rice.

“Ninth Imperial Uncle, would you like vegetables or meat?” Feng Jiu’er asked softly, glancing back at Zhan Qingcheng.

“Either is fine.” Zhan Qingcheng, who had just opened a book, didn’t pause in what he was doing.

Feng Jiu’er nodded and turned to start serving him food.

She had subconsciously assumed the Ninth Imperial Uncle was quite particular, but thinking about it, he didn’t actually seem to be especially picky about anything.

Whatever she handed him, didn’t he simply eat it every time?

So really, there was no need to even ask.

Tending to Zhan Qingcheng through his midday meal took about half an hour.

Feng Jiu’er had finished tidying up and was about to leave when Zhan Qingcheng’s voice rose behind her: “Nothing you want to say?”

Holding the tray, Feng Jiu’er turned to look at him.

“What would I have to say?”

Frowning slightly, she turned and went out, handed the tray to Yu Jingfeng who was guarding outside, and hurried back into the tent.

“Ninth Imperial Uncle, are you done with your work?”

“Go on, what do you want to know?” Zhan Qingcheng set down the letter he was holding and lifted his eyes to look at the person standing not far off.

Just as Feng Jiu’er was about to ask, he waved his hand.

“Come here.”

Feng Jiu’er pressed her lips together, walked over, and sat down beside him again.

But unexpectedly, his long arm reached out and scooped her in, tilting her body so she ended up leaning against his chest.

“Ninth Imperial Uncle.” Feng Jiu’er looked up at Zhan Qingcheng, frowning slightly.

“Speak properly, this prince is listening.” Zhan Qingcheng glanced down briefly, his gaze settling on the letter in his other hand.

Looking down, then looking up again, Feng Jiu’er rolled her eyes.

At this forty-five-degree angle, she was anything but comfortable — how was she supposed to speak properly like this?

“It’s nothing, really.”

Just as Feng Jiu’er was trying to sit up, Zhan Qingcheng drew his long arm in, leaving her no choice but to stay in the same position.

“Mm.”

The man nodded with an utterly serious expression, but Feng Jiu’er had no idea what his “mm” was even supposed to mean.

Glancing up at him again, Feng Jiu’er let out a soft sigh.

“Ninth Imperial Uncle, I’m not at all comfortable like this. Can we change positions?”

Zhan Qingcheng paused what he was doing and glanced down at her.

His large hand slid up along Feng Jiu’er’s back, and with a light press, he settled her across his lap.

The man looking down at her curved his handsome lips slightly, seeming rather pleased with this position.

Just as Feng Jiu’er tried to get up, he laid his large hand gently on her back and, following the motion, ruffled her hair.

Her struggling proved useless, so Feng Jiu’er gave up and yielded to his hold, lying against him.

“Ninth Imperial Uncle, I…”

“It’s fine, this prince can bear the weight.” Zhan Qingcheng’s voice, as lovely as music, cut off Feng Jiu’er’s words.

Hearing this, Feng Jiu’er didn’t even bother lifting her head and simply went limp like a deflated ball, sprawling against him.

“When you’re handsome, whatever you say is right” — that saying had never fit anyone more perfectly than it did the Ninth Imperial Uncle.