“Ninth Imperial Uncle, what’s the situation in Phoenix City right now?” After the tent had been quiet for a while, Feng Jiu’er asked softly.

“It’s fine.” Zhan Qingcheng tossed out those two words, then unconsciously ruffled Feng Jiu’er’s hair again.

Feng Jiu’er somewhat regretted staying behind — really, if she wanted to know the details, she should have asked Yu Jingfeng instead.

The Ninth Imperial Uncle had always been a man of few words — how could she have forgotten that?

If she’d left, she wouldn’t be stuck like this, no different from a kitten in its master’s hands.

“What about Mu Mu? Has the battle at Ming City ended?” Feng Jiu’er pressed her lips together as she spoke again.

“Nothing serious.” Zhan Qingcheng replied quietly.

After the hand resting on her left, Feng Jiu’er heard the sound of pages or letters being turned.

After a moment, she asked quietly, “What do you plan to do next? Are you going to attack back?”

“What do you want this prince to do?” Zhan Qingcheng glanced down at her, then reached out and ruffled Feng Jiu’er’s hair again.

Feng Jiu’er stared at the ground, unable even to lift her eyes.

She let out a soft sigh and asked quietly, “Ninth Imperial Uncle, don’t you think it’s a bit strange, me lying like this the whole time? I…”

“It’s quite good.” Zhan Qingcheng cut her off with a perfectly straight face.

A stranger watching might think he was just playing with a kitten, but Feng Jiu’er knew he really was working seriously.

The woman who kept trying to convince herself to accept this position, yet still felt unwilling deep down, sighed once more.

“What you want to do isn’t something I can decide anyway. If you’re busy, I’ll go out first.”

No sooner had she spoken than Feng Jiu’er tried to get up, but the hand on her back wouldn’t let her have her way.

Zhan Qingcheng didn’t need much force to stop her — the moment he applied even slight pressure to make his meaning clear, Feng Jiu’er didn’t dare refuse.

This sheer submissiveness of hers really didn’t change just because she possessed unrivaled martial skill.

“As for this prince’s affairs, you may decide them.”

Just as Feng Jiu’er was about to complain, that single sentence from Zhan Qingcheng instantly dissolved all her grievance.

His affairs — she could decide them?

“Ninth Imperial Uncle, you… you’re not joking, are you?” the woman asked, trembling slightly.

Seeing him again this time, why did it feel like the Ninth Imperial Uncle had changed so much? At the very least, he was talking more.

Zhan Qingcheng eased the pressure he had on Feng Jiu’er, as if granting her a favor, letting her lift herself up.

Feng Jiu’er straightened her back and looked up at him.

Lowering his eyes to meet the little girl’s gaze, he frowned slightly, his voice still low and deep. “Do I seem like a man who likes to joke?”

No sooner had Feng Jiu’er sat up than Zhan Qingcheng’s large hand scooped her up, pulling her into his embrace.

She stared at him without blinking, still finding it hard to believe her own ears.

“Ninth Imperial Uncle, that… what… do you mean?”

His affairs — she could decide them?

Was he being serious?

“Exactly what it sounds like.” Zhan Qingcheng held Feng Jiu’er against him with one arm while his other hand opened up a letter.

Hearing the rustling behind her, Feng Jiu’er knew he was about to get busy with work again, but was the Ninth Imperial Uncle’s earlier remark really what she thought it meant?

Sitting astride the man like a child, Feng Jiu’er buried her whole body into Zhan Qingcheng’s chest.

Apart from lightly gripping his robe, she didn’t dare move at all.

The tent fell quiet for a while, and with Zhan Qingcheng saying nothing, Feng Jiu’er lifted her head again.

“So is the Ninth Imperial Uncle planning to attack outward, or to stay put?”

“What’s your thinking on it?” Zhan Qingcheng asked softly.

He still appeared to be working, and yet he hadn’t dismissed what he’d said earlier either.

Feng Jiu’er pressed her lips together and shook her head. “I don’t want to fight a war.”

“Seeing our brothers wounded and the common people fleeing — it weighs on my heart.”

Zhan Qingcheng paused what he was doing, glanced up briefly, then let his gaze drop again as he put pen to paper once more.

Soon, the letter was finished. He set down the pen and looked down at the person in his arms.

“Then very well. We won’t fight.”

Zhan Qingcheng wrapped both arms around Feng Jiu’er, the corners of his fine thin lips curving slightly, and lowered his head to press a kiss to the top of her head.

Burying her face against his chest, Feng Jiu’er felt deeply moved — even more so than when he’d said that morning that he would marry her.

Young as the Ninth Imperial Uncle was, Feng Jiu’er could hardly imagine just how many battles he must have gone through to reach where he was today.

She hadn’t expected that her simple words — “I don’t want to fight a war” — would bring his response of “Then we won’t fight.”

The tent grew quiet again, with only the sound of Zhan Qingcheng turning the pages of his book.

After a good while, Feng Jiu’er finally snapped out of her stunned daze.

“Ninth Imperial Uncle, you go on with your work. I’ll go check on the brothers.”

Zhan Qingcheng glanced down at her and didn’t object.

He ruffled her hair once more and let her go.

Feng Jiu’er carefully climbed down off Zhan Qingcheng, then poured him another cup of tea.

“Ninth Imperial Uncle, I’ll go on out then.”

“Mm.” Zhan Qingcheng gave a faint nod without lifting his eyes.

Feng Jiu’er, as though already used to it, turned and walked away.

The moment she turned, the corners of her mouth lifted into a happy curve.

The feeling of being in love really was wonderful!

Once away from Zhan Qingcheng, Feng Jiu’er returned to being the General Feng everyone knew.

She made a round through the camp, personally treating quite a few of the wounded brothers, and the work kept her busy for half a day.

At some point, Feng Jiu’er came out of a tent and ran into Zhao Yusheng.

“Zhao Yusheng.” She stepped forward and called out softly.

Zhao Yusheng, who had just been about to head off in another direction, heard Feng Jiu’er’s voice and immediately stopped and turned around.

“Jiu’er.” He called out softly, a hint of a smile on his face.

“Has the bird sent to look for Jian Yi come back yet? It’s been so long — I have no idea what condition he’s in.”

Feng Jiu’er pressed her lips together, her mood somewhat low.

Not knowing how to console her, Zhao Yusheng simply picked up the whistle hanging from his neck and blew it.

Feng Jiu’er understood — the bird had come back.

She looked up at the sky, and before long, a messenger bird came flying over.

“When did this happen?” She drew her gaze back and looked at Zhao Yusheng.

“It should have been yesterday. The situation was too urgent — I didn’t get to tell you in time.” Zhao Yusheng replied softly.

The messenger bird, almost as if it understood human feelings, landed on Feng Jiu’er’s shoulder.

Feng Jiu’er gently cupped it in her hands and took out the note from the small tube tied to its leg.

Reading the contents of the note, Feng Jiu’er knit her crescent brows.

As she looked up at Zhao Yusheng, the bird took flight, circling endlessly in the sky.

“Zhao Yusheng, what does this mean? Did it fail to find Jian Yi, or is Jian Yi unwilling to write back to me?”

Zhao Yusheng looked up at the messenger bird for a moment before bringing his gaze back to Feng Jiu’er.

“The messenger bird should know where Jian Yi is — it wants to lead us there.”

“Jiu’er, with injuries as severe as Jian Yi’s, he couldn’t have gotten far. Why don’t I go look for him together with you?”

“I’m fairly familiar with the terrain in the south. If we go back and mobilize the brothers to search together, it shouldn’t be too difficult.”