“Jiu’er, you’re smiling to yourself?” Xiao Yingtao looked at Feng Jiu’er, brow arching with a knowing tilt. “Thinking about your husband?”
“Though if I were you, with so many husbands — each more handsome than the last, each more capable than the last — I would certainly be smiling to myself too.”
Xiao Yingtao drew her gaze forward again with a smile, looking perfectly as though she had forgotten there was still an Xing Zizhou walking somewhere behind her.
Feng Jiu’er slowed her steps and glanced back.
One look at Xing Zizhou’s expression was enough to confirm that he had heard every word of what Xiao Yingtao had said.
Feng Jiu’er simply stopped walking and let Xing Zizhou go ahead.
Qiao Mu also stopped beside her, wearing the expression of someone settling in for a good show.
Xing Zizhou’s eyes seemed to hold only the one figure walking ahead — Xiao Yingtao.
He passed by Feng Jiu’er and Jian Yi, moved forward, and came up beside Xiao Yingtao.
Xiao Yingtao seemed to sense a different presence in the air, and only then reined in her satisfied expression to turn and look.
Before everyone’s watching eyes, the startled Xiao Yingtao had barely registered what was happening before Xing Zizhou took her hand and led her away.
Not until Xiao Yingtao had nearly vanished from sight did Feng Jiu’er give a small cough. “Which is precisely why people who already have a husband ought not to talk such nonsense.”
The words had barely left her mouth before she resumed pushing Jian Yi forward.
“Is Miss Feng talking about herself?” Qiao Mu raised a brow at her and followed along.
Feng Jiu’er merely swept her with a glance and said nothing.
The two sides of the street were lined with shops and stalls, all bustling and lively.
With Xiao Yingtao no longer here chattering away, everyone’s attention turned to the stalls along the street.
Catching sight of a rouge stall, Feng Jiu’er waved a hand, stopped pushing Jian Yi along, and walked over.
“Does Miss Feng also need rouge?” Qiao Mu came up beside Feng Jiu’er and crouched down alongside her.
“Every woman should know about these things — unless you happen to be a man.” Feng Jiu’er tossed the words at Qiao Mu and picked up a small bottle of rouge.
A woman’s love of beauty did not change with the times. She had long wanted to get into the rouge business herself, but had simply never been able to find the time.
One day, when she was truly settled, the matter of rouge was not something Feng Jiu’er intended to neglect.
“Two young ladies, please look freely, take your time.” The stall vendor, seated on a low stool, wore a face full of warm smiles.
Today, no matter who appeared at the Lantern Festival, everyone was in good spirits.
On this one night of reunion at year’s end, everyone set aside their troubles and gathered together properly — why should they not be happy?
Besides, the Ninth Prince himself was presiding over this year’s Lantern Festival in Phoenix City. Just the thought of it had kept the townspeople smiling in their sleep for several nights in a row.
Feng Jiu’er and Qiao Mu browsed several rouge stalls and found quite a few treasures.
Each time, Jian Yi was left to one side, but he did not mind in the least — his expression remained unhurried and content throughout.
Zhao Xiaoxiao quickly joined in, falling into step with Feng Jiu’er and Qiao Mu.
Zhao Yusheng and Tuoba Keyan remained almost constantly flanking the group from behind, barely speaking.
Making their way forward, they arrived near the stage area — it was already a quarter past the hour of Xu.
Long Eleven, who was keeping guard at the stage, spotted Feng Jiu’er and immediately came forward to meet her.
“Miss Jiu’er, I have finally found you.”
“The way you say it makes it sound as though you were waiting for me.” Feng Jiu’er raised a brow, a faint smile at her lips.
“And am I wrong?” Long Eleven gestured with a sweep of his hand. “Miss Jiu’er, this way, please. Your seat is up front.”
Something about Long Eleven seemed different today, and Feng Jiu’er’s brow furrowed lightly.
Normally Long Eleven was respectful enough, but not quite like this — bowing and bent at the waist.
Feng Jiu’er had not misheard: he had addressed her with the formal “您” rather than the ordinary “你.”
In an open area near the inn, a large stage had been erected.
It stood tall — even from this distance, Feng Jiu’er could make it out clearly.
Following Long Eleven forward, she began to see the area before the stage more fully. There were simply too many people, and she had always been on the shorter side, so there was nothing to be done about it.
In front of the stage, a great many chairs were laid out, each uniformly covered with red cloth.
At this point, a good number of them were already occupied, and the open ground behind the chairs was packed densely with the crowd.
Long Eleven kept to the outer edge of the crowd as he walked, a cordon of brothers spaced at intervals keeping the path clear.
It appeared the route had been deliberately kept open — which likely meant there were other important figures yet to arrive.
“Has the Ninth Prince arrived?” Feng Jiu’er stepped forward and asked quietly.
“Not yet.” Long Eleven answered with a smile, gesturing again.
Feng Jiu’er narrowed her eyes slightly and continued ahead.
Too many people — she could not fully see the situation on the stage, let alone what lay below it.
Looking ahead steadily, Feng Jiu’er could see that the path led directly toward the stage. Her seat, then, must be somewhere near the very front.
And indeed — Feng Jiu’er and her companions were shown to the very front row of seats. Even Xiao Yingtao and Xing Zizhou had come over to join them.
This arrangement did not particularly surprise Feng Jiu’er.
It was only that sitting at the very front of the crowd, she did not quite dare to look back.
There was no sign of the Ninth Imperial Uncle nearby, nor had Di Wuya, Ye Luosha, or any of those people arrived yet.
Behind her, the crowd was lively and full — officials and common folk alike, nearly all in their places.
“Jiu’er, truly so many people?” Xiao Yingtao had taken Jian Yi’s seat and settled herself beside Feng Jiu’er.
Feng Jiu’er glanced sideways at her and murmured, “What are you so nervous about? You have your man right here beside you.”
Without even realizing it, she noticed that these two had somehow managed to shuffle Jian Yi elsewhere. She finally spotted him past Xiao Yingtao and Xing Zizhou — and beside him, on his other side, sat Zhao Xiaoxiao, making no effort to conceal where her eyes kept drifting.
Zhao Xiaoxiao had never hidden her feelings. Feng Jiu’er had known that for some time.
After spending time together, Feng Jiu’er had come to see that Zhao Xiaoxiao was far from bad — quite decent, in fact.
But how Jian Yi himself felt about it — how could she possibly know? She only hoped that this lone, solitary soul would find a woman suited to him before long, and stop being alone all the time.
Before long, Cold Moon pushed Elder Di Wuya onto the stage, with Ye Luosha and Elder Shi following close behind.
The brothers already on the stage immediately came forward to receive them.
Feng Jiu’er glanced at the stage only briefly before withdrawing her gaze.
The person she was waiting for had yet to appear, and those others had nothing to do with her — they could not affect her mood.
“By the way, do you think your man will wear the robe you specially designed for him tonight?” Qiao Mu, worried Feng Jiu’er might be in low spirits, deliberately asked.
Ye Luosha and Di Wuya — even Qiao Mu herself had no fondness for them, let alone Jiu’er.
“Absolutely not.” Feng Jiu’er glanced at Qiao Mu. “That robe really is a bit elaborate — he only said it was nice, didn’t even try it on, and left it sitting to the side.”
Though she had been the one who pushed him out the door today, the fact that the robe had been left behind was not in dispute.
“Really?” Qiao Mu frowned. “The robe is perfectly fine — whether or not he wears it is entirely the Ninth Prince’s decision.”
She looked at Feng Jiu’er and went on, “And I think the Ninth Prince has no reason not to wear it. Is he not worried about upsetting you?”
“If our Miss Feng were to say one word — ‘If you don’t wear it, I’ll give it to some other man’ — even if the thing were made of rags, the Ninth Prince would put it on instantly.”