Qiao Mu had said the words “If you don’t wear it, I’ll give it to some other man” in a deliberately altered pitch, making the line all the more pointed.

Feng Jiu’er looked sideways at this person seated beside her — taller than her even while sitting — and narrowed her eyes.

“Qiao Mu, I think you have quite a talent for performance. The stage up there is very large — would you like to go up and try your hand at it in a moment?”

Qiao Mu raised a brow, lips curving slightly upward.

“No need for a performance. But I am willing to wager that the robe you made for him will not go to waste.”

“Just wait for everyone to see the Ninth Prince make his entrance in an elaborate robe — and not just any robe, but a matching set, the same style as his future bride.”

“Yes, yes.” On the other side, Xiao Yingtao was nodding emphatically. “I also think the Ninth Prince would never let Jiu’er’s efforts go to waste.”

“Would he really be willing to leave it behind? Is he not afraid Jiu’er will give it to someone else?”

“I went to put the robe away just now — it was still in my room, hung up. Understood?” Feng Jiu’er pressed her lips together, too tired to look at the two of them any further.

“I already said — he did not take it with him.”

Qiao Mu and Xiao Yingtao leaned toward each other, exchanged a glance, their eyes brimming with unspoken meaning.

“The Ninth Prince actually left without taking the robe?” Xiao Yingtao said.

“And never sent anyone back for it either?” Qiao Mu was equally taken aback.

But surprised as they were, both of them still saw Feng Jiu’er give a nod.

Qiao Mu furrowed her brow, stood up.

“The Ninth Prince clearly does not know what he has. I’ll go fetch it right now and have Zhao Yusheng put it on.”

“Yes, have Zhao Yusheng wear it.” Xiao Yingtao echoed.

“Have my big brother wear what?” Zhao Xiaoxiao had only caught half the conversation and looked at Qiao Mu in confusion.

“Sit down — the opening ceremony is about to start any moment now. Thinking about what to eat and drink afterwards would be far more worthwhile.” Feng Jiu’er shot Qiao Mu a look.

“Besides, I never intended for him to wear that robe tonight. And if he really insists on wearing it, I would be the one not wearing mine.”

Feng Jiu’er pulled Qiao Mu back down and raised a brow. “Hurry up and sit. Do you not know that sitting in the front row draws a great deal of attention?”

Qiao Mu glanced back over her shoulder, paid Zhao Xiaoxiao no mind, and settled back into her seat with an expression of moderate reluctance.

“But he still cannot be allowed to waste your effort?”

“Are you aware of how many eyes are on you right now?” Feng Jiu’er looked at this person pretending to be composed, and smiled.

Qiao Mu gave a soft cough. “Not many. A few hundred at most.”

Feng Jiu’er looked at Qiao Mu once more before withdrawing her gaze.

“What has gotten into you? You are even more gossipy than Xiao Yingtao today.”

“Jiu’er, are you saying I am usually very gossipy?” Xiao Yingtao looked at Feng Jiu’er, brow puckering.

“Does that even need to be questioned?”

“Does that even need to be said?”

Two different voices sounded at once. Feng Jiu’er and Qiao Mu turned to look at Xiao Yingtao together.

Qiao Mu arched a brow, withdrew her gaze, and swept a look across the stage.

“For the record, I am not being gossipy.”

Feng Jiu’er followed Qiao Mu’s line of sight toward the stage.

“Do not tell me the reason you wanted the Ninth Imperial Uncle and me to wear matching robes was to give those two people up there a bit of provocation.”

Gaze falling back on Qiao Mu, Feng Jiu’er lowered her voice. “Do I look like I am tired of living?”

“I had originally wanted to do the matching set, but after seeing the finished robes, I gave up on the idea. Besides, a person ought not to be too conspicuous.”

Qiao Mu’s unspoken thought had been laid bare. She arched a brow and said nothing more.

Xiao Yingtao, accused outright by both of them at once, was also at a loss for words.

Then suddenly, the entire crowd erupted in a roar — a sound so immense that there was no ignoring it.

Everyone seated together turned their heads at once, looking toward the direction of the entrance.

No matter how many people were crowding in around him, Feng Jiu’er could still pick out that tall, commanding figure at once.

Who else could cause such a stir but the Ninth Imperial Uncle?

“It’s the Ninth Prince.”

“The Ninth Prince is here.”

“The Ninth Prince is here — Phoenix City’s own Prince has arrived.”

“The Ninth Prince looks somehow different today — such bearing — what a rare sight!”

“The Ninth Prince seems to be in very good spirits!”

The voices of the townspeople rose in wave after wave — every single one full of reverence and admiration.

And then Feng Jiu’er noticed something she could scarcely believe even as she saw it.

“He…” Xiao Yingtao clutched Feng Jiu’er’s arm tightly. “Jiu’er, did you not say the robe was still at your place?”

“Is that not… the robe you designed?” At the same moment, Qiao Mu saw it too.

The moment Zhan Qingcheng stepped up onto the stage, the crowd below fell silent.

Today’s Ninth Prince was rather unlike himself — and yet the robe was still in darker tones, because Feng Jiu’er had known the man would not take to anything too vivid.

What was different was that today, the Ninth Prince’s robe, beyond its main color, carried several additional touches of other hues.

In truth, the robe was not elaborate at all — it was, as Qiao Mu had said, only somewhat more embellished compared to what the Ninth Prince wore on ordinary days.

When Feng Jiu’er had designed this robe, she had only thought of the two of them having one matching set to share — never intended for the Ninth Prince to wear it onstage tonight.

The design was not particularly stately — there was even a hint of playfulness to it. Beautiful, comfortable, but lacking the gravitas of his usual wear.

Yet no one could have anticipated that a robe not quite suited to formal occasions would still look on the Ninth Prince like the garb of a sovereign.

His robe’s sleeves rippled lightly in the air, and he stood as composed and cool as ever.

Deep, fathomless eyes. A proud, straight nose. Lips finer than the petals of any flower. Features so perfectly arranged that not a single flaw could be found.

A breeze lifted his long hair, strands drifting across that striking face — lending him an added, ethereal beauty.

Flawless. Untamed. Cold-edged. Mysterious. Not one word alone could adequately capture the Ninth Prince’s incomparable countenance.

A person of such rare, singular beauty — like a celestial being stepping out from within a painting. In all this world, there could not be another.

Feng Jiu’er watched him, unblinking. And the man on the stage — his gaze too seemed to rest upon her.

She had clearly put that robe away before she left. Had the Ninth Imperial Uncle gone back in and taken it?

A robe she had designed herself was unmistakably one of a kind — she could not possibly mistake it.

Qiao Mu and Xiao Yingtao looked at Feng Jiu’er one after another, both faces lifting into bright, delighted smiles.

“It seems the Ninth Prince truly, deeply cherishes our Jiu’er.” Xiao Yingtao blinked, her voice soft with wonder.

“He certainly does.” Qiao Mu sounded rather pleased as well. “To give Jiu’er a surprise, the Ninth Prince went and stole the robe. Well — not bad at all.”

After that one shared glance between Feng Jiu’er and her man, she did not look away again, and she certainly had no attention left for the two beside her.

In that moment, she admitted she was moved.

Earlier, seeing the clothing Elder Di Wuya and Ye Luosha wore, and the grave expressions on their faces, Feng Jiu’er had understood that tonight’s Lantern Festival was surely not merely a Lantern Festival.

And yet her man had chosen this moment — this important moment — to stand up on that stage wearing the robe she had designed, the one she had said was too casual for any platform. How could she not be moved?

This man was always catching her entirely off guard.