Feng Jiu’er placed both hands over the spot where the two map prints overlapped, studying them little by little from top to bottom.

With the two maps laid together, they now looked, at this moment, complete.

“Jian Yi, this is truly a complete pattern — it is the legendary treasure map.”

There had not been enough time to examine it carefully before, but now that the two map prints were laid flat beneath the bedding, pressed perfectly smooth, it was easy to see.

The matter of the treasure had been circulating for a long time, and Feng Jiu’er was not certain whether it was real or not.

Both she and her father bore the phoenix mark, which meant that every phoenix child before them had carried one as well.

The Ninth Imperial Uncle bore the dragon-soaring pattern, so his own father and mother — or perhaps someone else — might have had one too.

So even if the treasure did truly exist, who could guarantee it had not been found over all these years?

Feng Jiu’er picked up the two prints, pressed her lips together, and said: “Regardless of everything, I must try.”

To contend with Zhan Liyue, they were already far too inferior in terms of wealth alone. Only if they truly found a treasure rich enough to rival a nation would they have any chance of victory.

Feng Jiu’er set aside thoughts of whatever was fated to be, and from today, from this very moment, she would redraw the plan for her own life.

She tucked the two map prints into her breast, touched the jade pendant at her waist, and stood.

She glanced at the “battered and broken” figure before her, then stretched out her hand and took his arm.

Jian Yi said nothing, letting Feng Jiu’er lead him away without resistance.

In truth, Feng Jiu’er had nowhere particular to take him — she simply helped him lie down on the bed.

“Whatever I do next, you had best not move!”

Having said that, Feng Jiu’er shifted her gaze from Jian Yi’s face down to his legs.

She leaned over and gripped his ankles, squeezing them with moderate force.

Healing injuries to tendons and bone could not possibly be painless — but fortunately, this fellow’s tolerance was exceptional.

Jian Yi said nothing. He simply watched Feng Jiu’er without blinking, as though the person being treated was not himself.

From his ankles, to his knees, and upward — Feng Jiu’er examined the entire length of both legs.

As she assessed them, she also carefully attended to the joints where she found problems.

After going over all four limbs, Feng Jiu’er loosened Jian Yi’s clothing.

“Good — the original wounds have not torn open.” Seeing the wound over his heart, Feng Jiu’er let out a quiet breath of relief.

“You have never once been paid for your work, you barely have enough to eat, yet every time you throw yourself into danger without hesitation. I truly wonder whether you are a hitman at all.”

Feng Jiu’er’s lips were complaining, but how moved she truly was — only she herself knew.

After tying his sash back in place, Feng Jiu’er turned and sat down, gazing at that face which was, by rights, quite handsome.

“Close your eyes. Let me take a look at your face.”

Jian Yi said nothing, and obediently closed both eyes.

He did not particularly care whether his face was truly ruined, but he liked being attended to by Feng Jiu’er — so if she wished to fuss over him, he was perfectly willing.

Feng Jiu’er looked at his closed eyes and let out a soft sigh.

This fellow was, in truth, a cold-blooded killer, yet he had been given a pair of wide, guileless eyes — and every time Feng Jiu’er met his gaze, she felt a pang in her heart.

Better, then, to let him keep his eyes closed.

No doubt Feng Jiu’er was the only person in the world who found Jian Yi’s gaze wide-eyed and endearing.

And Jian Yi, in turn, kept nothing from Feng Jiu’er — at some point he could not name, his resolve to protect her had been fixed, and it would not change for the rest of his life.

Feng Jiu’er cradled Jian Yi’s head and examined it carefully, unwilling to miss a single spot.

“Did you knock your head? Your head is just as important as your heart — do you know that?”

With his face so badly injured, of course Feng Jiu’er was worried about his head as well.

If he had struck it and left accumulated blood inside, the consequences would be utterly unthinkable.

“No.” Jian Yi let the single word fall lightly, not even daring to shake his head.

He had not forgotten — Jiu’er had told him not to move.

Feng Jiu’er was very close to him, her breath falling against his face. Jian Yi’s body stiffened slightly.

Even so, Feng Jiu’er did not take him at his word.

Her hands checked every inch of his head, and only when she was satisfied nothing was wrong did she feel at ease.

Her gaze settled on his cheek. Feng Jiu’er sat up straight, drew a deep breath, then leaned in close once more.

“The wound on your nose is not deep — it should heal completely without a scar. But the wound on your face, the one in the middle, is somewhat deep. I cannot guarantee one hundred percent.”

If Jian Yi cooperated with the treatment, Feng Jiu’er was still confident.

Even if today’s medicine proved insufficient, she would study a new compound tomorrow, and if tomorrow’s failed, the day after that.

She had spoken harshly earlier only to prevent Jian Yi from always acting as though he did not care.

“It does not matter.” Jian Yi curved his lips slightly. “A scar means you will not forget me.”

Feng Jiu’er shot a glare at this person who still lay with his eyes closed, then narrowed her own eyes.

This fellow — exactly as expected.

If he truly valued himself, he should have found a way to climb back down and look for her, rather than throwing himself off the cliff without a second thought.

“You are so handsome — how could I forget you? Cooperate with my treatment. I will not let you be scarred, because seeing a scar on you would make my heart ache.”

“But there are too many handsome men around you,” Jian Yi muttered in a low voice.

The moment she thought of those two men Jian Yi claimed were equally handsome, Feng Jiu’er’s ten fingers curved, and she nearly grazed his wound.

Jian Yi sensed that her expression had grown considerably heavier, and he slowly opened his eyes.

Feng Jiu’er met his gaze and snapped back sharply, instantly shifting her eyes to his cheek.

“Did that touch your wound? Did anything happen? Does it hurt?”

“Jiu’er.” Jian Yi extended his palm and gripped Feng Jiu’er’s small forearm. “Do not be sad. What is truly yours will always come back.”

Jian Yi knew little of what had actually happened — he did not even know that it was Ye Luosha, Emperor Ji, and Di Wuya’s birth mother who had pushed Feng Jiu’er from the cliff. For the past few days he had gone to check on her condition every day, but had not asked a single word.

What he saw of Feng Jiu’er now, he attributed to a heavy heart over her failed marriage.

“He will not come back.” Feng Jiu’er curved her lips slightly in a bitter smile.

“What will not come back?” Jian Yi frowned gently and asked.

Feng Jiu’er pulled her thoughts back and withdrew Jian Yi’s palm from her arm.

“He will not come back — which means that from now on, there is only you.”

“So you are the most handsome. Do not worry. Heal well, and protect that face while you are at it. Perhaps one day I will need to live off it.”

“Jiu’er.” Jian Yi took hold of Feng Jiu’er’s forearm again. “What exactly happened?”

Feng Jiu’er’s smile at this moment was worse than weeping, and even Jian Yi, slow as he was, could not overlook it.

“It was them, wasn’t it? And someone with him wanted to kill you as well — is that right?” Jian Yi pressed his brow together and asked.

Feng Jiu’er met his gaze, and her heart ached a little.

She had thought she had truly let go — but now, having left Long Feiyan behind her, these memories came rushing back, and the pain within her was still very deep.