“Qiaomu, what nonsense are you spouting?” Feng Jiu’er stared at Qiaomu, asking in a low voice.

Qiaomu coughed lightly, unable to swallow the meat in her mouth, and had to take another sip of water.

She set down the water pouch and stood up, taking a whole chicken with her.

“It’s fine, you two keep chatting. I’ll just eat on my own—I’m not one for sharing food with others, especially… with a couple.”

“Qiaomu!” Feng Jiu’er glared at the woman standing up.

But the moment she was on her feet, Qiaomu turned and walked away.

“I prefer eating alone. I can finish it all, no doubt about that.”

Qiaomu turned back to wave at Feng Jiu’er, and just before disappearing behind a large boulder, she remembered to add one more line.

“Jian Yi, keep up the good work—I’m rooting for you!”

As Qiaomu’s voice faded away into the surroundings, she herself vanished from sight, leaving only Feng Jiu’er and Jian Yi behind.

Jian Yi looked at Feng Jiu’er, the faintest smile at the corner of his mouth.

After shooting him one more glare, Feng Jiu’er turned her gaze away and tore into her chicken leg in big bites.

Once she’d finished off two chicken legs, she picked up a wing and put it in her mouth.

“Is that enough? If not, I’ll go catch another one.” Jian Yi asked softly.

“It’s enough.” Feng Jiu’er said, still with meat in her mouth. “You’re trying to fatten me up, aren’t you?”

Her gaze merely swept past Jian Yi before she went right back to eating with her head down.

Jian Yi pulled a handkerchief from inside his robe and leaned closer.

Feeling his presence drawing near, Feng Jiu’er immediately shifted back.

Jian Yi had no choice but to stop leaning in.

“What are you dodging for? I never said I had to marry you and no one else, did I?”

Feng Jiu’er lifted her gaze to him, eyes narrowing halfway. “You mean you don’t want to marry me anymore?”

“Depends on my mood.” Jian Yi seized the chance to lean in and wipe the grease from the corner of her mouth. “Still, if no one else will marry you, I’ll marry you regardless.”

The right hand that always held a sword now held a handkerchief, wiping a woman’s mouth. Jian Yi’s touch wasn’t exactly gentle, but it was clear he was making an effort to learn.

“You’re the one no one will marry!” Feng Jiu’er reached out, took the handkerchief from Jian Yi, and wiped her own mouth.

Jian Yi sat down beside her and picked up the water pouch nearby.

“Don’t go thinking it’ll be easy for you to get married off. You’d better treat me well from now on, or when the time comes that you’re begging me, I might just have to think it over.”

Feng Jiu’er bit off the remaining meat from the wing in her hand, set down the bone, and wiped her hands with the handkerchief.

“Anyway, no need to trouble yourself over me—just mind your own business. At your age, still setting your sights on a young maiden like me?”

Come to think of it, she wasn’t even seventeen yet—how had she nearly ended up married?

At the thought of that feeling she’d sealed away inside herself, Feng Jiu’er felt a hollow ache. She absently took the water pouch Jian Yi handed her, tipped her head back, and gulped down a long drink.

Don’t think about it, mustn’t think about it. Just treat it as a dream—don’t think about it anymore!

Jian Yi turned to look at the woman beside him, whose mood had shifted, and reached out to grip the water pouch in her hand.

“Careful you don’t choke. Even at my age I’m not worried about it, so you certainly don’t need to be.”

No sooner had he spoken than he took the water pouch from her.

Feng Jiu’er lifted her eyes to him, and without meaning to, the corner of her mouth curved into a smile.

“Ha ha ha… Jian Yi, so you do know you’re getting old, ha ha ha… I’m dying of laughter.”

“Still, compared to me, you really are quite a bit older. Say, Jian Yi, how old are you exactly? When’s your birthday?”

“How old?” Jian Yi looked at Feng Jiu’er, brow furrowing slightly.

“I mean your age.” Feng Jiu’er blinked. “Don’t tell me you don’t even know your own…”

It was only then that Feng Jiu’er remembered Jian Yi was an orphan. Did he really not even know what year or day he’d been born?

Reaching out to touch his cheek, Feng Jiu’er raised an eyebrow and asked, “You really don’t know your exact age?”

“Maybe twenty-four, maybe twenty-five—somewhere around there.” Jian Yi answered softly.

He had never cared about his own age. Naturally, not knowing was just not knowing—it didn’t matter to him either way.

Feng Jiu’er pressed her lips together, crawled forward a couple of steps, picked up a sweet potato, and moved back to sit beside Jian Yi.

“It was fine not knowing before, but it mustn’t be forgotten now.” She broke the roasted sweet potato in half and gave Jian Yi one piece.

“Now?” Jian Yi met her gaze, a faint crease appearing between his brows.

“Mm.” Feng Jiu’er gave him a firm, certain look. “You were born on the eighth of the fourth month. This year’s eighth of the fourth month will be your twenty-fifth birthday.”

Jian Yi’s lips curved slightly as he took the half sweet potato. “All right. But why the eighth of the fourth month?”

“Because my birthday is also on the eighth of the fourth month.” Feng Jiu’er replied with a smile.

As for when the real Feng Jiu’er’s birthday actually was, she hadn’t gotten around to asking yet—but her own birthday really was on the eighth of the fourth month, so the eighth of the fourth month it would be.

“What do you say—from now on, we celebrate our birthdays on the same day, all right?”

“All right.” Jian Yi nodded with a smile. “I finally know what day I was born.”

Watching this foolishly smiling man, Feng Jiu’er’s heart ached a little again.

But from now on, she would be his family. She wouldn’t let him sit alone on a mountaintop eating roasted chicken by himself ever again.

“Eat up, we’ve still got work to do after this.” Feng Jiu’er knocked her piece of sweet potato gently against the half in Jian Yi’s hand.

“When your birthday comes, I’ll give you a big present.”

As for what the gift would be, that could wait until the time came—their hero Jian Yi was easily satisfied anyway.

“Mm.” Jian Yi smiled and used his other hand to peel the skin off his sweet potato.

The two of them talked and laughed, and even though all they were eating was sweet potato, their hearts felt sweet all the same.

Especially seeing the smile on Jian Yi’s face, Feng Jiu’er could smile back knowingly—for no other reason than seeing her own family happy.

The two of them finished off two roasted sweet potatoes together, drank nearly all the water they’d brought up, and then stood.

Feng Jiu’er handed Jian Yi a spyglass, keeping another for herself.

“Jian Yi, you should have memorized that mountain range diagram by now, right?”

“Mm.” Jian Yi took the spyglass.

“Good, you go to the other side. I’ll keep looking from here a while longer.” Feng Jiu’er raised her spyglass and looked off in one direction.

“Jian Yi, look—that’s the next peak we need to climb. Today, before sunset, we have to conquer at least four peaks.”

“If the timing works out, we’ll head back to camp—otherwise we’ll be giving the Fortress Master a perfect chance to cause trouble for my people.”

Jian Yi nodded again and drew his gaze back from the distant mountain range.

“If anything happens, just shout. I won’t go far.”

“Mm.” Feng Jiu’er looked at him and nodded.

Only then did Jian Yi feel at ease, turning to leave.

Only once she could no longer sense Jian Yi’s presence did Qiaomu step out from behind the rock.

“Jiu’er, what do you need me to do?” In her hand was nothing left but a chicken carcass.

Feng Jiu’er glanced at the bare bones in her hand and smiled faintly.

“Don’t go stuffing yourself fat. Slenderness is a woman’s beauty—if you put on weight, it won’t be easy to take off again.”

No sooner had she said it than Feng Jiu’er turned away, spyglass in hand.

Qiaomu tossed the chicken bones onto the ground and walked over.

“Go on, tell me—what do you need me to do?”