“Go and die!” At some unknown moment, Feng Qingyin’s hand had acquired a broken shard from a shattered porcelain bowl.

She knew full well she was no match for Feng Jiu’er, yet her gaze was fixed unwaveringly upon Feng Jiu’er’s breathtakingly beautiful face.

Of all the people Feng Qingyin hated most in this lifetime, none compared to Feng Jiu’er.

She herself had already fallen into utter ruin — so how could she possibly allow Feng Jiu’er to stand before her completely unscathed?

Feng Jiu’er had guessed correctly. Everything that had befallen Feng Qingyin was a consequence of her own sins.

The more enemies she had made during her days of glory, the more suffering she would inevitably endure when calamity came for her.

In the days since her imprisonment, someone had come to visit her almost every single day. Over time, her sharp edges had gradually been worn down until not a trace remained.

Feng Jiu’er watched the crazed woman lunge toward her, without a flicker of fear on her face.

When the shard in Feng Qingyin’s hand closed in on her face, she flicked her wrist with casual ease.

Another wretched shriek rang out through the prison cell.

Feng Qingyin collapsed back onto the hay and let out a scream. She pulled the hand away from her face.

Staring at the blood pooling in her palm, she opened her eyes wide and let out a low, frantic cry: “My face — ah! My face — my face has been ruined, my face has been ruined!”

“Feng Jiu’er, how dare you ruin my face — I’ll never forgive you! Never forgive you!”

Let alone killing anyone, Feng Qingyin no longer had even the strength to push herself upright.

Feng Jiu’er lowered her eyes and glanced at her, then crouched down halfway beside her.

“If you want your face to heal without scars, I have over a hundred methods. Would you like to try?”

Feng Qingyin met Feng Jiu’er’s gaze and nodded frantically. “Yes — I want it, I don’t want scars, my face cannot be ruined.”

“Feng Jiu’er.” Feng Qingyin forced herself to sit up and grabbed hold of Feng Jiu’er’s sleeve. “Consider this me begging you — save my face.”

“I don’t want to be ugly — I don’t want it!”

Feng Jiu’er reached out and pinched Feng Qingyin’s wrist, then flung her hand away with an expression of pure disgust.

She curved her lips slightly and said in a low, firm voice: “I am a divine physician. There is nothing I cannot do.”

“However, I have a condition. If you refuse to agree, I won’t help treat your face.”

“I agree — as long as you restore my appearance, whatever the condition, I will agree to it.” Feng Qingyin kept her hand pressed to her face, frantic with urgency.

Feng Jiu’er called herself a divine physician, and Feng Qingyin did not doubt it for a moment.

Some things had long since become fact — she simply hadn’t wanted to acknowledge them.

Feng Jiu’er looked at the woman once more, then stood up.

This woman was truly deranged — on the very brink of death and still consumed with thoughts of restoring her appearance.

So obsessed with her own looks, yet time and again she had tried to destroy someone else’s face. What was Feng Qingyin if not a madwoman?

“Very well.” Feng Jiu’er reached to her waist and drew out a small vial of ointment she carried with her, giving it a little shake before Feng Qingyin’s eyes. “This ointment is specially formulated for facial wounds.”

“Give it to me — quickly! Give it to me!” Feng Qingyin scrambled to her feet and lunged desperately toward Feng Jiu’er.

Feng Jiu’er sidestepped, and Feng Qingyin lurched forward into empty air and crashed to the ground again.

“Give me the medicine — I’ll do whatever you want — just give it to me quickly!” Feng Qingyin lay sprawled on the ground and looked back at Feng Jiu’er.

Feng Jiu’er swept a glance over the figure on the ground and asked in a low voice: “That great fire in my courtyard — what was that about? How did my wet nurse die? Was it you who set the fire? Was it you who killed her? Tell me everything you know, and I will certainly leave the medicine behind.”

“It wasn’t me — I’ve told you it wasn’t me!” Feng Qingyin crawled over to Feng Jiu’er and threw her arms around her legs.

“Jiu’er, it was my fault — give me the medicine — I am the most beautiful woman in the imperial city, my face cannot be ruined — Jiu’er, give me the medicine quickly, I know I was wrong.”

Feng Jiu’er looked down at the figure on the floor, her voice dropping several degrees lower.

“Truly not you? How much do you know about this matter?”

“I don’t know anything.” Feng Qingyin yanked hard at Feng Jiu’er’s robes. “Just give me the medicine — I truly know nothing at all.”

“If I speak a single false word, then let my face never heal — all right? Quickly! Feng Jiu’er, I’m begging you — give me the medicine now, I don’t want to become ugly.”

“I am the Empress, the Empress who embodies the virtue of all under heaven — my face cannot be ruined! Feng Jiu’er, I beg you — give me the medicine at once!”

Feng Jiu’er furrowed her brow slightly and watched Feng Qingyin without blinking.

She didn’t even react when Feng Qingyin scrambled up and snatched the ointment vial right out of her hand.

Feng Qingyin clutched the vial as though she held some priceless treasure.

She shuffled back and sat down on the hay, twisted the lid open, and began smearing it frantically across her face.

At this moment, blood stained both her face and her hands, giving her a ghastly, savage appearance.

Yet she paid none of it any mind — she only cared about spreading the ointment on her face.

With every stroke of ointment Feng Qingyin applied, little bursts of laughter escaped from the corners of her lips.

In this moment she appeared somewhat unhinged — and it was precisely because of this that Feng Jiu’er chose to believe her words.

Feng Jiu’er had once wondered whether Feng Qingyin had the capability for such a thing, and now she could be even more certain: this was not Feng Qingyin’s doing.

Her wet nurse had been her mother’s former deputy commander, living under a false name all these years for the sole purpose of protecting her.

Could it be, then, that the one who had killed her wet nurse was also Zhan Liyue?

Feng Jiu’er raised her gaze to the moonlight streaming through the window, then looked back down at Feng Qingyin.

Feng Qingyin was still rubbing the ointment into her face, breaking into a vacant smile every now and then.

Feng Jiu’er watched for only a moment before withdrawing her gaze.

She had no time to waste pitying a woman like this. She drew out her custom-made miniature bow and arrow, loosed a single shot at the wooden post beside the window, turned, and vanished from the prison cell.

Leaving the imperial palace behind, Feng Jiu’er made straight for the Feng Family estate.

Feng Yandong followed close at her side the entire way, yet remained like a ghost — invisible. So long as Feng Jiu’er had no need of him, he would not show himself.

The Feng Family estate. Qinglan Courtyard.

Returning to this place again, Feng Jiu’er was struck by a deep wave of feeling.

The courtyard was the same courtyard — yet everything within it had long since changed beyond recognition.

Not a single soul was keeping watch over this place; one glance was enough to see it had been abandoned and left to decay.

Now that she had come to know the truth of so many things, Feng Jiu’er no longer had any desire to pass judgment on the kind of man Feng Junzhuo was.

Whatever the case, he was not her birth father — yet he had at least given her a place to call home.

She had done everything that could be done. As for what decision the Emperor would reach, that was beyond her power to influence.

Feng Jiu’er landed in the courtyard and stood briefly in a daze, then stepped forward and continued on.

An abandoned place had its own advantages — at the very least, it made it easier for her to move around and accomplish what she’d come for.

Threading through the courtyard overgrown with weeds, Feng Jiu’er pushed open the door of the side chamber. By the moonlight filtering in, she took a look around, and let out a quiet breath of relief.

It seemed that nothing here had changed from when she had left.

Feng Jiu’er stepped inside and pulled the door shut behind her.

Not only the exterior — even the state of the interior remained exactly as she had left it.

Feng Jiu’er moved to the cabinet beside the bed with practiced ease, bent her knees, and knelt down.

She gently pulled open the cabinet door and drew out a small box from inside.

A small, modest box — the only thing her wet nurse had left behind for her.