Feng Jiang’s injuries, large and small, were plentiful. Feng Jiu’er’s treatment had taken a considerable amount of time.

When Qiao Mu finally stepped out from behind the folding screen, she had changed into a fresh set of clothes.

The garments were ones she had grabbed at random — a little too large — but she had gathered and tied them on both sides, and it looked well enough.

“My apologies. I fell asleep in there for a moment.”

She had not slept at all; she had simply been eavesdropping on the conversation outside. Qiao Mu knew it. And so did Feng Jiu’er.

“It’s fine. Go find him a robe and wipe him down.” Feng Jiu’er did not turn around, still occupied with massaging Feng Jiang’s back. “He received treatment today, so he cannot soak in a bath — wiping down is enough.”

Feng Jiu’er’s treatment was something Feng Jiang both welcomed and had to endure in silence.

It left a sheen of sweat across his temples, his neck, even his face and chest.

“That’s fine — though the water has gone cold.” Qiao Mu spoke as she moved, already making her way to the bedside.

“It doesn’t matter.” Feng Jiang looked at Qiao Mu and spoke quietly.

Qiao Mu raised an eyebrow, placed her cloth into the basin, rinsed it, and wrung it out.

She lifted her gaze to meet his, gave a soft cough, then looked away again before sitting down beside him.

Qiao Mu felt very warm — genuinely warm this time, inexplicably so.

When had she ever cared for a man? Other than her father, he was the first.

She raised her hand, used her sleeve to wipe at her neck, then summoned her courage and extended her hand toward him.

“Still hot?” Feng Jiu’er, sitting across from her, lifted her eyes for a brief glance and asked.

“Mm.” Qiao Mu managed to squeeze out a single syllable with some effort.

“Feeling a little unwell — dry mouth, parched throat. When we get back, write me a couple of prescriptions.”

“That’s no trouble at all.” Feng Jiu’er lowered her head again, continuing to work on Feng Jiang’s back.

“As for the prescription — I have plenty of good medicine. But if it’s an ailment of the heart, I’m afraid that’s beyond my ability to treat.”

Qiao Mu had barely wiped the sweat from Feng Jiang’s forehead before she raised her head.

“What ailment of the heart? Jiu’er, what nonsense are you talking? I’ve not been sleeping well these past two days — my inner heat is flaring up. If you don’t want to help, I’ll just go back and brew myself some chrysanthemum tea.”

Qiao Mu looked away again and gave Feng Jiang a sideways glance.

“You have several wives, don’t you? If you feel it’s inconvenient, I can go fetch them to come and attend to you.”

Feng Jiang said nothing — likely because he could not think of what to say.

Qiao Mu, outside of her father, was caring for a man for the very first time. And Feng Jiang — was this not also the first time, besides Jiu’er, that he had allowed a woman to care for him?

Feng Jiu’er cast a glance at the pair — one saying one thing while meaning another entirely — and shook her head.

Knowing full well the man has wives — three of them at that — and that he is even about to become a father, Miss Qiao must feel as though she could die on the spot.

It’s just as well, then, that Third Imperial Brother did not surrender himself to that extent.

“Turn your head to the side.” Qiao Mu gave Feng Jiang’s head a light push.

Her tone was far from friendly, but her touch was so gentle it was almost unbelievable.

“If you don’t cooperate, I’ll fetch them to come and attend to you. I don’t have time to waste on this.”

Miss Qiao seemed to have found an outlet for all the feelings she had nowhere to put, and grew increasingly unsparing in her words.

Feng Jiang cooperated obediently, not even daring to let out a single sound of protest.

Feng Jiu’er watched this pair, this bickering couple perfectly matched in their stubbornness, and found her spirits lifting somewhat.

“By the way — with Lei Shenbao none the wiser, how did you manage to deceive even those beautiful wives of yours?”

“They are not my wives.” Feng Jiang turned his head toward her and shook his head quickly.

As though he feared that if he denied it even a moment slower, something terrible would happen.

Qiao Mu stood up, shot him a glare, turned and flung the cloth into the basin with a sharp smack.

“They’re all so pretty — and you never touched them? Who are you trying to fool? A child is already on the way!”

Qiao Mu was genuinely angry, but she still reached in and pulled the cloth back out.

“I really didn’t.” Feng Jiang looked at the turned-away Qiao Mu, blinked, and shook his head.

“I found a certain medicinal powder. When it is burned, the smoke makes them believe that… that sort of thing… occurred.”

“As for why one of them ended up with child — I truly do not understand it. What I can say is that I have never shared a bed with any of them.”

Feng Jiang kept his eyes on Qiao Mu the entire time, like a young husband trying to explain to his wife that he had not been unfaithful.

Feng Jiu’er thought: if she were not presently restraining Feng Jiang’s arms from moving, he would probably stretch out both hands and be tugging on his own ears right now.

Qiao Mu cast a sidelong glance at him, then gently wrapped her fingers around his wrist — the very hand still holding the cloth — resting it against his firm forearm.

“Jiu’er, can this area be wiped down?”

“All of it is fine — just no soaking in the bath.” Feng Jiu’er replied softly.

She gave Feng Jiang a few more passes of the massage, then began withdrawing the silver needles.

“Stay and help him change into fresh clothes. I’m going to find Xiao Yingtao — we don’t have enough medicine.”

With that, Feng Jiu’er turned and left.

Before closing the door, she could not resist glancing back one final time.

Whatever else may have happened — as long as the person is still here, that’s what matters. And it puts a certain someone’s longing to rest at last.

With a soft creak, the door was pulled shut.

Qiao Mu let her raised arm fall. She rinsed the cloth once more and stepped around to the other side of the bed.

Feng Jiang drew his gaze back from the closed door and turned it toward Qiao Mu. He moved as though to sit up.

“What are you doing?” Qiao Mu fixed her eyes on him, expression unyielding.

“I…” Feng Jiang blinked and obediently lay back down.

“Just lie there! Can’t I even handle changing your clothes?” Qiao Mu leaned forward and picked up his other arm.

She looked fierce, but her touch was feather-light, each stroke so careful she did not dare apply the slightest pressure.

Feng Jiang watched Qiao Mu without blinking, and made no further move — looking rather as though he had turned to stone.

Qiao Mu wiped down his arm, then went and rinsed the cloth, had him turn onto his side, and wiped down his back.

The inner robe went on easily. Qiao Mu even pulled the blanket up and tucked it over him.

She rinsed the cloth once more, then moved to the lower half of him, looked, and swallowed.

“That — isn’t necessary.” Feng Jiang lurched upright at once, yanking the blanket down.

“Lie back down.” Qiao Mu held his gaze and commanded.

Feng Jiang pressed his lips together, released the blanket, and lay back down.

Qiao Mu turned away and retrieved a set of inner trousers for him.

“Qiao — Qiao Mu.” Feng Jiang looked at the person standing beside him, his very breathing growing labored.

“I — I can manage myself. Why don’t you step out first? I…”

Before Feng Jiang could finish, Qiao Mu’s brow creased — and in a swift motion, she reached over and pulled down his inner trousers.

At the same moment, her other hand swept the blanket aside.

A chill of cool air reached his bare legs. By the time Feng Jiang could think to stop her, it was already too late.

He clenched the edge of the blanket tight. The temples he had just wiped dry were beading with sweat again.

A damp cloth arrived at his feet. Feng Jiang bit down on his lip and pulled his legs back reflexively.

He looked for all the world like a bullied young husband. If Feng Jiu’er had been there to see it, she would certainly not have been able to hold back her laughter.

Even without Feng Jiu’er to witness it, the smile on her face outside could not be contained.

“Jiu’er, what on earth is happening in there?” Xiao Yingtao was so anxious she was ready to push the door open.

Feng Jiu’er pulled her back. “Roughly how much longer before the steward wakes?”

“At least another hour.” Xiao Yingtao drew her gaze back from the door and looked at her. “But what is happening in there?”

“Tell me quickly — are you trying to worry me to death?”

“I believe…” Feng Jiu’er tilted her brow with just a hint of mystery, “…we have reached the trousers.”