Feng Jiu’er spent the entire night realizing that she had, without thinking, dug herself a pit and then proceeded to bury herself in it.

Deep into the third watch of the night, the sound of a woman’s singing drifted from the Honored Lord’s chamber — clear and pleasant at the outset, and by the later hours, resembling nothing so much as the wailing of a ghost.

“When all the scenery has been seen through, perhaps you will stay by my side as the years flow gently on…”

Just listen to that — every note soaked through with resentment, like a vengeful spirit moaning in the dead of night.

“Why have you stopped?” The man lying across the bed cracked his eyes open slightly and gave a disgruntled sound.

Feng Jiu’er was kneeling beside him, still working on his massage, though the singing had been entirely abandoned.

“Not singing!” She had been singing for a solid half an hour — over an hour — wasn’t she exhausted?

“My throat is ruined!” she grumbled, her lips pursed, her brow knotted.

“It isn’t ruined. This seat finds it quite pleasing.” He closed his eyes again. “Sing.”

“No—”

“Then would you prefer this seat to send the Imperial Guards to the cliff’s edge to have a little ‘fun’ with that young man?”

“You…” Feng Jiu’er truly wanted to drive her foot into him. In fact, her foot had already inched forward — but she did not dare let it follow through.

One kick, and it might genuinely cost Mu Mu his life.

Though the Ninth Imperial Uncle was good to her, that goodness extended only to her.

Toward Mu Mu, he was entirely cold-hearted. Mu Mu’s life or death was, of course, nothing he cared about.

Feng Jiu’er exhaled, resigned. “But I’ve truly sung myself to exhaustion. If I keep going, my voice will go hoarse.”

“What is that to this seat?”

“…” Her foot extended once more, but at the critical moment, she forced herself to pull it back.

“If my voice goes hoarse, there will be no one to chat and laugh with Honored Lord — Honored Lord will be lonely, hollow, and cold.”

Heh — how fortunate she was. She had never once seen him engage in idle chatter with anyone else. It really was just her!

Feng Jiu’er lay down on her stomach and turned her head to look sideways at his face behind the mask. “Honored Lord, why don’t we do something else instead? For example, a game of chess… Mm! What are you doing?”

He had suddenly flipped over, pressing her down beneath him!

“Very well. Let’s do something else.”

He had been wanting to for a while — though he had wondered whether it might be somewhat improper. But since the girl had extended the invitation herself… why not revisit that sensation once more?

And so Feng Jiu’er lay there with her eyes wide open, watching as this utter scoundrel pressed himself down on top of her… and kissed her!

What in the—! She had once entertained thoughts of slipping the Ninth Imperial Uncle an infatuating drug and forcing — him — but lofty ideals and harsh reality were two different things entirely.

Feng Jiu’er, being kissed, felt extraordinarily conflicted. She was… a little panicked!

Her ten fingers clutched the bed sheets, gripping them in a white-knuckled clench, her breathing thrown into utter disarray by sheer nerves — a tangled, turbulent mess, as though she were on the verge of running out of air entirely.

The shadow of death still hovered fresh in her heart. The last time he had kissed her, she had nearly suffocated, and the terror of it had not yet passed.

No, no, no — she had only ever imagined herself being the aggressor with the Ninth Imperial Uncle, not being on the receiving end of his… advances.

Regardless of whether it was a forced kiss or anything else of the sort — it was all the same. She did not want this!

“Ah — stop—” Feng Jiu’er managed to wrench away just long enough to gasp for breath, and in the same moment she did not forget to plead: “Stop — stop kissing me — someone will — die — mm—”

He, for his part, did not find kissing her remotely lethal. On the contrary, it was enormously entertaining.

In all his life, he had never tried anything so entertaining. It was as though he had found a brand-new toy — nibbling, kissing, devouring — and he felt a peculiar impulse, a surging desire, to swallow her whole in a single bite.

“Mm mm — no—” Feng Jiu’er struggled with all her might. This man’s hands were starting to misbehave again! “Mm mm — being forced by the Ninth Imperial Uncle is not the least bit fun — someone help—”