Jian Yi’s grip kept tightening; he truly seemed terrified of losing the person in his arms.

Where Feng Jiu’er couldn’t see, a flicker of dark sheen passed through the depths of Jian Yi’s eyes. The dark light didn’t linger—his bright eyes quickly returned to normal.

“Jian Yi.” Feng Jiu’er stayed quiet a moment, then called softly.

Had the old demon of Black Mountain sent some false notion into Jian Yi’s mind? Did she want him to think of her as his wife? It seemed that somewhere along the way, something had gone wrong, and Jian Yi had mistakenly come to believe she was his wife.

Feng Jiu’er clenched her fists tight—she truly wanted to tear that old demon to shreds! At her age, how dare she set her sights on Jian Yi? Had she lived too long for her own good?

“Jian Yi.” Feng Jiu’er swallowed back her anger and called again.

“You’re holding too tight. It hurts a little.”

“Jian Yi.”

Feng Jiu’er’s voice pulled Jian Yi’s awareness back. He lowered his head, kissed the top of hers, and finally let her go.

Feng Jiu’er, completely unable to accept this version of Jian Yi, froze for a moment before immediately stepping out of his arms.

She moved away from him and stood up.

“Jian Yi, you’re not my husband, I—”

Feng Jiu’er looked at the tears welling in Jian Yi’s eyes, and the words on the tip of her tongue went unspoken.

She was deeply afraid—if she told him she already had a husband, and that it wasn’t him, would he lose his mind entirely?

That old demon of Black Mountain—she felt like hacking the woman to pieces!

“Jiu’er.” Jian Yi called out softly, a single glistening tear sliding from the corner of his eye.

“Did I do something wrong? Is that why you don’t want me?”

He stood, lowering his gaze to the woman before him.

“Jiu’er, tell me.”

Jian Yi wanted to hold her, but his outstretched hands stopped, hovering in midair.

Jiu’er didn’t like his embrace; Jiu’er didn’t want him to hold her.

Feng Jiu’er looked at the tears on Jian Yi’s cheeks, and something inside her chest gave a hard, painful lurch.

She pressed her lips together and said softly, “Jian Yi, I really am not your wife.”

“You, me, Qiao Mu, Yingtao, and the rest of us—we’re family, we’re brothers and sisters.”

“Someone cast a spell on you, and that’s why you mistook me for your wife. I’m really not, I—”

Suddenly, Jian Yi dropped to his knees, wrapping his arms around Feng Jiu’er’s legs.

“Jiu’er, I was wrong! You can punish me however you like, I’ll accept anything.”

“But you can’t refuse to want me.”

“Without you, what meaning would there be in my staying alive?”

Before Feng Jiu’er could react, Jian Yi turned his head toward the sword hanging not far away and rose to his feet. From standing, to crossing the distance, to drawing the blade—it all happened in the blink of an eye.

Feng Jiu’er watched as Jian Yi raised the sword toward his own arm, her whole body going numb with shock. She snapped back to herself and rushed over as fast as she could, gripping the blade in his hand.

“Jian Yi, don’t do this! If you dare hurt yourself, I won’t want you anymore!”

“Jiu’er.” With a clang, the long sword fell to the ground.

Yu Jingfeng, standing guard outside, threw back the tent flap and strode in. Jian Yi tossed the sword aside, pulled Feng Jiu’er back into his arms, and lifted his eyes to stare at Yu Jingfeng.

“Get out!” He wanted no one disturbing him and Jiu’er.

“Miss Jiu’er.” Yu Jingfeng met Jian Yi’s gaze, his brow furrowing tight. “There’s a dark light glinting in his eyes.”

“Miss Jiu’er.”

Worried that Jian Yi might harm Feng Jiu’er, Yu Jingfeng drew his own long sword at once.

“No!” Feng Jiu’er, having finally managed to turn within Jian Yi’s arms, faced him.

“Yu Jingfeng, don’t!” She shook her head. “I’ll find a way, and besides—”

Feng Jiu’er turned and lifted her gaze to meet Jian Yi’s eyes.

“I trust Jian Yi. He would never hurt me.”

“Jiu’er.” Jian Yi pressed his lips together, his eyes still red.

At that moment, there was no trace of the dark light Yu Jingfeng had described.

Yu Jingfeng moved past Feng Jiu’er and could see Jian Yi’s eyes clearly.

“It’s—it’s gone.”

He lowered his sword, looking at the two of them before him, his brow still knit tight.

“Miss Jiu’er, perhaps you shouldn’t—” Shouldn’t let Jian Yi hold you like that? The prince would kill him for it. If the prince ever saw Jian Yi holding you, he wouldn’t just kill Jian Yi—he’d kill me too!

Yu Jingfeng knew this wasn’t the moment to worry about his own life, but he felt it was his responsibility to pull the two of them apart, didn’t he?

Before Yu Jingfeng could step forward, Jian Yi raised his eyes, his gaze landing on him once more. The clarity that had just filled his eyes vanished in an instant, replaced by a low, even murderous look.

Feng Jiu’er sensed Jian Yi’s killing intent too. She gently took hold of his arm and turned again to face Yu Jingfeng.

“Jian Yi, this is Yu Jingfeng. He’s our brother too.”

“You can’t hurt him. Remember that.”

“All right.” Jian Yi nodded, and the killing intent dispersed at remarkable speed.

He took Feng Jiu’er’s small hand in his, lowering his eyes to look at her.

“As long as Jiu’er isn’t angry, I’ll listen to whatever you say.”

Yue Qinchun lifted the tent flap and walked in together with Xiao Yingtao, who carried a tray of food. Seeing the two of them hand in hand, both women froze in surprise. But neither said a word, simply stepping inside.

The moment other people appeared in the tent, the wariness in Jian Yi surged up again. Feng Jiu’er gripped his hand back and said softly, “Jian Yi, these two are also our family.”

“You’ve lost your memory, so there are many people you don’t recognize—but as long as someone shows no hostility, you can’t hurt them. Understand?”

Jian Yi had always been fast, but just now Feng Jiu’er had the strange feeling that his movements had grown even sharper, even quicker.

Did this have something to do with the old demon of Black Mountain’s dark arts too? Feng Jiu’er was deeply worried that Jian Yi might end up hurting someone without even realizing it. The fact that the old demon had let them leave so easily was, without doubt, no act of goodwill.

“All right.” Jian Yi nodded, and as he drew his gaze back, his expression returned once more to gentleness.

Xiao Yingtao knew something was wrong with Jian Yi—very wrong—but she didn’t dare say anything reckless. Jiu’er already had it hard enough; Xiao Yingtao didn’t want to add to her burden.

“Jian Yi, the food’s ready. Come and eat,” Xiao Yingtao said, turning back with a smile at the corner of her mouth.

Feng Jiu’er glanced at Jian Yi and let go of his arm.

“Go on. I still have things to take care of—you go eat.”

“Jiu’er.” Jian Yi’s stomach growled, and he had been about to head over, but at her words, he stopped in his tracks.

“It’s all right.” Feng Jiu’er gave him a reassuring look.

“I’m not going anywhere. Be good—go eat first, or your body will start acting up again.”

“Jiu’er, you can’t leave me,” Jian Yi said, needing to make sure.

“Mm.” Feng Jiu’er gave him a firm, reassuring answer.

Only then did Jian Yi feel at ease, walking over to the low table.

Feng Jiu’er glanced at Xiao Yingtao, who walked over to her. The two sat down at another table, and Feng Jiu’er took up a brush and paper to write a letter.

Xiao Yingtao said nothing, took the letter, tucked it into her sleeve, and stood.

“Let’s go. We’ve still got plenty to do.”

“Mm.” Yue Qinchun nodded, turning to follow after Xiao Yingtao.

Yu Jingfeng glanced once at Feng Jiu’er before leaving the tent as well.