Feng Jiu’er thought that if her mouth hadn’t been so thoroughly sealed, her wildly pounding little heart might have leapt right out of her chest.

With a “thud,” the two of them—who had somehow moved to the edge of the bed without noticing—fell down together.

As they fell, Di Wu Ya turned his body sideways, letting himself land first to cushion the impact for the girl in his arms.

The one thing he’d overlooked was that his own body, hard as an iron wall, was even harder than the bed itself.

Caught off guard, Feng Jiu’er’s eyes went wide as her body toppled over.

There wasn’t much pain in her body—even falling onto that solid frame only left a slight ache in her chest, and in an instant, that too was swallowed up by the searing heat between them.

Feng Jiu’er felt his need completely—wasn’t this desire at its very peak?

She lowered her eyes to look at the man beneath her, blinked her round eyes, and finally spoke in a hoarse voice: “Ninth Imperial Uncle, are you… all right?”

There was longing deep in her heart, yet she still felt afraid.

Mainly because he was too powerful—Feng Jiu’er didn’t know how much she could handle.

The body beneath her rose and fell with each breath, and pressed on top of it, her small frame rose and fell along with it.

They could each hear the other’s heart pounding fiercely, especially now that everything had gone quiet.

Di Wu Ya’s powerful heartbeat struck against the tip of Feng Jiu’er’s heart, beat after beat, making her body tremble faintly in response.

Time passed by, drop by drop, and Di Wu Ya’s heartbeat showed no sign of settling.

Feng Jiu’er didn’t dare move either; her body was rarely ever this stiff—she couldn’t even manage to sit up.

She didn’t know how much time had passed before Di Wu Ya’s warm, large hand reached up and gently rubbed the top of Feng Jiu’er’s head.

“Girl.”

His voice was clearly strained, held under tight restraint.

“Mm?”

Feng Jiu’er blinked her eyes, which had grown misty.

At that moment, she looked like a little white rabbit ready for the slaughter, so docile it made one want to pounce and tear her apart.

Before Di Wu Ya could react, Feng Jiu’er’s brow suddenly furrowed.

Surely it couldn’t be such a coincidence?

Counting the days, it really did seem to be… Di Wu Ya watched Feng Jiu’er go blank and frown, and his own brow tightened.

“What’s wrong?”

he asked, gently touching her face.

“Ninth Imperial Uncle.”

Feng Jiu’er’s brow knit, her complexion turning a shade paler.

“I think I might…” “Did you hurt yourself in the fall?”

Di Wu Ya gently stroked her shoulders and sat up.

Feng Jiu’er slid off of Di Wu Ya and sat down on the bed.

She held her stomach and looked up at his handsome face, which had flushed slightly.

“I wish it were just from the fall too, but… it seems that time of the month has come.”

“It’s come?”

Di Wu Ya’s large hand covered her small one where it rested on her stomach. “Is it… your monthly courses?”

It took the man a great deal of effort to get those two words out.

Feng Jiu’er looked at him with a knitted brow and nodded. “I can’t wait—I need to go check.”

The moment she stood up, Di Wu Ya rose to his feet as well.

“Is it serious?”

he asked with concern, holding her small hand and bending slightly.

“It’s fine.”

Feng Jiu’er shook her head. “It’s always like this, not too painful, I just felt it start.”

“Ninth Imperial Uncle, I won’t say more—I’ll go check now, before I stain my clothes.”

As she left, Feng Jiu’er turned back and blew Di Wu Ya a kiss.

“Ninth Imperial Uncle, I’m sorry! Sorry!”

She giggled, pushed open the door, and walked out.

Feng Jiu’er wondered if she herself had been too impatient, and that was why heaven kept playing this kind of joke on her.

Once, twice—both attempts had failed, and she didn’t dare imagine what expression Ninth Imperial Uncle wore right now.

Feng Jiu’er went straight and knocked on Qiao Mu’s chamber door—she had no confidence in going to Xiao Yingtao instead, so for now her only option was to catch Qiao Mu’s room, hoping her Third Imperial Brother wasn’t there.

Feng Jiu’er gathered up her sleeves and stood at the doorway.

But unexpectedly, the person who opened the door was a full head taller than herself.

Feng Jiu’er looked up at the man whose face was practically glowing with satisfaction, and coughed lightly. “Sorry! Am I interrupting!”

The moment she turned to leave, someone grabbed her by the back of her collar.

“What do you want with me?”

Qiao Mu asked coldly.

Feng Jiu’er took a deep breath, somewhat reluctant to turn back, thinking she might as well just leave.

Was Young Lady Qiao upset about something?

Had she come at a bad time and disturbed something between Young Lady Qiao and someone else?

Hadn’t they agreed she still hadn’t forgiven him? Wasn’t that why Feng Jiu’er had trusted her enough to come here for help?

There was nothing like that going on in her own room, and with Ninth Imperial Uncle there, she couldn’t very well stay any longer either.

“Come in!”

Qiao Mu pulled Feng Jiu’er inside, only then letting go.

“You can go now.”

She glanced at Feng Jiang, then turned and walked into the room.

Feng Jiu’er took a deep breath and turned back to look at Feng Jiang, who remained standing there.

“Third Brother, was it wrong of me to show up?”

“How could it be?”

Feng Jiang answered with a smile.

Compared to Qiao Mu, Feng Jiang’s expression looked far better.

Wasn’t this situation somewhat reversed?

Usually when something didn’t go as planned, it was the man whose mood soured.

Could Qiao Mu’s mood right now be the same as Ninth Imperial Uncle’s?

Feng Jiu’er glanced into the room again, somewhat reluctant to go in.

Was it that she didn’t want to, or that she didn’t dare?

Dawn was approaching, and the maids who’d gone to rest hadn’t woken yet, so she’d had to go looking for someone herself—only to run into trouble.

“Jiu’er, what’s wrong?”

Feng Jiang frowned and reached out to feel Feng Jiu’er’s forehead.

Feng Jiu’er came back to herself and pushed Feng Jiang’s hand away.

“Third Brother, I’m fine, I just have something to see Qiao Mu about—why don’t you go back first?

I’m really sorry for interrupting you two today!”

Having said what she needed to say, Feng Jiu’er hurried inside and shut the door.

Waves of that odd sensation kept coming, and she couldn’t wait any longer.

Feng Jiang still wanted to ask something more, but the door had already closed.

Once inside, Feng Jiu’er only glanced once at Qiao Mu, who stood in the hall with a grim face, before pushing open the inner door and walking through it.

Qiao Mu glanced at the door; having been ignored, her expression darkened even further.

Feng Jiu’er paid it no mind and began rifling through chests and cabinets the moment she entered.

Qiao Mu gave a cold snort, stood, and walked in after her.

But no sooner had she entered than Feng Jiu’er came out holding something.

These items were Feng Jiu’er’s own invention—quite useful, though they used up a fair amount of cotton, being disposable.

Qiao Mu took one look and frowned.

“So you barged in here in such a hurry just for this?”

“Sorry, sorry for interrupting your little tryst! Sorry!”

Feng Jiu’er left like a gust of wind.

She hadn’t expected that just getting her monthly courses would end with her apologizing to two people—it felt a bit pathetic.

Qiao Mu’s face darkened further; by the time she reached the doorway, that small figure was already out of sight.

She looked up at the sky for a moment, standing motionless without closing the door.

Sure enough, after a while, that small figure reappeared in the corridor.

Feng Jiu’er looked at Young Lady Qiao and offered up an apologetic smile.

“Since things can’t continue as planned, then I’ll just…” She grinned and quickened her pace, slipping past Qiao Mu.

Qiao Mu closed the door, and when she went into the inner room, she found the bed now had one extra occupant.

Feng Jiu’er clutched the blanket, watching the approaching figure, and scooted further inward on the bed.

“Qiao Mu, it’s so good to have you!”