Feng Jiu’er flattered her a bit, then immediately shut her eyes and turned her back to Qiao Mu.

Had she really interrupted the two of them just now? If something had actually been happening, surely Third Brother wouldn’t have come out to open the door so quickly, would he?

What exactly had happened, that Third Brother would be smiling like a child?

There was no need to guess—if Third Brother was like that, it must be because of Qiao Mu. But then why did Qiao Mu look like this…

Feng Jiu’er wanted to turn and look, but she held herself back.

Better to just sleep for now—if she asked a question she shouldn’t, getting kicked out of bed would hardly be worth it.

Dawn was near; getting some sleep while she could was the sensible thing to do.

Qiao Mu waited for that little head to say something, but instead all she got was the sound of Feng Jiu’er’s even breathing.

In the end, she frowned and lay down as well.

Feng Jiu’er slept deeply, not caring in the least whether the back of her head was being stared through with holes.

Just sleep—once she woke up, the anger would have passed anyway.

Having failed in his ambush, and not knowing what the other side might do next, Mao Zhongcai immediately led his troops back into the city.

The eastern gate of Pingyuan City and the western gate of Yongshan City practically faced each other, separated by only a few li—not far at all.

Mao Zhongcai never could have guessed that his most prized sedative drug would have no effect at all on these people.

What mattered most was that his tens of thousands of troops had somehow failed to notice others infiltrating the camp, letting the enemy catch them completely off guard.

Back inside the city, with the gates shut, the first thing Mao Zhongcai did was reinforce the defenses along the walls.

Not until dawn did Mao Zhongcai, seething with anger, storm into a certain residence.

Those following behind him all kept their heads bowed, expressions tense, terrified of provoking the man ahead of them.

The doors of the main hall were pulled open by two tall, ravishing women, one on each side, and Mao Zhongcai strode in.

“Any news from the city gates?” Mao Zhongcai asked, looking up at the man standing in the hall the moment he sat down in the seat of honor.

“My lord, why don’t you rest a while first?” the man said, cupping his hands. “Any news at all, and you’ll be informed immediately.”

Mao Zhongcai propped his elbow on the armrest, pressing a hand to his temple.

He had only just come back from the city gate—how could there already be news he didn’t know about?

Seeing that Mao Zhongcai said nothing, the man glanced at the two beauties who had come in with him and gave a slight tilt of his head.

Understanding the signal, the two women stepped forward with graceful, swaying steps.

“My lord, my name is Shengli.”

“My lord, I am Bisheng.”

The two beauties draped themselves against Mao Zhongcai on either side, their soft, water-smooth hands wrapping around his own.

Mao Zhongcai, still fuming a moment ago, felt his eyes light up at the sight of the two beauties leaning against him.

“You’re Shengli?” he asked, looking at the woman on his right, then turning to the one on his left. “And you’re Bisheng?”

“That’s right.” The two women’s voices were sweet and soft, their eyes fluttering as if they could spark electricity.

“My lord.” Shengli held Mao Zhongcai’s hand and lowered her head to lick the back of it. “I wonder if Shengli might be permitted to attend to your rest?”

“My lord.” From the other side, Bisheng’s voice rose again.

“My lord, may Bisheng too? May Bisheng belong to you? Forever belonging only to you.”

“Yes, yes.” Mao Zhongcai, gazing at these rare beauties, was in an excellent mood.

He took one woman’s hand in each of his own and stood up.

“Shengli and Bisheng belong to me forever, ha ha… no one can take them from me.”

“My lord.”

“My lord.”

The two women followed Mao Zhongcai into the room, their bodies pressed almost entirely against his.

The door closed, and the several men who had followed him in all let out a deep sigh of relief.

Whether those two beauties were really named Shengli and Bisheng or something else made no difference at all. Whether they’d live to see tomorrow was of no concern to anyone either.

What mattered most was keeping Mao Zhongcai pleased—if their lord was in a good mood, he wouldn’t turn on them without reason.

Yongshan City.

Feng Jiu’er and Qiao Mu didn’t emerge from their chamber until they’d had their fill of rest.

The timing of the coming battle had yet to be settled, and there was no use rushing it.

She didn’t dare go looking for Ninth Imperial Uncle, and so walked out together with Qiao Mu instead, though as they passed through the courtyard she couldn’t help glancing toward Di Wu Ya’s chamber.

Just a single glance—Feng Jiu’er didn’t dare look longer, and the whole scene gave off the air of someone fleeing in defeat.

“Failed again last night?” Qiao Mu asked, looking at the little one’s profile.

Feng Jiu’er pulled her gaze back and shot her a look. “What do you mean, ‘failed again’? Qiao Mu, what are you talking about?”

“Embarrassed?” Qiao Mu rolled her eyes. “With whatever mess you and Di Wu Ya have going on, and you’re acting shy like everyone else?”

“What mess?” Feng Jiu’er pinched her.

“Ninth Imperial Uncle and I are perfectly proper, unlike you and Little Jiang.”

“Talking about not forgiving him, not marrying him, yet still doing everything a married couple would do—does that make it more thrilling for you?”

“Don’t look at me like that—Ninth Imperial Uncle and I are going to get married, and the two of us are perfectly proper too.”

Jian Yi, who sat on the rooftop resting with his eyes closed, lowered his gaze toward the approaching women, a smile at the corner of his mouth.

Feng Jiu’er sensed something odd and glanced up.

“Great Hero, is it really appropriate to eavesdrop on two girls chatting like this?”

“I had no intention of eavesdropping at all.” Jian Yi gave her a smile and closed his eyes once more.

Feng Jiu’er raised an eyebrow and looked away.

“What happened last night wasn’t what you think.” Qiao Mu turned her head and glanced over.

“Then what was it?” Feng Jiu’er didn’t mind pressing the matter to the very end.

“You pig-brain!” Qiao Mu reached out and jabbed Feng Jiu’er’s head without a shred of mercy.

“Ah!” Feng Jiu’er yelped in pain, holding the spot that had been jabbed.

“If something had really happened, how could it possibly have been over so quickly?” Qiao Mu flicked her sleeves and turned to walk off in another direction.

Feng Jiu’er froze for a moment, then hurried after her.

“Well, I suppose you have a point.”

“A point, my foot!” Qiao Mu didn’t turn back. “Just because your Ninth Imperial Uncle doesn’t last long doesn’t mean every man is equally useless.”

“Qiao Mu, say what you mean properly!” Feng Jiu’er said, displeased. “How is my Ninth Imperial Uncle useless? Huh? How would you even know?”

“After a comment like that, if you weren’t my future sister-in-law, I’d cut ties with you right now, hmph!”

When Xiao Yingtao caught up with them, she found the two of them ignoring each other and had no idea what was going on.

“Qiao Mu, Jiu’er, what’s going on with you two?” she asked, glancing between them.

“Her man’s no good!” Qiao Mu said scornfully.

“Qiao Mu, say that again!” Feng Jiu’er rolled up her sleeve, ready to strike.

“No good is no good—how many times do I have to say it?” Qiao Mu snorted coldly.

“No good at what?” Xiao Yingtao was even more confused. “What exactly is going on with you two?”

Feng Jiu’er glared at Qiao Mu and didn’t bother chasing after her anymore.

Was this woman still fuming, with nowhere to vent, over Feng Jiu’er interrupting their little moment last night—no, this morning?

How dare she claim her man was no good! Outrageous! As if Feng Jiu’er herself didn’t know whether her own man was good or not!

Unless…

Feng Jiu’er frowned, paused for only a moment, and immediately hurried after her.