Gong Xinyue seemed not to have expected Feng Jiu’er to ask this. She was stunned for a moment before pulling her thoughts back.

“My ideal is simple—just to give my people a good life. Eating well, dressing well, living well, sleeping well—that would be enough.”

Gong Xinyue didn’t look at Feng Jiu’er or Qiao Mu, and picked up her cup.

“That was my father’s ideal too. Unfortunately, he was killed by Mao Zhongcai.”

With a crack, the cup in Gong Xinyue’s hand shattered on the floor.

Feng Jiu’er and Qiao Mu both frowned at the same time, shaken by what Gong Xinyue had said.

“Xinyue, are you all right?” Feng Jiu’er asked.

“You didn’t mention this before,” Qiao Mu said.

The two of them spoke almost simultaneously, and the concern in their voices was unmistakable.

When Gong Xinyue’s lips curved again, the smile carried a bitter edge.

“I’m really glad to have met you two today! If it weren’t for bad timing, I’d really want a drink.”

“Jiu’er, Qiao Mu, when are you heading over? I can arrange it right away.”

“My apologies!” the waiter’s voice sounded from outside. “You can’t go up there? I’m sorry, please don’t put me in a difficult position.”

“I’m looking for Jiu’er, out of my way!” another voice called out.

It was a voice both Feng Jiu’er and Qiao Mu recognized. Qiao Mu, who had been sitting on the outer side, stood and walked out.

“He’s one of my people,” Feng Jiu’er said, looking at Gong Xinyue.

“He also grew up in the mountains. I was planning to wait for him before making our move on your stone-forest formation—looks like that’s no longer necessary.”

After Qiao Mu went out, she soon returned with Zhao Yusheng.

Zhao Yusheng had walked in with some urgency, and once inside, his eyes locked onto Feng Jiu’er.

He looked her up and down and let out a breath of relief.

“I’m fine,” Feng Jiu’er said, giving him the answer he wanted.

She withdrew her gaze and waved a hand at Gong Xinyue. “Xinyue, this is my friend, Zhao Yusheng.”

“Zhao Yusheng,” Feng Jiu’er said, her gaze returning to him, “this is Gong Xinyue, the stronghold master of Panlong Stronghold.”

“She’s already agreed to let our army pass through Panlong Stronghold whenever we need.”

“How did you get here so fast? You haven’t slept in days, have you?” Feng Jiu’er stood, looking him up and down, and walked outside.

She looked toward the waiter, who had retreated to the staircase, and waved him over.

“Miss, what would you like?” the waiter hurried over.

“Prepare vegetables and meat, plus millet porridge, rice, and buns—bring them up right away,” Feng Jiu’er said.

“Yes.” The waiter bowed and turned to leave.

Feng Jiu’er walked a few more steps to the private room where Feng Yinan and Jian Yi were seated.

“Yinan, go back and let Long Qi know what’s happening. Tell him to start preparations—we set out before dawn tomorrow,” Feng Jiu’er said.

“All right.” Feng Yinan stood without further thought and walked off.

When Feng Jiu’er turned back, Zhao Yusheng was right behind her.

“Jiu’er,” he called softly.

“Xinyue can be trusted—sorry to have made you rush all the way here for nothing,” Feng Jiu’er said with a faint smile, patting Zhao Yusheng on the shoulder.

“Go on in. Food will be up soon. Eat, then go rest. We’ll set out together tomorrow.”

Zhao Yusheng frowned and reached out to rub Feng Jiu’er’s head.

Sorry? Did they really need to say such things to each other?

Ignoring Feng Jiu’er’s look, Zhao Yusheng stepped into the private room.

Feng Jiu’er smoothed her hair and, paying him no more mind, headed back toward their own room.

The three women sat back down, seemingly having grown even closer.

“Xinyue, tomorrow at dawn our people will arrive outside the stone-forest formation—will that be a problem?” Feng Jiu’er asked.

“No problem at all.” Gong Xinyue shook her head, lips curving slightly.

“You’re going after Mao Zhongcai—I couldn’t be happier.”

“What exactly happened with your father?” Qiao Mu asked, a trace of anger hidden in her eyes.

Gong Xinyue looked at her and pressed her lips together. “My father died for my sake.”

Her tone dropped, suddenly heavier.

“Mao Zhongcai was infatuated with your looks?” Feng Jiu’er’s brow furrowed at once.

She knew exactly what kind of man Mao Zhongcai was.

Gong Xinyue looked up, a flicker of surprise passing through her eyes. But she quickly reined in her sorrow and let her lips curve again.

“Jiu’er, Qiao Mu, do you really think this dark complexion of mine has anything worth being infatuated with?”

“Aside from being a bit dark, you’re lovely otherwise,” Qiao Mu said.

Feng Jiu’er studied Gong Xinyue seriously and agreed. “Xinyue, you’re very pretty.”

“Your eyes are big and bright, your nose is small but well-defined, and the curve of your thin lips is lovely too—you’re a true beauty.”

Her gaze lingered on Gong Xinyue’s lips, then went no further.

Gong Xinyue looked at her, brow tightening slightly. “Jiu’er, what is it?”

“Xinyue, your skin is dark—you could say it’s from sun exposure. But no amount of sun would darken just your lips,” Feng Jiu’er said, her gaze moving up to fix on Gong Xinyue’s eyes.

“Could it be that you…”

Gong Xinyue didn’t look away, meeting Feng Jiu’er’s gaze openly.

“Jiu’er, what have you figured out?”

“You soak yourself in medicinal liquid every day, deliberately darkening your own skin?” Feng Jiu’er finally concluded.

Gong Xinyue’s lips curved. “For a business like Longying Pharmacy to have grown this large, its owner must indeed be someone quite extraordinary.”

“That’s right,” Gong Xinyue nodded. “Jiu’er, you’re not just skilled in battle—you also understand medicine?”

“Jiu’er’s medical skill is about on par with her martial skill,” Qiao Mu replied.

“No wonder,” Gong Xinyue’s smile deepened. “Carrying all these silver needles around—I suppose it’s not only for testing poison.”

“Xinyue, is this how you protect yourself from Mao Zhongcai?” Feng Jiu’er looked at Gong Xinyue with a touch of pity.

“Mm.” Gong Xinyue nodded. “Given how close we are now, I have nothing left to hide.”

“My mother left us when I was very young. My father loved her deeply and never remarried.”

“My father was the stronghold master, and he raised me as if I were his son. My temperament isn’t the least bit like a typical woman’s, but my looks are the very image of my mother’s.”

“Your mother must have been a great beauty,” Feng Jiu’er said, pressing her lips together in admiration.

Gong Xinyue’s lips curved slightly, not denying it.

Setting aside her complexion, if one truly appreciated her beauty, she was stunning beyond compare.

“Three years ago—” Gong Xinyue’s smile faded, her tone growing heavier.

“I took some brothers to Pingyuan City, and unexpectedly, we ran into Mao Zhongcai.”

“I was disguised as a man at the time, but Mao Zhongcai saw through it. We fled immediately.”

“I never expected that Mao Zhongcai would eventually trace my identity. My father died a horrific death at his hands, all to save me.”

Gong Xinyue drew a deep breath, her head lowered, hands clenched into fists.

“Actually, while my father was alive, he had already been researching how to give our people a better life.”

“Unfortunately, he no longer has the chance.”

—