“Just look at the two of us right now—what we look like, what we’re doing.” Feng Jiu’er pouted slightly.

“I’m applying medicine to you. What of it?” Was applying medicine somehow wrong?

“But isn’t this posture rather suggestive? Doesn’t that count as undermining military discipline?”

Besides, they had also once slept in each other’s arms, all the way until dawn.

By the standards of this era, that was already something only married couples did—so didn’t that mean they themselves were undermining military discipline too?

“If you’re worried about undermining military discipline, then I’ll simply marry you.”

“Pah, pah, pah! Ninth Imperial Uncle, my ears weren’t working properly just now. I didn’t hear a thing.”

Feng Jiu’er gave a start and immediately tried to leap up from the bed.

But with the Ninth Imperial Uncle’s hand pressing down on her lower back, never mind leaping up—she couldn’t even manage to crawl up.

Zhan Qingcheng’s expression wasn’t particularly pleasant. Why was it that the moment he said he would marry this girl, her reaction was like this?

Was this excessive joy, or was she protesting?

“Is it so bad for me to marry you?” The position of Ninth Princess Consort was surely a coveted prize many would fight over—did she not want it?

“I can grant you wealth and glory, enough to enjoy for an entire lifetime. Would that do?”

“Then why do you want to marry me?” Marriage and the like were things Feng Jiu’er had no interest in whatsoever.

Forget about what a woman was “supposed” to do—she was someone with great ambitions. In the future, she intended to march with the army and become its foremost military physician.

Becoming a military physician had been her dream since childhood—how noble a calling that was!

She turned her head and, with some effort, managed to glance at Zhan Qingcheng. “Ninth Imperial Uncle, tell me, why do you want to marry me?”

“For convenience’s sake.” Hadn’t she herself said that the two of them behaving this way would undermine military discipline?

If they were married, then behavior like this would naturally no longer give people anything to gossip about.

He himself didn’t care and never paid attention to rumors and gossip, but perhaps she, being a young lady, might care about such things.

If she cared, then they might as well get married.

Feng Jiu’er let out a sigh, helpless.

She just knew it—the Ninth Imperial Uncle had no idea what affection or love even meant. Marrying her was purely for convenience… right, convenient for drinking her blood every single night from now on.

Having her blood drunk every night… what a terrifying future—utterly bleak!

She really was starting to feel drowsy, her head growing heavy. Lying face-down on the soft pillow, her voice began to turn a little hoarse. “Ninth Imperial Uncle, do you like me?”

Marrying someone you didn’t even like—how outrageous. He simply didn’t understand…

“I do.” The answer came without any hesitation at all.

“Tch, you don’t even know what liking someone really means.” Jiu’er yawned and closed her eyes. “The way you like me is just like… liking a puppy, or a fine sword… the same thing, heh…”

Zhan Qingcheng’s brow furrowed tightly, a flicker of displeasure crossing his face.

This was clearly not the same thing at all. He had no fondness for puppies whatsoever and held no interest in keeping pets.

He had no particular interest in fine swords either—the Ninth Prince’s manor had so many swords that they couldn’t even be counted.

So what was there to even like about a sword?

For a moment, Zhan Qingcheng couldn’t think of anything else he liked the way he liked this girl.

“For now, I like you best.” This was the final conclusion he arrived at after much deliberation.

But by then, the little girl had already fallen asleep, face-down.

Once he finished applying her medicine and was about to dress her again, his gaze inadvertently fell once more on her lower back.

The phoenix… could the legend actually be true?

“Whoever obtains the Phoenix Maiden obtains the realm.”

Was she a descendant of the Phoenix clan? Was she truly the Phoenix Maiden?

How could this girl possibly carry such a complicated identity? Was it precisely because of this identity that her blood was so useful?

Carefully, he dressed her once more, and gazing at the girl’s sleeping face, Zhan Qingcheng’s eyes filled with conflicted emotion.

Whether or not she truly was the Phoenix Maiden, the matter of the phoenix birthmark could never be allowed to come to light. Otherwise, this girl would surely face a catastrophe beyond measure.