The moment Yu Jingfeng finished speaking his mind and raised his eyes, he met a sharp, cutting glare head-on.

He startled, and with an involuntary “gulp,” swallowed hard.

“Your Highness, what… what’s wrong?”

Di Wu Ya glared at him once, then turned and walked away.

Yu Jingfeng had no idea what he’d done wrong, but he still couldn’t afford to linger — he hurried to catch up.

After all, he was the Prince’s shadow that stuck to him no matter what — wherever the Prince went, he had to follow.

That was something Feng Jiu’er herself had warned Yu Jingfeng about, more than once.

Yu Jingfeng was terrified — if the Prince so much as lost a few hairs, would Miss Jiu’er tear him limb from limb?

He recalled how the Prince, right in front of him, had ordered Long Shiyi and Long Qi to protect Miss Jiu’er without fail, or else they’d better bring their own heads to answer for it.

Thinking back on what Miss Jiu’er had said, Yu Jingfeng felt like he’d basically dug his own grave with his own mouth.

Even so, Yu the Great didn’t dare say another word, and simply followed along.

Feng Jiu’er, Qiao Mu, and Gong Xinyue quickly found their way to Mao Linye’s residence.

Before they’d even gotten close, they saw a fair number of civilians crowded along the road, everyone craning to look ahead but not daring to get any closer.

“What happened?” Feng Jiu’er squeezed her way through and asked.

She’d already worked out an excuse — if Mao Linye discovered she’d come, she’d say that hearing about the City Lord’s death, she’d worried about him and come to find him.

But Mao Linye wasn’t Mao Zhongcai — he wouldn’t set aside his own business for the sake of some little woman like her.

In truth, Mao Zhongcai had been lecherous, but he wasn’t stupid. That he’d been foolish enough yesterday to give up even the position of City Lord for her sake had surely been Mao Linye’s doing.

Mao Zhongcai hadn’t drunk that much wine — a man like him surely had far more tolerance than that.

Still, anything that didn’t concern her own interests wasn’t something Feng Jiu’er cared to meddle in.

“You don’t know?” A civilian who looked rather fond of gossip turned to glance at Feng Jiu’er. “They say the City Lord is dead.”

“Must be true.” Another civilian, still craning to look ahead without turning back, added, “Everyone’s saying it, so it must be true.”

Feng Jiu’er of course knew it was true — and in fact, the news had been spread by their own people, or how else would these civilians have found out?

“No way?” Feng Jiu’er’s delicate, powder-pink brows furrowed, her face full of disbelief.

“Then why are there so many soldiers here? Is the City Lord’s men here for revenge?”

“But wait, isn’t this the Town Head’s house?” Feng Jiu’er craned up on her toes to look ahead. “Weren’t the City Lord and the Town Head supposed to be brothers?”

“If they’re brothers, surely the Town Head wouldn’t kill the City Lord? That can’t be right?”

“Are you saying the Town Head killed the City Lord?” one of the civilians said, looking at Feng Jiu’er, who was shorter than him.

Hearing this, Feng Jiu’er pulled her gaze back from ahead and looked at the man beside her, blinking. “I didn’t say that.”

“No wonder so many troops showed up so early this morning,” the man said, ignoring her and looking ahead, talking to himself. “So it really was the Town Head who killed the City Lord — the City Lord’s men have come to avenge him.”

“Really?” another civilian asked. “Did the Town Head really kill his own brother?”

“I heard the Town Head and the City Lord never got along to begin with,” another chimed in.

“That’s quite likely then,” another civilian added.

“The Town Head killed the City Lord — how dare he be so bold?”

“So the City Lord really was killed by the Town Head?”

“Definitely — that’s what everyone’s saying.”

“The Town Head sure has some nerve.”

“He’s got no shortage of nerve, that’s for sure.”

“Ugh, did you hear? Turns out the Town Head is the murderer — the Town Head killed the City Lord.”

“The Town Head killed the City Lord — what’s he planning to do now?”

“The City Lord was useless anyway. I heard he was being hunted down, which is why he ended up here. Dying isn’t much of a loss.”

“But still, they were brothers after all — why must one press the other so hard?”

“So the City Lord really was killed by the Town Head — heavens, should we flee?”

“We probably should. The City Lord brought so many troops into the town — how dare the Town Head…”

The rumor that Mao Zhongcai had been killed by Mao Linye spread like wildfire, passed from one person to ten, ten to a hundred, in no time at all.

Feng Jiu’er wasn’t about to admit that this rumor was one she herself had fabricated — she’d just been saying it, offhand.

She hadn’t expected it to work so well.

Things really had become unsettled here — innocent civilians, if they wanted to flee, might as well flee.

The crowd thinned out in twos and threes, and Feng Jiu’er, Qiao Mu, and Gong Xinyue easily pushed their way to the front.

Unfortunately, ahead of them was a solid mass of soldiers, and they couldn’t see what was happening at Mao’s residence at all.

“Make way!” Suddenly, the sound of hooves came from behind.

Everyone stepped aside, clearing a path.

A group of soldiers in a different uniform came through to clear the way, followed by several carriages and dozens of horses passing through the crowd.

This new wave of soldiers pushed the earlier ones aside as well.

Finally, a space opened up in front of the gates of Mao’s residence.

The onlooking civilians got to satisfy their curiosity somewhat.

Four carriages stopped. Soon, the people inside got out.

Four men — some tall, some short, some heavyset, some thin, their looks varying widely.

“Something big might be happening.” Feng Jiu’er raised her eyes and glanced left and right at the people around her.

Qiao Mu rolled her eyes, nearly cursing out loud. Was she an idiot? As if it wasn’t obvious something big was happening.

Feng Jiu’er met her contemptuous gaze with an apologetic smile.

“I’ll go in and take a look. You two stay here and keep watch.”

Qiao Mu knew perfectly well that every time Feng Jiu’er acted like an idiot, she had a purpose.

“Jiu’er, how can you go in alone?” Gong Xinyue objected.

“Let her go in by herself. If we go in too, it’s even more dangerous,” Qiao Mu said, lowering her voice.

Gong Xinyue understood and said nothing more, just nodded.

“Don’t worry!” Feng Jiu’er patted Gong Xinyue’s hand gently, then looked toward the crowd not far off.

Gong Xinyue followed her gaze and spotted two somewhat familiar figures.

“That’s Long Shiyi and Long Qi. Now that a good number of our people are here, you two don’t need to reveal your identities — not yet.”

“If Mao Linye’s people find you, just say I’ve gone missing and you’re out looking for me, understood?”

“Got it!” Leng Xuepiao nodded. “Jiu’er, be careful!”

Qiao Mu said nothing, her expression cold, as if someone owed her a great deal of money.

But Feng Jiu’er knew perfectly well — the colder Qiao Mu acted, the more it showed she was worried.

Feng Jiu’er gave Leng Xuepiao a reassuring look, then turned to Qiao Mu and reached out to gently thump her shoulder.

“Don’t worry! I’ll be fine.”

“Who’s worried about you?” Qiao Mu raised an eyebrow and looked away. “Don’t get ahead of yourself!”

“Right, I’m getting ahead of myself.” Feng Jiu’er nodded with a smile.

“Remember, don’t go rushing in recklessly. We still have a lot to do — don’t let your emotions get the better of you, all right!”

Feng Jiu’er thumped Qiao Mu’s shoulder once more, then turned and vanished into the crowd.