“A mere trifling skill.” The man behind her gave a cold snort, his eyes full of disdain as he watched the direction Yu Jingfeng had gone.
“Ninth Imperial Uncle, that’s only because it’s you,” Feng Jiu’er let out a breath, not bothering to hide her envy of Yu Jingfeng’s lightness skill.
“To me, it’s really impressive. I’m so jealous I could die.”
“What’s there to envy? If you want to learn it, this prince will teach you another day,” Zhan Qingcheng said, still unimpressed. Was that really all her ambitions amounted to?
Compared to him, Yu Jingfeng’s lightness skill was nothing — like a frog at the bottom of a well.
“Really?” Feng Jiu’er could hardly believe it. The Ninth Imperial Uncle, teaching her lightness skill? “Ninth Imperial Uncle, you have to keep your word!”
She walked over, instinctively reaching to tug at his sleeve — a habit she’d picked up these past few days.
Unexpectedly, Zhan Qingcheng dodged out of the way swiftly, as though afraid her fingers would burn him, just before she could touch him.
The Ninth Imperial Uncle, dodging her… Feng Jiu’er froze for a moment, not quite able to process it.
But she quickly let it go.
The Ninth Imperial Uncle was such a cold and aloof person, naturally he wouldn’t like being touched. She’d just been a little too excited and forgotten that.
“Fine then, Ninth Imperial Uncle, you did promise to teach me, and I’ll hold you to it. No backing out.”
Her eyes curved into a smile, looking unspeakably lovely.
Zhan Qingcheng composed himself before giving a light nod. “Mm.”
Feng Jiu’er frowned again, tilting her head to look at him. “Ninth Imperial Uncle, why do you seem so strange today?”
There was something off about him today, almost… bashful? But that couldn’t be right.
How could the word “bashful” possibly apply to the Ninth Imperial Uncle?
He had always lived however he pleased, never caring about others’ opinions of him. Bashful? Was that even possible?
“Aren’t you hungry?” Under her gaze, Zhan Qingcheng instinctively wanted to look away.
There was something probing in her eyes, as though she wanted to pull open his robes and see straight through to his very nature.
Pull open his robes… a surge of heat rushed straight to his head, and Zhan Qingcheng turned and walked off toward the pavilion in the courtyard.
He really was acting strange today, completely off!
That was the conclusion Feng Jiu’er reached, watching his stiff, aloof back retreating.
Something was definitely wrong. Definitely, absolutely something was wrong. What on earth was going on with the Ninth Imperial Uncle?
Had he really stood by her bed the whole night, watching her sleep? And that suspicious flush on his face when he woke up this morning — what exactly did that mean?
What was wrong with her? Was there something about her that made him stare at her for so long?
Could it be that the Ninth Imperial Uncle had figured out she wasn’t the real Feng Jiu’er?
Jiu’er didn’t even know what she herself was thinking anymore. In any case, the Ninth Imperial Uncle’s strangeness had left her feeling just as unsettled, her mind a tangle of confusion.
That breakfast was eaten in the most awkward atmosphere — the most awkward meal she’d had since meeting the Ninth Imperial Uncle.
Even though the food was delicious, she found it hard to swallow…
After finally finishing breakfast, Feng Jiu’er managed to push down all her messy suspicions, watching Zhan Qingcheng’s face settle back into its usual calm — a face so perfect it nearly took one’s breath away.
“Ninth Imperial Uncle, since Officer Zheng is being exiled to the border, what do you plan to do about Zeng Lanyue?”
“Someone will handle it.” Zhan Qingcheng said evenly, his motion of drinking tea leisurely yet elegant.
Jiu’er knew, of course someone would handle it — such a trivial matter wasn’t worth the Ninth Imperial Uncle’s attention.
Still, she felt that Zeng Lanyue’s crime really wasn’t that severe. “Ninth Imperial Uncle, forbidding her from ever joining the military again for the rest of her life — isn’t that punishment a bit too harsh?”