“Is everything settled?”

Feng Jiu’er pressed her lips together. “It’s settled. We’ll go ahead with the plan to leave the city.”

“That’s roughly the arrangement.” Feng Jiang set down his teacup. “If neither Jiu’er nor Fourth Imperial Uncle object, we’ll proceed like this. We leave the city tonight.”

Feng Li picked up his teacup. “I agree as well.”

Feng Jiu’er nodded lightly. “One final gamble—better than letting the night drag on with too many dreams.”

“Where do we gather? And when?” Jian Yi asked.

Feng Jiu’er turned to him and waved a hand. “Jian Yi, go get Qiaomu, Xing Zizhou, Xiao Yingtao, and Zhao Yusheng. Once the plan is settled, you can go notify everyone else.”

“Got it!” Jian Yi stood and walked toward the door.

“Be careful!” Feng Jiu’er called after him.

Jian Yi nodded without turning back and pushed open the door.

To avoid attracting attention, everyone had been scattered across several nearby inns. But soon, Jian Yi returned, and the other four appeared one by one in the room.

The plan to leave the city was finally settled—whether it would succeed depended entirely on that night.

At midnight, a dozen or so people split into two groups and appeared beneath an unguarded section of the wall not far from the city gate. At the third quarter of midnight, the stationed soldiers would change shifts, and the gate would have to open.

Disguised, Feng Jiu’er and Jian Yi timed it precisely—the moment the gate opened, they shot out from the shadows on horseback.

“Who’s there?!”

By the time the soldiers spotted the two galloping horses closing in, it was already too late. The horses closed in fast; not wanting to be trampled, the soldiers instinctively stepped aside, clearing a path. In an instant, chaos erupted at the gate.

“Close the gate! Someone’s breaking out! Close it now!”

“Hurry! Close the gate!”

Feng Jiu’er and Jian Yi’s speed was beyond what ordinary people could match. The two of them shot out of the city like the wind before the men responsible for closing the gate even reacted. Unfortunately, trying to close it now was already pointless.

“Someone, quick! The traitors are escaping, go after them!”

“Hurry, someone!”

The soldiers meant to relieve the shift hadn’t arrived yet, and the soldiers who’d just been about to leave, having stood guard all day, were already exhausted. But despite that, quite a few still gave chase. Even the guards atop the wall—a large number of them—were called down to pursue the fugitives who had broken out.

Those waiting on either side seized the chance to scale the wall. Feng Jiang led everyone to a corner of the wall, met up with their allies, mounted the horses, and left along the prearranged side path.

The group headed west. Feng Jiu’er and Jian Yi, however, dragged the pursuing army eastward, deliberately slowing their pace.

After passing through a forest, the two horses up ahead kept going. The general who had heard the commotion led his men in swift pursuit. Unexpectedly, the two horses ran straight toward a cliff.

In the darkness of night, one could just make out that the figures on the horses—one tall, one short—were not people at all, but puppets. But the army trailing behind couldn’t tell what was happening up ahead. In the end, before hundreds of watching eyes, the two horses and their riders leapt off the cliff.

After entering the forest, Feng Jiu’er and Jian Yi had already changed direction. This was exactly as Xing Zizhou had arranged, per Feng Jiu’er’s instructions—having their allies prepare the puppets and horses in advance. The horses had been drugged, made to run forward numbly without stopping. In the end, they had died a heroic death.

While the soldiers stood bewildered, surrounding the cliff, Feng Jiu’er and Jian Yi were already heading west along another route entirely.

Before the third quarter of midnight, everyone except the two of them had already safely boarded the boat. On the boat, there was only one person—none other than General Shan Zhengyang, who had once served under Feng Li.

“Shan Zhengyang pays respects to the Night Prince.” Dressed as a boatman, Shan Zhengyang knelt before Feng Li.

Given their standing, there was little distance between the two of them—Feng Li could reach out and touch Shan Zhengyang without moving far. He gently patted the back of Shan Zhengyang’s hand. “Sit, and speak.”

“Yes, Night Prince.” Shan Zhengyang cupped his hands and stood. He glanced around at the young people gathered there, smiling, and took a seat on a small stool nearby.

“Heroes born of youth—how wonderful it is to be young!” The corners of Shan Zhengyang’s wrinkled eyes grew a little damp.

“General Shan, I’m Feng Jiang—do you still remember me?” Feng Jiang cupped his hands toward him.

“I remember, I remember.” Shan Zhengyang returned the gesture. “I forgot the Third Prince was here as well—my apologies.” He started to rise, but Feng Jiang caught him by the arm.

“No need for such formality, General Shan. Please, sit and talk.”

“Alright.” Shan Zhengyang sat back down. “I’m just overcome with emotion—I never imagined that in this lifetime I would still be summoned by the Night Prince. There’s nothing left for me to regret.” He looked at Feng Li, deeply moved.

“Meeting again like this may not necessarily be good news for you,” Feng Li said quietly.

“It is good! It’s definitely good!” Shan Zhengyang nodded excitedly, his gaze shifting to Feng Jiang. “The Third Prince’s choice to follow the Night Prince was surely the right one. Being able to see everyone again—it’s truly wonderful!” He glanced around at everyone, raising his large hand to wipe unconsciously at the corners of his eyes.

“General Shan, hello!”

“General Shan, greetings!”

Several of the young women bowed respectfully to him. Only Qiaomu remained standing by the small window, gazing outside.

“Everyone’s well!” Shan Zhengyang wiped at his eyes again. “Forgive me for making a spectacle of myself! By the way, the Night Prince mentioned two people hadn’t arrived yet. I wonder who they might be—would I know them?”

“You wouldn’t know them,” Feng Li said, shaking his head. “It’s my daughter.” As he spoke of Feng Jiu’er, his eyes were filled with pride.

“The Night Prince’s daughter? His own daughter?” Hope filled Shan Zhengyang’s eyes as well.

“Mm.” Feng Li nodded. “She is a true Feng woman.”

There was a crack—Shan Zhengyang had snapped the armrest of the wooden chair clean off with his bare hands.

“The Night Prince’s daughter is truly a Feng woman—then the Night Prince…”

“Yes,” Feng Li nodded. “Not only that—this prince also has solid evidence that the late emperor did not die of illness.”

“So the current emperor murdered his father to seize the throne?” Shan Zhengyang frowned.

“Yes.” Feng Li looked up, gazing at the curtain not far away. “The next time you and I meet, it will surely be on the battlefield, facing each other as enemies.”

Before Shan Zhengyang could respond, Xiao Yingtao’s voice rang out inside the cabin. “Qiaomu, do you see Jiu’er yet? We’re running out of time.”

Indeed, the most important thing now was simply getting away from here. Their small fishing boat, should it truly encounter a military vessel, would find it no easy task to escape.

Feng Li withdrew his gaze and looked toward Shan Zhengyang. “Go and prepare. The moment the time comes, we must set off.”

“But…” Shan Zhengyang stood. “What about the young lady?”

“It’s fine,” Feng Li shook his head. “Jiu’er is clever and quick-witted—she’ll find a way.”

No one dared contradict Feng Li’s words, and besides, everyone knew this had been Feng Jiu’er’s own decision.

By the small window, several figures stood clustered together. Everyone was anxious, but the window was too small, and aside from Qiaomu, no one else could see what was happening outside.

“Sister Qiaomu, is Sister Jiu’er back yet?”

“Jiu’er and Jian Yi absolutely have to make it back—they absolutely have to!”