At long last, only one person remained ahead of Xiao Yingtao in line.

She had already found out exactly how many flavors of sticky cake there were, and the wafting aroma had long since left her restless all over.

“Jiu’er.” Suddenly, she turned and threw her arms around Feng Jiu’er’s neck, whispering a couple of words.

“Let’s settle on that then, the same for everyone.”

Feng Jiu’er said nothing. The person ahead of Xiao Yingtao took their sticky cakes and left.

Xiao Yingtao stepped up to the stall she’d been longing for and gave a light cough.

“I’d like these three flavors, ten of each, and my sister would like three other flavors, also ten of each, thank you!”

“Coming right up,” the shopkeeper nodded and began making the cakes.

Xiao Yingtao said nothing further, nor did she look back.

If other people could buy thirty, then she could buy thirty too — nothing wrong with that.

In the end, the two of them each took thirty cakes and made their way out of the crowd.

“Jian Yi, hold these for me.” Spotting Jian Yi, Xiao Yingtao strode over and handed him twenty-nine of her cakes.

She cradled the one remaining cake in both hands, opened her mouth, and took a bite.

“Hot, hot, hot — but it’s really… really fragrant.”

Jian Yi took the cakes from Feng Jiu’er’s hands and asked softly, “Which flavor would you like?”

“Any is fine!” Feng Jiu’er, shifting her feet, casually pulled one out from among them.

“Jiu’er, what flavor is yours? Is it good?” Xiao Yingtao leaned in close.

“Red bean. What about yours?” Feng Jiu’er met her gaze with a smile.

“Pumpkin, it’s so good!” Xiao Yingtao finished one in just a few bites. “Jian Yi, I want a red bean one too.”

The two of them ate their cakes as they boarded the carriage and continued on.

Half an hour later, Jian Yi drove the carriage carrying the two young women into a residence.

This was the home of Squire Jiang — Squire Jiang, that is, Feng Jiang.

Feng Jiang was stationed in Liuchuan City, overseeing the affairs of the three cities of Liuchuan, Yì Cheng, and Yí Cheng.

Qiao Mu had stayed behind to assist this imperial prince, whom hardly anyone recognized as such.

Feng Jiang never presented himself as an imperial prince either — everyone knew Squire Jiang, but no one knew his true surname was Feng; they all assumed his surname was Jiang.

The guards stationed at the residence’s entrance recognized Jian Yi and opened the gate at once, letting them in.

The steward, seeing it was Jian Yi, hurried after them.

“Is that Miss Jiu’er? Master Jian Yi, is Miss Jiu’er here?”

“Mm.” Jian Yi nodded lightly and got down from the carriage.

Just as he reached to lift the curtain, Feng Jiu’er lifted it from inside.

“Uncle Fu.” She called out softly, took the arm Jian Yi offered, and stepped down from the carriage.

The carriage was rather high, and just as Xiao Yingtao reached for something to steady herself, Jian Yi had already turned away, leaving her with only his back.

She glared at Jian Yi’s retreating back, huffed, and said, “Jian Yi, come get the sticky cakes.”

“Miss Jiu’er, what brings you here?” Uncle Fu asked with a beaming smile.

“I happened to be in Liuchuan City, so I thought I’d come by and see how things are.” Feng Jiu’er replied.

Outside, everyone called her Miss Jiu’er; only within the Night Prince’s residence was she addressed as Princess.

“Good, good, glad you’re here.” Uncle Fu walked over with a smile. “Master Jian Yi, allow me.”

Jian Yi, unbothered, hefted up the two large bags of sticky cakes himself, with no intention of troubling anyone else.

“Uncle Fu, just let him carry it, it’s not heavy anyway.” Xiao Yingtao glanced back, then looked ahead toward the main hall.

“Is Qiao Mu home?”

“Yes, yes, she’s here.” Uncle Fu turned back. “Miss Qiao is in, but Master Jiang is out.”

“You’ve come at just the right time. Miss Qiao’s appetite has been poor these past few days, she doesn’t want to eat anything, and with Master Jiang away, we’ve all been worried sick.”

“Poor appetite?” Xiao Yingtao and Feng Jiu’er exchanged a glance, speaking at the same time.

“That’s right.” Uncle Fu nodded and gestured. “Miss Jiu’er, Miss Xiao Yingtao, Master Jian Yi, this way please!”

Feng Jiu’er and Xiao Yingtao both pulled their gazes back from each other at the same moment, and though their strides weren’t long, they walked quickly.

“Jiu’er, could it be what I’m thinking?” Xiao Yingtao asked.

“What are you thinking?” Feng Jiu’er replied.

“Do you think Qiao Mu might be pregnant? Her having no appetite, just like me — that’s almost impossible, isn’t it?” Xiao Yingtao frowned.

“I don’t know.” Feng Jiu’er shook her head.

The next moment, the corner of her mouth lifted, and she said, “Let’s hope so.”

Their family, blessed with happy news once again — wasn’t that something?

In the main hall, Qiao Mu sat in the main seat, handling correspondence.

A maid carried a tray through the door, walking with careful, cautious steps.

But even so, she was still met with distaste.

“What is that smell?” Qiao Mu covered her nose, raised her eyes, and frowned.

“Take it away! I already said I’m not eating.”

“Miss Qiao, you haven’t eaten much for two days now. If this continues, your body simply won’t be able to hold up.” The maid stopped in her tracks, but was unwilling to leave.

“Miss Qiao.” She called out softly and kept walking forward.

“Please eat at least a little. You’ve grown so thin — how heartbroken will Master Jiang be when he returns and sees this?”

Qiao Mu raised her eyes and glanced over.

“Do I look that haggard?”

The maid took a deep breath and kept approaching. “A little, yes. Miss Qiao, don’t you realize how little you’ve eaten these past two days?”

Qiao Mu touched her own face, then touched her stomach, and beckoned.

“Bring it here, then.”

“Yes.” The maid quickened her pace.

But before she could even draw near, she was turned away.

“What is that you’re carrying? It smells awful!” Qiao Mu held out her hand, signaling the maid not to come any closer.

With one hand covering her nose, she waved the other.

“Take it away, I won’t eat it!”

“Miss Qiao.” The maid looked troubled.

“Take it away! I don’t want to eat!” No sooner had Qiao Mu spat this out than she clapped a hand over her mouth and stood up.

“Quick! Get… a basin, I… urgh—”

Just as Feng Jiu’er and Xiao Yingtao came through the door, Qiao Mu rushed to one side and retched all over the floor.

“Miss Qiao.” The maid set down the tray in her hands and hurried over.

Qiao Mu braced herself against a nearby table and retched again.

“Miss Qiao.” The maid rubbed her back. “Miss Qiao, are you alright?”

“I’ll send someone for a physician right away. Don’t be afraid, it’ll be alright.”

When the maid looked up, she saw Feng Jiu’er and Xiao Yingtao, and it was as if she’d seen her saviors.

“Miss Jiu’er, Miss Xiao Yingtao, Miss Qiao has fallen ill.”

“Miss Qiao has barely eaten anything for two or three days now, and just now she…”

“Urgh—” Qiao Mu, overcome with discomfort, gripped the crossbar by the table tightly.

The maid took out a cloth and wiped her face.

“There, there, it’s alright now.” She comforted her softly, helping Qiao Mu back.

Feng Jiu’er and Xiao Yingtao went over, supporting Qiao Mu on either side.

Freed up, the maid said, “Miss Jiu’er, please examine Miss Qiao, I’ll clean this up.”

“Mm.” Feng Jiu’er nodded. “Sit down.”

Qiao Mu was helped onto a rug and sat down.

Xiao Yingtao took out a cloth and wiped the sweat from Qiao Mu’s brow.

Feng Jiu’er lifted her hand, her slender fingers settling on her pulse.

Seeing this, Xiao Yingtao’s eyes widened, fixed unblinkingly on Feng Jiu’er.

“Jiu’er, is it? Is it really true? Is it a pregnancy pulse? Is it?”