“This one is ready anytime!” Di Wu Ya heard footsteps and swept his long arm around, tucking the small figure into his robes as he turned.

By the time Feng Li, Zhao Yusheng, and Yu Jingfeng entered, all they saw was Di Wu Ya’s tall figure from behind.

“Your Highness, didn’t Miss Jiu’er just come in?” Yu Jingfeng asked, startled.

“I clearly saw her…”

Yu Jingfeng’s words cut off abruptly the moment Di Wu Ya turned back around at his seat.

Feng Jiu’er poked her head out from within Di Wu Ya’s robes and looked toward Yu Jingfeng. “Big Yu, were you looking for me?”

“Miss Jiu’er, ahem… it’s been a while!” Yu Jingfeng scratched his head.

He hadn’t even realized Miss Jiu’er was in the hall—though thinking about it, given how deep her internal cultivation had become, it wasn’t so strange he’d missed her.

“It’s been a while indeed!” Feng Jiu’er said, nestled comfortably in Di Wu Ya’s arms, with no intention of moving.

Though she hadn’t felt tired before, drowsiness was creeping over her now, and she wanted to move even less.

“What is it?” Di Wu Ya asked softly, gently stroking the small head against his chest.

“Your Highness, the Third Prince and Young Master Zhao are here to hand over their reports.” Yu Jingfeng cupped his hands and said.

“Bring tea.” Di Wu Ya glanced at the two men and gave a slight nod.

“Yes, Your Highness.” Yu Jingfeng turned and waved a hand. “Third Prince, please be seated! Young Master Zhao, please be seated!”

Feng Jiang and Zhao Yusheng sat down, and attendants soon brought in tea and pastries.

Feng Jiu’er picked up a pastry, took a bite, and turned to offer the rest to Di Wu Ya.

Di Wu Ya opened his mouth to take it, then affectionately ruffled Feng Jiu’er’s hair again.

“Your Highness, Prince Ye sent word that Han Ying’s forces are retreating toward Fenglai City. You must all proceed with caution.”

Yu Jingfeng climbed the steps and presented a letter with both hands.

“Is it a letter from my father?” Feng Jiu’er took the letter.

“Yes, Miss Jiu’er.” Yu Jingfeng nodded. “Prince Ye also mentioned a few matters in the letter—please have a look.”

“All right.” Feng Jiu’er set down her chopsticks and stood.

“Ninth Prince, the rest of you discuss matters first—I’ll go rest in my quarters.”

She took the letter and turned, glancing at Feng Jiang and Zhao Yusheng as she descended the steps.

“Zhao Yusheng, you’ve worked hard these past days. Go home and rest well once you’re done here.”

“Mm.” Zhao Yusheng nodded slightly.

Feng Jiu’er left—the handover of military affairs was tedious business, and if she could avoid it, she absolutely would. Someone could tell her the outcome afterward.

By the time the troops arrived, Feng Jiu’er had already washed up and eaten her fill.

“Miss Jiu’er, Xiao Yingtao and the others have arrived, and so has Master Yang.” a soldier came to report.

“Good.” Feng Jiu’er folded the letter she’d just finished writing and tucked it into her robes before stepping out the door.

Led by the reporting soldier, she made her way toward the wing where Yang Sheng was staying.

In the eastern courtyard, the Feilong Shi’er Qi were gathered together, eating.

As Feng Jiu’er entered, she heard hearty voices.

“It’s been so long since we’ve had food this good.” Long Qi stood, bowl in hand.

“Brothers, it’s a rare day off—tonight, no rest until we’re drunk!”

“No rest until we’re drunk!” everyone but Long Yi echoed in agreement.

“Big Brother, you’re not drinking?” Long Shiyi asked Long Yi quietly, the only one still seated.

Long Yi said nothing, just picked up a piece of meat and put it in his mouth.

“Big Brother, Yu Jingfeng said we’re not needed today—do whatever we like.” Long Er picked up Long Yi’s bowl.

“Come on, even if you won’t get drunk, at least have a light drink, quick!”

“Right!” Feng Jiu’er’s lips curved slightly as she stepped inside.

“A rare day off—do whatever you like. Everyone’s worked hard these past days!”