Back in ancient times, Qiao Mu had once said that if she ever failed at something, it would be because she valued loyalty and sentiment too much.

Jiu’er didn’t know if that was true.

But time and again, she’d fallen into danger for the sake of her friends — it did seem to be the case.

A nature that couldn’t be changed, perhaps, was a fate that couldn’t be changed either.

Looking at the long corridor stretching ahead, Zhen Jiu’er almost wanted to laugh.

A civilized era!

How utterly ridiculous.

“Miss Zhen, Ninth Master is in the garden, this way please.” Ji Mingyu knew she didn’t like him, so he kept his distance while leading the way.

Honestly, he didn’t want to make himself unwelcome either.

It was just that Ninth Master’s little guest this time was giving him far too little face.

“It’s right up ahead, Miss Zhen can go on her own, or…”

Sure enough, before he even finished speaking, Zhen Jiu’er had already walked off.

Ji Mingyu trailed behind her at a distance, not daring to get closer.

Was it because she hadn’t yet stepped into society, hadn’t yet learned how treacherous the world could be, that she still carried herself with such proud bearing?

It was rather rare — quite different from the girls he usually encountered.

Lu Beicheng was in the garden at that moment, still seated in his wheelchair.

The sky hadn’t darkened yet; the evening sun fell over him, and his silhouette carried an indescribable, cold loneliness.

The instant she caught sight of that figure, Zhen Jiu’er froze for a moment.

Ninth Imperial Uncle…

He really did resemble her Ninth Imperial Uncle.

But she knew — it wasn’t him.

Once she’d calmed down, Zhen Jiu’er walked toward him: “Ninth Master, I hear you wanted to see me?”

“Sit.” Lu Beicheng sounded, surprisingly, rather courteous.

Zhen Jiu’er sat down in the chair he indicated.

Servants immediately brought over a tea table and snacks, then everyone withdrew — no one dared to disturb them.

“Did you need something from me, Ninth Master?” Zhen Jiu’er had been forced here, so her tone wasn’t particularly pleasant.

But somehow, in front of Lu Beicheng, all the fighting spirit she’d worked up vanished in an instant.

Sitting in his wheelchair, he merely glanced at her indifferently, his gaze shallow and clear, without a trace of emotion.

It didn’t even feel imposing.

And yet that single shallow glance made you feel as though your entire being had been trapped beneath his overwhelming presence.

If he didn’t speak, you didn’t dare press him.

If his eyes darkened even slightly, your heart would pound with fear.

This was the feeling the Lu family’s Ninth Master gave people.

Zhen Jiu’er had thought she could stay composed in front of anyone, but it turned out she still felt the pressure.

Her hand, resting beneath the tea table, tightened slightly at the fingertips.

“I hear that last night, someone accidentally severed my nephew’s main artery.”

As Lu Beicheng said this, his gaze stayed lowered, still on the book resting on his lap.

Talking to Zhen Jiu’er, his tone was as mild as idle chitchat.

But that single sentence made Zhen Jiu’er’s body go rigid in an instant.

“Ninth Master, that medical accident was indeed caused by me, at the time I…”

“Since you caused it, then you should bear the consequences.”

Zhen Jiu’er blinked, looking at him: “Ninth Master… how would you like me to bear them?”

The Lu family was the largest family in Jiangzhou — powerful, influential, and certainly not lacking in money.

If he wanted compensation, she honestly couldn’t afford it.

“I hear Miss Zhen’s medical skills are quite good?” Lu Beicheng’s deep eyes showed no ripple of emotion. “I wonder — are you any good with your hands?”

“I… suppose I’m alright.” After all, she’d trained in martial arts — a heroine with astonishing internal energy.

A flicker of something hard to detect passed through Lu Beicheng’s eyes.

“Then — why don’t we test that?”