“Ninth Imperial Uncle! I’ve finally found you!”

Jiu’er suddenly threw herself forward, dropping to her knees beside the man’s wheelchair and wrapping her arms around him.

“Ninth Imperial Uncle, I’ve missed you so much. Why haven’t you come to find me all this time?”

But she was quickly hauled up and pinned back into a chair before her excitement could even finish playing out.

Lu Beicheng’s face was absolutely livid, his gaze fixed on her like a blade of ice.

“I asked you back to be my attending physician, and you try to climb into my bed? Hm?”

His grip was incredibly strong.

It was hard to imagine that a man who had sat in a wheelchair for years could possess such strength.

Zhen Jiu’er snapped back to her senses in an instant.

She had no idea what had come over her just now — it was as if she’d been possessed, given no chance to react at all before she’d fallen right into it.

All because of one single look from him.

Looking at Lu Beicheng now, that fierce, violent gaze — where was there even a trace of Ninth Imperial Uncle in it?

He wasn’t Ninth Imperial Uncle, truly not… so why had he seemed so alike just now?

It really had felt like being under some kind of spell…

“I’m sorry…”

That faint apology caused the violence in Lu Beicheng’s eyes to recede by more than half in an instant.

That sharpness he rarely let anyone see soon vanished.

Looking at him again, he had once more become that cold, aloof Ninth Young Master of the Lu family.

The frightening violent aura in his eyes just now seemed as though it had never appeared at all.

He released his grip, his long fingers coming to rest on his own left wrist.

Only then did Jiu’er notice the string of prayer beads on his wrist.

A complicated feeling swept through her heart.

She’d heard that prayer beads could dispel violent, killing intent — this Ninth Young Master of the Lu family must carry a very heavy weight of it indeed.

He seemed gentle now, but he must have been suppressing it all along.

She looked away.

Matters that weren’t hers to manage shouldn’t be pried into.

However heavy his violent aura, that was his own business.

She stood up, steadied her breathing, and for the second time brought up that name: “Bei Mu City.”

Lu Beicheng said nothing, only looked at her flatly.

Jiu’er still felt a flicker of unease inside, though outwardly she stayed calm: “Ninth Master, why do you call Ying’an City by the name Bei Mu City?”

“Why do you ask about this?” Lu Beicheng answered her question with one of his own.

He turned his wheelchair back toward the table and poured himself a glass of red wine.

Zhen Jiu’er could tell his mood was somewhat restless, otherwise he wouldn’t need wine to settle himself.

What exactly was the tangled connection between him and Bei Mu City?

Why would an ordinary businessman invest in an archaeological team that would never bring any return?

She tested the waters, stepping a little closer behind him: “I… heard that long ago there was an ancient kingdom called the Bei Mu Kingdom.”

Lu Beicheng’s long fingers, holding the wine glass, slowly tightened. “Go on.”

“There’s not really anything more to go on — it’s just…”

Jiu’er thought it over, then switched to a lighter tone: “I’ve become very interested in this legendary Bei Mu Kingdom, but I searched through every record I could find and couldn’t turn up any related information.”

“Then where did you hear it from?” If there were no records, where could her information have come from?

“It was… an elderly person who mentioned it to me.”

Jiu’er knew this excuse, thrown together on the spot, sounded clumsy, and that he most likely wouldn’t believe it.

But at least Lu Beicheng didn’t press further.

He simply raised his hand and drained the wine in his glass in one go.

He set the tall-stemmed glass down, those slender, jade-like fingers tapping lightly and aimlessly on the table.

“Bei Mu City… is the imperial capital of the Bei Mu Kingdom.”