“Young Master Jiu…” Zhen Jiu’er glanced at him.

“As you like.” Lu Beicheng’s long finger pressed down on a button on the wheelchair.

The armrest of the wheelchair rose, unfolding a small tray.

He set his laptop on top and went on working.

Zhen Jiu’er couldn’t help letting out a breath.

If it weren’t for his broken legs, this man would surely have every woman in Jiangzhou driven mad over him.

“Looking at my legs, or looking at me?” The man’s thin lips moved slightly, his tone still without any rise or fall.

Zhen Jiu’er jumped, quickly pulling her gaze back.

“Sorry, I was just being a little smitten — but I have no designs on you, I swear.”

“Because there’s already some man in your heart?” There wasn’t the slightest change in Lu Beicheng’s brow — the question sounded almost carelessly asked.

Jiu’er’s fingers, resting on his trouser leg, paused ever so slightly.

After a good while, she nodded: “Mm.”

Setting aside her wandering thoughts, Jiu’er rolled up Lu Beicheng’s trouser leg.

She was utterly stunned.

Hadn’t Young Master Jiu of the Lu family had broken legs for many years now?

Then why… could they still be this flawless?

Even the muscle lines of his leg were clearly visible!

No withering at all, nothing embarrassing about it — his leg was long and straight, and since he’d worn long trousers year-round without sun exposure, it was fair and smooth as jade!

Stunningly good-looking!

“Looking at my legs, or examining them?” From above, the man’s voice came again, laced with teasing.

Zhen Jiu’er wanted very badly to slap herself.

She hadn’t been this smitten in a long time — what was wrong with her today?

Besides, this man wasn’t the Ninth Imperial Uncle — how could she act like this?

“Sorry, sorry, I promise there won’t be a next time.”

“Is that so?” The man seated in the wheelchair raised an eyebrow, barely perceptibly. “Would you like to try unbuttoning my shirt too?”

“What?” She froze. Why would she unbutton his shirt? Try what?

The next moment, Jiu’er’s face flushed red — she nearly cursed at him!

Too much!

Really too much!

Was she that kind of person?

Her heart belonged only to the Ninth Imperial Uncle!

She would absolutely not imagine what sights might greet her after unbuttoning his shirt!

Absolutely not!

…

Half an hour later, Zhen Jiu’er’s expression had turned grave.

“Well?” Seeing her pause and stare blankly, Lu Beicheng’s fingers, which had been tapping at the keyboard, stilled too, watching her lost-in-thought face.

Jiu’er glanced at him, her lips parting slightly, hesitating to speak.

“Hm?” Lu Beicheng seemed unusually patient tonight.

This was already the second time he’d asked.

Jiu’er hesitated before finally saying, “Young Master Jiu, your legs — the nerves were damaged by poison.”

Lu Beicheng’s expression didn’t change in the slightest.

Something in Jiu’er’s heart went cold.

It seemed he’d known all along.

Was it a feud among powerful families? Clan grievances? Or something else?

Either way, he knew.

“Young Master Jiu, don’t you want them cured?” she suddenly asked.

“Why do you say that?” There wasn’t much coldness in Lu Beicheng’s gaze.

The legendarily cold and ruthless Young Master Jiu of the Lu family didn’t seem so hard to get along with after all.

Or was it that her skill wasn’t deep enough yet, unable to see his true thoughts?

Sure enough, just like the Ninth Imperial Uncle, at certain moments his depth of scheming was beyond imagining.

She blinked, then said quietly: “The nerves damaged by the poison have actually healed. Why do you still refuse to stand up?”

Lu Beicheng’s eyes darkened, his gaze locking tightly onto her face.

In just that instant, those eyes shifted through countless changes: “You think I’m unwilling to stand?”