Zhen Jiu’er’s words rather gave herself away — the more she protested, the more suspicious it sounded.
She sighed, somewhat helpless. “Fine, I really do think you’re very good-looking, but…”
“But you already have someone else in your heart. No matter how good-looking I am, it won’t mean anything to you.”
Lu Beicheng withdrew his gaze, going back to watching the calm river.
There wasn’t the slightest hint of displeasure in his tone — it was simply light, as light as the river before them.
Jiu’er let out a breath.
There wasn’t much point hiding it anyway — especially since Ninth Master’s eyes were far too sharp; there was no concealing anything from him.
In her heart, there truly was someone else. Especially when she looked at him, she would often get the illusion that her Ninth Imperial Uncle had returned.
“Ninth Master, are you in a bad mood? What are you thinking about?” Zhen Jiu’er couldn’t help but look at the river before them too.
The water was clear — an extremely rare sight in this era.
Probably because this place was so desolate, so utterly uninhabited, that the river hadn’t yet had the chance to become polluted.
Clear as a mountain stream — a rare and precious thing.
“Ninth Master, do you have something on your mind?”
In truth, the one with something on her mind was herself. She’d only asked out of habit.
Yet unexpectedly, Lu Beicheng nodded. “Mm.”
Jiu’er blinked, and couldn’t help staring at his face again.
She’d claimed she wouldn’t covet his looks, yet every time she looked at him, she felt a jolt of astonishment all the same.
That’s it — she was starting to feel more and more that Ninth Master’s looks… rivaled her Ninth Imperial Uncle’s. What was she supposed to do about that?
Especially since they were clearly two completely different people — so why did their bearing feel so alike?
He really did resemble her Ninth Imperial Uncle!
She really, truly wanted… wanted to hug him, to kiss him…
Lu Beicheng suddenly turned his head and glanced at her. “Since your heart already belongs to someone, don’t go dwelling on other men.”
There was nothing reproachful in his tone — if anything, it sounded gentler than usual.
Zhen Jiu’er’s mind snapped back to clarity, and her face instantly burned hot.
“I…”
“Or, you could try falling for someone else instead.”
What did that mean?
Before Zhen Jiu’er could react, Lu Beicheng’s wheelchair had already turned, as if to leave.
But he wasn’t heading back — instead, he continued on slowly along the riverbank.
Jiu’er let out a breath and fell into step behind him.
“I don’t know why either, but seeing you always makes me feel… never mind. Ninth Master, I really don’t have any designs on you, so please don’t be angry.”
She’d heard plenty from Qin Fei about women throwing themselves at Ninth Master.
Qin Fei had specifically warned her never to fake a stumble or a fainting spell — none of that “oh no, I’m falling” business — just to deliberately throw herself into Ninth Master’s arms.
Ninth Master would never give anyone the chance to get that close; he’d more likely send her flying with a slap… hm, hadn’t she actually thrown herself onto him before, though?
But Ninth Master hadn’t seemed to… send her flying.
Well. Lucky her.
The very first time they’d met, she’d landed right on his lap, and fortunately he hadn’t reacted in time to toss her aside.
“Ninth Master, where are you headed? If there’s nothing urgent, you should probably go back and rest soon.”
Looking at his cold, aloof demeanor, he probably wasn’t fond of things like walkie-talkies.
If he wandered too far, Qin Fei and Ji Mingyu would have to mobilize everyone to go searching for him — that would be exhausting for them.
Lu Beicheng said nothing, and kept walking.
Zhen Jiu’er kept following behind him.
She had a walkie-talkie on her now, so no matter how far they went, as long as it was within ten kilometers, reaching Qin Fei and the others would still be easy.
“Ninth Master…”
Lu Beicheng suddenly stopped, still without turning around, his voice even lower than before: “Do you believe in reincarnation?”