So then, in that real timeline, after she fell from the cliff and the Ninth Imperial Uncle had leapt down holding her — what exactly had happened?

Jiu’er racked her brain, but couldn’t recall a thing.

Part of her memory had been sealed away too!

Unless this seal could be broken.

Outside, several footsteps suddenly sounded.

The first to enter was He Muling.

Her arm was injured.

The moment she came in, she pulled out a knife and rushed straight to Feng Jiu’er, pressing the blade against her neck.

Lu Beicheng and Lu Feifan burst in a step behind.

The instant they saw the blade pressed to Jiu’er’s neck, both of their faces changed at once.

“Dad, why would you—” Lu Feifan stepped forward, finally managing to tear his gaze away from the knife at Jiu’er’s throat.

“Dad, let her go first. Whatever grudge you and Uncle have has nothing to do with her — she’s innocent.”

“She’s the woman Lu Beicheng cares about. She can’t possibly be innocent.”

Feng Qiongcang sat off to the side, at ease, watching Lu Beicheng slowly walk in.

“A’Jiu, you seem… rather unconcerned?”

He snapped his fingers, and He Muling, understanding at once, pressed the blade down harder.

A thin line of blood immediately welled up on Jiu’er’s neck, beads of blood seeping from the cut.

Her neck was so pale and delicate that it looked as though one hard slash could sever the great artery right through.

The sight was harrowing to behold.

“Dad! Make her stop!” Lu Feifan cried out urgently.

Lu Beicheng’s composure, too, finally broke at the sight of the blood trickling down Jiu’er’s neck.

“Lu Qihong, what exactly are you trying to do?” he said hoarsely.

“He’s not your Third Brother, not Lu Qihong. He’s… someone else.” Feng Jiu’er winced in pain, her brow furrowing tightly.

But she still spoke loudly. “He wants your life. He has no real family feeling for you at all. Ninth Imperial Uncle, don’t fall for it.”

She’d called him Ninth Imperial Uncle again.

In his heart, Lu Beicheng had actually already come to accept that he truly was her Ninth Imperial Uncle.

But it seemed he’d lost a great many memories — he couldn’t recall a single one of those events.

When exactly had he become her Ninth Imperial Uncle?

Feng Jiu’er had no way to explain it to him now.

Feng Qiongcang, meanwhile, was already looking at Lu Feifan. “You like this girl too, don’t you? Since you like her — kill Lu Beicheng.”

“Kill him, and this girl is yours.”

“Dad!” Lu Feifan’s face darkened. How could he possibly do such a thing?

Even if… even if he himself didn’t understand why he felt as though he’d been devoted to Jiu’er across several lifetimes already.

But he couldn’t kill someone just to have her — and the one he’d have to kill was the uncle he respected.

“Third Young Master, don’t listen to him. I told you, he’s not your father at all — he’s someone else in disguise.”

But Lu Feifan wasn’t swayed by her words in the least.

Because he knew that the man before him truly was his father.

His father had hated his uncle bitterly for a very long time now, and had constantly pushed him to find a chance to kill him.

Though he didn’t understand why his father was so cruel, forcing his own son to commit murder.

But his father had said it had to be done by his own hand.

It had to be his own hand — no other way!

He truly didn’t understand!

“Dad, you know full well I won’t lay a hand on Uncle — why must it be by my own hand that I kill him?”

By his own hand, kill him?

Feng Jiu’er suddenly widened her eyes.

She seemed to understand — she seemed to have figured it out!