In a room on one of the upper floors of the Martial Training Hall, Mu Mu watched the young woman who pushed open the door and entered, his feelings complex.

“I don’t have time to explain everything to you right now.” Feng Jiu’er held a small wooden box in her hands, with a set of plain white robes draped over her arm.

“There is no need to explain. Before you have the ability to protect yourself, such unparalleled beauty will only bring you endless calamity.”

Mu Mu sat in his chair, having already understood, more or less, what she intended to do.

Earlier she had said she needed a supremely skilled martial artist, and now she had come through the door carrying the white robes that the Ninth Prince habitually wore. What else could this be about?

Jiu’er had not expected that Mu Mu would understand her intentions so completely without needing any explanation at all.

She had not even needed to say a word, and he already saw through her purpose in concealing her true appearance.

She let out a soft sigh: “Though, in truth, hiding myself like this was not my idea to begin with… Never mind. All the same, it is what I myself intend as well.”

“Then why now, suddenly, reveal your true face to the world?”

Though he also quite liked the face she wore now, having her transform into someone of such extraordinary beauty all at once was genuinely a little difficult to adjust to.

“This is an era that judges by appearances — especially for women.” Jiu’er said helplessly.

So when an ugly woman stood before the troops holding the Ninth Prince’s token, everyone would surely suspect the token was a fake.

But what if it were a woman of incomparable beauty? Even more so, a woman who had transformed from a plain creature into a great beauty!

In times like these, when it came to men, perhaps a young woman’s martial prowess truly did not matter so much. What mattered was her face.

It was the sorrow of an era — and yet what could she do about it?

Mu Mu said no more, allowing her to pick up the scissors and work freely with his hair.

In truth, the hairstyle did not change much. She simply let his long hair down and then put it back up again.

But his face was something that needed to be dealt with properly.

“Forgive me — I’m going to have to peel off this skin of yours.” She dipped a cloth in some medicinal solution, then looked at him and asked quietly.

The Ninth Imperial Uncle’s complexion was strikingly fine — fair and delicate. Mu Mu’s true appearance was equally handsome, but the skin he wore was too rough and dull.

Mu Mu said nothing. If he were going to resist, it was probably too late for that now anyway.

She held the token that commanded the entire army, and here, in this place, he was simply one of her soldiers.

And so that false layer of skin was finally peeled away by her hands.

After washing his face clean, Jiu’er had him stand: “Try it on.”

Mu Mu, ever compliant, removed his grey robes and put on the Ninth Prince’s plain white changpao.

The two men’s builds were uncannily identical — the changpao fit him as though it had been made to his exact measurements, perfectly suited in every way.

Jiu’er adjusted his hairstyle, then stepped back several paces and looked up.

In that one look, the smile at the corner of her lips froze.

“Ninth Imperial Uncle…” The bewilderment lasted only an instant. The next moment, she raised her hand and slapped herself across the face.

What a shock! She had been the one to create this imitation “Ninth Prince” with her own hands, and yet she had nearly been fooled, nearly mistaken him for the real Ninth Imperial Uncle.

Why, with just this change of clothing, did the two of them look so remarkably alike?

These features — they truly bore at least a sixty or seventy percent resemblance. If one were to stand a little further away and look back, one would certainly be deceived!

Jiu’er was thoroughly stunned. It took her quite a long while to collect herself.

Looking again, there were still differences, when one looked closely. Mu Mu’s bearing carried a coldness tinged with a thread of rugged firmness, while the Ninth Imperial Uncle’s coldness was a kind that held the world at a thousand miles’ distance. She let out a breath of relief. Good. They were not the same.