Jiu’er drifted off again soon after.

Mu Mu felt not the faintest trace of drowsiness. He simply sat on the long bench, his gaze fixed on the slender figure lying in the bed.

She was, in truth, someone who paid close attention to such things — she was not so careless as to be entirely indifferent to her reputation.

Why, then, had she been willing to sleep in his room tonight? Because this girl wanted to convey something to him: for now, he was the only one she could trust — the only one she would trust one hundred percent.

Mu Mu had no idea at what point he had come to be standing at the edge of the bed. By the time he noticed, the girl sleeping there was well within his reach.

At last he could not restrain himself — his large hand reached out toward her face.

Yet his fingertips drew back at the last moment, just barely short of grazing her cheek.

He stood at the bedside, gaze lowered, watching her — for how long, he could not say — until Jiu’er seemed to sense something, and the faintest furrow appeared between her brows.

Mu Mu stepped back quickly, and the girl gradually settled back into peaceful sleep.

To have worn herself down to this state, with not a drop of color left in her face — and yet her guard was still this formidable.

Just who was it that could truly put her at ease? Was it her Ninth Imperial Uncle?

When Feng Jiu’er had said tonight that she had no feelings for the Ninth Imperial Uncle, her words had been sincere — but what Mu Mu could not determine was whether she truly felt nothing, or whether she only believed, at some subconscious level, that she felt nothing.

When the Ninth Prince had been gravely wounded and fallen unconscious in order to protect her, it had been her Ninth Imperial Uncle who occupied her thoughts through her own delirium.

Between feeling something and feeling nothing — what difference was there, truly?

If one held someone in one’s heart, perhaps there was no difference at all.

Yet — did she also know that Zhan Qingcheng would never be a good match for her?

To stand at the Ninth Prince’s side forever would mean facing everything that entailed. Had she ever truly thought it through?

This girl almost certainly had not — because she had certainly never considered the possibility of being with her Ninth Imperial Uncle forever.

Outside the window, a thread of cool breeze slipped through, stirring a strand of hair near Mu Mu’s ear.

The cold crept in all at once.

A thunderous boom — from the trees in the rear courtyard, three dark silhouettes stood perfectly upright.

Huo Yan, with several brothers from the Longqi Army’s new recruits, had taken position on the roof of the second floor.

That thunderous sound just moments ago had been Huo Yan exchanging a single palm strike with one of the intruders.

Feng Jiu’er’s eyes fluttered open. Mu Mu said, “Huo Yan can handle it. Go back to sleep.”

“Alright.” She was also content to see for herself just what level of martial skill the Longqi Army’s new recruits had reached.

Even so, truly falling back to sleep with peace of mind was out of the question. She remained lying in bed, her attention fixed on the movement outside.

“Those petty troublemakers have disturbed your rest. I will remove them on your behalf.” Seeing that she still refused to sleep, Mu Mu’s expression darkened. With a sudden sweep of his long sleeve, in the blink of an eye — he was no longer in the room.

The window was pushed open by the force of his palm strike and then fell shut again. In an instant, the room returned to silence.

That man had actually gone out himself — just to let someone sleep in peace?

Feng Jiu’er shot upright from the bed and went to the window, yet did not step outside.

There on the roof of the second floor, a figure in white, bathed in moonlight, was pristine and untainted as snow.

Huo Yan was startled by Mu Mu’s sudden appearance. He was currently assuming the identity of the Ninth Prince — how could he afford to appear so carelessly in anyone’s line of sight?

And yet — in the night that flowed like water, beneath the pure white light of the moon, when Huo Yan looked at Mu Mu again, he truly appeared no different from the Ninth Prince in the slightest.

The resemblance. It was so far beyond what he had imagined — countless times more alike. Truly, they were too similar.

Whether at close range or at this slight distance between them now, anyone who was not especially well acquainted with the Ninth Prince would find it utterly impossible to tell them apart.

But why — why were they so alike?