When Yu Jingfeng carried the porridge soup inside, Zhan Qingcheng’s color had improved somewhat compared to earlier.

Even Emperor Ji, upon seeing Yu Jingfeng at that moment, couldn’t help but soften his expression toward him, the tension between his brows easing considerably.

“Yu Jingfeng, this old acquaintance of yours is truly a remarkable physician. If she wouldn’t mind, I would like to meet her in person and express my gratitude.”

“No — ah, that is to say, my lord, her nature is rather aloof. She genuinely dislikes meeting strangers.”

Yu Jingfeng thought for a moment, then added, “Her temperament is also peculiar. This time, your subordinate went to great lengths to invite her here. I am afraid that if she were displeased —”

“All right, all right. I won’t seek her out then.” What mattered most was that Wu Ya’s condition had truly improved considerably.

Emperor Ji had no wish to put that physician in a difficult position and risk her leaving in a huff — for where else would they find such a skilled doctor, such effective medicine?

Yu Jingfeng exhaled a quiet breath of relief, then immediately walked to the bedside and, feeling slightly guilty, presented the porridge soup to the Prince.

Emperor Ji had still been smiling just moments ago, but the instant he laid eyes on that bowl of soup, his expression darkened noticeably.

What on earth was this thing? Could he really let his precious adopted son eat this? The porridge looked absolutely dreadful.

Sure enough, the moment the Prince looked at it, his eyes grew cold, and he was already about to push it away.

Yu Jingfeng hastily said, “It is a medicinal dish prepared by the physician. Your Highness, please treat it as medicine and take it.”

Upon hearing it was the physician’s medicinal dish, Emperor Ji’s expression finally softened. He looked at Zhan Qingcheng — though it pained him to see his precious adopted son eat something so ghastly, what mattered most was that it could treat the illness.

“Wu Ya, why not just —”

Zhan Qingcheng’s gaze remained composed and cool. “Take it away.”

Yu Jingfeng knew that the Prince was, in fact, someone who placed great value on appearance — anything or anyone unattractive, he had no desire to be close to.

What was strange was that this Prince, who prized beauty so highly, had actually chosen to keep the formerly unsightly Young Miss Feng Jiu’er by his side. It was truly extraordinary.

“Your Highness, this medicinal dish —” He gave a light cough. With the former lord present, certain things were rather awkward to bring up.

However, if the Prince refused to drink the porridge soup, he couldn’t simply stay silent about it — what a waste that would be.

“This porridge soup — back when we were at the Prince’s residence, Young Miss Feng Jiu’er —”

“That girl?” Zhan Qingcheng’s gaze finally shifted back to the porridge soup. For someone who prized beauty as he did, even glancing at this soup more than once was an ordeal.

“Ahem,” Yu Jingfeng cleared his throat again before continuing, “Young Miss Feng Jiu’er taught your subordinate how to make it back then. Your subordinate merely followed the recipe as best he could. The physician helped incorporate the medicinal elements into it, and then — well — it turned out like this.”

It truly was an eyesore. Even he didn’t want to eat it himself, let alone the impossibly fastidious Prince.

Yet, having heard it was made from Young Miss Feng Jiu’er’s teaching — was it his imagination, or did the Prince’s expression actually shed a few degrees of contempt? He hadn’t misjudged that, had he?

Striking while the iron was hot, Yu Jingfeng immediately added, “Young Miss Feng Jiu’er said that soup is much like people — some may appear unattractive, but looking plain doesn’t make someone a bad person.”

“Just like this soup: though it may be unsightly, it isn’t necessarily unpleasant to drink. And Young Miss Feng Jiu’er said — she said —”

“What exactly did she say?” Zhan Qingcheng was in no hurry, but the one growing anxious was Emperor Ji, seated to the side.

Why was Feng Jiu’er being brought up out of nowhere? And yet, helplessly, it seemed that ever since his precious adopted son heard Feng Jiu’er’s name, the cold air around him had noticeably thinned.

Yu Jingfeng stole a glance at Zhan Qingcheng before saying softly, “Young Miss Feng Jiu’er said that if someday someone were to make this soup for the Prince, and he refused to drink it, then it must mean he also finds — finds that Young Miss Feng Jiu’er is ugly.”

“Who said my Feng Jiu’er is ugly?” Zhan Qingcheng’s dark eyes lifted.

Yu Jingfeng nearly buckled under the weight of that cold air, his hand trembling so violently he almost dropped the porridge bowl.

He hurriedly pressed on, “So — so Your Highness, please drink this soup. Young Miss Feng Jiu’er said this soup — is just like her —”

Zhan Qingcheng took it, tried a sip, and found it not nearly as unpleasant as he had imagined.

He tried another. This time he picked up the spoon, and drank the whole thing in one go.

“Have her come see me.” He tossed the bowl back to Yu Jingfeng and said evenly.

“Ah?” Yu Jingfeng was nearly frightened out of his wits. “Your Highness — Your Highness wishes to see — see whom?”

“The one who made this soup.” Zhan Qingcheng paid him no further attention, turning to look at Emperor Ji instead. “Adoptive Father, I am well now. I only wish to rest for a while. Please retire first.”

Emperor Ji hesitated. Tonight he truly did seem to have improved considerably — yet the image of him coughing up blood the night before and the night before that continued to replay in his mind, scene after scene.

To not keep watch over him through the night — his heart could find no peace…

“My lord, I will invite Physician Feng to come and attend to the Prince, so she can watch over him. Please go and rest.”

Though Yu Jingfeng spoke with considerable trepidation, he had at least understood the Prince’s meaning — only he hadn’t expected the Prince to be so perceptive, seeing through everything at once.

Emperor Ji hesitated briefly, then finally nodded. “Yue’er, wheel me back.”

“Adoptive Father, I — I would like to stay and attend to the young lord. Why not let Yu Jingfeng —”

“The Prince does not like to be attended by women. Leng Yue, take the lord back.” Yu Jingfeng immediately said in a firm tone.

Leng Yue shot him a glare. This wretch — the lord hadn’t even said a word, yet he had to cut in.

Still, it was no secret that Wu Ya disliked women near him, and Emperor Ji was well aware of this. So regardless of how unwilling Leng Yue was, she still wheeled him out.

Yu Jingfeng stood holding the empty bowl, gazing at Zhan Qingcheng, his expression uncertain.

“Where is she?” Zhan Qingcheng’s face was truly grim, his very voice carrying a chill.

“She is — she is in the kitchen — oh no, she should be — she should be resting in the guest room by now.”

Zhan Qingcheng’s expression was its usual cool composure, yet deep within his eyes, a faint flame had ignited — something that resembled displeasure, but also, perhaps… a trace of agitation.

“Have her come here. Immediately.”

“She —” Yu Jingfeng felt helpless. When the Prince had made up his mind, no one could stop him.

He could only nod, saying softly, “Yes. Your subordinate will go at once.”

In a guest room tucked away in the corner of the courtyard, Feng Jiu’er had just finished bathing and changed into a clean set of clothes.

Outside, there came a knock at her door. “Feng — Physician Feng, it is me.”

In an instant, the person inside opened the door, her fair little face written with worry. “Has something happened to Ninth Imperial Uncle —”

“No, the Prince is fine. He only — only —”

Yu Jingfeng’s gaze dropped, and in that split second, he immediately turned his back to her. “Feng Jiu — Physician Feng, your — your robe —”

Feng Jiu’er looked down. It was just her outer robe that hadn’t been properly fastened — it wasn’t as though she were undressed. What was he panicking about?

She muttered to herself and straightened her clothes before looking back at him. “What exactly is the matter with Ninth Imperial Uncle? Is he feeling unwell somewhere? Has he coughed up blood again?”

She had gathered from a guard earlier that Ninth Imperial Uncle had been coughing up blood every night for three consecutive days, and had done so again earlier that very evening — Feng Jiu’er was of course anxious.

Yu Jingfeng shook his head and said quietly, “The Prince — the Prince wants to see you.”