That night, Feng Jiu’er stayed by Zhan Qingcheng’s side the entire time; he didn’t wake even once through the whole night.

It seemed that as long as Feng Jiu’er was near him, he could sleep with unusual ease, unusually soundly.

Emperor Ji arrived not long after sunrise that morning, originally meaning only to check on Zhan Qingcheng’s condition.

He hadn’t expected that the people arriving so early would include not just himself and Leng Yue, but, unexpectedly, another woman as well — Nanmeng Rong.

She had known before coming that A’Jiu’s master was also here. When Nanmeng Rong saw Emperor Ji keeping watch outside the tent, she immediately threw herself into the role.

“Could you be A’Jiu’s master?” Emperor Ji’s public identity was, in fact, that of the Ninth Prince’s master.

Only a handful of people knew he was actually the prince’s adoptive father.

When Emperor Ji first saw Nanmeng Rong approaching, he had felt a flicker of tension, his eyes even carrying a trace of wariness.

Nanmeng Rong paid no mind to his guardedness. Though he didn’t look much older than she was, since he was A’Jiu’s master, that made him an elder.

Nanmeng Rong could ignore other people’s elders, but A’Jiu’s elder — at the very least, she didn’t dislike him.

“Master, you’ve been waiting here so early — have you eaten breakfast yet? Let me have someone prepare a meal for you, shall I?”

Master! This old woman actually called her adoptive father “Master”!

A chill of disgust ran through Leng Yue’s heart, but she had only promised her adoptive father the night before that she would never act recklessly again.

So today Leng Yue stayed perfectly calm; whatever she wanted to say, she swallowed it down.

“Father has already had breakfast. Thank you for your concern,” Leng Yue said flatly — how could she not see through this old woman’s attempt to curry favor with her father?

Still, the moment she’d seen Nanmeng Rong approaching, her own feelings had grown complicated.

She worried that Nanmeng Rong might see through her father’s true appearance, yet she also didn’t want to admit how effective Feng Jiu’er’s medicine had been, letting that woman steal all the credit.

But now it seemed that Feng Jiu’er’s medicine truly was effective.

Emperor Ji composed himself as well, meeting Nanmeng Rong’s gaze, and said coolly, “There’s no need to trouble yourself.”

Nanmeng Rong still held a measure of tolerance for A’Jiu’s people — though, of course, that vile woman Feng Jiu’er was the exception.

At that moment, her gaze fell on Leng Yue. “And this one… is Master’s adopted daughter? What’s her relationship to A’Jiu?”

“He’s my senior martial brother.” Leng Yue spread a sweetly innocent smile, showing off to her how close her bond with Zhan Qingcheng was.

Nanmeng Rong’s expression soured slightly, but seeing how Leng Yue had grown up — not even half as lovely as Feng Jiu’er — she dismissed her from her thoughts entirely.

Nanmeng Rong believed herself far more charming than Feng Jiu’er, so a girl who couldn’t even compare to Feng Jiu’er certainly wasn’t worth her attention.

Better to set her mind on A’Jiu’s master instead.

She said, “I’m sorry to have kept Master waiting so long. Let me go wake A’Jiu now.”

She turned and walked toward the tent’s curtained entrance, as if she were truly the mistress of this place.

Leng Yue shot her a cold glance — the contemptuous look Nanmeng Rong had just given her was genuinely infuriating.

How dare she look down on her!

Nanmeng Rong truly did look down on Leng Yue, and so she didn’t even bother sparing her another glance.

Reaching the tent’s entrance, she swept a cold look at Long Yi and Long Shiyi standing guard on either side of the curtain, ignoring them both, and called through the fabric to whoever was inside.

“A’Jiu, I’ve had a fine breakfast prepared for you — shall I bring it in now?”

Naturally, no one inside answered, though there was a faint stir.

The Ninth Prince had gotten up, and Feng Jiu’er was helping him dress.

Knowing Feng Jiu’er was inside, Nanmeng Rong wished she could kick the curtain open.

Still, she had already steadied herself for this before coming, knowing full well it would be exactly like this.

Nanmeng Rong drew a deep breath, closed her eyes, and forced herself to stay calm.

A’Jiu was badly injured now; everything else could wait until he had recovered.

“A’Jiu, I’m only bringing you breakfast — nothing more.”

Still, no response from within.

After Feng Jiu’er dressed Zhan Qingcheng in his robe, she picked up a wooden comb and gathered his long hair up.

A man of peerless beauty, and yet even a head of black hair could be this smooth and silken — it was enough to make anyone green with envy.

The Ninth Imperial Uncle truly was a marvel — he never cared about such things, never bothered with any kind of pampering, and was, in fact, often out on battlefields cutting men down. And yet everything about him was simply flawless: flawless skin, fair and luminous; flawless hair, smooth as silk; a flawless build, with abs like carved stone and the sharp lines of a swimmer’s waist, long golden-ratio legs, slender perfect fingers, lashes thick and long and curling upward, and eyes deep and starlit and devastatingly handsome.

And then there were those two soft, rose-petal lips, tempting as jelly.

If one were to call him simply beautiful, that would be putting it mildly — but he was a grown man standing at least one meter ninety, so how could he possibly be this gorgeous?

Every time Jiu’er drew close to him, she couldn’t help feeling thoroughly inadequate by comparison.

If even a man could be this good-looking, then what did that make her, a woman? Sure, she herself was a beauty too, but how could she possibly compare to the Ninth Imperial Uncle?

Ah, the heavens were truly unfair — what cruel envy the gods must harbor!

“Ninth Imperial Uncle, would you like breakfast outside, or here?” Having just finished tying up the Ninth Imperial Uncle’s long hair with her own hands, didn’t that feel rather accomplished?

“Here.” Zhan Qingcheng sat on the soft couch, his long legs spread casually, and even sitting carelessly, he carried an air of unrivaled majesty.

Even with the pallor of illness across his brow, the sense of a sovereign surveying all beneath heaven was overwhelming!

A sovereign surveying all beneath heaven… if the Ninth Imperial Uncle were ever to become emperor, what glory and reverence would the realm shower upon him?

Feng Jiu’er reined in her wandering thoughts. Just then, from outside came Yu Jingfeng’s request to deliver the meal. She called out toward the entrance, “Bring it in, then.”

Yu Jingfeng moved to enter at once, but Nanmeng Rong blocked his way, taking the tray from his attendant’s hands and carrying it in herself.

Long Yi and Long Shiyi moved to stop her, but seeing Yu Jingfeng make no objection, they let it go.

There had already been one disturbance in the night, and now another at dawn — surely it would put the prince in a foul mood.

If it could be avoided, no one wanted to provoke a confrontation.

The Empress… however repugnant her actions truly were, everything she did now was tarnishing the prince’s reputation!

But out here on the march, for the time being, it was best to overlook it — after all, she only meant to deliver his meal.

Of course, if the prince ever gave a direct order to stop her, she would obey without question.

Nanmeng Rong carried the breakfast in through the entrance, and Yu Jingfeng followed with the pastries the chef had carefully prepared.

Emperor Ji hesitated a moment before having Leng Yue wheel him inside as well.

Had the Ninth Imperial Uncle’s tent not been spacious enough, it truly would have been a question whether it could hold so many people. Seeing Zhan Qingcheng’s face still pale, a pang struck Nanmeng Rong’s heart. She shot Feng Jiu’er a glance and said, displeased, “Just how have you been taking care of A’Jiu? If you don’t know how to look after him properly, then tonight, I’ll just keep him company instead!”