Human blood…
Leng Yue’s words gave Feng Jiu’er such a start that her fingertips jolted — the spoon nearly slipped from her hand.
Zhan Qingcheng’s gaze grew subtly shadowed. He lowered his eyes to look at her. “What medicine is this?”
“What is it, Ninth Imperial Uncle?” Feng Jiu’er blinked, adopting a look of injured innocence. “Is it because of what Leng Yue said that you are now suspicious I would feed you something harmful?”
Zhan Qingcheng said nothing. Such an absurd question was not worth answering — did she genuinely think that possibility existed?
Feng Jiu’er herself knew her question had been rather foolish, but she could not help it — she felt a little guilty.
Leng Yue, seizing on this, seemed disinclined to let it go.
“You see, this congee is pitch black. Who knows what was put into it, or whether it is even clean. Feng Jiu’er, at the very least tell us what medicinal ingredients were used.”
“Why should I tell you?” Jiu’er shot her a look. She was not usually one to snap — but right now, for some reason, she had no patience whatsoever for Leng Yue.
“Teaching the apprentice is how the master starves — do you think I don’t know? You just want to pry out my secret recipe.”
“What nonsense are you talking? I have absolutely no interest in any secret recipe of yours!” The way she said it made it sound as if she were trying to steal her medical knowledge — did she have so little dignity?
Not a single thing of Feng Jiu’er’s did she want to learn or know about. The very thought was repugnant.
Jiu’er gave a shrug, her expression sardonic. “No interest at all, yet still asking. Clearly wanting to know, yet putting on such an air of superiority — there is a saying for that: acting the part of a certain kind of person, yet still trying to put up a saintly plaque.”
This expression, of course, meant nothing to Leng Yue — but she could tell it was nothing flattering.
She was about to say something further when Emperor Ji spoke. “Jiu’er’s medical skills are this good — just look at A’Jiu’s complexion now. It is far better than it was before Jiu’er arrived.”
So there was no need to concern themselves with what Feng Jiu’er had given Wu Ya to drink. All that mattered was that Wu Ya recovered.
Even so, Leng Yue’s words had put a thought in Emperor Ji’s mind. This congee… could it perhaps be the blood she was said to feed Wu Ya every night?
On the very first day Feng Jiu’er had arrived, Yu Jingfeng had explained this to them. But afterward, they had never personally witnessed Jiu’er drawing blood, nor heard any further mention of Jiu’er feeding blood to anyone. As time passed, they had somehow forgotten all about it.
Yet this was something Wu Ya absolutely must never be told — Yu Jingfeng had made that clear. If the Prince ever found out, he would certainly refuse to drink Feng Jiu’er’s blood.
Emperor Ji had once suspected Feng Jiu’er might be with child, but later on he had seen nothing unusual about her, so that particular day’s discomfort had likely just been a passing stomach ailment.
Moreover, he had since pressed Yu Jingfeng for information, and Yu Jingfeng had, somewhat haltingly, shared a good deal about the Ninth Prince and Feng Jiu’er.
His Wu Ya was pure and untainted — he had not even understood the matters between men and women. It was only later, when Yu Jingfeng found him certain books, that he had come to any understanding at all. Emperor Ji blamed himself — all these years, and he had never taught him about such things.
But going by the timeline, Feng Jiu’er should not have conceived Wu Ya’s child. After all, Wu Ya had only come to understand such things relatively recently.
In any case, the present situation was this: Feng Jiu’er was not carrying Wu Ya’s child, yet his Wu Ya still had to rely on Feng Jiu’er’s blood to endure. Cruel as it was, the blood could truly not be stopped.
He glanced sideways at Leng Yue, a warning displeasure concealed in his eyes. “A renowned physician’s prescription — who are you to pry into it? Finish eating and push me back. Stop disturbing A’Jiu’s rest.”
Leng Yue bit her lip. She finally recalled what Yu Jingfeng had told them earlier.
She quieted down at last, lowered her head, and ate in silence, saying nothing more.
“Still — what about the Longqi Army brothers? Wolf packs plus a very likely ambush… does she not fear for the brothers’ safety?”
The “she” in question was, of course, Feng Jiu’er.
Feng Jiu’er had made such a commotion — was it not precisely to drive those originally lying in ambush at Black Tiger Mountain over to Sharp Wolf Mountain to attack the Empress’s contingent and the Longqi Army?
Now, while they sat here eating their late-night meal in peace, the brothers were still fighting in blood.
From outside the door came the sudden sound of Yu Jingfeng’s voice: “Your Highness, Miss Jiu’er — this subordinate has a report.”
“Come in.” Having delivered the last spoonful of congee to the Ninth Imperial Uncle, Feng Jiu’er set down the bowl and turned toward the doorway.
Yu Jingfeng pushed the door open, exchanged greetings with the Prince and Emperor Ji, then looked at Feng Jiu’er. “Miss Jiu’er, His Highness the Crown Prince’s convoy has indeed entered Sharp Wolf Mountain. By now, they should have joined up with the Empress’s contingent.”
“Excellent!” It was exactly as she had expected. Zhan Yuheng’s convoy had reached them that very night.
The delight that lit Feng Jiu’er’s eyes was quickly tempered. She steadied herself and said, “Send word to the Longqi Army brothers — wait in Desert City and join up with the new Longqi Army recruits. Then all together, make for Phoenix City and help its city lord hold the walls.”
“Yes!”
Yu Jingfeng gave a nod and immediately withdrew, going to arrange for the order to be passed on.
Emperor Ji looked at Feng Jiu’er, a flicker of astonishment crossing his eyes. “You knew all along that the Crown Prince’s convoy would arrive tonight?”
When the Crown Prince had set out in disguise, he had also received word of it — but after the Crown Prince’s convoy passed beyond Ning City, Emperor Ji’s people had lost track of them. He had not expected that Feng Jiu’er would know the Crown Prince’s every movement.
“I only guessed that they might arrive tonight. As for the specifics of the Crown Prince’s movements — I truly do not know.”
Tonight’s entire plan had been a gamble. But for the Ninth Imperial Uncle’s sake, she believed the brothers had always been willing.
As fortune would have it, the circumstances had aligned — and with Zhan Yuheng’s convoy added to the mix, those who had been lying in ambush would likely return with nothing to show for it.
There might be injuries, but at least the Ninth Imperial Uncle had been kept safe, and the brothers could rest easy.
For now, they had arrived at Desert City. The most pressing matter was how to slip past all prying eyes and enter the Southern Wilds.
“Lord Ji, I will come by a little later to speak with you and Yu Jingfeng about a few things.”
Feng Jiu’er set down her chopsticks and looked at Emperor Ji.
Emperor Ji nodded. He knew well enough what she wanted to discuss — it would be the affairs of the Southern Wilds. This girl’s attention to everything concerning Wu Ya was truly exhaustive and unwavering.
Feng Jiu’er turned to Zhan Qingcheng. “Ninth Imperial Uncle, let me help you to bed.”
Zhan Qingcheng said nothing. His expression, however, had taken on a look that was not particularly agreeable.
The two returned to their room. Jiu’er called for someone to bring the bathwater, then stood beside the bed and said softly, “Ninth Imperial Uncle, let me help you undress.”
She had barely touched his outer robe — moving to remove it just as she had done on previous occasions — when Zhan Qingcheng’s large hand suddenly closed around her wrist.
His brow and eyes settled into a cold, heavy expression. He looked at her directly, his face without expression. “Tonight, this Prince wishes to reverse the arrangement — and attend to your bath and change of clothes.”
Before Jiu’er could react, he had already reached out and taken hold of her collar with a sharp tug. “Take off your clothes.”