What Butterfly Lady’s feelings toward Ninth Imperial Uncle were, Feng Jiu’er did not know, and she had never had occasion to understand this woman before her who appeared remarkably young.

But Mo Bai was Ninth Imperial Uncle’s man. Letting him go in to take a look — that was the only thing that would set Feng Jiu’er’s mind at ease.

Mo Bai looked at Butterfly Lady with a slightly peculiar expression. Butterfly Lady, however, said calmly: “Please sit.”

That was the second time she had told them to sit — which was to say, whether man or woman, Butterfly Lady was permitting no one inside.

Mo Bai and Feng Jiu’er exchanged a glance once more, then finally settled into the chairs.

Hu Shuang personally poured each of them a cup of fragrant tea. Butterfly Lady’s gaze drifted lightly to the three jars that Mo Bai held in his hand, a slight frown touching her brow.

“You intend to use Ah Jiu to test these three Gu insects?”

The way she said it did not sound particularly pleased — likely she had reservations about this approach.

Mo Bai inclined his head: “Yes.”

Relying solely on his own observation, there was genuinely no way to determine which of them belonged to the same type as the Gu in His Highness’s body.

Since Feng Jiu’er had arrived at the same conclusion as he had, perhaps this approach was truly viable.

“Unless, my Lady, you have another method? Please do not hesitate to enlighten us.”

Seeing Butterfly Lady’s expression, she seemed to have some knowledge of Gu herself — so Feng Jiu’er asked softly.

This place was already very close to the Southern Wilds. Cross the mountain ranges ahead and one entered Southern Wilds territory.

Butterfly Lady had lived here for years and could practically be considered half a person of the Southern Wilds. The Southern Wilds people were skilled in the craft of Gu refinement — perhaps she truly was an expert in it.

“Simply dwelling near the Southern Wilds does not mean one knows the art of Gu refinement.” Butterfly Lady saw through Feng Jiu’er’s thoughts with ease.

She raised her hand — slender fingers closed around a white jade cup, the tone of her skin rivaling even the jade’s whiteness without any loss, a beauty that was remarkable in every respect.

She said: “Refining Gu requires natural aptitude. Not everyone can learn it. If learned poorly, the Gu insects will easily turn against the practitioner — in mild cases, the person falls victim to the Gu; in severe cases, they die on the spot.”

A slight tremor passed through Feng Jiu’er’s heart. She had not expected that mastering the art of Gu refinement could be so dangerous.

“So although the Southern Wilds is famous for harboring many Gu refinement masters, those who can truly refine Gu make up less than one percent of the Southern Wilds’ total population. Do you understand?”

“Thank you for the guidance, my Lady. Jiu’er feels she has broadened her horizons once again.”

There was not a great deal more to say to Butterfly Lady — she seemed not to be especially fond of conversation.

In the end, it was Feng Jiu’er and Mo Bai who fell into their own discussion, working out how the testing should be conducted.

What came as a surprise was that after only two incense-sticks’ time, Zhan Qingcheng emerged.

He wore a flowing white robe, his long hair still damp and dripping with water.

The moment Jiu’er saw this, she was immediately anxious. She grabbed a towel from the tray held by a nearby attendant and walked over: “Ninth Imperial Uncle, sit down and let me dry your hair.”

Mo Bai and Butterfly Lady’s brows both furrowed faintly. This Feng Jiu’er was surely about to be rebuffed. His Highness would rather let his long hair drip than tolerate a woman touching him. Let alone the commanding tone in which Feng Jiu’er had told him to sit — His Highness would never comply.

Yet to everyone’s disbelief, Zhan Qingcheng actually walked over and sat in the very chair Feng Jiu’er had been occupying moments before, allowing Jiu’er to lift his long hair and blot the droplets away with the towel, strand by strand.

His whole body carried a lingering warmth — clearly the essence of Butterfly Pond still clung to him. He appeared in reasonable spirits now, his color rosy and bright from the hot spring’s restorative effects.

Butterfly Lady’s gaze moved from Feng Jiu’er — who stood behind Zhan Qingcheng, still toweling his hair — and settled on Zhan Qingcheng himself.

“Ah Jiu, how do you feel now.”

Zhan Qingcheng gave a small nod and said nothing.

Hu Shuang promptly brought him a cup of fragrant tea, then stepped back to one side, her gaze falling on the strand of hair in Feng Jiu’er’s hands.

Last night, she had seen with her own eyes this woman following behind the Ninth Prince, stepping out of a room together in the middle of the night.

That had been the third watch of the night — the two of them had been alone together. This matter, it seemed, she had not yet had a chance to report to the Lady.

As for the news that His Highness had once suffered a grave injury on account of a woman — the Lady had dismissed it, finding it impossible to believe.

But now, looking at this, why did it suddenly no longer seem impossible?

That woman — could she possibly be this Feng Jiu’er before her eyes?

She had never once seen the Ninth Prince allow any young woman this close to him. Feng Jiu’er was, without question, the first.

Mo Bai, though faintly surprised within, seemed to not trouble himself much with such things. He glanced at Feng Jiu’er twice more, then let it go.

Once Jiu’er had finished drying Zhan Qingcheng’s hair, Hu Shuang brought another chair over and had her take a seat as well. Only then did Mo Bai speak: “Your Highness, Jiu’er and I have reached the same conclusion — we would like to use your blood to conduct a test.”

Feng Jiu’er glanced at Zhan Qingcheng. He gave a calm, unhurried nod: “Approved.”

Such a simple word of approval — on the surface, it seemed to carry no special meaning at all. Yet somehow it sounded entirely different.

No matter how one looked at it, there was a quality to it — an indulgence that defied description.

Feng Jiu’er seemed to have grown entirely accustomed to this, while Mo Bai was still carrying a trace of surprise. Together they set the three jars on the table.

Since Butterfly Lady clearly knew of Ninth Imperial Uncle’s Gu Poison condition, and since Ninth Imperial Uncle showed not the slightest guardedness toward Butterfly Lady, conducting the test here seemed to pose no difficulty at all.

There was no time to lose — she was already eager to begin.

Being in Butterfly Lady’s domain did indeed offer every convenience. The vessels and instruments here were perfectly suited for work with Gu insects.

Hu Shuang brought over three crystal dishes. Then she had all the attending maids withdraw completely. Mo Bai put on specially crafted golden-silk gloves, opened the jars, and began placing the Gu insects one by one onto the crystal dishes.

“These insects…” Feng Jiu’er leaned in to take a closer look.

Mo Bai immediately said: “Don’t touch them!”

Jiu’er’s hand had not yet extended when someone took hold of it and pulled it back — clasping it firmly within a larger palm.

“I know, Ninth Imperial Uncle. I won’t act rashly.” She gave it no particular thought, long accustomed to Ninth Imperial Uncle’s overbearing ways.

But everyone else — however composed their expressions remained — felt a silent, deep tremor in their hearts.

Ah Jiu treated this Feng Jiu’er with a care that was genuinely different from anything they had ever seen!

Who had ever witnessed him willing to hold a woman’s hand? What was even more startling: after being caught by the hand, the woman had shown not the slightest surprise. One could imagine how commonplace such intimacy was between the two of them.

Something flickered in Butterfly Lady’s eyes — but in the end, she remained expressionless, watching as Mo Bai, wearing his golden-silk gloves, positioned the Gu insects appropriately.

He looked at Feng Jiu’er: “Miss Jiu’er, if you would please…”

“Of course.” Feng Jiu’er knew what he was about to do. She lifted Ninth Imperial Uncle’s large hand and placed it on the table. She raised her eyes to look at him, her voice soft: “Ninth Imperial Uncle, it will hurt a little.”

He said nothing. She took out her needle case, selected a silver needle, and had Hu Shuang bring over an oil lamp. After sterilizing the needle in the flame, she brought the long needle down cleanly onto Zhan Qingcheng’s fingertip.