When a person dies, it is like a leaf falling — and before long, dust returns to dust.

Shan Yidao’s body was taken away under Huo Yan’s arrangements. Xing Zizou carried the unconscious Xiao Yingtao back as well.

Feng Jiu’er made her way back alone. Both Mu Mu and Qiao Mu offered to accompany her, but she turned them both down. Tonight, she had no desire to be around anyone.

Mu Mu nonetheless saw her as far as the rear mountain, and only after she had emerged from the dense forest did he finally take his leave.

Jiu’er needed time to herself. Though she had appeared cold and unfeeling the entire night, he knew her emotions were close to breaking.

Qiao Mu left before Mu Mu. After all, there were things one had to face on one’s own. Even knowing that Jiu’er was sunk in grief, she was aware there was little she could do.

Feng Jiu’er drifted through the night, with no particular destination in mind.

When she finally stopped and looked up, she found herself somewhere entirely unexpected.

Three characters were carved overhead — vigorous and forceful, like a great dragon lording over the heavens. There was no need to wonder whose hand had written them.

Ninth Prince’s Manor. How had she, without any conscious intention, ended up here?

Her face felt faintly cool. Feng Jiu’er raised the back of her hand to wipe it — and discovered, to her own surprise, that it came away wet with tears.

So she had not been able to hold back after all. She had thought herself capable of iron-faced composure, of meeting every betrayal with cool-headed calm.

Xiao Yingtao’s words — those words about being helpless pawns — kept circling through her mind.

Had Shan Yidao truly done anything wrong? He simply had no say over his own origins, his own past — or perhaps some other tie that bound him, leaving him with no choice over the tasks he was made to carry out.

He said he had never wanted to hurt her. And she believed him — because once upon a time, they had been comrades who walked through fire side by side.

By the time the wind had dried the tears on her face, Feng Jiu’er at last stepped forward and began to climb the entrance steps.

“Who goes there?” A guard raised his long spear and blocked her path.

A late-night visit without an invitation — naturally, one could not simply be allowed inside the manor.

But recognition came quickly. “It’s Miss Jiu’er!”

Miss Jiu’er — though her visits to the manor had not been frequent, who in this place did not know that the Ninth Prince favored Miss Jiu’er above all others?

So upon confirming it was indeed Feng Jiu’er, the guard immediately lowered his spear and bowed respectfully. “Miss Jiu’er, please come in. This subordinate will go and inform the Prince at once.”

Though at this hour, the Prince had most likely already retired for the night. The proper thing to do would perhaps be to first notify Sir Yu, and let him handle the situation.

But Feng Jiu’er shook her head. She herself did not entirely know what had brought her here.

Were she and her Ninth Imperial Uncle really that close? Why was it that when her heart was heavy, she had found her way, without any conscious thought, to his doorstep?

Yet having arrived, she suddenly remembered — they were not, in truth, all that well-acquainted.

Her memories of her Ninth Imperial Uncle had grown hazy enough that no matter how she tried to grasp them, they slipped away. Why had she come here tonight? Even she could not explain it.

“I… only want to go in and wander for a bit. Would that be permitted?” Since she was already here, she may as well follow her heart and take a brief walk inside.

Just a walk, without disturbing anyone — though the request itself seemed a little unreasonable. This was, after all, Ninth Prince’s Manor, not some place just anyone could enter freely.

In fact, countless officials of great standing had sought audience here and could not even pass through the gates.

She seemed to be acting a little bold, and so she added: “If it’s not convenient, I needn’t go in.”

“Convenient — how could it not be?” What sort of thing would it be, to leave Miss Jiu’er wandering about alone in the dead of night?

The guard was terrified she would actually leave and come to some harm outside — the blame for that would fall squarely on them.

If anything happened to Miss Jiu’er, ten heads would not be enough for the Prince to take from them.

The guard hastily swung the gates open and bowed toward her. “Miss Jiu’er, please.”

Before the gates opened, Feng Jiu’er had not quite felt she needed to go in. But the moment those gates parted and she caught a glimpse of the somewhat familiar world inside, something in her suddenly, deeply yearned to step within and look around.

She wanted to. She truly, genuinely wanted to.

She stepped forward without hesitation, quickening her pace as she passed through the gate and walked inside.

The manor’s heavy gates slowly swung shut behind her. The guards stationed inside moved to come forward with a bow, but Feng Jiu’er had already walked on ahead before they could approach.

She had no desire to deal with anyone. She only wanted to walk alone, through this place that felt both faintly familiar and strangely distant.

Ninth Prince’s Manor was far larger than she had imagined. She did not know how long she walked before she found herself at the edge of a lake.

She stepped into the pavilion at the center of the water and leaned against the railing, gazing down at her own reflection on the surface below.

She had never had any particular closeness with Shan Yidao. And yet he had said that he liked her — deeply, truly liked her.

She did not know what it was about her that Shan Yidao had liked. Could it really have been nothing more than her face?

One face — what was so special about that? Besides being somewhat pleasant to look at, what use did it serve?

Thinking of what Shan Yidao had whispered in her ear before he died, Feng Jiu’er could not help but let out a bitter laugh.

Why did life have to be so tangled with complicated matters and complicated ties? Could things not simply be… a little less complicated?

The Imperial Academy seemed, on the surface, to be a place of calm and serenity. But the undercurrents churning beneath were something no one could see through at a single glance.

How many more secrets were hidden within this academy? How many more people were there — scheming in the shadows, or helpless pawns with no say in their own fates?

Rulers struggling against one another, clan against clan in open conflict and hidden scheming — wherever there are people, there is a world of strife.

And the Imperial Academy was nothing more than that world in miniature. Yet the forces behind every one of its students were so immense — so vast they defied comparison with even that greater world.

This was not merely a world of strife. It was a gathering place for agents of every nation.

Shan Yidao was only one among them. How many others were still adrift in this whirlpool?

Her gaze fell back to the water’s surface. The face reflected there was still beautiful and refined — only it was missing the soft, unguarded quality a girl of fifteen or sixteen ought to have. In its place was something that had seen too much.

So she really was only fifteen or sixteen years old…

All at once, another face appeared on the water’s surface.

His long hair drifted lightly in the wind. His striking, exquisite features were cool as water in the moonlight, yet brilliant and dazzling as the moon itself.

A deeply contradictory presence — a beauty so effortless it was impossible to resist.

Jiu’er spun around in a hurry, and her gaze met his — that characteristically detached, indifferent expression he always seemed to wear.

In that instant their eyes met, her heart stumbled just slightly out of rhythm — though she did not herself understand why it would.

“Ninth Imperial Uncle, what brings you here?”

“Should that not be a question for me to ask you?” Zhan Qingcheng’s thin lips barely moved. His gaze settled and fixed upon her face, which had grown rather pale. “This is my domain.”

Feng Jiu’er breathed a slow exhale. The question had no answer. “I’m not entirely sure. I just ended up here somehow, without really meaning to.”