Zhan Qingcheng said nothing. He simply stood behind her, looking with her at their reflections in the water.

But Feng Jiu’er quickly became aware that the way the two of them were currently positioned felt rather off.

She was leaning forward, and he was standing directly behind her. If she wanted to straighten up, she would inevitably come into contact with his body.

What made things somewhat awkward was that their legs were nearly touching.

Did her Ninth Imperial Uncle habitually speak with people at this kind of closeness?

He was so close that she could even feel the warmth of his breath — at once cool and warm, making her heart suddenly begin to race.

“Ninth Imperial Uncle, why don’t we… go sit down in the pavilion?” Feng Jiu’er suggested helplessly.

Her mood had been dreadful. Earlier, when Qiao Mu and Mu Mu were with her, she had been so sunk in gloom that she hadn’t wanted to say a single word.

Yet now that her Ninth Imperial Uncle was here, her mood somehow became complicated in an inexplicable way. It was still very much not good — but at least she was willing to open her mouth and speak.

“I prefer standing here.” Watching their reflections together in the water gave the scene a strangely warm feeling.

But she did not like it!

Feng Jiu’er wanted to protest, yet in the end her voice softened anyway. “Then… Ninth Imperial Uncle, could you move aside a little? I’d like to step past.”

“I find things perfectly fine as they are,” said Zhan Qingcheng, his tone as unhurried and detached as ever, as light as wind.

Feng Jiu’er felt a vein near her temple throb. What was fine about this? Nothing about this was fine. She was completely pressed against the railing — she couldn’t even stand up straight!

Was she supposed to be the one to press herself against her Ninth Imperial Uncle’s body?

“I’ve been standing too long. I need to go sit for a while.” She pouted.

“If you’re tired, I’ll support you.” Her Ninth Imperial Uncle was accommodating in his own way. He offered to help and meant it — his arm looped around her waist, and he simply lifted her up off the ground.

“I — I’m not tired, I’d rather stand! Ninth Imperial Uncle, I can stand perfectly well on my own!”

Feng Jiu’er felt a rush of heat rise to her face. What did it feel like to have her feet dangling in midair? Now she knew firsthand.

But she was not a child. He could not simply pick her up as though she were one — and a one-armed carry at that.

“Ninth Imperial Uncle, I truly am not tired! Please put me down, I’ll stand on my own!”

She would rather stay hunched over the railing than endure this. Although she was not yet sixteen, and her Ninth Imperial Uncle was not yet twenty-six — a gap of nearly a full generation — still, in ancient times, a girl of fifteen or sixteen was already old enough to be betrothed.

“Are you certain you want to stand?” With one arm holding the girl aloft, Zhan Qingcheng’s breathing did not waver in the slightest. One could only marvel at how enormous his strength must be.

“Absolutely, certainly, and without any doubt!” Feng Jiu’er nodded rapidly.

Honestly — her mood had been so terrible, so suffused with grief. How was it that the moment her Ninth Imperial Uncle arrived, he managed to stir all of that up into complete disarray?

Now her heart was suspended somewhere in between — not knowing whether she should be sad, or embarrassed, or frustrated, or bewildered.

The one small mercy was that her Ninth Imperial Uncle was somewhat less willful this time around, and truly consented to set her back down.

But what nearly made Feng Jiu’er spit out a mouthful of exasperated blood was that he stepped forward, and his long legs were now pressed against hers — standing even closer than before.

Jiu’er was now fully draped over the railing. Even like that, her legs were still touching his.

The slightest movement would bring her into contact with his tall, imposing frame — closer than they had been before by far.

“Ninth Imperial Uncle…”

“Would you like to be carried again?” He narrowed his eyes slightly.

“No — not that, it’s just — the scenery here by the lake is rather nice. I’m, uh… quite enjoying looking at the fish.”

The girl was in an inexpressible state of misery. She was, by nature, a strong and brave person — so why was it that in front of her Ninth Imperial Uncle, she felt like a bird with its wings plucked off?

Cowering like an ostrich!

Feng Jiu’er gazed at the two reflections in the water below, working hard to steady herself.

He was standing right behind her. The two of them kept brushing against each other without meaning to. She had no idea whether this was some habit of her Ninth Imperial Uncle’s — but it truly was tremendously awkward.

Especially in this particular position… wasn’t it a bit much? Anyone watching from a distance would think the two of them were…

She had seen enough of the world to know what this looked like. She understood the implication all too well. It was absolutely mortifying!

“Why did you come to my domain?” The man standing behind her spoke with complete calm, as though not a single improper thought crossed his mind.

Feng Jiu’er quietly let out a breath, feeling rather helpless. Her Ninth Imperial Uncle always gave off an impression of perfectly refined, untarnished elegance — it was simply impossible to connect him with anything lewd or indecent.

He probably just genuinely liked standing this way, that was all. He likely had no other intentions — did he?

Though that “liked,” in truth, was rather alarming.

She drew another deep breath and continued her efforts to stay composed.

“Ninth Imperial Uncle, why did you leave at such a critical moment — and make a point of reminding Huo Yan that I have your token in my possession?”

“Something came up.”

So he truly had been occupied. The answer was brief, but it carried weight.

Feng Jiu’er drew yet another deep breath. “Did you know from the start that Shan Yidao was the assassin?”

“Yes.” Her Ninth Imperial Uncle seemed, genuinely, to be a man of very few words — just as she remembered. Only, Jiu’er could not place where that memory had come from.

She bit her lip. Every time she thought of Shan Yidao’s death, her heart grew heavy.

“You wanted me to catch him with my own hands — but he was someone I had once faced life and death alongside.”

“Then do you understand now — that even those you have weathered hardship with may, one day, betray you?”

Feng Jiu’er felt the urge to cry. Her eyes were already stinging.

Did her Ninth Imperial Uncle have to teach her this lesson in such a brutal way — making her come to understand, through lived pain, the reality of her situation?

Holding the Ninth Prince’s token, how many people would be watching her with covetous eyes? Living within the Imperial Academy, the dangers surrounding her would never be few.

Today a friend, even a family member in all but name — tomorrow, perhaps the very person who would come for her life.

If she could not look at every person with clear and watchful eyes, she would too easily find herself walking into danger.

But the understanding, when it came, cut deeply. When truth became this raw and bloodstained, the heart began to grow weary of it all.

“Ninth Imperial Uncle… did we know each other before?”

Feng Jiu’er knew the question sounded foolish. Of course they knew each other — she even had his token. Yet why did it feel as though the kind of knowing she meant was not this?

Why did she feel such familiarity, and yet such inexplicable distance at the same time?

There were almost no fragments of him in the depths of her memory — and yet the sense of familiarity persisted.

Zhan Qingcheng said nothing. He only fixed his gaze on her small face, which had been left a little forlorn by the evening wind.

A girl of fifteen or sixteen was not old. Having her face so much, all at once, was not easy.

But face it she would have to, in the end. What lay ahead would only demand more of her. He did not answer the question. Instead, his voice came quiet and level: “I’ll take you somewhere.”