Who would have thought that the Xing Family and the Dragon Family had shared such a bond in those days — that Xing Zizou’s grandfather had once followed Feng Jiu’er’s maternal grandfather, and that his father had followed Jiu’er’s mother, General Long Feiyan.

Although Feng Jiu’er could not promise herself that she would ever have a day of soaring like a phoenix to the heavens — she herself may not even possess such grand and sweeping ambitions — nonetheless, the sincerity behind Xing Zizou’s feelings, she had taken to heart.

After reporting to Feng Jiu’er, Xing Zizou went off to find Xiao Yingtao.

These two mutually exasperating souls — one pursuing, the other evading. In truth, setting aside Xiao Yingtao’s feelings for Mu Mu, these two together would actually make a fine match.

It was only unknown when Xing Zizou would be able to win the beauty’s heart.

Jiu’er went to the dining hall by herself for the evening meal, and was just about to return to the Bright Moon Courtyard when in the distance a figure on horseback came galloping swiftly toward her.

She stepped back a couple of paces, just about to move aside and let the rider pass — but unexpectedly, the horse and its rider came to a halt right in front of her.

“Lord Yu?” She narrowed her eyes and looked up at the man who had leapt down from the horse’s back.

Yu Jingfeng smiled at her: “Miss Jiu’er, His Highness the Prince wishes to see you.”

…Feng Jiu’er felt as though she were a maiden awaiting marriage — no, not awaiting marriage, but already married, now waiting for her new husband.

When she arrived at the Prince’s residence, the Ninth Imperial Uncle had not yet returned. Afterward, several maidservants gathered around her and insisted on drawing her a bath and changing her clothes.

Jiu’er made it through with a face flushed red the entire time. She said she had no need of anyone waiting on her, but they said they had been hired by the Prince’s household for the express purpose of attending to her.

If Miss Jiu’er had no need of their service, they would be driven out of the household.

The one who said it most pitifully was a little maid called Qian’er — a girl of no more than fifteen. She said that her foster father had been about to sell her to a brothel, and she had only narrowly been noticed by the Prince’s household steward.

To now be working in the Prince’s residence was a blessing earned across several lifetimes, she said. If Miss Jiu’er dismissed her, she might well be expelled from the Prince’s household, and in the end would still be unable to escape the miserable fate of being sold into a brothel.

And so Jiu’er managed to dismiss everyone else — but could not dismiss this one who had latched onto her legs and was weeping rivers of tears and snot.

In the end, she had no choice but to accept Qian’er’s service, though thankfully Qian’er turned out to be quite capable. Jiu’er had found it awkward at the start, but after a while it was fine.

One grows accustomed to anything.

“Miss Jiu’er, His Highness the Prince has been heard to have returned to the residence — he will be back very soon. Miss Jiu’er, would you like to change into a prettier set of clothes?”

“What would I need to change clothes for?” Feng Jiu’er lowered her head to look at what she was wearing. Was this not perfectly fine?

But Qian’er was grinning with a sly, gleeful expression, and leaned in close with reddened cheeks to say in a hushed voice: “Qian’er has prepared several pretty sets of clothes for Miss. I guarantee His Highness the Prince will be very pleased when he sees them.”

Feng Jiu’er was about to decline, but Qian’er had already rummaged through a nearby chest and pulled out two sets of clothing — both skirts, one red, one white — and they were, astonishingly… both made of sheer gauze!

When Qian’er spread the skirts open in front of Feng Jiu’er, Jiu’er’s entire face flushed crimson instantly.

“These clothes… how could anyone wear these?” Really — weren’t people in ancient times supposed to be conservative? No matter how she looked at it, this seemed even more open than modern times!

What kind of clothing was this? Thin as cicada wings, nothing but a layer of sheer gauze — if someone wore it, you could see every… cough, this description was getting rather awkward.

“Why not? It’s not as though anyone else would be looking — only His Highness the Prince needs to see it.”

Qian’er waved the skirts about in her hands, practically bursting with excitement, as though she herself were the one about to wear them.

“Miss, please pick quickly — which one do you want to wear! A woman adorns herself for the one who appreciates her. When His Highness the Prince comes back and sees you, Qian’er guarantees his nose will gush with blood!”

“…” Feng Jiu’er was speechless. What was the point of making the Ninth Imperial Uncle’s nose gush with blood? Did they think he had too much blood?

“I’m not wearing it.” She was absolutely not wearing clothing like that.

“Does Miss not wish to make His Highness the Prince happy?” Qian’er furrowed her brows and persisted in her persuasion.

“Even if I want the Ninth Imperial Uncle to be happy, there is no need to dress like this.” She did of course hope the Ninth Imperial Uncle would be in good spirits.

When the Ninth Imperial Uncle was in good spirits, getting along with him would be much easier — at the very least she would not be scared half to death.

But if that was the price to pay… pfft! That was simply acting like a wanton… woman! She — would — not — do — it! It wasn’t as though she was anybody special to the Ninth Imperial Uncle.

Qian’er rolled her eyes at her and muttered: “Miss, why are you so oblivious to romance? Tonight His Highness the Prince wants you to attend to him — if you’re dressed like this, he’ll naturally like it even more. Come along…”

“My relationship with the Ninth Imperial Uncle is not that kind.” How many times did she have to explain? Why did no one believe her?

Each and every person treated her as though she were the Ninth Imperial Uncle’s someone. Even the Empress Dowager at the time had said she wanted the Ninth Imperial Uncle to take her in…

Good grief — in ancient times, did sleeping in a man’s bed just once mean the relationship was already established?

But it wasn’t as though she had deliberately chosen to sleep in the Ninth Imperial Uncle’s bed.

If that was the case, then if she stayed here again tonight, would she end up sleeping in the Ninth Imperial Uncle’s bed again?

At that rate, the misunderstanding would only grow more and more impossible to explain away.

This thought jolted Jiu’er into alertness. She shot up from the bed in alarm: “No, I cannot stay here!”

“Miss, what are you doing?” Qian’er was startled by her.

“I have something to attend to — I need to return to the academy at once. Let the Ninth Imperial Uncle know for me — just tell him something came up and I left early.”

She could not stay, she simply could not stay. If she stayed, this relationship would truly become impossible to explain away.

Really — why had she followed Yu Jingfeng over here the moment he came for her?

She had come only to find the Ninth Imperial Uncle not here in person, and then one thing after another had conspired to make her feel as though she had come to attend to his bedchamber. How utterly strange.

While the Ninth Imperial Uncle had not yet returned, if she did not leave now, she would not be able to leave at all.

“Qian’er, I’m leaving first — goodbye!”

She walked briskly to the door, shoved it open with a swoosh, and was just about to step out.

Qian’er was nearly frightened out of her wits, and hurried after her in a panic: “Miss, His Highness the Prince has already returned to the residence — he will be here any moment, Miss…”

Qian’er stopped short, so frightened her lips clamped shut, a chill running down her back.

Standing at the doorway, cold as frost and ice, blocking Feng Jiu’er’s escape route — who else could it be but His Highness the Prince?

“I — I — I… this servant… w-will first take her leave.” Qian’er did not even dare look at the Prince. His Highness was far too exalted — she simply could not presume.

She hurriedly lowered her head and crept carefully out from beside the Prince. Then she walked away with quick steps.

Feng Jiu’er looked up at the man standing in the doorway, a wave of inexplicable guilt washing over her: “N-Ninth… Ninth Imperial Uncle.”

“Something came up?” Zhan Qingcheng’s expression was impassive. His long legs took one step forward, immediately pressing Feng Jiu’er back into the room.

Then, she watched helplessly as the door was shut before her without a shred of mercy — much like her fate for this evening, sealed completely shut within.

Zhan Qingcheng looked down at her, his eyes carrying unmistakable displeasure: “Where did you think you were going?”