The Ninth Imperial Uncle was surely furious again. When Feng Jiu’er had fled, she had seen clearly that his face was utterly dark, an expression she had never seen on him before.

At that moment, sweat had poured from his body, his breathing was rapid and heavy — he had lost all control completely. Were it not for that, she would likely not have had any chance to push him away.

When she left, he was still drenched in sweat, his face deeply flushed.

Had she not run quickly enough, she would likely have been dragged back.

Jiu’er walked along in a state of worry and distress, her feelings impossible to name. Thinking back on what the two of them had nearly done, she was frightened — and yet she could not help but feel her face burning and her heart racing.

Flustered. And yet — it was a sensation she had never experienced before. Strange. Peculiar.

She had long known that the bodies of men and women were very different. It was not as though she had never seen a small film before. But she had never put it into practice herself.

Now she knew — when a man was in the grip of passion, his body could truly become something so terrifying.

Utterly terrifying. And nothing had even fully happened yet, and still the pain had drained the color from her face. If something had actually happened, it would certainly have knocked her unconscious.

Just thinking about it made her shudder all over again.

So frightening! This sort of thing must never be attempted. It was truly far too frightening!

But now… she raised her head and looked at the flower beds in the courtyard ahead, and Feng Jiu’er was filled with helpless uncertainty. What was she to do? Could she make her escape?

She ought to escape! If the Ninth Imperial Uncle came chasing after her, she truly would not be able to get away!

Once her mind was made up, Feng Jiu’er drew a breath of relief — only to feel herself tense up again immediately.

She crept on quiet feet toward the arched bridge near the back gate of the rear courtyard. Seeing clearly that there was no one ahead, Feng Jiu’er shifted her steps toward the high wall.

The back gate was not an option — guards were stationed both inside and outside, and no one would likely expect someone to attempt to leave near the back gate precisely because of its heavy guard.

So the high wall not far from the back gate was, by contrast, undefended. An ordinary thief would never dare try this way — it would be the equivalent of stirring up a hornet’s nest. Who would dare?

All she needed to do was slip away here while the guards at the back gate were not paying attention to this spot.

The bright moon slid behind a layer of clouds, and the light around her dimmed. The area beyond the reach of the courtyard’s moisture-resistant candle lanterns was cloaked in a thin layer of shadow.

Feng Jiu’er made up her mind without a second thought. She barely touched the ground and darted forward.

The guards at the back gate had indeed not directed their attention this way — their reasoning being that no thief would dare try to come and go so close to where heavy forces were stationed.

And truly, no one saw her! Joy leapt up in Jiu’er’s heart. She felt her way to the base of the high wall, lightly touched her feet to the ground, and was about to spring upward.

Without warning, an external force pressed down, pulling her bodily back.

Jiu’er gave a startled fright, and instinctively sent a palm strike outward. However — these were all people of the Prince’s manor — so this palm carried only thirty percent of her inner power, intent only on driving the person back, with no wish to injure.

To her surprise, the one who had come was also a skilled practitioner. With a shift of his footwork, he evaded the strike with ease.

“Miss Jiu’er.” Yu Jingfeng wore a faint smile in his brows and eyes, and called out to her mildly.

A wave of chill ran down Feng Jiu’er’s scalp, all the way to the soles of her feet: “How did you…”

“His Highness said you would likely attempt to leave near the back gate, so he sent this subordinate here to ‘escort’ you back.”

The word escort — it was plainly clear that she was not going to be allowed to leave.

Behind Yu Jingfeng there was still a large contingent of guards. In this situation, how was she supposed to leave?

Feng Jiu’er felt a flicker of dejection. The Ninth Imperial Uncle had even calculated which route she would take to slip away — clearly and completely. Was he a worm living in her stomach?

Jiu’er cast a glance at Yu Jingfeng, her eyes holding a trace of entreaty: “Yu-dada, I truly have matters to attend to. I would like to return to the academy.”

“His Highness said there is nothing of particular urgency at the academy. There is no harm in Miss Jiu’er returning there tomorrow,” Yu Jingfeng said with a smile.

Feng Jiu’er truly wanted to plant a kick on him and send him flying. They were doing this deliberately!

“I… it is a personal matter.” Would a private urgent matter not suffice? Did it have to involve academy business?

“His Highness said that for private matters, if there is anything that needs attending to, he will send me to see to it.”

The smile on Yu Jingfeng’s face was as irritating as ever: “Whatever Miss Jiu’er needs, I will take care of it for you.”

“I do not need that!” Feng Jiu’er let out a huff, shot him a sharp glare, turned on her heel, and walked off.

“Miss Jiu’er, the manor requests that you return to your room.” Yu Jingfeng followed after her, and behind him, still that cohort of guards — among them two members of the Feilong Shi’er Qi.

With such an escort, where could she possibly escape to?

“I am not going back.” Feng Jiu’er was feeling quite stubborn. If they would not let her leave, that was fine — she would simply sleep somewhere out here tonight. Anywhere would do.

She simply could not go back to that room. She could not go back and be alone with that lecherous old wolf, the Ninth Imperial Uncle.

All that talk of being pure, of being sacred, of having no fondness for women — it was a lie. All of it, a lie.

She had been thoroughly taken advantage of just now, and she had absolutely no desire to go back and face that wolf in sheep’s clothing.

Half an incense stick later, the door to the Ninth Prince’s bedchamber was pushed open, and Feng Jiu’er was tossed inside.

Then, with a resounding bang, the door was shut — and, of all things, locked from the outside.

Wretched Yu Jingfeng — she would never call him Yu-dada again! He was nothing but a petty scoundrel. Yu the Scoundrel! A rotten wretch!

Feng Jiu’er pursed her lips in frustration, barely had time to protest, raised her head — and met a gaze as frigid as a drawn blade.

He was so far away, there on the bed — and yet that gaze was like a knife, driving straight into her heart.

Feng Jiu’er’s chest lurched. In the instant she saw him, her breathing scattered again.

The Ninth Imperial Uncle was still wearing the robe he had hastily pulled on before — but the scorching, burning aura that had radiated from him was entirely gone. In its place: a cold so piercing it made one’s scalp prickle.

He was angry. This time, he was truly angry.

Jiu’er could not summon even a trace of a smile. The Ninth Imperial Uncle right now was truly frightening. She had the distinct sensation that her head was wobbling on her neck, and might fall off at any moment.

At a time like this, it would also be best not to try any of those tricks — playing the fool, feigning madness, pretending to be carefree — hoping to soften the atmosphere somehow. This atmosphere, however it might be approached, could not be softened.

“Ninth Imperial Uncle…” She called out in a small voice, and at last summoned the courage to take slow, cautious steps toward him.

If she did not go over on her own, and he dragged her over in a fury, the consequences would be far more severe.

In front of the Ninth Imperial Uncle, she truly had no moves left to play. He would not fall for any of her tricks.

No matter how she tried to play the fool or feign madness, it would be no different from making a clown of herself. He simply did not buy it.

Feng Jiu’er walked over, and as she drew close, she saw that he was not much different from when she had left half an hour ago.

That robe, hastily thrown on — it had not even been straightened or adjusted. Even the way he sat seemed to be the same posture as when she had left half an hour ago.

The one difference was that the Ninth Imperial Uncle no longer had sweat at his temples or on his face. His complexion had returned to normal. He had probably calmed down somewhat.

Yet this face — it looked even worse than it had when she had left before. The fury in his eyes was an unfathomable darkness unlike anything she had ever seen.

Walking to stand before him, she could feel his cold aura with even greater clarity.

At the moment Zhan Qingcheng’s slender fingers stirred slightly, Feng Jiu’er’s heart seized with sudden alarm, and without thinking, she blurted out urgently: “I do not want to do that kind of thing with you!”