Mu Mu drew a deep breath, shut his eyes forcefully, and willed himself to calm down — to stop letting those unbidden images take hold.

But not far behind him, the clear, light voice of Feng Jiu’er came drifting up from the water: “The river is warm! It feels wonderful! Mu Mu, do you want to come in and wash with me?”

A tremor ran through Mu Mu’s chest. He could barely believe his own ears. How was this possible?

He knew full well he couldn’t go in with her. But that Jiu’er had said such a thing at all sent his thoughts scattering in directions he couldn’t control.

His throat went dry, his voice coming out rough: “I… I’ll wash after you’re done.”

“But then aren’t you afraid I’ll take the chance to run?”

“Then I’ll come down and wash with you.”

Now it was Feng Jiu’er’s turn to be taken aback.

And he truly did step into the river — but not in the same spot as her. He moved a short distance away, turned his back to her, and went in separately.

She didn’t look away. She watched the silhouette of him undressing with a steady, direct gaze — yet not a flicker of warmth showed in her eyes.

The playful smile that had touched the corners of her lips just moments ago faded away.

Mu Mu, at this moment, was the most important piece on the board…

Mu Mu washed himself quickly and climbed out of the river, his body still dripping.

His urgency had nothing to do with fearing she might escape. It was simply that not keeping watch over her left him uneasy.

Feng Jiu’er was in no particular hurry. When she came out of the river, she fixed her gaze on his drenched figure. Her face was expressionless, yet her words carried a teasing lilt.

“Mu Mu, I’m coming out now. Don’t you dare turn around and peek — I’m not wearing a thing.”

The tall man’s body went visibly rigid, his every muscle locking at once.

Feng Jiu’er stepped up behind him and put on, one by one, the clean clothes he had brought out for her earlier.

Only when she was standing behind him did she speak: “Aren’t we going back yet?”

Mu Mu moved like a puppet, trailing behind her as they made their way back toward the small wooden cabin.

He knew she was behaving strangely tonight. But her strangeness was something he simply couldn’t adapt to.

The nights of this era were terribly dull — no computers, no television, no mobile phones, no entertainment of any kind.

Back in the small wooden cabin, Feng Jiu’er lay on the bed, her gaze drifting occasionally to the plain, unassuming longsword that belonged to Mu Mu. Her expression remained blank throughout.

After returning, Mu Mu read a military text for a while, then began, as was his habit, to polish his longsword.

The two passed the entire evening in near silence. It wasn’t until Feng Jiu’er began to struggle against her drowsiness and let out a yawn that he spoke.

“If you’re tired, sleep. I’ll keep watch over you here.” Mu Mu didn’t look at her — in fact, he’d spent the entire evening avoiding her gaze, as though she were something dangerous.

Jiu’er shifted to lie diagonally across the bed, still propped on one arm, watching him from the side: “You’re not going to sleep beside me?”

He said nothing. Only the hand holding the longsword gave the faintest, barely visible tremor.

“You really won’t sleep beside me? Then where are you sleeping tonight?”

Mu Mu finally set down his longsword. It was the first time all evening, since returning to the room, that he looked at her directly: “You truly want me to sleep beside you?”

“Come on then. The bed is large enough.” Jiu’er scooted back and patted the space in front of her. “Two people ought to fit without it collapsing.”

Mu Mu simply stared at the hand lightly tapping the bed mat, and said nothing.

Jiu’er’s lips curved upward, and she laughed: “Though if two people were to move around too much on top of it, it might very well cave in. This bed looks like it’s seen quite a few years.”

The man’s breathing grew heavier. He glanced at her: “Say what you mean — I’m not good at guessing riddles with you!”

“What are you getting upset about? I haven’t run, and I haven’t lost my temper with you. What reason do you have to be upset?”

He let out a low sound. True enough — the girl hadn’t tried to escape and hadn’t done anything to him. And, if he was being honest, Feng Jiu’er this evening had been remarkably easy to get along with.

But he just felt terrible. Inexplicably, profoundly terrible. He couldn’t even say why.

“Why have you been facing me with that cold, frozen expression all evening? Why don’t you come over and sleep properly together?”

She arched her brows again, coaxing with a hint of coy charm: “Come on, darling!”

Mu Mu had an irrational urge to throttle her — no, not throttle. Half-throttle. This maddening girl was doing it entirely on purpose.

He shot to his feet, strode to the bedside, and yanked back the covers from over her.

He’d meant to say fine, I’m coming — just to startle her. But when he pulled the blanket aside, what greeted him was the frail, pale image of her lying there.

Her collar was slightly open. Her snow-white neck was half-concealed, half-revealed. Her skin was so fair it rivalled snow — and the pulse beating at her throat seemed almost visible through it.

Mu Mu’s chest lurched into chaos. He immediately pulled the blanket back over her.

Feng Jiu’er let out a burst of laughter: “Ha! Are you blushing? Ha!”

Just a glimpse of her neck — not even her collarbone — and he’d been reduced to this. She suddenly felt that things might be considerably easier than she’d imagined.

Just as Mu Mu turned to walk away, she suddenly reached out and caught hold of his large hand. The laughter vanished from her face; what remained in her eyes was nothing but sincerity.

“I’ll stay with you from now on. I’ll be by your side. Let the Ninth Imperial Uncle go — please.”

Mu Mu had already suspected her strange behaviour tonight had a reason behind it. But even so, when she said it aloud, his chest still tightened, and a dull ache settled in.

“For his sake, you’re truly willing to sacrifice yourself to this extent?”

“Do you think this is purely for the Ninth Imperial Uncle?” She leaned back against the headboard and pulled the blanket he had replaced back over herself.

“What makes you think it couldn’t also be for you? After all, your martial ability is not necessarily greater than the Ninth Imperial Uncle’s. Right now, all you hold is me — whereas the Ninth Imperial Uncle commands hundreds of thousands of troops.”

Even the Night Demon Palace, formidable as it was and vast in its disciples, could it truly be compared to hundreds of thousands of soldiers under the Ninth Imperial Uncle’s command?

Who would win and who would lose was still entirely uncertain.

“I don’t want either you or the Ninth Imperial Uncle to be harmed. Even though I don’t know what my feelings for the Ninth Imperial Uncle are, I could never stand to see him hurt.”

He said nothing. Every time her feelings for the Ninth Prince came up, he no longer knew how to feel about it.

“But I also can’t bear to see you hurt.” Jiu’er held his hand and gently tightened her fingers around it. “Mu Mu, I know in my heart how good you have been to me.”

“Maybe in the beginning you approached me with a purpose — but I haven’t been entirely without feeling. You did so much for me…”

She released his hand and reached up to take a strand of his white hair between her fingers. The sorrow of that moment was something not even the finest actor in all the world could have performed.

“You did so much for me that your black hair turned white. How could I bear to watch you fall beneath the Ninth Imperial Uncle’s blade?”

Her gaze — so tender. Her voice — so moving. Even knowing full well that this moment was nothing but pretense and artifice, he had already sunk completely.

“Mu Mu, let’s leave. Set down the burden on your shoulders. Let’s go to the ends of the earth and wander free beneath all the skies.”