“I never provoked him.” A sense of injury suddenly welled up in Jiu’er at the Ninth Imperial Uncle’s accusation.

She knew his mood was poor, knew the pain weighed heavily on his heart. Mu Mu, it turned out, was his own blood brother—and yet he had struck at him without holding anything back. In the end, it was this brother, both enemy and friend at once, who had taken a sword strike from Elder Shi and a blade strike from him in order to save her.

How fearsome was the Ninth Prince’s blade! That his brother hadn’t lost his life on the spot already showed considerable restraint. But restrained or not, he had still wounded Mu Mu—wounded his own flesh and blood!

The Third Prince was already gone. Now, the person closest to the Ninth Imperial Uncle in this world was Mu Mu—and he had wounded him with his own hands.

The pain in the Ninth Imperial Uncle’s heart could not be suppressed, not even by his usual icy, indifferent expression.

He was in pain, wasn’t he?

“Ninth Imperial Uncle… mm! Gentler… Ninth Imperial Uncle, I know you’re hurting, but…”

“Don’t talk.”

He was suffering—he had never suffered like this before.

He laid Feng Jiu’er down on the bench, his heavy body pressing down upon her, and with one motion tore open the top of her robe.

“Ninth Imperial Uncle…” Jiu’er knew that if she truly wanted things to go well between them, then even letting him release his pain on her now would hardly matter. But after he released it, would the Ninth Imperial Uncle truly feel any better? She worried that once he calmed down and had to face Mu Mu again, his heart would only ache more, not less.

“Ninth Imperial Uncle…” Her tender skin was grazed by his lips and teeth—it hurt! Jiu’er could only bite her lip and shut her eyes.

If this could bring the Ninth Imperial Uncle even a little happiness, then… let him have his way.

Her heart, too, ached—for Mu Mu, and for the Ninth Imperial Uncle as well. Suddenly she truly wanted to do something, anything, as long as it could lift the Ninth Imperial Uncle’s spirits.

Feng Jiu’er no longer resisted. Instead, she reached up and wrapped her arms around Zhan Qingcheng’s neck. She had only one small request, a timid one: “Ninth Imperial Uncle, let’s go next door.”

Her head ached—it had been aching for a long while now—but she didn’t want to tell the Ninth Imperial Uncle about her headache in a moment like this.

They had only been apart for two days, yet it felt as though an entire century had passed. The Ninth Imperial Uncle was now stirred with passion, his whole body so worked up that stopping him now would surely cause him great discomfort.

Feng Jiu’er only bit down hard on her lip, hard enough to ignore the pain, trying her best to push it out of her mind.

Zhan Qingcheng failed to notice anything amiss with her—partly because she concealed it too well, and partly because tonight’s shock had made him completely forget that she still carried the Heartless Gu in her body.

But Jiu’er’s words made the fire in him cool considerably. The reason they would go next door was simply because there was someone else here.

That “someone else” was not just anyone—it was his own younger brother, the very brother he had struck down with his blade, who still lay there unconscious to this day.

The blaze burning within Zhan Qingcheng was, because of her quiet words, suddenly extinguished by more than half.

He didn’t need to turn around to know that, not far away, on the bed, his own brother lay there, wounded, still not having woken even once since the injury. His own brother, who also loved this girl deeply…

His long arms tightened, pulling her snugly into his embrace. The fire that had filled him had not yet fully subsided, but his reason had already returned.

His scorching lips pressed close to her ear, the Ninth Imperial Uncle’s voice hoarse and laced with magnetic temptation. “This king… does not wish to give you up to anyone!”

Feng Jiu’er’s heart stirred, and she instinctively held him tightly in return. “Jiu’er… Jiu’er doesn’t want to be given up by you either.”

He tightened his hold, as though trying to fold her entirely into his own body.

The two of them, their clothes thoroughly disheveled, sat together on the bench—him holding her close, her nestled obediently in his arms, listening to the strong, steady beat of his heart, breathing in the scent of him that she had grown so attached to.

She wished time could simply stop right at this moment, the two of them locked in each other’s arms forever, never to be parted again.

If someone had asked her in the past what she felt for the Ninth Imperial Uncle, she truly wouldn’t have known, wouldn’t have dared to be certain. But now, if anyone asked her what the Ninth Imperial Uncle meant to her, she could declare it loudly to the whole world—whatever this feeling was, whatever it meant, all she wanted was to hold his hand and grow old together with him.

It felt like something destined by heaven itself—perhaps the reason she had come to this era was not without purpose. Perhaps the whole point of this journey was to meet the Ninth Imperial Uncle, to be… with the Ninth Imperial Uncle.

Jiu’er buried her face against the Ninth Imperial Uncle’s chest. In the earlier tangle, his robe had come open, and now his full, muscled chest lay bare before her. She breathed in his scent, kissed the lines of muscle across his chest, unwilling to pull away—finally understanding why so many women, upon seeing the Ninth Imperial Uncle, would faint dead away from shock and excitement.

If she kept this close to him, kept being held and kissed like this, before things even truly happened Feng Jiu’er suspected she too might faint simply from being unable to catch her breath.

She truly, deeply liked this man—liked the cold, devastating allure that radiated from every part of him, liked the commanding, all-conquering air he carried when he turned wild, liked the strength of his arms locking her body tightly within his embrace, liked the burning heat of his lips and teeth as they grazed every inch of her skin, liked the captivating allure of the sweat sliding down his forehead in his moments of passion.

She liked him so much, truly liked him so much—liked this man, peerless under heaven and on earth, this devastatingly beautiful man without equal!

Their two pounding hearts seemed pressed tightly together as one. Though they had not yet truly possessed each other, they were already inseparable.

She wanted him so badly. She wanted to cast everything else aside, to throw herself fully into the Ninth Imperial Uncle’s embrace, to simply be with him. She truly, truly wanted it—wanted never to leave his arms, wanted to stay nestled against him for the rest of her life…

No! She mustn’t! Her head hurt so much! The moment she thought of how wonderful the Ninth Imperial Uncle was, the moment her feelings for him stirred, her head would throb painfully.

Feng Jiu’er clenched her hands tightly, her nails nearly digging into her own flesh, and that sharp sting actually eased the pain in her head slightly.

Don’t think about how wonderful the Ninth Imperial Uncle is. Mustn’t think about it—the moment she did, the pain became unbearable.

Tonight had already passed through two such episodes; if the pain continued, it really might cost her her life. Even though her inner strength had grown noticeably stronger lately, she still couldn’t push herself like this—it really could wear her life away.

Some time later, the restlessness within Zhan Qingcheng was finally, barely, suppressed. He lowered his eyes to look at the girl in his arms, his broad hand sliding gently across her delicate face.

“This king is willing to wait—wait until the day you truly marry into this house, and then this king will take you apart, bone by bone, and make you entirely his.”

A small shudder ran through Feng Jiu’er’s body. Just as she had managed, with great effort, to suppress that warm, stirring feeling, his blunt words sent it surging right back up again.