Wash up clean — why did those words sound so suggestive?

Then again, Feng Jiu’er was indeed filthy. Earlier in the prison cell she had dealt with the blood pouches, leaving bloodstains smeared everywhere. Then during the fighting she had worked up a full sweat, and now the mingled stench of sweat and blood clinging to her was so strong that even she herself could barely stand it.

Fine, she would wash. Besides, she already knew what the Ninth Imperial Uncle had in mind.

She sent the two maidservants away, enjoyed a thorough and comfortable bath in hot water, and when Jiu’er came out freshly changed, she heard from outside the respectful voice of a maidservant: “Your Highness.”

Oh? He had come back right on time — someone who did not know better might almost think he had been lurking outside watching her the whole time.

The Ninth Imperial Uncle hiding outside the window, peering in as she bathed like some kind of scoundrel… the more she imagined it, the more oddly endearing it seemed.

The chamber door was pushed open, and Zhan Qingcheng swept inside in his flowing robes, his long strides unhurried.

The maidservants called for people to tidy the room and remove the bathwater, after which everyone withdrew to a respectful distance.

The chamber quickly held only Feng Jiu’er and Zhan Qingcheng.

“I know you want to draw blood again, but — could you at least feed me first next time? Otherwise I am liable to become anemic.”

Though she had eaten quite a lot at dusk, she had been put through the wringer in the prison cell and then exerted herself thoroughly afterward, and everything had long since been burned away.

Zhan Qingcheng did not hesitate for a moment. He said mildly, “Bring food.”

…Fine wine. Exquisite dishes. A feast fit for paradise.

But even the finest moments eventually come to an end.

So when the servants cleared away the leftovers and departed, Feng Jiu’er knew that her pleasant interlude was well and truly over.

After rinsing her mouth with two cups of tea, she drew a deep breath and walked to the bedside.

The man in white, with his immortal bearing, was already seated on the bed, quite plainly waiting for her.

Feng Jiu’er hesitated, then finally — as though summoning the greatest resolution of her life — reached for her own clothes and yanked.

She pulled up her sleeve, baring a small, pale, and delicate hand.

She extended her hand toward Zhan Qingcheng, one index finger held out. “Here. Take it.”

Zhan Qingcheng’s brow furrowed faintly, eyes fixed on the finger she was presenting before him. “What is the meaning of this?”

“Ninth Imperial Uncle, did you not want to draw blood? I am offering it to you now.”

Faced with a calamity she knew she could not escape, Feng Jiu’er had decided to change her attitude toward it — to approach it with at least some optimism and positivity.

Look — was it not very well-behaved of her to offer her blood of her own accord?

“Could you — given how well-behaved I am being — do me a favor after you have had your fill?”

“What favor does Miss Jiu’er want of this Prince?” Zhan Qingcheng made no move to take the finger she had extended before him, his downcast gaze fixed on her.

This man was genuinely tall. He was sitting on the bed, while she stood beside it, and she still had to tilt her head up to speak to him.

Tall, with a striking figure, more beautiful than any woman, without a single flaw to be found on his entire person.

Save for the faint, sickly pallor that perpetually dusted his face — other than that, truly, not a single imperfection to speak of.

“Ninth Imperial Uncle, I was dragged into the prison for no reason at all. They wanted to subject me to extrajudicial punishment, and I was terrified, so I said that on that night, I had been rescued by your people.”

Feng Jiu’er gave him a concise account of the key points from that night.

Right now, those people suspected her of colluding with members of the Heavenly Sovereign Sect. But in truth, she suspected… that the Ninth Imperial Uncle himself was the Heavenly Sovereign Sect’s Sect Master, Di Wu Ya.

Of course, it was only a suspicion.

So — would the Ninth Imperial Uncle help her? “It is quite simple. Ninth Imperial Uncle only needs to have someone confirm that it was indeed people from the Ninth Prince’s manor who rescued me that night, and that will be enough.”