“Greetings, Consort Rong.” It had to be said—the maid beside Feng Qingyin was truly insolent. Facing Nanmen Rong, who had once held absolute sway over the harem, single-handedly controlling everything within it, the maid remained utterly unfazed.

She even asked with a faint smile, “I wonder what crime this servant has committed, that Consort Rong would see fit to have her put to death?”

These words made the maids and matrons beside Nanmen Rong flush red with anger, yet there was nothing they could do.

The real question now was whether or not to bow to Noble Consort Qing.

Consort Rong had made it clear she had no intention of showing Noble Consort Qing any respect. As one of Consort Rong’s own people, if a maid bowed to Noble Consort Qing now, there would likely be no good days ahead for her.

Given Consort Rong’s temperament and her ruthless methods, whoever bowed to Noble Consort Qing might well be put to death on the spot.

But this Noble Consort Qing standing before them—the harem’s newly risen top figure—didn’t seem like an easy person to deal with either. Talk of execution could just as easily come from her side at any moment.

With both sides locked in a standoff, the guards who had been surrounding Feng Jiu quietly dispersed, unnoticed—better to avoid trouble than invite more of it.

Feng Jiu glanced at the young eunuch. He merely lowered his head and said nothing—of course, at a time like this, he didn’t dare utter a single extra word.

Feng Jiu turned and walked toward the palace gate.

She had entered the palace following the Chief Eunuch, so she would simply rely on her good memory to recall the way out—and in any case, she really did remember it.

These two women were tearing into each other like dogs; watching held no interest for her. Let them bite each other to their hearts’ content.

If she stayed around until they were done, there was a good chance they’d turn and snap at her next.

A woman gone mad had no reason left to speak of—at times, there was truly no difference between her and a rabid dog.

Seeing the person he was supposed to escort already leaving, the young eunuch hesitated for a moment, then hastily bowed toward the two consorts before hurrying to catch up with Feng Jiu.

It was the Chief Eunuch who had ordered him to escort her out; he was merely carrying out his duty now, and had done nothing wrong.

Feng Jiu hadn’t expected to actually make it out of the palace so smoothly. It seemed Feng Qingyin and Nanmen Rong had so many old grudges and new ones piled up between them that, for the moment, neither had time to spare for her.

“Eunuch, this is far enough. Thank you for the trouble.” Reaching the gate, Feng Jiu suddenly turned and gave the young eunuch a smile.

The young eunuch was left momentarily dazed by the breathtaking smile on her lips, and by the time he came back to himself, Feng Jiu had already walked far away.

This young man in white was, quite simply, devastating to both men and women alike—there was a touch of delicate, feminine beauty to him, yet also a hint of masculine bearing. However one looked at him, he was striking.

Once Feng Jiu had walked out through the palace gate and put a good distance between herself and the front of the palace, she glanced back and let out a quiet breath.

She had finally made it out.

Today had truly been a close call—one misstep, and she might already be dead within those walls.

Even whether Emperor Qiwen would truly be willing to let her go had been uncertain to Feng Jiu; it all hinged on just how important that masked consort really was in the emperor’s heart.

Now it seemed she truly was important—at the very least, Feng Jiu had come out unharmed.

She glanced once more at the grand and forbidding palace, then immediately turned and walked down the main street toward Tianji Hall.

In this era there were no phones, no way to freely communicate—the few people back at Tianji Hall were probably worried half to death.

Before she’d left, she had instructed them never to approach the palace on their own, to avoid raising suspicion. So Qiao Mu, Xiao Yingtao, and the others could only wait helplessly at Tianji Hall, unable to do anything else.

Without realizing it, Feng Jiu quickened her pace. But she hadn’t gone far before she sensed a purely icy presence drawing near from behind.

She stopped and turned to look at whoever was approaching.

If this person hadn’t deliberately revealed himself, she likely wouldn’t have noticed his presence at all.

Such internal energy and lightness skill were simply impeccable!

Tonight he wore the plainest, simplest black robe, with no gold thread or fine silk, and no one accompanying him—yet simply by walking the street so calmly, he had already become a peerless sight to behold.

For a man to be this handsome was almost beyond reason—even Feng Jiu couldn’t help feeling a twinge of envy.

He walked alone through the night, just as he always did. Though he was dressed as an ordinary man, no matter the angle from which you looked at him, you would never mistake him for a true commoner.

The noble bearing that came so naturally to him completely betrayed his plain and simple clothing.

Feng Jiu watched him approach, and when their eyes met, her mind went blank for a moment. Once the daze passed, her feelings turned a little complicated.

Earlier that day, in Emperor Qiwen’s side hall, he had left the moment he said he would, without even turning his head, without sparing her so much as another glance.

At that moment, Feng Jiu had truly felt as though she’d been abandoned.

But she hadn’t known that he had been waiting here all along.

“How could you be certain I’d walk out of that palace alive?” she couldn’t help asking.

Zhan Qingcheng lowered his gaze to look at her, seeming about to say something, but in the end he merely pressed his lips together and said nothing, then started walking forward. Did this mean he intended to personally escort her back to Tianji Hall?

Feng Jiu truly couldn’t read the Ninth Imperial Uncle’s thoughts. Had he actually recognized her, or did he still have no idea who she was?

She fell into step beside him, suddenly feeling playful. “Your Highness, you seem to have an awful lot of free time these days?”

He still said nothing. So cold and aloof, and yet he’d insisted on waiting here for her… Honestly, spending time with someone so tight-lipped was enough to suffocate a person.

Feng Jiu glanced up at him. Even with her height-boosting insoles on, putting her at roughly one meter seventy by sight, she still had to tilt her head back to speak with the Ninth Imperial Uncle.

He really was tall—standing high above everyone else, and yet so alone.

“Your Highness, have you eaten dinner yet?”

“Not yet.”

Something stirred faintly in Feng Jiu’s heart, a touch of tenderness. “How long have you been waiting outside?”

“Since you went in.” His voice was like his face—utterly devoid of any rise or fall in emotion, as still and silent as a glacier.

She was, in truth, rather moved—who wouldn’t be? Still, this was hardly the time to go getting carried away.

“Then… how about I take you somewhere to get something good to eat?” Feng Jiu suddenly suggested.

Zhan Qingcheng’s brow furrowed slightly, as if he wasn’t entirely pleased. She had said the night before that she would keep cooking good food for him today.

Feng Jiu had no idea what he was thinking, and assumed it was because he had been born to such high station that he was unwilling to eat the food common folk outside ate.

She laughed. “I’ll take you to get some big pork-rib noodles—I guarantee it’s delicious. Come on.”

Feeling a little too at ease, before she knew it, she had—just as she used to—taken hold of the Ninth Imperial Uncle’s hand and was leading him toward a shop she knew well.

Feng Jiu didn’t notice it, but Zhan Qingcheng kept his gaze fixed on their joined hands—his rough and broad, hers slender and small. Held together like this, it felt as though each had found the other half of their life, as if fated by heaven itself.

After a moment of watching, he finally closed his fingers, turning his grip so her small hand was held firmly within his own.

Ignoring the curious, strange looks cast their way from the street, he walked beside her lively, bouncing figure, perfectly content.