“Yes, yes, once this scar of mine heals, I will certainly be a beauty who could bring kingdoms to ruin — even more so than the Ninth Imperial Uncle… well, never mind that, more beautiful than everyone else.”

Comparing herself to the Ninth Imperial Uncle was better left unattempted. Comparison only bred misery, and the Ninth Imperial Uncle’s appearance was beyond even immortals themselves to rival.

“That — ” Feng Jiu’er shifted uncomfortably and gave his wrist a gentle push. “Ninth Imperial Uncle, could you let go of me first?”

Being held by the chin like that felt extremely strange.

Zhan Qingcheng finally released her and leaned back against the headboard. “Take it off and get up here.”

Feng Jiu’er’s heart immediately set off all manner of alarm bells. Why did it still involve taking things off?

She held out her finger toward him once again — this time, almost close enough to brush against his beautiful lips.

“Ninth Imperial Uncle, go ahead and bite. I can take it.”

“Are you certain?” For some reason, Zhan Qingcheng suddenly seemed unusually agreeable, and he took hold of her finger and brought it to his lips.

He opened his mouth and took a bite.

“Ah!” Feng Jiu’er reacted as though by reflex, yanking her hand back immediately and shaking it over and over. “That hurts!”

He had bitten so hard. It was excruciating!

“If it hurts, then get up here.” A glimmer of something that was almost amusement drifted through the man’s eyes.

Feng Jiu’er looked utterly aggrieved and indignant. “You did that on purpose!”

“Mm.” He was generous about it, denying nothing whatsoever.

Pain shoots from the fingers straight to the heart — Feng Jiu’er’s eyes stung with unshed tears at the corners. “Ninth Imperial Uncle, do you not just want to draw a little of my blood? If you are drawing blood, then draw it — why does it always have to involve… taking off my clothes?”

If he truly had feelings for her, that would be one thing. But the way the Ninth Imperial Uncle looked at her was plainly devoid of any impulse a man might have toward a woman.

If that was the case, why go out of his way to torment her?

“Because this Prince wishes to.” Did he need a reason for that?

“Does it make it acceptable just because the Ninth Imperial Uncle wishes to?”

“Yes.” Beyond all dispute.

Feng Jiu’er truly wanted to bring her palm down on top of his head — but she did not have the courage.

If she struck the Ninth Imperial Uncle, she would most likely leave the Ninth Prince’s manor horizontally — carried out.

But she refused to simply comply with him.

“Ninth Imperial Uncle, how about I cut my finger open and you draw the blood that way — no biting, just drinking. Would that work?”

She already found it wretched enough that, in order to neutralize the chronic poison in his body, she had to keep offering up her own blood. Was that not pitiable enough?

But Zhan Qingcheng seemed to have run out of patience entirely. With a sweep of his long sleeve, Feng Jiu’er found herself pinned down beside him as though someone had struck her pressure points, landing with a thud.

He reached out to undo her clothing…

“Ninth Imperial Uncle, just for the sake of drawing blood, is it really necessary to strip off my… my clothes?”

Her hands and feet were limp and powerless, and though she tried to push herself up, she could not summon even the slightest strength.

But this question had been lodged in her heart for a very long time! “Don’t — Ninth Imperial Uncle, you are doing this purely on purpose!”

“Mm.” The second time she had said he was doing it on purpose, and he admitted it just as readily as the first.

Nothing she did was working, and Feng Jiu’er was on the verge of losing her mind entirely. “Ninth Imperial Uncle… you… you are nothing but a lecher!”

A lecher? Now there was a novel word.

Zhan Qingcheng considered it for a brief moment, and finally gave a nod. “This Prince… probably is.”

His large hand swept down, and with the sound of a ripping tear, a perfectly fine silk garment was divided cleanly in two.

Feng Jiu’er clutched her fists tightly, utterly powerless to resist.

The man leaned down over her, his weight settling against her back, and his lips descended to her shoulder.

A sharp, stinging pain bloomed at her shoulder, and she pressed her lips together with aggrieved indignation, very nearly dissolving into tears.

One day, when she had trained herself to the heights of martial mastery, when she surpassed the Ninth Imperial Uncle — she would most certainly strip him bare in turn, press down on top of him, and bite him and bite him and bite him!

Wu, it hurt so much…