When Aunt Xue learned that Yanu had come, she couldn’t help feeling a flicker of worry.

“Since Feng Qingyin wanted to test you, doesn’t bringing him back now play right into her trap?”

And yet, seeing how quietly and dutifully Yanu now waited on Feng Jiu’er, even Aunt Xue couldn’t suppress a pang of sympathy.

After all, Yanu had looked after Feng Jiu’er for all these years. No one made of flesh and blood could be entirely without feeling.

Feng Jiu’er smiled. “As you can see, with Yanu in the state he’s in now, how could I simply abandon him?”

So on that matter, Aunt Xue had nothing more to say. Still, she glanced up at the sky, growing more uneasy by the moment.

“Jiu’er, tonight… is the night of the full moon.”

Feng Jiu looked up at the sky as well. The sky was still clear for miles, the night had yet to fall, but what was bound to come would come regardless—there was no escaping it.

“Lately the gu poison in Yan’s body seems to be flaring up more often. I’m not certain how tonight will go.”

She thought for a moment before saying, “Aunt Xue, don’t stay in the east wing tonight.”

“Why not?” In the past, hadn’t she always kept watch outside?

“I’ve noticed lately that Yan is more willing to talk with me. Tonight, when his poison flares up, it’s best if it’s just the two of us. I’ll be fine.”

Yan was especially sensitive about certain things. If he knew someone was watching him, even if he said nothing, he would still feel the pressure of it.

In truth, he had already begun to vaguely sense that he must have done something terrible in the past—people were reluctant to be around him, especially Xiao Yingtao, who still regarded him with open wariness whenever she saw him.

Jiu’er understood why, of course. Back then, Xiao Yingtao had nearly lost her life to a single lash from him—that strike seemed to have branded itself into the depths of her memory.

Asking her to forget it was hardly realistic.

Feng Jiu’er couldn’t force the matter; all she could do was keep the two of them from crossing paths as much as possible.

But she’d soon discovered that isolating Yan from everyone else had only made him grow increasingly withdrawn, increasingly unwilling to reach out to anyone.

That was fine most of the time, but tonight was the full moon—the night his gu poison would flare. If someone were watching him in secret and he noticed, there was no telling how he might react.

“But, on the night of the full moon, you yourself—” Aunt Xue couldn’t bear the thought of leaving her alone, “—you still carry that gu poison too!”

“I’ll be fine.” As long as she kept her mind empty, free of desire, free of longing—best of all, no time to think of certain people—then this heartless gu would never trouble her.

“It won’t do. You’ve been… you’ve been seeing him often lately. Tonight, you might not get through it so easily.”

Aunt Xue’s worry only deepened at the thought. “He still doesn’t know that your innocence gu hasn’t actually been lifted, does he?”

Feng Jiu’er hesitated, then nodded. “These past months, being with him, the heartless gu hasn’t flared up even once. So I never told him about it.”

The Ninth Imperial Uncle, seeing it never flare, probably assumed the heartless gu inside her had already been cleared.

Speaking of the Ninth Prince, Aunt Xue grew even more anxious. “Will he… come looking for you tonight as well?”

Feng Jiu’er felt a flush of embarrassment. Keeping a man in her room overnight so often, and with Aunt Xue well aware that their relationship wasn’t an ordinary one—it was the kind of thing that always made her feel a bit self-conscious to discuss.

By her own modern sensibilities, none of this was anything at all. But Aunt Xue belonged to this era.

To the people of this age, an unmarried man and woman alone together past midnight was an utterly scandalous thing.

Fortunately, Aunt Xue didn’t much care about such things—though it was still embarrassing to talk about.

“When has anyone ever been able to guess what the Ninth Prince will do?” So whether the Ninth Imperial Uncle would come tonight, no one could say.

That man tended to come whenever he had the time.

In her mind, his figure rose unbidden once more—the Ninth Imperial Uncle who had once loved wearing white, ethereal as an immortal; and now the Ninth Imperial Uncle accustomed to black robes, cold as a mountain of ice.

No matter which version of him it was, he was always so striking to look at…

A sharp pain struck her chest, and Feng Jiu’er’s hand instinctively pressed against it, cupping it gently.

“Does your chest hurt?” Aunt Xue tensed at once.

Feng Jiu’er nodded. In the past it had only ever been her head that ached—but now, with the full moon approaching, even her chest had begun to hurt!

Though night had not yet fallen, the mere thought of the Ninth Imperial Uncle already brought a measure of discomfort. Fortunately, it was only mild discomfort for now, nothing unbearable.

But it was still daytime. Once night fell, there was no telling how unbearable it might become.

“No, tonight I’ll guard the back door myself—I absolutely cannot let him in!” Aunt Xue rose to her feet. “Jiu’er, I’ll leave Yan to you. I’m going to make arrangements—tonight, you are not to see the Ninth Prince, no matter what.”

Feng Jiu’er exhaled and finally nodded.

Just thinking about it was distressing enough. If she truly saw the Ninth Imperial Uncle tonight, there was no telling what might happen.

She didn’t need to hide anything in front of Aunt Xue. If she couldn’t see him, she couldn’t see him—concealing her feelings would only make things harder on herself.

After Aunt Xue left to make her arrangements for the night, Feng Jiu’er sat for a while beneath the pavilion before heading toward the medicine room.

On the way, she spotted Yanu from a distance, tidying up her room, carrying buckets of water in and out. Despite having been beaten and injured just that morning, he seemed full of energy now as he worked.

Even from such a distance, she could sense the lightness in his mood.

Bringing him along had been the right choice, at least. Yanu now seemed brimming with vitality, and seeing that brought her a measure of comfort.

She glanced once more at that tall, slender figure before turning and walking down the corridor toward the medicine room.

…

Over these past few months, the stewards at Tianji Hall had all come to know that the atmosphere in the back courtyard grew especially tense every full moon night.

Today, Aunt Xue had already arranged things in advance with Qiao Mu and Xiao Yingtao, instructing several trusted attendants to guard the front and back doors, ready to stop the Ninth Prince the moment he was spotted.

In short, tonight, everyone who knew the situation was on high alert, while those who didn’t remained none the wiser.

As night gradually fell, Feng Jiu’er went straight to the west wing to have dinner with Yan.

After the meal, Feng Jiu’er stayed in Yan’s room, continuing their discussion on matters of governance.

As the bright moon slowly rose, a faint sheen of sweat began to gather at Yan’s temples, though his expression remained composed. Feng Jiu’er knew he was holding it back.

After some time, a look of pain began to surface between his brows—but still, he held on.

“Tonight, I want to try a new medicine on you—but it has to be while the poison is flaring.”

Yan said nothing. Whatever Feng Jiu’er said, he simply went along with—he was always remarkably obedient with her.

“But…” Feng Jiu’er thought for a moment before adding, “This medicine may make you suffer even more. The pain might exceed what you can endure.”