“Feng Jiu’er, you do understand me.” Mu Mu smiled faintly.

Feng Jiu’er immediately shut her eyes and muttered to herself: “I’m drunk. I must still be dreaming. Yes — still dreaming. You’re not real. None of this is real.”

“Would you like me to make it feel more real?” He rose to his feet and began moving toward the side of the bed.

“Don’t say things like that!” Feng Jiu’er’s eyes flew open and she glared at him. “Don’t come over here!”

“I have no other meaning in mind. Surely you don’t think I’m coming over to do something scandalous to you?” Mu Mu folded his arms across his chest and looked down at her.

“Stop looking at me like that. Mu Mu, I have absolutely no romantic feelings for you.” This sort of thing needed to be made unmistakably clear.

“Did I ever say I had romantic feelings for you?” He didn’t appear remotely embarrassed. Instead, he was entirely at ease: “I simply… don’t want to stay at that fellow’s place.”

That fellow — he was of course referring to the Ninth Imperial Uncle.

She blinked. “The two of you brothers still haven’t reconciled?”

Mu Mu said nothing. With her in the picture, how could he and that fellow ever be on good terms? But such words were pointless to speak aloud.

Feng Jiu’er seemed to sense the disdain he harbored toward the Ninth Imperial Uncle. And truly — in this world, those who could feel genuine disdain for the Ninth Imperial Uncle were very, very few.

Feng Jiu’er yawned and looked at him, both exasperated and put-upon.

There was that enormous Ninth Prince’s estate, and yet he refused to stay there, insisting on moving in here instead.

“You couldn’t possibly have not eaten, not bathed, not changed clothes yet, could you? I’m telling you — I’ve had wine to drink. I can barely walk right now. I am not taking care of you. I’m telling you…” She sighed.

There were several guest rooms in the east wing, and after arriving, Mu Mu had already walked through the east wing once, memorizing the layout. So when Feng Jiu’er said there was no space, he immediately pointed out those empty guest rooms — and had already selected the one he intended to occupy.

What could she say? What was there left to say? Protest? He wasn’t going to listen.

Two incense sticks later, Feng Jiu’er knocked on Yanu’s door. “Yanu, are you inside? I’ve come to borrow a set of clothes. Yanu? If you don’t answer, I’m pushing the door open.”

But Yanu was not in the room. When Feng Jiu’er entered, it was empty and quiet. He had likely stepped out to use the outhouse or gone to bathe.

Feng Jiu’er was a person very much attuned to the customs of the era. The bathing tub in one’s room was not something used every day — under normal circumstances, it was rarely needed.

She had arranged for two bathing areas to be built in the rear courtyard. There were no water taps, naturally, but in this setting one could splash freely and get as wet as one liked — which was the best thing about it.

Otherwise, getting the floor soaking wet inside one’s room every day would be such a nuisance.

She found a fresh set of clothes in Yanu’s cabinet — clothing she had had made for him after he came to Tianji Hall.

Yanu’s life was very simple. Three sets of clothing was essentially enough for him, and he always appeared impeccably put together when he wore them. It was the same as it had been back at Feng Manor — even in old clothes, he was always clean and neat, and one could somehow sense an air of quiet refinement about him.

After coming to Tianji Hall, Feng Jiu’er had arranged for him to have several sets of clothes. She hadn’t paid particular attention to what he wore day to day, but now that she looked — some of the sets were entirely new and had never been worn.

After waiting a short while with no sign of Yanu returning, Feng Jiu’er simply took the clothes and went. Mu Mu was waiting outside.

“There’s a row of bathing rooms out there — pick one and go wash up. There’s a deep well next door. Draw the water yourself. I genuinely don’t have the strength to haul it.” After all, she had been drinking, and was still tipsy. And yet he expected her to get up and wait on him!

If she’d known, she should have pretended to already be asleep — drunk and out cold. There was a chance that if she had ignored him, he might have found the whole thing tiresome after a while and left on his own.

Though, given what she knew of Mu Mu, that possibility wasn’t particularly likely.

Mu Mu took the clothes. Before walking off, he tossed back a remark: “Fix me something to eat.”

Feng Jiu’er felt genuinely wretched — but he was already gone. She also had ample reason to believe that if she didn’t meet this request, once he’d washed up, he’d come right back to find her anyway.

It was truly helpless. Utterly helpless. Had she owed these two brothers something in a past life?

By this hour, aside from a few brothers who had just finished their night shift rotation and were still eating in the rear courtyard, everyone else had largely retired to their rooms.

Not far away, the light in Yanu’s room had gone out as well. Even the last faint hope of finding someone to help her had been extinguished.

Feng Jiu’er trudged toward the rear courtyard fire pit with dragging steps and leaden feet, hoping that perhaps there might still be a little meat left for her…

“Ah!”

Early the next morning, someone screamed inside one of the rooms.

It was some distance away, but still enough to rouse Feng Jiu’er from her hazy half-sleep.

She rubbed her aching, bleary eyes. The moment she registered that she had truly heard a scream, she bolted upright in bed.

From the sound of it — could it be coming from Feng Yinan’s room?

To make it easier to care for and treat Feng Yinan, Feng Jiu’er had been having him stay with her in the east wing. Though Yinan was in a different section of the east wing, it was still the same courtyard. The scream from that direction was still clearly audible to her.

It was… Xiao Yingtao’s voice?

Feng Jiu’er climbed out of bed, threw a robe loosely over her shoulders, and stepped out the door to see Qiao Mu and the just-returned Xing Zizhou running toward Feng Yinan’s bedroom.

“What’s happened?” Feng Jiu’er hurried after them — and saw Xiao Yingtao burst out from inside, her face a picture of panic and desperation.

“Feng Jiu’er — where is Feng Jiu’er?” Xiao Yingtao’s eyes were red. In her urgency, her whole body was trembling. “Feng Jiu’er, Feng Jiu’er, come quickly — help, help!”

Ever since Feng Jiu’er had adopted the name Feng Jiu, Xiao Yingtao had never called out “Feng Jiu’er” in front of others — for fear that someone with ill intent might overhear.

And yet now, she was calling it out again and again. What on earth had happened to Feng Yinan?

Qiao Mu rushed in frantically. Feng Jiu’er arrived a step behind her.

Xiao Yingtao seized her hand, stumbling all over herself in her panic. “Hurry! Quickly! Help — Feng Jiu’er, help, quickly!”

Feng Jiu’er shook off her hand and pushed straight through the door.

What she saw: Qiao Mu holding Feng Yinan, turning to look at her — her eyes utterly vacant.

Feng Jiu’er’s heart lurched. The sight of Feng Yinan’s face — visibly blackened by poison — nearly stopped her heart entirely.

She walked over, face ashen, and extended a trembling hand, bringing her fingers close to Feng Yinan’s nostrils.

His eyes were tightly shut. His face had gone completely black. His body was stiff, and there was not the faintest trace of breath.

“He…” Qiao Mu’s lips trembled, her voice instantly becoming hoarse. “He’s… not breathing.”

Xing Zizhou and Yanu, who had arrived a step behind, both froze — unable to process what they were seeing.

Feng Yinan… was dead?

Why? How could this have happened?