This girl called him “Uncle.” The old manor master called her Jiu’er. And she called herself Feng Jiu…

Something shifted in Lan Yue’s heart, though he could not say precisely what he was thinking.

He had never met Feng Jiu’er before. Upon returning to the Imperial City, he had heard that Feng Jiu’er had followed the Ninth Prince into battle and had already died on the battlefield.

He owed that girl — far too much.

At the time, circumstances had left him no choice, and he had been unable to acknowledge her. Now that he had returned to the Imperial City, he had intended to go and see her — but by the time he did, she had already departed this world like a fading fragrance.

She had originally been nothing more than a young lady raised within the inner chambers. Who could have imagined she would take up a sword and go to war?

And everyone had once said that the Ninth Miss of the Feng Family had had her appearance destroyed in a great fire — that she had lost her wits, was foolish and deranged.

He had thought to himself: if that was her state, then let her live peacefully as a secluded young miss.

The world outside was too dangerous. If she were to become entangled with their World’s Foremost Manor, it would be even more dangerous.

Rather than drag her into this whirlpool, it was better to let her live freely, continuing to be the Ninth Miss she was.

Yet he had not expected — in one moment of hesitation — that they would be parted by death, never to meet again.

Lan Yue’s fingers tightened around his chopsticks — and then, with a sharp crack, a pair of the finest white jade chopsticks snapped in two in his grip.

“What are you doing? You frightened Jiu’er!” The old manor master’s reproach jolted Lan Yue back to the present.

But Feng Jiu’er’s gaze had fallen on his wrist. It had been a month — she had performed the surgery herself, personally prepared the medicine — the tendons in his hand should have healed by now, she thought.

She said, “Manor Master… Uncle, afterward, let me take your pulse and have a look.”

“No need!” Lan Yue suddenly stood up, and just like that, strode away with heavy steps.

She was not his niece. His niece had died on the battlefield more than half a year ago.

He would not allow — nor would he consent to — anyone impersonating Feng Jiu’er. Even if Feng Jiu was only doing so as a temporary measure, merely to make the old man happy — it could not be permitted.

At least not in his presence.

Answering to that call of “Uncle” would make him feel that he had wronged Jiu’er — that he had wronged his true niece.

Long Yan watched his retreating figure from a distance, wanting to go after him, yet afraid of upsetting the master.

The master had gone without food for over a day; it had taken great effort to get him willing to eat something. If he threw another tantrum and went on a hunger strike, Long Yan truly feared the master’s body could not withstand it.

“Why don’t you go and check on him?” said Feng Jiu’er.

Just now, she had clearly seen a shadow of deep pain pass through Lan Yue’s eyes. Yet Feng Jiu’er could not work out what she herself had done wrong that could have stirred up some painful memory of his.

This Lan Yue Manor Master — he too was a man with a story.

“I…” Long Yan thought it over and in the end shook his head. “Let the master eat something first. The Manor Master… the Manor Master is accustomed to being alone. He is likely just not at ease dining with others. Young Miss, please don’t take it to heart.”

Feng Jiu’er shook her head and picked up a piece of meat for the old manor master’s bowl. There was still someone right in front of her who needed looking after. As for Manor Master Lan Yue — he would have to wait for now.

“Grandfather, here — try this meat. It’s very good.”

——

It took considerable effort to coax the old man to sleep. Only then did Feng Jiu’er emerge from the bedchamber.

Long Yan was keeping watch just outside. Seeing Feng Jiu’er come out, he immediately went to her.

Jiu’er raised one finger to her lips in a hushing gesture.

The two of them left the rooms of the Camellia Courtyard, and only when they had walked far enough did Feng Jiu’er speak: “His condition has improved considerably lately. However, he was likely injured in his meridians by his own true energy at some point, and at his age, a sudden full recovery is simply not possible.”

“He can only be treated gradually. If medicine is forced upon him too aggressively, it may damage his nerves.”

The word “nerves” was not something Long Yan fully understood, but he grasped the general meaning.

He let out a quiet sigh, tilting his head back to gaze at the sky. “In truth… the master being unable to remember the past is perhaps not such a bad thing for him.”

Some of that past was so raw and so brutal. If the master were to recover completely — to remember those people and those events in full — he might not be able to bear it.

Feng Jiu’er knew that every person in this manor carried a past they were unwilling to face.

Who they were, what past they held, what purpose they carried with them now — she was curious, but she did not wish to dig deeper.

This Imperial City, which on the surface seemed calm and untroubled, was in truth surging with dark undercurrents.

Organizations of all kinds, forces of all stripes — scheming against one another, pursuing and being pursued, assassinating one another in turn…

She was only an ordinary person in business. Were it not for tracking down those who had destroyed the Long family — were it not for that — she would have truly wished to flee from a city and a whirlpool such as this.

“Just now I took a careful look at Manor Master Lan Yue’s face. The scars on his face do not look like the wounds of a blade or sword.”

On that point, Long Yan could not say much.

Feng Jiu’er said, “Since I am already a member of the manor — and all under heaven know that I, Feng Jiu, have acknowledged the old manor master as a relative — would it be possible for me to take a look at Manor Master Lan Yue’s condition as well?”

“Miss, our manor’s master you know full well — he would likely… likely not be too pleased to accept your kind intentions.”

“His wrist was healed by me. I may not know the full details of what you are all doing, but I have already stepped into these troubled waters. It is too late now to pull back.”

Lan Yue keeping his guard up toward her was perfectly understandable, and she did not mind at all.

But that face of his… she could not say why, but there was a nameless ache in her heart at the thought of not healing him.

Very often, even Feng Jiu’er herself felt that she was far too prone to misplaced sympathy — that this sort of matter was not something she should get herself mixed up in. Yet no matter how many times she scolded herself for it, she could never change this bad habit of hers.

She hoped that Lan Yue’s face could be healed. What she wished to see was both Lan Yue and the old manor master living in health and peace.

A longing and aspiration that rose from somewhere deep within her — a concern and attachment she could not herself explain or put into words.

Was it truly only because she had called them Grandfather and Uncle?

She had once… had a grandfather and an uncle too. Yet she had never met them, and did not know whether, in this life, she would ever have the chance again.

Though every indication pointed toward the Long family having been wiped out entirely, she still clung to the hope — the indulgent hope — that one day, there might still be a reunion.

Long Yan naturally hoped that Feng Jiu would be able to examine the Manor Master. With Feng Jiu’s medical skill being what it was — so formidable that even the Emperor was willing to invite her into the palace for consultations — she was clearly no one’s fool in this regard.

Not to mention that the last time the Manor Master had injured the tendons in his hand — such a severe wound — she had truly managed to heal it.

Long Yan harbored not the slightest doubt about Feng Jiu’s medical abilities.

The scars on the Manor Master’s face had been there for so many years. They were neither blade wounds nor sword wounds; no physician had ever been able to identify the cause. Perhaps Feng Jiu could?

Whether by intent or by accident, the two of them had been walking outside for a while when they found themselves right at the entrance to Lan Yue’s courtyard.

Feng Jiu’er smiled. “Long steward, did you bring me here on purpose, hoping I would go and take the Manor Master’s pulse?”