She hadn’t expected Jiu Qing to simply push the door open.

Feng Jiu’er threw back the blanket and sat up, looking up to find Jiu Qing stepping inside, carrying things.

He set the food box and the meal Long Eleven had brought him all on the table, then turned to look at Jiu’er sitting on the bed.

Her shoes were still on — clearly she hadn’t truly intended to sleep.

When he had returned earlier, he had actually come to check on her, and at that time she had still been deep in sleep. Having now woken only half an hour ago, for her to already be attempting to sleep again was clearly out of character.

After sleeping so long, she would find it difficult to fall asleep again so soon.

“Are you angry with me for being too cold toward you just now?” He sat down at the table and studied her.

“No.” Feng Jiu’er muttered, her lips pressing together. She truly wasn’t angry with him.

Jiu Qing was simply this way by nature. If anything, he was already quite good toward her. Toward everyone else, he was unwilling to say even half an unnecessary word.

Given all that, what reason did she have to be angry?

She was simply… angry at herself.

Her gaze slipped, almost against her will, to his body. That wound lingered in her mind, refusing to leave.

She didn’t know how serious the injury was. She knew she shouldn’t care so much — yet she did.

Jiu’er was genuinely irritated — irritated at her own inexplicable behavior over this stretch of time.

Could it be that because he and the Ninth Imperial Uncle gave off such a similar feeling, she had transferred her affection? Had she come to… like Jiu Qing a little as well?

The word like detonated inside Feng Jiu’er’s chest like a bottomless dark chasm, and the force of it sent a wave of ache crashing through her head.

No — it was impossible that it was like. It was only because he had saved her over and over recently. She was moved, surely.

But others had done the same for her. Jian Yi — that foolish man — had also risked his life to save her without hesitation.

So why was it that toward Jian Yi, she felt nothing like this? No gnawing longing that left her desperate to see him?

What was wrong with her? What exactly were these feelings she harbored toward Jiu Qing?

“Since you’re not angry, come and eat with me.” Jiu Qing said evenly.

Those words — so reminiscent of the Ninth Imperial Uncle. The same calm tone, carrying within it an authority that invited no resistance.

He truly was so much like the Ninth Imperial Uncle…

Jiu Qing suddenly rose and walked toward her.

Feng Jiu’er startled slightly, staring at the face drawing steadily closer: “What are you doing?”

“Since you’re unwilling to come over, then I… have no choice but to carry you.” Jiu Qing said, his face blank.

Carry her over — absolutely not! “Wait!”

She shoved his large hand away with some force, afraid he might truly lift her off the ground.

Jiu’er immediately hopped off the bed. She glanced at the two food boxes on the table — she was, in fact, rather hungry.

She had slept for most of the day. How could she not be?

It was only… eating with him…

“What is it? Since when are you so strange in the face of food?” Jiu Qing’s voice came from directly behind her, as though breathing against her back.

Feng Jiu’er lurched forward as though burned, putting several steps between them before she dared look back.

“You — why do you walk up behind someone without making a sound?”

Jiu Qing was genuinely puzzled. The room was this small — two steps and he was behind her. Where else was he supposed to go?

Still, Feng Jiu’er’s manner of recoiling from him as though he were a snake or scorpion gave him a faint, uncomfortable feeling.

“Let’s eat.” Jiu Qing walked to the table and sat down, drawing the food from both boxes in turn.

Feng Jiu’er hesitated, then made her way to the far side of the table and sat.

A bowl and chopsticks were placed before her. Jiu Qing simply unpacked the food, set the boxes aside, and sat quietly — waiting.

Waiting for her? She somehow saw it immediately — he was waiting for her to… serve him?

Feng Jiu’er’s expression went flat with exasperation. There it was again — that feeling of being with the Ninth Imperial Uncle.

Yet Jiu Qing’s face — she truly could see no seam in it, nothing that looked the least bit false. With her eyes alone, she genuinely couldn’t detect anything.

Unless she could get a closer look and see if he had something hidden in his hair. Without that, her naked eyes simply couldn’t uncover anything.

And besides — the Ninth Imperial Uncle following her all the way here was impossible. What was she even suspecting?

Was she hoping to make herself feel better by imagining he was the Ninth Imperial Uncle? Because otherwise, having such complicated feelings for a man who was not the Ninth Imperial Uncle — if the Ninth Imperial Uncle ever found out, wouldn’t he be furious enough to twist her head right off?

Just thinking about it sent a chill along her neck, her head feeling suddenly precarious atop her shoulders. Truly terrifying.

Having feelings for a man other than the Ninth Imperial Uncle — no, no, no! She wasn’t ready to die just yet!

On instinct, she shifted her chair a little further to the side. Then she stood and served a bowl of rice for both herself and Jiu Qing.

After that, Feng Jiu’er buried her head and ate in determined silence, with not the slightest apparent intention of acknowledging Jiu Qing.

This was almost identical to eating alone.

The strange thing was — this girl, who was ordinarily never short of words, was completely silent today.

Through the entire meal, Feng Jiu’er said not a single word. Once finished, she immediately and proactively cleared everything away and removed herself from his room.

Even after tidying up, she didn’t return to her own room right away. She stayed in the back courtyard for a long while before finally slipping quietly back.

After all this time, Jiu Qing should have gone, surely? What reason would a grown man have to linger in a young woman’s bedchamber?

When she got back, Jiu Qing was indeed gone.

Feng Jiu’er let out a quiet breath of relief. Yanu had just arrived with water for her bath.

She soaked in a comfortable bath, changed into fresh clothes, and still felt not the slightest bit sleepy.

She walked to the window and pushed it open.

Outside, a bright moon hung high — round and large and beautiful beyond words.

She stood there in quiet stillness, watching that full moon, until, within it, a face began to drift into view — and then a figure.

The Ninth Imperial Uncle… she missed him so much.

Then, without warning, a sharp pain stabbed through her head. Feng Jiu’er’s breath caught, and her eyes flew wide.

Tonight — it was a full moon night.

She had been away so long that she had completely forgotten about this.

Terrible. The pain in her head grew worse, yet in her mind, the Ninth Imperial Uncle’s face remained — his tall, lean figure still clear and vivid.

Jiu’er pressed both hands to her head and turned — and in her carelessness, knocked into a chair nearby.

Her head throbbed and her legs went weak. With a thud, she collapsed to the floor.

“Mm…”

At the very moment she fell, the door was flung open with a bang.

That figure, which had been standing outside for quite some time, came rushing in.

It was a full moon night — and she was falling ill.

Jiu Qing scooped her up in one swift motion and made to carry her back to the bed.

But Feng Jiu’er reached out and grabbed hold of his lapel, her breath faint as gossamer: “I… my head hurts…”

She had been thinking of the Ninth Imperial Uncle, and her head had already been aching enough.

Now, with Jiu Qing appearing so abruptly before her — the moment she saw him, the pain deepened until even her heart began to tremble.