I won't harm you.

Gu Fei blinked, and only through the faint moonlight that leaked in, she could vaguely make out the cold gleam at the bend of Mister Nine’s silver mask, like shards of ice crystals, carrying a chill. Yet his tone was flippant; had it been any other young lady, she would have blushed crimson and been rendered speechless.

But Gu Fei was never one to be easily swayed. She always looked ten steps ahead for every three she took, even letting words swirl a few times in her mind before she discerned meanings unknown to others. Mister Nine’s sudden shift in tone caught her attention. She set aside the fire striker, leaned back against the wheelchair, and snorted, “Mister Nine, you truly are charming. Did you come here so late just to say such things to me?”

Her slender eyes lifted, the silver mask catching points of light. Mister Nine propped his head with one hand, one leg half-bent, the other arm draped loosely. “Or perhaps I misunderstood? Was it not you who invited me here through that inked medicine? Very well, I’ll leave now and not disturb your rest.”

He made as if to rise, his black silk hair brushing against his white robes with a soft shushing sound, a wicked smile blooming at his lips.

Annoyed, Gu Fei cursed him inwardly, but on the surface, she had to smile. “It was indeed I who invited you, sir.”

Facing Mister Nine, Gu Fei once again found herself at a loss.

A laughter, light as scattered snow, gradually filled the room, low and hoarse, sounding almost like honeyed whispers at a pillow’s edge, leaving a lingering sweetness.

Yet tonight, Gu Fei found that laughter grating, laced with malicious mockery. She frowned, steering the conversation elsewhere. “I wonder if Mister Nine would be willing to strike a deal with me?”

“Oh?” Mister Nine drew out the word, fingers elegantly twisting a strand of hair at his temple, his gestures both refined and idle. “I thought you tampered with the inked medicine, luring me here to help you escape.”

Gu Fei shook her head, recalling something, her expression turning cold and severe. “Escape? I hardly need your help, Mister Nine. I have my own way to make Huang Pinyuan obediently send me back.”

She turned to look at Mister Nine, her tone solemn. “Now, all of Yizhou City likely knows that the Little Mo family from the capital will be coming next month to buy large quantities of Yizhou ink. Coincidentally, Linyang Pavilion has a considerable batch on hand. So, do you wish to see dragons and tigers clash?”

Mister Nine’s eyes brightened. He sat up straighter, tapping his knee thoughtfully. “A fine clash indeed. But tell me, do you intend to be the dragon yourself?”

Gu Fei nodded. “The Huang family and the Little Mo family will surely compete, and in the ink-making trade, the winner of the ink duel claims the prize. If Linyang Pavilion spreads the word that whoever wins the duel will buy the ink, then Huang and Mo will be locked in a deadly struggle. Two birds with one stone—efficient and effortless.”

Mister Nine clapped his hands. As he rose, the folds of his white robe unfurled like rippling water. “Miss Fei, what a clever scheme.”

Gu Fei’s mouth curled into a slight arc, her chin raised, revealing her innate pride. “I don’t know what ties you have with Linyang Pavilion, but that day, it was clearly you managing everything there. So, asking you is as good as asking the Pavilion itself. If you’re willing to cooperate, I’ll give you the real inked medicine afterward.”

Mister Nine circled Gu Fei, his gaze both interested and sly. Then he placed his hands on the back of her wheelchair, leaning forward to whisper in her ear, “The real inked medicine? Tell me, how did you know that combining morning glory and clove creates a hallucinogenic drug?”

Gu Fei leaned forward, putting as much distance between herself and Mister Nine as possible. “I read it in a book once.”

“So you admit that the inked medicine not only fails to cure chronic illnesses, but might even weaken the body and foster addiction?” Mister Nine drew close, his eyes fixed on her delicate ear, like fine white jade, softly glowing, with strands of hair occasionally falling, stark in their contrast and carrying an indescribable allure.

Gu Fei remained motionless, eyes fixed ahead, her hands, hidden by long sleeves, already gripping the wheelchair tightly. She thought of her mother, of the affairs of the Gu family, forcing her attention away from the unfamiliar presence before her, answering smoothly, “You jest, sir. I never denied it from the start—it was you who…”

Beneath half the silver mask, no expression could be discerned. Mister Nine reached out and gently flicked her soft earlobe with his fingernail.

Gu Fei abruptly fell silent. She turned aside, coldly glaring at Mister Nine, her dark eyes blazing with undisguised anger. “If you are a gentleman, please conduct yourself accordingly!”

Mister Nine, hearing this, straightened and stroked his chin. “Very well, I agree to your proposal.”

Yet Gu Fei’s face grew colder still. She would rather he bargain with her than accept so oddly and easily; she couldn’t help but overthink his motives. Immediately, she said, “Forget it, I’ve reconsidered. There’s no need to trouble you, Mister Nine. Let’s pretend tonight never happened—you may leave, and rest early.”

As she spoke, she turned the wheelchair toward the bed.

Better to act alone than to rely on someone whose intentions she could not fathom.

Her eyeliner, lifting in the darkness, caught a sliver of light like a shooting star. Mister Nine reached out with one hand and firmly held the wheelchair. “One set of inked medicine—I want four pieces.”

Gu Fei froze mid-motion.

“And I want you to represent the Huang family in the ink duel—you must win, not lose,” Mister Nine said slowly, word by word. “Will you do it or not, Miss Mo Fei?”

Her pupils, larger than most, contracted sharply like needles; those last four words thundered in her ears, leaving her stunned for a long moment.

Mister Nine, ever malicious, turned to observe her expression, satisfaction gleaming as he added fuel to the fire. “The Little Mo family might ask Feng Liyi to compete—no, that won’t work. Feng Liyi and Mo Yuhua don’t get along. Unless Feng Puyu himself orders it, Feng Liyi won’t agree. So only Mo Yuhua will take the stage.”

He pressed both hands against the wheelchair’s arms, trapping Gu Fei completely, bending close, his gaze deep. “Tsk. Your showdown with Mo Yuhua—that will be a true dragon-tiger clash. If you win, Linyang Pavilion in Yizhou will be yours to command. If you lose, I’ll reveal your true identity to him.”

“Ten years since you last met—tell me, will Mo Yuhua rejoice at your return to the Little Mo family?” Mister Nine murmured.

His voice was like a devil’s lure, carrying a chilling thrill, as he gazed at Gu Fei, his phoenix eyes deep as the sea, unreadable, with no clarity in their depths.

Gu Fei exerted all her strength to regain her voice, matching his gaze without flinching. “Who are you? What do you want?”

For the first time, since her escape from the capital, she felt fear—an unknown terror toward this man before her.

Mister Nine stood upright, his fingertip gliding from the brow of his silver mask down to his cheek, a relaxed smile on his lips. “Naturally, I’m the eccentric physician who can cure your legs. I won’t harm you, that’s all.”