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They were so close that they could smell the cold fragrance emanating from each other.

She couldn’t help but ask, "What exactly do you want to do?"

Jun Moqing’s gaze fell on the thin incision on the Peach Tree, an incision that she had left when she was nine.

"It’s been almost ten years, you’ve grown quite a bit."

Shen Chuwei turned to look at the Peach Tree behind her and after searching for a moment, she saw the mark on the trunk, knowing without asking that it was left by Feng Wuyou before he disappeared.

Feeling a bit guilty, she said, "Of course, ten years is indeed quite a bit of growth."

Jun Moqing, looking at her height, concluded, "You’ve become a bit shorter."

Shen Chuwei: "..." I know I’m not very tall, but I’m not short either, 163 cm, in ancient times that’s not considered short.

Jun Moqing nonchalantly added, "However, this is also quite good."

Shen Chuwei: "..." Can’t you just say everything all at once? If it were someone else, the knives would be out by now.

After looking at her height, Jun Moqing began to examine her appearance; her small, palm-sized face had lost its baby fat and become even more delicate.

Now, his eyes and brows looked even more like hers.

Shen Chuwei didn’t dwell on the height issue. As long as it didn’t interfere with her eating, that was fine. Although she had only met the man yesterday and only seen him four times including today, she felt that aside from his cold demeanour, he seemed to be quite nice.

It might be because of the filter of good looks.

"You’re a subordinate of the National Master, right?"

Jun Moqing looked at her indifferently, waiting for her to continue.

Shen Chuwei then asked, "Do you know when the National Master will return?"

Jun Moqing: "..." Elder? Does he look that old?

Shen Chuwei had to admit, taciturn people really do treasure their words, and that statement wasn’t a lie.

The man before her was the best example.

"Don’t you know?"

Just as Shen Chuwei finished speaking, a familiar voice came from behind her.

"Master?"

Master? Shen Chuwei looked back in confusion and saw Ye Suhuan approaching.

Ye Suhuan had only caught a glimpse of the figure from a distance, but as he drew closer and saw the profile, he recognized it was his master.

Since Little Nine vanished, he hadn’t seen his master again.

He strode forward and greeted him respectfully.

"Master."

The followers behind Ye Suhuan also followed suit in greeting, "National Master."

One mention of "Master" had already surprised Shen Chuwei enough, but then suddenly hearing "National Master" made her feel like dying of embarrassment on the spot.

She stared wide-eyed at the man before her. The National Master is this young? No wonder when I called him old just now, he didn’t bother with me.

Anybody in their prime being called an elder would be a bit miffed, wouldn’t they?

Jun Moqing’s gaze shifted to the newcomer, eyes landing on the silver mask, "Are you disfigured?"

Ye Suhuan’s lips twitched. Who could have imagined that the first thing to hear at a master-disciple reunion would be ’are you disfigured?’

"No, your disciple has just gotten used to wearing a mask."

Shen Chuwei sneakily glanced at the National Master, who didn’t follow convention. To greet with a question of disfigurement? Why not ask if one is being mysterious?

Jun Moqing was not interested in Ye Suhuan wearing a mask and simply said three words, "Rise."

"Yes, Master." Ye Suhuan got up from the ground, his gaze returning to Little Nine, who was staring at the master.

"When did Master return? Why wasn’t there any news? Your disciple would have liked to welcome you in advance."

Jun Moqing replied, "I don’t like the fuss."

Ye Suhuan realized he had asked a pointless question upon hearing this. His master has always preferred solitude; he probably returned without even the emperor knowing.

Moreover, the master must have come back for Little Nine. If not for her, he guessed the master might not have returned at all.

Shen Chuwei stood there awkwardly, glancing now at Ye Suhuan, now at the National Master, feeling increasingly guilty.

She prided herself on being perceptive; how could she have thought the National Master would definitely be an old man with white hair and a goat beard?

Even less did she expect the National Master would be living in the same palace as Feng Wuyou.

Jun Moqing’s gaze turned again toward Little Nine and asked Ye Suhuan, "Did you find Little Nine first?"

Ye Suhuan glanced at Little Nine and respectfully replied, "When your disciple found Little Nine, I wasn’t sure it was her. Only after more verification was I certain she was Little Nine."

Shen Chuwei, feeling named and shamed, didn’t dare breathe too loudly. The National Master was so formidable; he wouldn’t find out she was an impostor, would he?

His tone suggested he was quite familiar with Feng Wuyou; she guessed they must have shared a palace in the past.

She held her breath guiltily, standing there quietly as can be.

Jun Moqing’s gaze returned to Little Nine, noting she was looking down. This was not like her at all; ever since she was little, even if she did something wrong, she wouldn’t bow her head silently, she’d act spoiled until you weren’t mad anymore.