An Jiu didn’t know what stories lay behind Zhu Pianxian’s life, but judging by her strained relationship with her family and the fact that she had become a widow at such a young age, she could guess that misfortune had touched her life. Yet, Zhu Pianxian still lived joyfully.
An Jiu wanted to become someone like that—someone who would never despair, no matter what life threw at her.
Mei Jiu had been the same. Though she had been utterly impractical and appeared incompetent in the harsh environment of Mei Shi, she had never once contemplated suicide or murder. Instead, she had secretly painted a beautiful future in her heart.
Thinking of her again, An Jiu sighed softly and murmured, “There was a girl I always wanted to kill, and she knew it. But when she died, she told me to find a place to plant a few acres of grapes, raise a flock of sheep, and marry a good man.”
Chu Dingjiang remained silent.
After a pause, he suddenly asked, “What do you think I resemble?”
“You…” An Jiu fell into thought.
Chu Dingjiang was well aware of An Jiu’s sharp tongue, so he had braced himself for whatever comparison she might make, ready to accept it with grace. He waited with an expectant smile.
An Jiu said, “A mother.”
A mother!?
Chu Dingjiang’s smile froze.
Even being compared to a father would have been easier to swallow! But a mother? How could a towering, eight-foot-tall man resemble a mother?!
What he didn’t know was that, in An Jiu’s heart, this was the highest praise she could give. To her, Chu Dingjiang felt like a mother—someone dependable and precious.
Chu Dingjiang recalled the day he had revealed his identity to her, when she had also said her name was “An Jiu.”
“Did you study literature before?” Chu Dingjiang wanted to learn more about her past. He asked because she often misused words, and her metaphors… were so painfully inept that they were hard to listen to.
“Of course I studied!” An Jiu was confident in this regard. “Back in the organization, I ranked first in every subject—firearms, military tactics, communications—I’ve read countless books on them.”
Strictly speaking, An Jiu had only received a normal education before the age of eight. Later, after being diagnosed with violent tendencies and manic episodes—and after the court ruled that she had killed her own father—everything she was exposed to had been carefully curated. Most of it was uplifting, beautiful, and simplistic, aimed not at imparting knowledge but at purifying her mind and alleviating her symptoms. After that, everything she learned was for the sake of killing.
When it came to literature—especially Chinese literature—three words perfectly summarized her: utterly uncultured!
Yet, the saddest thing in the world isn’t being uncultured. It’s being uncultured without realizing it. And the even sadder thing isn’t being uncultured without realizing it—it’s being uncultured while convinced of one’s own erudition!
Chu Dingjiang looked at her brimming confidence and smiled. “Aside from those, did you read anything else? Like the Four Books and Five Classics, or perhaps the Admonitions for Women ?”
An Jiu had never even heard of these books. Mei Jiu had read them, but An Jiu had only inherited fragmented memories.
So she shook her head honestly.
“A-Jiu, why do I resemble a mother and not a father?” Chu Dingjiang asked.
“Father?” An Jiu’s voice suddenly sharpened.
The glaring sunlight illuminated her face, making her complexion appear deathly pale. In her expression, Chu Dingjiang saw unmistakable terror.He suddenly didn’t want to ask anything anymore. Seizing her hand, he pulled her into his embrace.
The black mantle enveloped An Jiu. The warmth unique to Chu Dingjiang’s presence slowly soothed her emotions.
At this moment, Chu Dingjiang was certain that An Jiu’s recent mental state had been unusual. Under normal circumstances, she would never show such an expression—she was always aloof, capable of turning even kind words into barbs, and even her smiles felt like mockery.
“A Jiu.” Chu Dingjiang felt he was growing increasingly foolish, always doing things that invited trouble, yet he still spoke the words, “You can rely on me without worry. I swear to the heavens, I will never harm you for eternity.”
For Chu Dingjiang, this was a solemn vow.
He didn’t know how things had come to this. He remembered that at first, he had merely felt lonely and saw An Jiu as a good listener—someone weak, someone he could control and destroy at any time.
But amid his bewilderment and doubt, he also felt that this was good.
To love and hate freely—such a life would never lack exhilaration.
Chu Dingjiang sensed the emotions of the person in his arms gradually settling, and a faint smile touched his eyes.
“Hey!” Mo Sigui shouted from atop the wall, “I’ve been here for a quarter of an hour! Trying to freeze me to death?”
Both Chu Dingjiang and An Jiu possessed the mental strength of the Transformation Realm. They would have sensed anyone approaching immediately—there was no way they hadn’t noticed his arrival.
“Done hugging? If so, hurry down for acupuncture! I still need to roast sweet potatoes!” Mo Sigui urged.
No sooner had he spoken than the wall beneath him collapsed with a thunderous crash.
Chu Dingjiang tucked his hands into his mantle and swept An Jiu down into the courtyard with him.
“What’s going on? Enemy attack?” Sheng Changying poked his head out from the kitchen.
Zhu Pianxian, who had been eavesdropping nearby, saw the dangerous glint in Chu Dingjiang’s eyes and hastily shoved Sheng Changying’s head back inside before scrambling into the kitchen after him.
“This lady…” Sheng Changying didn’t recognize her.
Zhu Pianxian, peering through the door crack, quickly clamped her arm around his head and covered his mouth. “Quiet, or I’ll kill you.”
Sheng Changying obediently fell silent and joined her in spying.
Outside, the three figures were bathed in twilight.
“Let’s go.” Mo Sigui didn’t throw a tantrum.
The three of them entered the house together, followed shortly by Chu Dingjiang’s raised voice. “She has to undress!”
Zhu Pianxian dragged Sheng Changying closer, sneaking toward the commotion.
“How else am I supposed to apply the needles?” Mo Sigui said flatly.
Zhu Pianxian clenched her fists in excitement, forgetting her right hand was still covering Sheng Changying’s face. Her nails dug deep into his flesh, making him tremble in pain.
Unaware, Zhu Pianxian assumed he was just as thrilled as she was.
“Hmm.” Chu Dingjiang’s deep voice came from inside. “Go ahead with the needles. I’m not a petty man.”
“Lord Chu, please leave. Your presence is interfering with the procedure.” Mo Sigui’s tone was calm but carried an unmistakable chill.
“Fine.” Chu Dingjiang strode out without hesitation.
Zhu Pianxian had no time to flee and was caught red-handed. She forced an awkward smile. “I… I…”
Sheng Changying seized the chance to pull her hand away, gasping for breath. “We came to see if there was anything we could help with.”
“No need. You may retire for the night.” Chu Dingjiang replied, his demeanor as composed and steady as ever, no different from usual.Sheng Changying turned around, and Zhu Pianxian quickly followed behind him, but she had a bad feeling. The person ahead, draped in a wide robe, moved with an air of dignity—clearly not some kitchen servant!
After rounding a corner, Sheng Changying headed straight for the kitchen. At this moment, his mind was fixated on that pot of half-cooked porridge—one must see things through to the end!
"Young master," Zhu Pianxian called out, but he seemed deaf to her voice. Thinking he might be upset, she hurried ahead to block his path.
Only then did she get a clear look at his face—narrow, fox-like eyes, a weary expression, and four deep fingernail marks on one cheek, like a wildcat’s claw marks.
Meanwhile, Chu Dingjiang leaped silently onto the rooftop, found a spot, and crouched down. He lifted a tile halfway before hesitating—should he look or not? If he peeked and saw that she had indeed shed too much, wouldn’t that just make him even more upset? Better not look.
He gently set the tile back in place and was about to climb down when doubt crept in again. If he didn’t look, he wouldn’t feel at ease! That Mo Sigui’s character was… (To be continued…)
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