An Jiu perched on a roof beam, watching the start of a new day at the Li mansion.
Li Ting left for the early morning court session at the end of the Yin hour every day. Since Tianshui Lane was some distance from the palace, he had to rise before dawn to prepare. His wife would get up early to help him wash and dress, personally seeing him off at the second gate.
Bianjing had quite a temperature difference between morning and noon. Summer mornings were slightly cool.
In the inner chamber, Li Ting sat before a mirror while his wife combed his hair.
The room was quiet. In the warm lamplight, the peaceful and intimate atmosphere between the two was something An Jiu had never witnessed before.
Li Ting’s hair was graying, but he still looked energetic. His wife appeared to be only in her thirties, likely younger than her actual age. Her features were regular, though not beautiful. Her overall demeanor of grace and dignity immediately marked her as a lady from a good family.
After dressing, several maids led the way with lanterns as the couple went out together.
Li’s wife always walked half a step behind him, while he frequently glanced back at her.
Neither spoke, but anyone could see their deep affection.
An Jiu quietly followed them to the second gate.
“Be careful on your way, husband,” Li’s wife said, taking a cloak from a maid and fastening it around Li Ting herself.
“Mm,” Li Ting replied, his tone caring despite his stern expression. “The dew is heavy. Go back inside quickly.”
His wife smiled and agreed, but didn’t return until Li Ting’s figure had disappeared from view.
An Jiu slipped out of the courtyard and waited by the main gate for Li Ting’s sedan chair to emerge, then followed him.
Li Ting had a fourth-level guard with him, making it convenient to strike. However, he traveled on main roads. Bianjing had an armory every 200 steps, storing weapons and housing troops. Though few and not particularly strong, alerting them would still be troublesome.
Assassinating Li Ting would be easy, but the five-day time limit made it challenging.
An Jiu followed him until he reached the Imperial Road before leaving. She then walked Li Ting’s route to court several times, identifying potential ambush spots.
The nearest city defense depot was only fifty steps from Li’s mansion. Given the mansion’s small size, the best time to strike without alerting the garrison would be at night when Li Ting was alone in his study.
Having chosen her spots, An Jiu lay in wait at one of the ambush points the next day, bow-ready for her prey.
However, as Li Ting’s sedan passed, she didn’t lose her arrow. Instead, she rushed to the second ambush point to wait.
Again, she only aimed at him without taking action. In the afternoon, she disguised herself and hired a sedan chair, riding from Tianshui Lane to Pan Lou Street.
Sedan chairs had curtains, and An Jiu needed to know how someone of Li Ting’s build would sit inside – where his head and chest would be positioned.
After nearly two incense sticks’ time in the chair, An Jiu’s expression grew serious. Leaning back versus sitting upright changed the chest position by about a foot, not to mention the head. From her observations, Li Ting seemed meticulous, likely to sit straight, but what if he didn’t?
To ensure success, ambushing on his way to court seemed unfeasible.
“Young master, we’ve arrived,” the sedan bearer called.
Alighting from the chair, An Jiu was greeted by the bustling market street. She tossed the bearer a small piece of silver.
“Young master, your change…” the bearer bent to count out the change.
His companion nudged him with an elbow. “He’s gone.”
In the blink of an eye, An Jiu had vanished into the crowd.
The bearers, assuming she was a servant from a wealthy household on an urgent errand, thought nothing of it and pocketed the silver happily.
Pan Lou Street was crowded. An Jiu blended in as an ordinary youth in gray clothes, utterly unremarkable. Even as she looked around, to others she seemed just an inexperienced boy.
An Jiu found a teahouse and sat by a street-facing window on the second floor, waiting to see if any good opportunities arose when Li Ting returned home in the evening.
If he took the same route and sedan chair back, she’d have to find an opportunity within his mansion. Recalling the couple’s behavior, An Jiu subconsciously preferred not to strike within their home.
An Jiu lifted her teacup, observing the street below. Everything was in her view.
As an assassin, An Jiu excelled at sniping, though her violent tendencies ensured she was no slouch in close combat either. She possessed exceptional eyesight and observational skills. In this chaotic environment, she missed nothing, quickly identifying anything unusual.
So when the man leading a horse entered her field of vision, she noticed him immediately.
His build was familiar. So familiar that she recognized him at first glance.
An Jiu flicked a peanut at his bamboo hat.
The man paused, slightly raising his head. Half his face remained in shadow, but An Jiu saw enough!
Hua Rongjian!
No, not Chu Dingjiang!
An Jiu was stunned.
Hua Rongjian’s gaze quickly swept over everyone seated by the windows, finally meeting An Jiu’s eyes.
An Jiu stared back unabashedly. This man was burly with hard facial features and cold eyes, vastly different from her impression of Hua Rongjian. Looking closely, he didn’t resemble Hua Rongjian much at all.
He frowned and walked towards the teahouse.
In that brief moment of eye contact, An Jiu was certain this man had a face very similar to Hua Rongjian’s, but he wasn’t that profligate playboy.
“Hua Rongjian” came upstairs, heading straight for An Jiu.
He didn’t remove his hat. After sitting down and ordering a pot of Tieguanyin tea, his gaze fell on her hands.
“You’re out?” Up close, An Jiu thought he looked more like Chu Dingjiang.
The waiter brought tea. He calmly poured a cup, drank it in one go, wiped his mouth, and grunted an affirmative.
Her instinct was correct; it was indeed Chu Dingjiang.
Sitting face to face, she finally noticed the flaw: his chin showed a faint stubble but no pores, indicating a thin covering on his face.
An Jiu was puzzled. Chu Dingjiang was strange enough, but with his build, even wearing a human skin mask wouldn’t make him resemble Hua Rongjian. Why disguise himself with such a conspicuous face? Many people in Bianjing knew Hua Rongjian!
“Are you alright?” An Jiu asked.
Chu Dingjiang shook his head.
After sitting for a while, Chu Dingjiang glanced at her and left.
An Jiu paid and followed him out of the teahouse.
They walked one behind the other on the main street for about an incense stick’s time before Chu Dingjiang turned into a small alley.
When An Jiu followed, Chu Dingjiang had vanished. She probed with her spirit force and found no transcendent masters nearby, only a ninth-level expert less than ten zhang away.
An Jiu stopped before a closed door. It opened to reveal Chu Dingjiang standing in the dim light, having removed his human skin mask and changed back to his original disguise.
“What’s going on? Your cultivation…” An Jiu entered, closing the door behind her.
The room contained only a table with a bamboo scroll and a bronze sparrow oil lamp. The furnishings were simple and rugged, quite different from the delicate, refined furniture of the Song Dynasty. Though An Jiu found it strange, she didn’t dwell on it.
Chu Dingjiang spread his hands. An Jiu saw several black objects embedded in his palms. He smiled, “I have some on my body too. They’ve restricted my powers and thoroughly exiled me to Konghe Court. Many want me dead. I need you now.”
So his appearance before her wasn’t coincidental.
“What do you need me to do?” An Jiu asked. Chu Dingjiang had helped her before; she wouldn’t refuse his request.
“Three years ago, I was only at the sixth level, with ninth-level spirit force. I reached the transcendent realm so quickly because I received a senior’s lifelong cultivation. Though there was some loss, it was enough to help me break through,” Chu Dingjiang didn’t answer directly, instead recounting the past. “Power that doesn’t belong to you is very unstable. I expended great effort to barely control this force.”
“Why? You’d rather take such a big risk?” An Jiu remembered him saying in the ancient temple that receiving someone else’s cultivation could lead to death if one’s meridians couldn’t contain the powerful internal energy. He was at the transcendent level; if he wanted to leave, no one could stop him. Why insist on staying in the Konghe Army despite such treatment?
Chu Dingjiang’s dark eyes were unsettling, and his words equally disturbing: “Ambition.”
An Jiu frowned. “You approached me just for today?”
When Chu Dingjiang said “ambition,” An Jiu felt a tightness in her chest, a feeling she’d only experienced when Mei Jiu was upset. She realized she was upset too.
He had been so kind to her, just to use her.
“Yes and no,” Chu Dingjiang said. “If I purely intended to use you, I wouldn’t tell you this. I’ve manipulated many people, but in my current situation, I don’t want to deceive you. If you refuse, I won’t force you.”
“I agree,” An Jiu pushed aside her unease. “Whatever your intentions were before, I owe you my life. That’s undeniable. Repaying debts is only right.”
“Fourteen.” Chu Dingjiang tried to grasp her hand but was evaded.
The door opened and closed, the room brightening then darkening, much like An Jiu’s heart at that moment.
Chu Dingjiang stared at the closed door, lowering his hand. He sat down, picked up a chess piece from the table, and rubbed the seal script on it, his heart filled with bitterness.
He could no longer generate pure emotions. Beneath his open-minded facade, lies and deceptions came easily. He had long anticipated that a relationship beginning with manipulation would wither when confronted with the truth, yet he still chose to tell her the truth.
Never in his life had he so desperately wanted to win someone’s heart.
He arranged chess pieces on the table to form the seal script character “Hua,” pursing his lips in a bitter smile.
If I could have your companionship, I surely wouldn’t be so lonely on this path, Mei Shisi. If I bore my heart and soul to you, would you stab me in the back when I’m vulnerable…
He had always favored risky, unconventional strategies in warfare. People called him the Heartless Young Master, but who could have foreseen this day?