An Jiu didn’t know Zhu Pianpian’s full story, but seeing her relationship with her family and her young widowhood, she guessed Zhu Pianpian had faced misfortune yet remained cheerful.
An Jiu wished to become such a person—someone who never lost hope, no matter what life threw at her.
Mei Jiu was like that too. Though she seemed ill-suited for the harsh Mei family environment, she never contemplated suicide or murder. Instead, she secretly dreamed of a beautiful future.
Thinking of her again, An Jiu sighed softly, “There was a girl I always wanted to kill. She knew this. Yet when she died, she told me to find a place to grow grapes, raise sheep, and marry a good man.”
Chu Dingjiang remained silent.
After a moment, he suddenly asked, “What do you think I’m like?”
“You…” An Jiu pondered deeply.
Knowing An Jiu’s sharp tongue, Chu Dingjiang had mentally prepared himself to accept whatever comparison she made. He waited expectantly with a smile.
An Jiu replied, “Like a mother.”
A mother!?
Chu Dingjiang’s smile froze.
Even “father” would have been more acceptable! How could he, a strapping man, be like a mother?
He didn’t realize this was An Jiu’s highest praise. To her, Chu Dingjiang felt as dependable and precious as a mother.
Chu Dingjiang recalled the day he revealed his identity when she also said her name was “An Jiu.”
“Have you studied before?” Chu Dingjiang asked, trying to understand her past. He asked because she often misused words, and her metaphors were painfully unrefined.
“Of course I have!” An Jiu replied confidently. “I was top of my class in everything at the organization—firearms, military tactics, communications, you name it.”
Strictly speaking, An Jiu had only received a normal education until age eight. After being diagnosed with violent tendencies and mania, and judged to have killed her father, her subsequent education was highly targeted. It focused on positive, beautiful, and pure content aimed at purifying her mind and alleviating her symptoms rather than imparting knowledge. Later, everything she learned was for killing.
In literature, especially Chinese literature, her level could be summed up in three words: utterly uncultured!
However, the most tragic thing in the world isn’t being uncultured, but being unaware of one’s lack of culture. Even worse is being uncultured yet believing oneself cultured!
Seeing her confident expression, Chu Dingjiang smiled and asked, “Haven’t you read anything else? Like the Four Books and Five Classics, or at least the ‘Admonitions for Women’?”
An Jiu had never heard of these books. Mei Jiu had read them, but An Jiu only inherited fragments of her memories.
So she honestly shook her head.
“Ajiu, why do I seem like a mother rather than a father?” Chu Dingjiang asked.
“Father?” An Jiu’s voice suddenly rose.
The bright sunlight on her face made her look pale. Chu Dingjiang saw undisguised terror in her expression.
Suddenly, he didn’t want to ask anything more. He grasped her hand, pulling her into his embrace.
His black cloak enveloped An Jiu. Chu Dingjiang’s unique warmth gradually calmed her emotions.
Now, Chu Dingjiang was certain An Jiu’s mental state was abnormal. Normally, she would never show such an expression. She was always cold, turning even kind words into barbs. Even her smiles seemed mocking.
“Ajiu,” Chu Dingjiang felt increasingly foolish, always creating trouble for himself. Yet he still spoke, “You can rely on me. I swear to heaven, I will never harm you.”
For Chu Dingjiang, this was a solemn oath.
He didn’t know how he’d reached this point. Initially, he had just felt lonely and saw An Jiu as a good confidant—a weak person he could control and destroy at will.
Yet amidst his confusion and doubt, he felt this was good.
To love and hate freely—that’s living life to the fullest.
Chu Dingjiang noticed the person in his arms gradually calming, a smile appearing in her eyes.
“Hey!” Mo Sigui shouted from atop the wall. “I’ve been here for ages! Trying to freeze us to death?”
Both Chu Dingjiang and An Jiu, with their transcendent spiritual power, should have sensed his approach immediately.
“Done hugging? Come down for acupuncture! I still need to roast sweet potatoes!” Mo Sigui urged.
As he finished speaking, the wall beneath his feet suddenly collapsed.
Chu Dingjiang’s hand drew back into his cloak as he and An Jiu landed in the courtyard.
“What’s happening? Are we under attack?” Sheng Changying poked his head out from the kitchen.
Zhu Pianpian, who had been spying nearby, saw Chu Dingjiang’s unfriendly expression. She quickly pushed Sheng Changying’s head back inside and ducked into the kitchen herself.
“Miss…” Sheng Changying hadn’t met her before.
Zhu Pianpian, still peeking through the door, quickly trapped his head under her arm and covered his mouth. “Quiet, or I’ll kill you.”
Sheng Changying truly fell silent, joining her in spying.
Outside, the three figures were bathed in twilight.
“Let’s go,” Mo Sigui said without losing his temper.
The three entered the room, followed by Chu Dingjiang’s raised voice, “You need to undress!”
Zhu Pianpian dragged Sheng Changying closer to listen.
“How else can I apply needles?” Mo Sigui replied calmly.
Zhu Pianpian excitedly clenched her fist, forgetting her right hand was covering someone’s face. Her nails dug deep into Sheng Changying’s flesh, making him tremble in pain.
Zhu Pianpian didn’t notice, thinking Sheng Changying was as excited as she was.
“Mm.” Chu Dingjiang’s rich voice came from inside. “Go ahead with the acupuncture. I’m not petty.”
“Please leave, Daren Chu. Your presence interferes with my treatment,” Mo Sigui said coolly.
“Alright.” Chu Dingjiang promptly opened the door and came out.
Zhu Pianpian caught off guard, smiled awkwardly. “I… I…”
Sheng Changying seized the chance to pull her hand away, catching his breath. “We came to see if you needed any help.”
“No need. Go rest,” Chu Dingjiang said, his demeanor as calm and composed as ever.
Sheng Changying turned to leave. Zhu Pianpian quickly followed but felt uneasy. The man ahead, in his loose robes, moved with dignity—not a kitchen servant!
Rounding a corner, Sheng Changying headed straight for the kitchen. His mind was on the half-cooked porridge—one must finish what they start!
“Sir,” Zhu Pianpian called out. Seeing him unhearing, she thought he was angry and quickly ran in front to block his path.
Now she saw his face: narrow fox-like eyes, a weary expression, and four deep nail marks on one cheek giving him a wildcat-like appearance.
Meanwhile, Chu Dingjiang silently leaped onto the roof, finding a spot to crouch. He lifted a tile halfway, then hesitated. Should he look or not? If he saw too much undressing, wouldn’t that make him even more uncomfortable? Better not look!
He gently lowered the tile, about to descend, then hesitated again. Not looking felt unsettling! With Mo Sigui’s character…