An Jiu didn’t know what to say next. She was stumbling forward in confusion, having felt life wasn’t worth living not long ago. Only recently had she begun to see survival as a stroke of luck.

Gu Jinghong didn’t want to die; he was being forced into a corner.

An Jiu wondered: if he wasn’t the Emperor’s crucible, then whose was he? And who were the “they” he mentioned?

“It’s my birth father’s family,” Gu Jinghong read her thoughts and explained. “I took my mother’s surname. But I never met her. From what I’ve learned, she was killed when I was born. A pitiful, foolish woman, tricked into love, bearing a child for someone else, and in the end, she lost not just status but her life!”

An Jiu pressed her lips together. This woman sounded eerily similar to her mother, a thought that displeased her. “Regardless, she gave you life, bringing you into this world. You shouldn’t criticize her like that. Your current situation isn’t inevitable; it’s of your own making!”

“My own making?” Gu Jinghong asked calmly.

An Jiu continued, “You didn’t just learn of your circumstances today, did you? Knowing this, you chose to seek survival rather than death. You chose to kill others to secure your path. These are cowardly and selfish choices. Why blame the mother who carried you for ten months?”

Gu Jinghong was stunned for a moment, then smiled wryly. “You’re right. I can read minds, yet I’ve never clearly seen my own heart. I thought being clever would let me see through everything, but I couldn’t find my path.”

Talking with Gu Jinghong was effortless; a few words were enough for him to understand. This made it even harder for An Jiu, who wasn’t skilled at conversation, to find topics to discuss.

They sat side by side on the roof all night. As dawn approached, the wind and snow gradually subsided.

The world was blanketed in white, and they too had become snowmen.

“How I wish I could watch the seasons change like this,” Gu Jinghong moved, causing snow to slide off. He turned to the snow pile beside him, his breath forming mist. “Thank you for sitting with me all night. You should go back now.”

As An Jiu stood, the accumulated snow cracked and fell from the eaves, creating a shallow dent in the pristine snow below.

She glanced at Gu Jinghong without a word, set down the wine jar, and jumped from the eaves, burying herself in the deep snow.

As she crawled out, she looked back to see Gu Jinghong smiling at her. Gone was last night’s oppression; his smile was clear and pure, like that of an unworldly youth. It was hard to imagine he was one of the top assassins in the Konghe Army.

“I wish you well,” An Jiu murmured.

Gu Jinghong couldn’t hear her words but read her lips, silently saying “Thank you” in his heart.

An Jiu, unskilled in lightness kung fu, trudged through the thigh-deep snow with effort.

Standing on the rooftop, Gu Jinghong watched her figure disappear. The gentleness faded from his face, replaced by a resolute determination. He covered his face with a black cloth, donned the demon mask, and leaped from the eaves, leaving no trace in the snow as he gracefully departed.

An Jiu’s footsteps crunched in the snow as she returned to her perpetually dark dwelling.

This time, however, a faint light glowed inside.

A figure wrapped in a black cloak stood like a monument in the corridor. The soft yellow light cast a warm halo around his cold silhouette.

Without a word, he extended a large hand from beneath the cloak and tossed her something.

An Jiu caught it, feeling the warmth spread through her palm.

“There’s hot water. Go soak for a while. Mo Sigui will be reconstructing your body in the coming days,” Chu Dingjiang’s voice rumbled like a deep bell, perhaps from hours of silence.

An Jiu held the hand warmer without moving, sensing Chu Dingjiang’s anger. She asked, “What happened?”

Her way of thinking couldn’t fathom the true reason for Chu Dingjiang’s displeasure.

Chu Dingjiang sighed, thinking to himself that this child was so different from normal people. Why was he taking her so seriously?

“That sigh of yours sounds particularly world-weary,” An Jiu moved closer. “It reveals your true age.”

Chu Dingjiang laughed, “An Xiaojiu, shall I grab you and Mo Sigui and give you both a thrashing?”

An Jiu thought: I’m being serious!

For a moment, An Jiu truly felt the figure under the cloak was an aged man, but seeing his gloom dissipate, she held her tongue.

“Ajiu, I need to leave for a while,” Chu Dingjiang said.

An Jiu stepped under the corridor, brushing snow off herself. “For how long?”

“At least three to five months, possibly a year or two,” Chu Dingjiang reached out and pulled her into his embrace.

Suddenly enveloped in warmth, An Jiu shivered slightly. She had thought Chu Dingjiang’s business would take at most ten days to half a month, not such a long time.

A year or two…

“What business?” An Jiu, uncharacteristically, inquired about someone else’s affairs.

“I need to make a trip to Liao,” Chu Dingjiang said lightly, then changed the subject. “There’s also good news: I’ve been reinstated to my original position.”

This was one advantage Konghe Army leaders had over ordinary court officials. While regular officials might spend ten or twenty years climbing to a high position, only to be kicked down for a single mistake and struggle to rise again, in the Konghe Army, as long as you completed missions without losing your life, you could quickly return. It was a place where combat ability and loyalty spoke louder than anything else.

“In three days, you’ll all enter the Konghe Army. I’ve already arranged for you to join the Shenwu Army,” Chu Dingjiang said.

An Jiu listened quietly, then returned to the previous topic, “What business?”

Chu Dingjiang helplessly rubbed the back of her head, leaning down to whisper in her ear, “Someone has secretly accused Minister Hua of treason. The Emperor has sent me to investigate.”

It wasn’t a direct order; Chu Dingjiang had volunteered.

Treason was a crime punishable by the extermination of nine generations of the family! Although Chu Dingjiang had abandoned his Hua clan identity and resolved to cut ties with them, his deeply ingrained clan mentality remained unchanged. Faced with this situation, he sighed at the “karmic retribution” while unable to watch the clan he had been tied to for two lifetimes be destroyed overnight. So he had to handle this matter himself.

An Jiu didn’t understand Chu Dingjiang’s thinking, but since he had made the decision, there must be a necessary reason for him to go.

“When do you leave?” An Jiu asked.

“Now,” Chu Dingjiang replied.

He had come to bid her farewell.

An Jiu suddenly wrapped her arms around his waist, stood on tiptoe, and kissed both his cheeks. “Return safely.”

This farewell gesture seemed ordinary to An Jiu, though it was her first time doing it. To Chu Dingjiang, however, it felt like a wife seeing her husband off to war, instantly improving his mood. “I will.”

The two embraced in the corridor.

Mo Sigui leaned against the doorframe, arms folded. “Tsk, tsk, tsk.”

After clicking his tongue a few times, feeling a bit envious and not caring if he disturbed them, he called out, “Mingyue, you’re joining the Konghe Army tomorrow. Let’s have a hug too!”

He spoke as if he wasn’t going himself.