An Jiu remained silent. Chu Dijiang patted her shoulder, signaling that she could speak.

“Ahem,” An Jiu cleared her throat.

Ling Ziyue stood up and addressed An Jiu, “Are you well, miss?”

“I’m fine,” An Jiu replied.

Gao Dazhuang quietly snorted, thinking to himself, “You’re fine, and now all of Hejian Prefecture is fine too.”

“Then I’m relieved,” Ling Ziyue said, getting straight to the point. “Miss, as a member of the Crane Control Army, do you know what those immensely powerful crossbow bolts are? How many do the Liao forces have?”

This matter had been keeping him awake and unable to eat for days. If the Liao army possessed a large number of such bolts, even an army of a million men would fall as easily as they had this time, let alone three hundred thousand.

An Jiu, recognizing the gravity of the situation—akin to the sudden appearance of powerful firearms in an age of cold weapons—explained in detail, “These are called ‘violent crossbows.’ We encountered them not long ago. They’re incredibly powerful, but during our campaign to eliminate Liao spies, we discovered they don’t have many. In total, there are no more than ten. We don’t know exactly how many the Liao possess, but we estimate that the materials to make these crossbows are rare and hard to obtain, so there likely aren’t too many.”

“Even a few dozen would be terrifying!” Ling Ziyue sighed.

The Song Dynasty had its own Armory Commission, primarily responsible for developing and manufacturing weapons. The weapons they provided were of impeccable quality, but it had been a long time since they’d produced any new types of weapons.

“General, you should order Supervisor Zhao,” Gao Dazhuang suddenly interjected. “We can go to Liao to investigate.”

Chu Dijiang furrowed his brow. This meant An Jiu would also be put in danger.

The Liao state had no shortage of skilled fighters. If they ventured deep into enemy territory, the odds would be stacked against them.

“There’s no need to go through Supervisor Zhao. I’ll go myself,” Chu Dijiang’s low voice resonated in the tent.

Gao Dazhuang’s eyes curved in a smile as he moved closer to Chu Dijiang. “Sir, you truly are a good official, serving the country and people.”

Hearing their exchange, Ling Ziyue’s heavy expression lightened somewhat. “Today I’ve learned I’m not alone in my convictions. I’m pleased.”

Chu Dijiang glanced at the impassive An Jiu. He wasn’t doing this for the country or people but for a certain oblivious fool.

He vanished like a specter in the night. An Jiu hesitated for a moment before silently following him far from the camp.

At a spacious riverbank, Chu Dijiang suddenly stopped and turned to face her. “Why did you follow? Go back.”

The river wind whipped his dark cloak violently. The shadow cast by his hood completely obscured his expression, but his tone betrayed some displeasure. An Jiu stood ten paces away, neither approaching nor retreating.

Seeing she didn’t come closer, Chu Dijiang stepped onto the bridge.

After crossing, he noticed the tail was still there. He turned to see her slender figure standing on the bridge. Realizing he had looked back, she stopped and gazed at him, her eyes reflecting the moonlight, shimmering brightly.

“Go back,” Chu Dijiang said.

An Jiu remained silent.

Even after he had walked a mile, the tail was still there.

“No need to see me off so far. Be good and go back,” Chu Dijiang waved his hand.

But seeing that figure still motionless, Chu Dijiang knew she had decided to follow.

They remained at an impasse for a moment. Chu Dijiang relented, “Come here, then.”

An Jiu’s eyebrows lifted as she swiftly ran over.

Seeing this subtle expression, Chu Dijiang felt an inexplicable joy. “You want to follow me to Liao. Did you tell Squad Leader Gao?”

An Jiu shook her head. “He’s like someone herding someone else’s sheep—leading us out and back, but not minding us otherwise.”

Chu Dijiang laughed heartily. “Ah Jiu, are you a grown woman?”

Not just grown, but well past that!

An Jiu looked at him quizzically. “Is there a problem?”

“You’re like a child,” Chu Dijiang said.

“Your judgment has been off lately,” An Jiu said seriously. “Given my achievements in killing, I can prove that my mind and capabilities far exceed not just children’s, but most adults’ as well.”

Chu Dijiang chuckled, patting her head. “Don’t be arrogant.”

An Jiu brushed his hand away. “I’m only following you because I think you’ve been declining in various aspects lately. In case you suddenly go senile, at least someone can lead you back.”

“Knowing you care so much makes me happy,” Chu Dijiang said, wrapping an arm around her waist and leaping forward, speeding through the moonlit night.

The wind whistled in their ears. An Jiu’s cheek pressed against his left chest, feeling the warmth through his clothes and listening to his strong heartbeat. She felt a serenity she usually only experienced while herding sheep, with an added warmth like basking in the sunlight.

An Jiu looked up, noticing his face was uncovered, with short stubble on his jaw. She reached up to touch it. “I want to see you.”

Chu Dijiang slowed his pace, then gradually came to a stop.

“My face is scarred. When we return, I’ll have Mo Sigui treat it, then you can—”

Before Chu Dijiang could finish, An Jiu was already reaching for his hood.

He grasped her hand. “Ah Jiu.”

“Mo Sigui dislikes you so much. Will he treat you?” An Jiu asked.

“I have my ways,” Chu Dijiang said.

“Let me take a look first,” An Jiu insisted.

Knowing her as he did, Chu Dijiang realized she wouldn’t give up until she saw. He released her hand.

An Jiu promptly pulled down his hood.

A face with distinct features was revealed. As expected, it bore a six or seven-tenths resemblance to Hua Rongtian. Sharp eyebrows extended to his temples, his nose was straight, and his gaze profound. They were excellent features, but two ghastly scars from his left eye to his cheek marred his appearance. Combined with his unkempt beard, it gave his stern countenance a rugged quality, unlike the refinement Hua Rongtian had cultivated in luxury.

For many years, no one had seen his face. He had glimpsed it himself recently and, while scarred and not particularly handsome, it wasn’t repulsive. Nevertheless, it wasn’t an unmarred face, and Chu Dijiang felt slightly anxious.

An Jiu examined him carefully. “Are you really in your twenties?”

“Mm,” Chu Dijiang affirmed.

An Jiu said, “Before, just seeing your build and hearing your voice, I thought you were around thirty.”

Chu Dijiang sensed she wouldn’t say anything flattering, but he didn’t stop her.

An Jiu continued, “Hua Rongtian is nearly thirty, but you look like you could be his uncle.”

In truth, Chu Dijiang’s face was free of wrinkles. It was his neglect of his appearance and the depth of his soul that made him seem more mature.

“Don’t you find it ugly?” Chu Dijiang asked.

An Jiu shook her head. “Ordinarily ugly.”

Chu Dijiang sighed. “That’s good enough.”