An Jiu and Lou Xiaowu each held a handgun. They divided the three bullets from the magazine, and the three of them stood in the snow, quietly waiting for the startled birds to return.

Sheng Changying, who was gathering firewood in the forest, peeked over but didn’t come to disturb them.

“Let’s scatter some grain,” Chu Dijiang suggested.

Lou Xiaowu and An Jiu nodded eagerly, but neither moved. Chu Dijiang sighed and went back to the kitchen to grab two handfuls of grain, which he scattered on the snow.

With food available, more and more birds gathered.

When there were about forty or fifty birds, An Jiu whispered, “Let’s begin.”

This was Chu Dijiang’s first time using a handgun. He didn’t know the standard posture, but he held the gun in one hand, standing tall like a pine tree. His pose was casual but his expression was focused, looking extremely dashing.

Although Lou Xiaowu had experimented countless times, her aim left much to be desired. She had once thought her guns weren’t accurate enough, but after seeing An Jiu shoot, she was relieved – it was her problem, not the guns.

The birds would certainly be startled by the gunshot, so the first person to shoot had a slight advantage.

“I’ll count to three, and we’ll shoot together,” An Jiu said.

The other two agreed.

“One.”

“Two.”

“Three.”

BOOM!

All other sounds were drowned out by a massive explosion.

A crater appeared about ten zhang away.

Lou Xiaowu stared at An Jiu, wailing, “Fourteen, you’re so mean! When did you secretly take a thunderbolt?”

This device was like a hand grenade. An Jiu had figured out how to use it with just a glance in the house and had grabbed one when she went back for the gun. Her idea was simple – a grenade would certainly kill more birds… maybe enough for a whole dish.

She had chosen to detonate it about six or seven zhang to the left of where the birds were gathered. Many birds were either killed by the blast or stunned by the noise, falling all over the ground.

An Jiu quickly gathered a pile and brought them back. She held them out to Chu Dijiang, saying, “Let’s eat these for lunch.”

“Alright,” Chu Dijiang said, sweeping the birds into his wide sleeve. “Cooking is easy, but someone’s coming to make trouble. You two handle it yourselves.”

An Jiu slowly extended her spiritual sense, feeling someone running towards them.

“It’s Sister Zhu,” Lou Xiaowu said happily, going to greet her.

In a blink, Chu Dijiang had vanished.

Zhu Pianpian moved across the snow without leaving footprints, instantly arriving before Lou Xiaowu. She reached out and tapped Lou Xiaowu’s forehead hard. Exasperated, she said, “You used guns to shoot quail?”

“Yes, but the gun wasn’t as powerful as the thunderbolt. It blasted a whole bunch at once!” Lou Xiaowu lifted her chin proudly.

Zhu Pianpian clutched her chest, questioning the two with an anguished expression, “Do you know how much those things cost? And you used them to shoot quail! Do you know how many quail you could buy for the price of one bullet?”

An Jiu and Lou Xiaowu looked completely confused.

“Such wastrels!” Zhu Pianpian felt pain in every organ.

Because the bullets were so small, the components needed to be extremely delicate, so the materials were crucial. Zhu Pianpian had followed Lou Xiaowu’s requirements, asking blacksmiths to repeatedly refine the metal. It had taken a great deal of effort, costing eight to nine thousand taels of silver in total!

Eight to nine thousand taels was nothing to Zhu Pianpian, but what pained her was using that amount to shoot quail!

Lou Xiaowu cautiously asked, “It sounds like it’s very expensive?”

“Expensive!” Zhu Pianpian gritted her teeth. “Extremely expensive!”

Lou Xiaowu glanced at the instigator, then loyally took responsibility for her. “How about I make some small items to sell…”

Zhu Pianpian’s breath caught, and she struggled to contain her excitement. Pretending to be very reluctant, she was about to nod when An Jiu spoke up, “I did it. It has nothing to do with her.”

Damn it!

Zhu Pianpian couldn’t help but curse inwardly.

Lou Xiaowu looked at An Jiu with tears in her eyes, her expression saying “You’re such a good person.”

“Name your price. I’ll earn it for you,” An Jiu said.

“Well…” Zhu Pianpian’s mind raced, and she slowly held up five fingers. “Fifty thousand taels.”

“Alright,” An Jiu agreed. She wasn’t very familiar with Song Dynasty prices, but she remembered that research was very expensive, often costing tens of millions. Fifty thousand taels didn’t sound like much.

Zhu Pianpian couldn’t help but rejoice. These two fools didn’t understand the market! Moreover, An Jiu seemed unaware that most of Chu Dijiang’s assets were now in her name.

In less than two years, Zhu Pianpian had increased Chu Dijiang’s original assets more than tenfold, totaling three hundred thousand taels. While this amount wasn’t much among the wealthy merchants of Bianjing, her rate of profit was among the top in the business world.

An Jiu having so much money, all earned by Zhu Pianpian herself, made tricking fifty thousand taels out of her feel unsatisfying. Besides, teaching someone to fish is better than giving them fish.

Zhu Pianpian loved money, but she loved the thrill of earning it even more. While it was fun to trick fifty thousand taels from An Jiu, she was already planning to find an opportunity to talk with Lou Xiaowu about making things to sell.

At lunch, a large plate of roasted quail appeared on the table.

The quail had been plucked and gutted, stuffed with seasonings, then wrapped in yellow clay and straw to about the size of a goose egg. When one was opened, the aroma instantly filled the room.

Except for Mei Yanran, who remained composed, everyone else ate ravenously.

Chu Dijiang calmly peeled the clay off the quail but didn’t eat any himself, instead neatly arranging them in An Jiu’s bowl.

This action made Lou Xiaowu feel dejected, enviously thinking, “If only my father were still alive.”

After the meal, everyone returned to their rooms to rest. Chu Dijiang went alone to the ferry dock.

The Dream Flowers bloomed lush and bewitching in the snow. A thick mist hung over the sea of flowers. Chu Dijiang casually plucked an unremarkable withered branch from a nearby herb garden. As he walked through the Dream Flowers holding the branch, the mist seemed to melt away, gently retreating about a foot.

At the dock, Chu Dijiang found a carrier pigeon. He bent down to remove a note from the tube on its leg, read it, and then discarded the paper in the river. He returned to An Jiu’s room carrying the pigeon.

An Jiu was cleaning the Subduing Dragon Bow. She looked up at him, “Where did you get the pigeon?”

Chu Dijiang sat down, placing the pigeon on the small table. After a moment of silence, he said, “I need to leave for a few days.”

An Jiu paused her movements. “What happened?”

“The Emperor is gravely ill. The Crown Prince is acting as regent,” Chu Dijiang said concisely.

The Crown Prince had long seen the Second Prince as a thorn in his side. With the Emperor’s condition uncertain, while he dared not immediately move against the Second Prince, he would inevitably take the opportunity to eliminate opposition.

Seeing her silence, Chu Dijiang continued, “After I leave, you should diligently practice martial arts. Don’t just play around. It would be better to spend more time reading books.”

An Jiu frowned. “Why read books?”

Instead of answering, Chu Dijiang asked, “What does the plaque above the door say?”

“…”

“Qingfeng Ningle,” Chu Dijiang tapped the table, saying seriously, “If I write you a letter, how will you understand it if you can’t read?”

“I recognize those few characters,” An Jiu protested, insisting this wasn’t her problem. “How can you hang something written like that on the door?”