Chu Dingjiang shook his head slightly. “I’ve observed that the Second Prince is stubborn. If I were to be his advisor, he might not always heed my counsel. So, I’ll remain in the shadows, guiding him at crucial moments.”

If he became the Second Prince’s subordinate, he would have to defer to him in everything, unable to overstep. If the prince made a wrong decision, Chu Dingjiang couldn’t effectively stop him. Even with a thousand strategies, it would be hard to guarantee averting disaster every time. Comparatively, maintaining an air of mystery was better.

People are suspicious of the unknown, but they also fear it. By extending a helping hand when the Second Prince was in dire straits, and then gradually establishing his position in the prince’s mind, Chu Dingjiang’s approach was far more secure than joining the prince’s court from the start.

An Jiu, unaware of his plans, said, “If you do this, won’t it be even easier for him to discard you once he ascends the throne?”

“You used the right idiom,” Chu Dingjiang chuckled. “That’s not easy!”

He paused, then said, “Don’t worry, I have my arrangements. If all goes well, we might even be able to herd sheep together in the future.”

An Jiu looked at his face, youthful yet with eyes that had seen much. Her heart softened. “What can I do for you?”

“Take good care of yourself,” Chu Dingjiang replied.

Chu Dingjiang had experienced numerous wars during the Warring States period – conquests, annexations, destructions, and people bathing in the fires of war. But he had never underestimated internal power struggles. For a strategist, these could be even more dangerous than plotting against other countries. Even having lived two lifetimes, he dared not say he could retire safely and intact.

“Ah Jiu, following me is bound to be fraught with danger…”

An Jiu interrupted him, “Even without you, my life hasn’t been particularly good. You go ahead with your business; I have things to do too.”

These words were rather blunt, but Chu Dingjiang was used to it. He simply smiled, “Your being alive is better than anything else.”

“That’s not necessarily true,” An Jiu looked at him. “You’ve never promised me you’d survive, and I can’t promise that either.”

In her previous life, snipers who could match An Jiu’s skills were rare. Standing at the peak for so long, even while being hunted by various countries, she had always believed she would survive. Yet, she still died, during a not particularly dangerous sniping mission.

In life, nothing is harder to predict than life and death.

Even those leading ordinary lives can’t guarantee they won’t suddenly fall ill and die.

Chu Dingjiang smiled helplessly but didn’t make a promise. Instead, he embraced her, sighing softly, “Ah Jiu, I’ve missed you.”

An Jiu’s longing, which had just subsided, instantly resurged. However, for some reason, she couldn’t express it as naturally as he did.

Her lips parted slightly but then pressed together again.

After embracing for a long while under the tree, Chu Dingjiang released her and led her to a small boat. “Look what I’ve brought you.”

On the boat were two baskets containing a prepared suckling pig and chestnuts.

Da Jiu had long been crouching at the dock, salivating and staring unblinkingly at the contents of the baskets. Seeing Chu Dingjiang and An Jiu approach, its tail swept back and forth on the ground, causing the Dream Flowers it touched to release more mist.

Chu Dingjiang turned his head, seeing An Jiu also intensely focused on the suckling pig. Pleased, he picked up the basket. “Let’s go roast some meat.”

The ignored Sheng Changying stood among the Dream Flowers, holding a tree branch, his cheeks slightly flushed. Looking at the vast misty lake, he thought to himself that Chu Dingjiang was indeed bold, and An Jiu no less so. For them to embrace so openly in broad daylight was truly… enviable.

As night fell, the mist in Meihua Village grew thicker.

A man in a loose blue robe stood on the lakeshore, gazing at the distant water. Behind him stood seven or eight people in black. These weren’t burly men, but a mix of tall, short, fat, and thin individuals. Despite their varied appearances, the murderous aura they exuded was chilling. Just standing there silently, they gave off a suffocating sense of facing death.

“Master Wei, what should we do?” One of the black-clad figures broke the silence.

After a long pause, Wei Yuzhi slowly spoke, “Wait.”

The man frowned. “Please enlighten us, sir.”

“You are all exceptional fighters, but even if you all attack together, you might not be a match for that person,” Wei Yuzhi’s eyes were as dark and still as an ancient well. “Do you know how much effort it took me to conceal your presence?”

“Could it be a master of the Transformation State?” The man’s tone suddenly became serious.

“Yes. Currently in the Song Dynasty, apart from a eunuch in the palace, no one can match him,” Wei Yuzhi’s hand, hidden in his sleeve, moved slightly. “Unless the Ghost Tigers launch an all-out attack at the cost of their lives.”

If it was indeed a Transformation State master, Wei Yuzhi wasn’t exaggerating. The Ghost Tiger member set aside his impatience and said sincerely, “But the heart blood of the drug person has been in others’ hands for many days. If we don’t act quickly, I’m afraid…”

“I’ve already found a way to leak the secret of the heart blood to the Song Emperor. To retrieve it, we’ll need his help!” Wei Yuzhi’s fingers in his sleeve paused, and then he clasped his hands together, his gaze growing colder and darker. “I hear that Transformation State master is also a high-ranking official in the Crane Control Army.”