Lu Qihong couldn’t tell what the true state of Lu Beicheng’s leg actually was.

It looked as though it had healed, yet he kept clinging close to Zhen Jiu’er, leaning against her time and again.

There was no telling whether they were genuinely that intimate, or whether he was using Zhen Jiu’er’s body to support himself.

Whether the leg had healed or not — even he couldn’t tell.

Lu Qihong’s expression grew colder and darker.

There was another thing Zhou Xuan didn’t understand. “Third Master, why urge him to leave now? Do you really intend to… tamper with his helicopter?”

But if Lu Beicheng returned to Jiangzhou, he certainly wouldn’t take Lu Qihong’s helicopter.

And of course, Lu Qihong couldn’t possibly go back on the same helicopter as him either.

As for Ninth Master’s own helicopter, it would certainly be guarded by countless people, and no tampering would ever be allowed.

Those guards were all Lu Beicheng’s trusted men — bribing them would be extremely difficult.

So tampering with the helicopter wouldn’t be easy.

What exactly was Third Master thinking?

“The more I urge him to go back, the less likely he’ll actually go. He’ll definitely be on guard against me tampering with the helicopter.”

Lu Qihong narrowed his eyes. “How could I possibly let him leave Ying’an City alive?”

“So, my lord, you’re trying to scare him into becoming even more determined to stay?”

Lu Qihong didn’t answer Zhou Xuan’s question.

Tonight, his mind was heavy with thoughts.

Lu Beicheng and Zhen Jiu’er — these two people, he couldn’t see through them.

Harder to read than before.

In the past, Lu Beicheng, when facing him, though his expression was never terrible, had never once smiled.

Tonight, he had smiled several times — sometimes like a guileless fool, and other times with a smile so inscrutable it was unfathomable.

What on earth was he up to?

Lu Qihong walked toward his own tent, surrounded a hundred paces out by a group of bodyguards, their defenses watertight.

Zhou Xuan followed behind him. “Then, Third Master, should we make arrangements along the flight route in advance?”

“No need.” Lu Qihong gave a cold snort. “Tonight I kept urging him to go back — he must already be wary. How would he dare actually go?”

…

What Lu Qihong hadn’t expected was that, not long after he left, Jiu’er really was urging Lu Beicheng:

“I think you should go back now. Leave tonight.”

“Not afraid he’ll tamper with the flight route to get to me?” Lu Beicheng lowered his eyes to look at her, his gaze deep.

Jiu’er shook her head. “He’s been urging you to go back this whole time — there’s no way he’d tamper with the route tonight. He probably guesses you won’t dare to leave.”

“You’ve figured that out too?” Lu Beicheng raised an eyebrow.

“I can only guarantee tonight. Once tomorrow comes and he’s had time to think through more possibilities, he’ll probably remember to tamper with the route, just to be safe.”

So tonight was the best opportunity.

If they didn’t leave tonight, chances were they wouldn’t be able to leave for the next few days.

“You seem to understand him quite well. Did you know him before?” But judging from the way Lu Qihong had looked at Jiu’er, it hadn’t seemed like they’d known each other long.

“If I told you I knew him in a past life, would you believe me?”

“I’ll believe it.” He didn’t think much of it — after all, he’d already accepted from the start that he might be the Ninth Imperial Uncle.

So he might as well believe this too.

Seeing his careless attitude, Jiu’er almost couldn’t help rolling her eyes at him. “That’s pretty half-hearted.”

“I believe you.” This time, he said it earnestly. Sincere enough now?

Zhen Jiu’er didn’t bother responding to that, but tugged at his sleeve, urging him earnestly, “Ninth Master, let’s leave tonight.”