Jiang Yun Sui shuffled slowly into the room, bracing herself for what felt like torment at the hands of the great tyrant Ji Yan’an.
Her round, plump little cheeks now filling out nicely were soon pinched bright red, and her hair became slightly tousled.
Ji Yan’an squeezed and prodded her as if she were a stress-relief toy, and in no time, most of his petty frustrations melted away. Feeling lighter, he turned back to his work.
Jiang Yun Sui smoothed her hair back with one hand while shooting him a look of quiet resentment from under her lashes.
How mean! For treating me like this, I’m going to eat an extra large chicken leg at dinner today!
Since Shen Qingzhu had drawn out some of the poison from his body the previous day, Ji Yan’an did feel somewhat relieved. However, his sleepless nights had not improved much at all. That one night of deep rest felt like a fleeting, rare bloom over in an instant. He had assumed it was the medicine working, yet when he drank the same mixture again, it had no effect whatsoever.
This left him irritable. Worse still, fresh troubles had arisen within the Ji army. There were issues with military pay, shortages of grain, and hidden power struggles among the ranks.
“Come here. Grind the ink for me.”
Jiang Yun Sui patted her reddened cheeks, mumbled an “Alright,” and dragged her feet slowly over to his desk.
“What happened to your foot?”
Ji Yan’an’s gaze fell to her leg, and he frowned slightly.
Jiang Yun Sui grumbled in complaint, “I tried to trip a bad person, but I ended up tripping myself instead.”
Then she added quickly, “But I heal really fast! Please don’t send me away, okay?”
She had remembered Cook Chen worrying that if her foot didn’t heal soon, she might make mistakes and be dismissed. So far, she hadn’t done anything wrong, but the fear lingered all the same. The little mushroom spirit drooped her big eyes, looking utterly pitiful as she pleaded.
Ji Yan’an paused for a moment before saying simply, “Foolish.”
Jiang Yun Sui felt a surge of indignation Why does he always call me foolish? But she dared not say it out loud. Still, every flicker of her feelings showed clearly on her face, looking for all the world like she wanted to argue but was too afraid to dare.
Ji Yan’an spoke in a calm, flat tone. “If you weren’t foolish, you wouldn’t have hurt yourself. And you still look unhappy about it.”
Jiang Yun Sui protested, “It’s only because I’m still too small right now! That woman was five times bigger than me!”
As she spoke, she stretched her little arms high above her head and stood on her tiptoes, mimicking something enormous, her expression completely earnest.
Ji Yan’an couldn’t help but let out a quiet laugh, though he quickly suppressed it. He stood, walked over to a cabinet, took out a small vial, and tossed it to her.
“Here. Rub this on the injured area when you get back.”
Jiang Yun Sui caught the bottle and peeked up at him from behind it, her clear eyes wide with surprise. She looked utterly shocked that he would actually give her medicine.
Feeling slightly flustered under her gaze, Ji Yan’an kept his expression impassive and unaffected.
“You’d better be fully recovered by tomorrow. If word gets around that I mistreat my little maidservant, you’ll be sent away for good.”
Jiang Yun Sui nodded hastily. “It won’t happen! It won’t happen at all!”
“Then stop standing there gawking. Come over and grind the ink.”
The young lord’s tone was impatient again.
Jiang Yun Sui hurried over with small, hobbling steps. The desk was quite tall for her, and to make matters worse, she had never learned how to grind ink before.
She scratched her head in confusion, trying hard to recall how the servants had done it in the past. But to Ji Yan’an, it looked as though she was just daydreaming.
“What are you thinking about?”
His voice came cold and sharp, making Jiang Yun Sui jump.
“I… I don’t know how.”
Ji Yan’an glanced at her. “Watch closely.”
He demonstrated the process once. “Add only one or two drops of water at a time. Then hold the ink stick and turn it slowly in circles, grinding it until the liquid turns thick and rich…”
Jiang Yun Sui listened intently, nodding her head every few moments like a diligent student.
Her earnest attitude lifted Ji Yan’an’s mood a little.
“Enough. You’ll do it next time.”
With that, he turned back to reviewing official documents.
Some of the reports were a complete waste of time full of trivial details and empty, meaningless words. Yet Ji Yan’an read through them calmly and steadily. He had long expected this sort of thing.
The camps of the Ji army were named and arranged according to the pattern of the Big Dipper constellation.
They were divided into seven camps: Tian Shu, Tian Xuan, Tianji, Tianquan, Yuheng, Kaiyang, and Yaoguang.
Tian Shu oversaw the infantry and was the largest of all the camps in terms of numbers.
Tian Xuan commanded the cavalry, and was also responsible for raising horses and the Ji clan’s hunting hounds.
Tianji served as the armory, tasked with researching, improving, and maintaining all weapons and armor.
Tianquan handled provisions and supplies, acting as the logistical backbone of the entire force.
The Yuheng Division was composed of elite soldiers selected from every other camp. Apart from their regular military pay, all their equipment and expenses were funded directly by the Ji family. They were not limited to a single role, but trained in multiple disciplines. Each man was highly skilled, and they patrolled the northern frontier constantly. Whenever they detected unusual activity, they would immediately send word back via carrier pigeon.
The Kaiyang Division was the sharp blade wielded by the Ji clan. They answered only to the family and held the authority to detain commanders from other camps as well as officials from all major cities in the region. They were assigned the harshest, most unpopular duties, and locals often referred to them half-jokingly as “the Ji clan’s hounds and hawks.”
Yaoguang functioned as the city guard, primarily responsible for maintaining security and order within the towns and settlements.
In reality, however, there were also two more secret branches.
One was the Dongming Guard a force of orphans secretly taken in and raised by the Ji family. Their duty was to protect members of the clan in the shadows and carry out tasks that could not be done openly.
The other was an organization originally established for the Crown Prince, dedicated solely to gathering intelligence from across the realm. At that time, the former Emperor had grown foolish and neglectful, leaving the court entirely under the control of powerful officials. Unwilling to rule blindfolded, the Crown Prince had created this network. Only the head of the Ji family and the Crown Prince himself knew of its existence.
This was the Hidden Abyss Pavilion.
On the day the Crown Prince was killed, he had handed the pavilion’s jade token of authority to Ji Yan’an.
Ji Yan’an ran his fingers over the carved jade pendant resting around his neck something that looked like nothing more than an ornament to outsiders.
No matter how brilliant or determined the Crown Prince had been, no matter how hard he tried to serve his people, he could not overcome the former Emperor’s incompetence or the endless dangers lurking within the imperial harem. That noble, upright, and radiant man had ultimately fallen victim to the ruthless schemes of those vying for power.
Even the Ji family had been unable to shield him. And his death had become the final blow that brought the house of Ji to its knees.
Ji Yan’an took a deep breath, pushing those heavy thoughts aside.
At present, only the Yuheng and Kaiyang divisions remained fully loyal; every other camp had been infiltrated by outside forces. Most notably, the commander of the Yaoguang Division was a man loyal to the Emperor himself General Wang Hu, the same officer who had visited earlier.
Wang Hu cared nothing for the safety and stability of the northern region. His only purpose was to make trouble for Ji Yan’an.
All the reports sent to Ji Yan’an’s desk were trivial complaints about local unrest. In every message, Wang Hu implied that Ji Yan’an should resolve them, yet provided not a single soldier or resource to help. There were even countless petty matters disputes between neighbors, lost sheep, and minor quarrels all dumped on his plate.
How ridiculous…
Ji Yan’an could not help but laugh, though his mood remained steady. Such clumsy tricks were nothing to him.
The sudden sound of laughter startled Jiang Yun Sui. She lost her grip on the ink stick, which clattered hard against the inkstone, sending black ink splattering everywhere onto her clothes, her face, and her hands.
She quickly swiped at the ink around her eyes, acting on instinct. But ink does not come off that way; the more she rubbed, the more it spread. In just a few moments, her fair, round face was smudged all over, turning her into a little black-and-white ink-stained kitten.
Completely unaware of how she looked, she stared blankly at the black liquid on her fingers, her big eyes wide with confusion.
Ji Yan’an looked down at his own sleeve, now marked with a large blot of ink. He was about to scold her for being so clumsy, but when he lifted his gaze and saw her, he could not stop the corner of his mouth from twitching upward.
“Such butterfingers.”
Jiang Yun Sui felt wronged. If only you hadn’t burst out laughing out of nowhere, I never would have dropped it!
“You are scolding me again,” she said plainly, stating it as a fact.
Ji Yan’an raised an eyebrow. “Did I say that out loud?”
Jiang Yun Sui shook her head quickly. “No! You didn’t!”
How did he read my mind? she wondered, her small face filled with alarm.