If Qiu Zheng had said those words, Qiu Yihe would have shot back long ago.
But since they came from Great-Grandfather, she didn't dare retort.
Seeing this, Jiang Chenghong smiled and added, "Xiao He, your eldest uncle is only looking out for you. You're steady and know your limits; working in an office beats grinding away on the border. The two of us can still keep an eye on you, and our families won't be on tenterhooks."
Actually, during her last trip to the capital, Qiu Yihe had toyed with the idea of settling there.
The capital's platform and resources were more secure than the top posts in Shanghai, and she'd be closer to her elders.
Yet once she was back in Shanghai, facing the drug cases she'd personally followed, she wavered again.
Those cases had been clenched in her fists since the day she joined.
From sorting clues and visiting victims' families to staking out with her seniors and tracing sources, every step was soaked in her sweat.
It's like playing pubg—creeping around, outmaneuvering everyone.
Just when you're about to grab the chicken dinner, someone tells you to let another player take the final fight.
This hard-fought battle she'd clung to for so long—victory almost within reach—yet she had to hand over the field at the last kick.
She lowered her eyes, fingers pinching the hem of her jacket, unable to find a reply.
"I... I want to, but... last year a major case broke in Longchuan on the border. Early this year traffickers opened fire and even tossed grenades; several of our auxiliaries were wounded. In the end we seized over three hundred kilos, yet it was a brush with death. And at year-end in Dehong, the border force alone confiscated more than ten tons; countless cases were cracked only because frontline and rear echelons bit the bullet together."
"I still remember interviewing a mother there who clutched a photo of her son—dead from drugs—sobbing till she nearly fainted, saying she should have locked him inside even if it killed her."
"I also remember colleagues I never met in person, their files forever frozen in their twenties, lost on the border's drug trail."
She wasn't clinging to credit; she was clinging to the people and stories hidden behind the cases.
Those images were carved into her heart, making it impossible to simply say "let go."
She wanted to see traffickers cuffed with her own eyes, to watch the families shattered by narcotics slowly piece life back together.
That stubborn wish to finish what she'd started outweighed any longing for safety and tangled her in silent conflict over Great-Grandfather's kindness.
Jiang Chenghong glanced at Great-Grandfather; seeing him silent, he continued.
"We're not asking for special treatment, nor saying whose kid can't serve up front. Look at your dad—when they were young, my eldest nephew and the rest all pulled border duty. But I've read your file: you're meticulous, analytical—perfect for rear-area coordination. Fieldwork would waste your strengths."
His words struck Qiu Yihe's weak spot.
Jiang Chenghong was right.
After these recent field ops, the team had already said she wasn't cut out for them.
Jiang Chenghong paused, his gaze heavier: "If you were born to charge ahead, we wouldn't say a word. But knowing your edge is in command yet still pushing you into danger—that's just sending you to suffer."
Qiu Yihe tapped the bowl's rim lightly. When she looked up her tone carried new resolve.
She softened her voice yet kept the stubborn edge: "I know fieldwork isn't my strong suit, but the border's tense; one more pair of hands lightens the load. This time I'm not going solo—I'll be with the old captain doing intel analysis. Don't worry, safety first."
Then she added: "Once I finish the case in hand, I'll return to the capital."
Great-Grandfather studied her; worry in his eyes ebbed, replaced by appreciation for a junior shouldering responsibility.
He looked as if at a younger version of himself who had once rushed about for the nation, and said gravely: "Good. When you come back, join the Security Bureau. There's plenty of drug-related coordination work. You care about the people, you know the frontline—here you can still serve, stay closer to home, and spare your parents worry."
Jiang Cheng, listening, slowly unclenched the hand holding his sugared pastry.
He suddenly realized the irritation he'd felt hid concern he hadn't noticed.
This reserved, stubborn girl carried something weightier than mere "work"; something heavier than safety.
Without a word he lifted the kettle, refilled Qiu Yihe's empty bowl with warm water, and handed it over, voice softer than usual: "Drink some water; don't choke."
Watching him, Qiu Yihe couldn't help frowning slightly.
She felt that Jiang Cheng was becoming unfathomable again.
Great-Grandfather asked a few more work-related questions; Jiang Chenghong chimed in about recent changes in the capital.
She answered patiently, yet her mind kept circling the fact that her father hadn't come and that her staying longer might be a bother.
After another five or six minutes she politely rose.
"Great-Grandfather, Second Grand-Uncle, Dad isn't here; I shouldn't disturb your rest any longer. I'll be off."
Great-Grandfather's cigarette was half-smoked. He lifted his gaze, nodded, then looked to Jiang Cheng and said in the natural tone of an elder: "Jiang Cheng, see Xiao He out. The courtyard paths twist; don't let her take a wrong turn."
Jiang Cheng had already intended to escort her.
He set down his teacup and answered, "Got it."
At those words the polite smile on Qiu Yihe's face froze for half a second.
A flutter of panic, a sudden mess inside.
Moments earlier she'd been scheming how to slip away alone.
She hadn't expected Great-Grandfather to order it outright.
She flicked a glance at Jiang Cheng, bowed to Great-Grandfather, voice softer: "No need to trouble Jiang Cheng. I remember the way; I can manage."
"Let him walk you," Great-Grandfather waved, tone calm yet brooking no refusal. "They're repairing the east gate; the path is rough."
Before she could answer, Jiang Cheng had already taken her lightly by the arm.
"Let's go."
Qiu Yihe gave a soft "Mm," bowed once more to The two elders, then turned and walked ahead.
Outside the reception hall worn bluestones gleamed underfoot.
Pomegranates hung green on either side; wind rustled the leaves.
In the past she would have sidled up to Jiang Cheng, chattering about carved window lattices or old curios.
Today she only lowered her eyes and walked in silence.
Seeing this, Jiang Cheng said nothing either; hands in pockets, he kept unhurried pace beside her.
When they reached the long corridor to the front court she finally stopped.
She turned, deliberately cool: "No need to see me off. I can manage; go back."
Looking at her tense profile, Jiang Cheng merely smiled and kept walking. "I'm not seeing you off. I've got errands outside—just going the same way."