Only then did the old man set down his scissors, lifting his eyes to give him a glance. A faint smile lingered in their depths, yet his tone carried unmistakable confidence: "Trouble? What trouble? The Xu Family may look impressive, but in truth they're nothing more than a dog on Lin Hong's leash. All these years they've relied on Lin Family connections to grab land and projects—only then do they dare hop around the capital."
Jiang Cheng's bite of osmanthus cake paused for a heartbeat, a flicker of understanding flashing across his eyes.
"You were a bit rough, boy, but you weren't wrong. In this corner of Kyoto, no random cat or dog gets to mess with a Jiang. I'll tidy up the rest—go do whatever you need to do."
Seeing the old man wave him off, Jiang Cheng grinned.
He pulled a mung-bean cake from the pastry box and offered it. "I knew Grandpa loves me best."
The old man didn't take it. He picked up a small spray bottle and misted his bonsai, snorting, "I don't eat that; save it for your Second Uncle later."
Then he reached out and tapped Jiang Cheng's forehead. "Love you? If I keep loving you, next time you'll poke a hole in the sky. The man backing the Xu Family once offered me a cigarette; now look—he's raised something that doesn't know heaven's height or earth's depth."
"No way." Jiang Cheng selected a piece of osmanthus cake he liked and took a bite. "I showed restraint; I didn't blow things up—just taught him a lesson."
Only then did the old man turn to look at him, amusement in his eyes. "Restraint? Half the street heard the racket in your courtyard… You're still too green. You can act, but do it flawlessly, leave no opening…"
Like the last incident with the Silverstone motorcade: although the Security Team left no evidence, Jiang Cheng knew his grandfather had still backed him.
"Got it, Grandpa. Where's Second Uncle?"
"He's out for a stroll. Listen, all his indicators have improved lately. When he stayed with me he could barely lift a hoe; now he can walk around the neighborhood—all thanks to you."
Jiang Cheng feigned regret. "I didn't expect those meds to be so miraculous. Pity we don't have the mysterious person's contact info…"
The old man nodded. "Indeed a pity. If such a master could serve China, many illnesses might gain new hope…"
Jiang Cheng nodded, then seemed to remember something. "Lin Hong… why does that name sound familiar? Grandpa, is he the one we ran into at the cemetery when you took me to sweep the tombs?"
Seeing Jiang Cheng finally catch on, the old man swept him a glance and gave a soft grunt. "That's him. That day he was with Qiu Wu, along with his grandson and granddaughters…"
Jiang Cheng saw the light, a mocking curve touching his lips. "No wonder—he didn't look easy to deal with; every line of his face was calculation."
He paused, took a towel, and wiped leaf fragments from his hands, voice dropping.
The spray bottle in the old man's hand stilled.
"Who can't see through his little schemes?" the old man sneered, setting the bottle down. "In the early years he climbed by hugging thighs; now that his wings are strong he tries shady tricks in the dark. Only Qiu Wu—soft-natured and obsessed with saving face—puts up with him."
As he spoke the old man suddenly sighed, the hard edge in his voice fading into somber reflection. "Your father's been in the Ox-Horse District for more than a month now."
Jiang Cheng's steps halted; he looked back, brows knitting. "I talked with Mom and Dad yesterday—he said he's already adjusted…"
The old man didn't answer. He rubbed the trunk of the bonsai, fingertips brushing the rough bark, tone so flat no emotion leaked through.
Yet hidden beneath was undeniable weight: "Our generation—retired or aging—Kyoto's waters look calm but beneath them every current is treacherous. Someone like Lin Hong excels at slipping through cracks. While I'm alive he won't touch you, but the day will come when my eyes close."
He lifted his gaze to Jiang Cheng, sharp as ever yet tinged with fondness. "Your father stayed away for so many years; his nature's too straight for this murk. Sending him to Ox-Horse looks like exile, but I'm paving a road—an unworked jade of a place far from Kyoto's strife. Once he plants firm roots there, even if I'm gone he can still hold up half the sky for you."
Jiang Cheng was silent a moment. "Grandpa…"
The old man cut him off. "Don't worry, the Xu Family's little mess isn't real trouble—but plenty eye the Jiang seat. Hitting the Xus cuts their money; sooner or later they'll come knocking."
"I know." Jiang Cheng nodded, a cold glint in his eyes. "Rest easy, Grandpa. I'm here—I'll move heaven and earth to keep you going strong past a hundred. With luck this thick you should enjoy life; living past a hundred will be easy. Someday you'll help rock my kids!"
Jiang Cheng wasn't offering empty comfort.
The last healing card had already restored most of the old man's bodily functions.
Later the system might unlock something even more heaven-defying.
Saying a hundred years—or longer—wasn't hard for him.
The old man blinked, then threw his head back and laughed loud and long.
He clapped Jiang Cheng's shoulder with a steady hand, nothing frail about it. "You little rascal, talking nonsense! Life and death are heaven's law; I've lived long enough to see every storm—do you think I fear it?"
His gaze softened, sharpness ebbing into something tender and indescribable.
"I've lived so long I've seen every glory and riches; years no longer matter. It's just…"
He paused, eyes on the sturdy pine in the courtyard, voice lower.
"I worry about you. Your temper's too quick—you offend people. Kyoto's waters are deep; every extra day I live is one more day I can shield you. If I could see you married with fat grandbabies, I'd close my eyes and enter the ancestral graves smiling!"
The old man knew Jiang Cheng had his own methods—he was even aware of his influence in Tyrande.
Still he couldn't help reminding him.
"Remember, head-on clashes are the stupidest move. You have capital, you have networks—no need to follow our old road. But keep to the bottom line; never touch the filth that can't see daylight. The Jiang Family can't afford that shame."
Jiang Cheng nodded. "Don't worry, Grandpa, I know my limits."
His grandpa didn't know he was cheat-enabled and backed by power—if he didn't play tough, who would?
Before the words faded, brisk footsteps sounded outside as Chen Ping approached and reported with lowered hands, "Old master, young master, General Qiu has arrived with several granddaughters."
"Here we go again," the old man humphed, tone unreadable, yet he straightened slowly and smoothed his jacket.
Jiang Cheng recalled Qiu Wu's expression the last time he'd looked at Great-Grandfather.
He chuckled. "Looks like Old Qiu's been visiting you a lot lately…"
"That old fox used battlefield merit and a bit of luck to earn his star; he's always been slippery. In Kyoto he sticks to the rule of taking no side and offending no one—shrewder than anyone alive."
Suddenly remembering something, the old man smiled meaningfully. "Right, Xiao He's been coming these past days—perfect, you're here, come meet her."
Jiang Cheng's heart skipped, though he feigned confusion.
"Ah, I was thinking of skipping the socializing."
The old man shot him a sideways glance, choosing not to expose the tie between Jiang Cheng and Qiu Yihe.
"Young people should get out more—come on."