A Small Profit, No Loss

"Brother Yan, that bastard was acting way too much like a bastard..." Watching the two Japanese men leave, Qi Si carried his plate and bowl over to sit opposite him again. He had been sitting nearby the whole time, listening in. That fawning yet deliberately fierce manner had been far too different from his usual impression of his big brother as imposing and domineering.

Although his big brother had repeatedly told him how they needed to deal with the Japanese, his previous interactions with them had still been neither servile nor overbearing. He always talked about groveling, but now that his big brother was actually groveling right in front of him, Qi Si found it hard to accept.

Compared to Qi Si's outrage as an uninvolved party, Wang Yan, the one actually playing the grandson, did not feel much of anything. Weakness was the original sin, after all. If he were a powerful warlord commanding vast armies and controlling his own territory, he would have long since been researching atomic bombs and bombers, swinging his arms wide as he bombed Tokyo. But now, he was merely an ordinary special intelligence operative with superhuman mobility. Having made it this far, if he still cared about that so-called dignity, then his thousand years of effort would truly have been wasted.

He chuckled and shook his head, still drinking and eating with effortless ease. "At a time like this, if I don't grovel, there's no guarantee the Japanese won't really decide to kill us. As they say, as long as the green hills remain, there'll be no shortage of firewood. Staying alive is what matters. Since I've already grovelled, why care about all that? Is there really any difference between fifty steps and a hundred? Once you do something, do it thoroughly. Remember