True Lord Jiang was taken aback. "No, wasn't it just you who said—"
"What do you mean, me? What do I mean, me? I said cultivation couldn't be neglected; I never said you couldn't relax during the New Year! Look at you, even calling An'an back here. Honestly!" True Lord Ye sternly criticized True Lord Jiang, then turned to Jiang An'an with a kindly expression. "It's fine, go on and play. We'll talk about cultivation after the New Year."
Clearly, after nearly ending up spending Lunar New Year's Eve alone as an elderly left-behind parent, Pavilion Master Ye had learned his lesson from the pain and decided to pull out the old tactic of winning people over and driving wedges between them, reshuffling the factions.
Jiang An'an was no longer seven or eight years old. Naturally, she knew Uncle Ye's craftiness. But being permitted to play was always a good thing. So she secretly smiled and looked at her brother.
Jiang Wang wore a helpless expression.
Jiang An'an casually picked up a slice of rice cake from her brother's plate and called, "Chunhui!"
Chunhui swallowed the entire basin of food before him in one gulp, then shook himself and sprang up, transforming into an enormous hound with four paws treading flame and black vapor surging in its eyes. Its long fur hung down like gray satin as it stretched across the starry sky.
Jiang An'an leaped up, rode the beast, and flew away through the sky again.
Jiang Wang was someone who could accept defeat. Even if Ye Xiaohua had laid a trap for him, he acknowledged it. He only blamed himself for failing to stay alert, not his opponent for being too cunning.
But as Ye Qingyu picked up the wine pot and poured wine for her old father,