But why exactly was Jiang Huai asking so many questions?

Once again, when Jiang Huai tried probing into Xiao Jingzhao’s plans for the future, Xiao Jingzhao’s lips curled slightly, his face showing faint curiosity. He asked lightly, “You’ve been asking so much. What are you really trying to find out?”

Did Jiang Huai suspect his identity, or was it something else?

Jiang Huai’s eyes darted evasively. Was he being that obvious? The reason he was asking so much was simple: he wanted to figure out how to convince Xiao Jingzhao to stay. After gathering all this information, Jiang Huai realized that ordinary excuses wouldn’t sway someone as steadfast as Xiao Jingzhao.

Clearing his throat, Jiang Huai decided to test the waters. “Brother Wei, do you think if you keep working as a guard for the next five years, you’ll be promoted to Zhang Tou’s rank?”

Xiao Jingzhao’s eyes flickered. After a moment of thought, he shook his head.

Xiao Jingzhao was well aware that reaching Zhang Tou’s rank didn’t just require hard work or earning merits; it also demanded seniority and a solid backing. Without the support of officials in the magistrate’s office, even notable achievements could be overshadowed or claimed by others.

Given his current background and status, it was unlikely he could attain Zhang Tou’s position within five years. Besides, promotions depended on vacancies, and without one, advancement was nearly impossible.

“Well, Brother Wei, if you had a chance where, after just five years, you could rise swiftly through the ranks…” Jiang Huai paused mid-sentence. On second thought, “swiftly rising through the ranks” sounded a bit exaggerated. From what he recalled of the original story, even after the deposed Crown Prince’s ascension, the political scene wasn’t exactly smooth sailing. The Jiang family couldn’t openly promote anyone too conspicuously either. He decided to tone it down to avoid seeming like he was making empty promises.

“Uh, let’s say it wouldn’t be an instant leap to power, but your promotions would go much smoother, and you could enjoy wealth and status. Would you take that opportunity?” Jiang Huai asked, blinking nervously and watching Xiao Jingzhao closely.

Wealth and status?

Jiang Huai was undoubtedly talking about him, not himself. Xiao Jingzhao was certain of that. If Jiang Huai revealed his existence, the emperor might silence Jiang Huai to cover things up—or he might reward him for doing such a great service, considering how much effort the emperor had spent trying to eliminate Xiao Jingzhao.

And now, there was no one around to assist him.

Looking into Jiang Huai’s bright, star-like eyes brimming with sincerity, Xiao Jingzhao noted there wasn’t a hint of deceit.

“If such an opportunity arose, I would naturally take it,” Xiao Jingzhao replied.

Jiang Huai glanced around cautiously, then leaned in closer to Xiao Jingzhao. Although it was just the two of them, the matter he was about to discuss felt too sensitive to risk being overheard.

“Brother Wei, the other day… my ancestors appeared to me in a dream. They said the Jiang family… would be cleared of all charges.” Jiang Huai leaned even closer, his voice dropping so low that Xiao Jingzhao had to strain to hear him.

When Xiao Jingzhao finally understood what Jiang Huai was saying, it all clicked. Jiang Huai’s questions and actions over the past few days made sense now.

Jiang Huai was trying to recruit him.

Noticing the strange look in Xiao Jingzhao’s eyes, Jiang Huai’s face flushed. He knew claiming to have dreamed of an ancestral spirit sounded bizarre, but it wasn’t like he had another option. He couldn’t just say he was a transmigrator who knew the plot.

From an ancient person’s perspective, a prophetic dream about ancestors seemed much more plausible.

“Do you really believe that?” Xiao Jingzhao asked.

Seeing Xiao Jingzhao engage with him, Jiang Huai quickly nodded. “My ancestor said they were worried I wouldn’t survive exile alone, so they told me this secret to give me hope and help me persevere for five years.”

Hearing this, Xiao Jingzhao initially thought Jiang Huai was simply trying to cope with the hardships of exile—an instance of his daydreams seeping into his nights. But what Jiang Huai said next stopped him in his tracks.

“The ancestor said that in five years, when the new emperor takes the throne, the Jiang family will be cleared of all charges.” Jiang Huai knew he had to provide some concrete details to make his claim more believable.

The new emperor?

Xiao Jingzhao’s pupils contracted. The “new emperor” Jiang Huai mentioned could only refer to him—there was no one else it could be.

The other princes still in the palace were too young. Even if the emperor died unexpectedly within five years, any successor would ascend through legitimate channels. In such a scenario, it would be impossible to overturn the Jiang family’s conviction of treason.

Even if court officials petitioned on the Jiang family’s behalf, a newly ascended emperor wouldn’t dare contradict the judgment of his predecessor—not without several years passing first.

Thus, the new emperor Jiang Huai spoke of could only be Xiao Jingzhao.

But this presented a problem. The world believed he had perished in a failed rebellion, burning himself alive. Although the emperor harbored some doubts about his death, there was no certainty he had survived. How could Jiang Huai believe it would be him ascending the throne?

Could Jiang Huai have discovered his identity and be using this “dream” as a cover to test him?

The thought crossed Xiao Jingzhao’s mind but was quickly dismissed. Having observed Jiang Huai over time, he knew the man wasn’t particularly clever but wasn’t foolish either. If Jiang Huai had figured out his identity, his best course of action would be to keep it hidden—either burying the information or reporting it immediately.

This left only two possibilities. Either Jiang Huai was grasping at straws to survive exile by fantasizing about the Jiang family’s vindication, or… the supernatural existed, and he truly had received a prophetic dream.

“Brother Wei?” Jiang Huai’s small voice interrupted Xiao Jingzhao’s thoughts.

“Let me think about it,” Xiao Jingzhao said solemnly.

Jiang Huai nodded. He knew such an important decision couldn’t be made lightly, so he closed his eyes and promptly fell asleep.

Watching Jiang Huai drift off instantly, Xiao Jingzhao’s emotions grew more complicated. He felt an irrational urge to wake Jiang Huai and demand why he could sleep so peacefully after dropping such a bombshell and leaving others in turmoil.

…

Jiang Huai had thought it would take Xiao Jingzhao several days to decide. After all, staying with him meant giving up his post as a guard and committing to five years of exile—a significant sacrifice. To his surprise, Xiao Jingzhao gave his answer the very next evening.

“There’s no need to think further,” Xiao Jingzhao said, his lips pressing into a firm line. “If five years could change my future, I’ll take the gamble.”

“Are you sure? Don’t you need more time to think it over?” Jiang Huai asked hesitantly. Though he wanted Xiao Jingzhao to agree quickly, this seemed too fast. What if Xiao Jingzhao acted on impulse and regretted it later?

“There’s no need.” Xiao Jingzhao’s tone was steady. “I’m willing to take the risk.”

“Brother Wei, don’t worry. As long as I have food, you’ll never go hungry. Five years from now, I’ll make sure you return home with honor and glory!” Jiang Huai declared, thumping his chest confidently. He assumed Xiao Jingzhao was trying to reassure him with his swift agreement.

What Jiang Huai didn’t realize was that Xiao Jingzhao had already planned to settle in Anyuan Prefecture. His position as a guard was merely a cover to travel there.

Initially, Xiao Jingzhao had been considering how to shed his guard role without drawing suspicion. Jiang Huai’s proposal provided the perfect excuse. To Jiang Huai, it seemed Xiao Jingzhao stayed for future wealth and glory. To others…

Xiao Jingzhao thought of the looks others had given him and Jiang Huai recently, laden with a certain unspoken ambiguity. They might assume he had been seduced by Jiang Huai’s charm and decided to remain at his side.

As for Jiang Huai’s story about a prophetic dream and a new emperor ascending the throne, Xiao Jingzhao chose to ignore it. Whether the dream was true or fabricated, it concerned the future, and for now, it held no relevance to his plans.

…

Among the exile party, it quickly became apparent that Jiang Huai and Xiao Jingzhao were growing closer. Previously, Xiao Jingzhao maintained a semblance of professional detachment. Now, however, his attentiveness toward Jiang Huai bordered on indulgence.

When Jiang Huai felt unwell, Xiao Jingzhao even called for a doctor and bought extra medicinal supplies for emergencies—a rare luxury during exile.

These actions were, in fact, Jiang Huai’s idea. Remembering his supposed death by illness in the original plot, he worried about Anyuan Prefecture’s poor medical resources and wanted to preemptively check for any underlying health issues and stockpile medicine just in case.

But to the others, it looked like Jiang Huai had completely ensnared Xiao Jingzhao, manipulating him with expert finesse. Even Zhang Tou, who initially dismissed the idea that Xiao Jingzhao would go out of his way for Jiang Huai, grew wary.

Zhang Tou spent the rest of the journey on edge, fearing Xiao Jingzhao might let Jiang Huai escape on a whim. Jiang Huai’s life might not matter to Xiao Jingzhao, but Zhang Tou certainly valued his own.

By the time they finally arrived at Anyuan Prefecture, Zhang Tou felt utterly drained. He made a mental note: next time he escorted prisoners, he’d ensure none of them got close to the guards—it was far too dangerous.