Cheng Chumo was fully armored. His dark black armor appeared unremarkable compared to the bright polished armor of other generals, but who knew that each armor scale on his body was made of refined steel that had been tempered a thousand times? Yun Ye had specifically quenched each armor scale to increase their hardness and cleaned them with sulfuric acid for passivation treatment so there was no need to worry about the armor rusting. The entire suit weighed only thirty pounds, which was already considered light armor for Cheng Chumo. However, its protective capability had increased by more than one level. Fish-scale armor—the most suitable type for Cheng Chumo.

Yun Ye had also made a face guard for his helmet, with two pieces of pure crystal embedded in it to prevent sand and wind from getting in his eyes during battle. The sunglasses brought from his later life were now Old Cheng’s beloved possessions—even Madam Cheng couldn’t casually touch them.

Cheng Chumo’s arrows had been replaced with sharp triangular heads, also called armor-piercing awls. With arrowheads one finger-length long propelled by a three-dan bow, Yun Ye didn’t believe the Turkic people’s leather armor could withstand them. The white silk undergarments had been thickened by two layers. He’d heard this material could effectively block arrowheads, though he didn’t know if it was true.

This time Old Cheng only received orders to defend Guanzhong and likewise had no opportunity for battle on the grasslands. His heart was also burning with frustration.

Cheng Chumo left with two warhorses and fifty personal guards.

Yun Ye stood on horseback atop a mound, watching distant young Cheng gradually merge into the large contingent of troops before spurring his horse back home.

On the road he encountered Old Cheng, who had only two attendants with him. His expression was gloomy as he sat on an old tree root by the roadside, drinking intermittently.

“Come here.” Old Cheng had nothing else to say, just shoved the wine flask in his hand to Yun Ye, who silently took it and gulped down a large mouthful. The harsh liquor was like a knife cutting his throat.

“Returning to the city or going home?”

“Going home.”

“That’s good. Tomorrow I’ll send Chu Liang and Chu Bi to Yushan.” Old Cheng gritted his teeth and made his decision.

“Isn’t this timing inappropriate? Auntie will be heartbroken.”

“Heartbroken? Marrying me means being heartbroken. We stake our lives for our future. Today it’s you, tomorrow it’s him—there’s always someone risking their life. When a bird grows up, you can’t always keep it in a cage or it’ll become worthless. The Cheng family can’t afford worthless sons. Producing even one disaster would be fatal. You watch over those two brothers. If anything happens, I’ll hold only you responsible.” As soon as he finished speaking, he mounted his horse. With a loosening of the reins, the warhorse gave a soft neigh and galloped off along the official road.

Zhuang Santing followed Yun Ye from a distance, watching him listlessly whip the roadside grass with his riding crop. Occasionally he would loudly sing a few lines in words Old Zhuang couldn’t understand, even drawing his bow and nocking an arrow to aim far above at a circling hawk in the high sky. Old Zhuang knew the Marquis’s bow was only a one-dan soft bow that couldn’t shoot down the hawk above, but he knew the Marquis was unhappy—very unhappy.

The fifty-li journey left Yun Ye exhausted. He didn’t want to ride, just wanted to drain his energy. He’d overestimated his physical strength, and not wanting to appear weak in front of Zhuang Santing, he could only grit his teeth and force himself forward step by step.

At first he still felt heartache for Cheng Chumo going to the battlefield so early. Later the pain in both feet overshadowed his mental discomfort. After that, he was just walking for the sake of walking—as for who Cheng Chumo was, he’d long forgotten.

The iron physique from his later life that could travel eighty li a day had been completely ruined by the Great Tang’s luxurious lifestyle. Old Cheng was right—he was now just a weak scholar. In Longyou he’d still exercised for a few days, but in Chang’an he hadn’t systematically exercised for a single day. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to exercise, but that he’d been beaten down until his confidence was completely gone.

When you juggled a fifty-pound stone lock around, you could receive a hall full of applause at the Yun household, be scorned at the Niu household, be thrown out of Old Cheng’s house, be thought to be joking at the Yuchi household—and then have two-hundred-pound stone locks thrown at you to catch and throw back to them.

This was an inhuman world, not a place for refined people like him. Let’s not compete in physical strength anymore, okay? Look at his current fair and tender arms, his thin thighs full of fat—how nice!

His aunt came in to bathe him. Yun Ye hid in the wooden tub, desperately resisting, no longer letting his aunt bathe him. He was already an adult—why did they still treat him like a child? His aunt felt somewhat sad.

The feeling of being pampered, especially being pampered by others—this was one of life’s most beautiful sensations. No wonder his wife in his later life always made cat-like sounds—that was a moan of complete comfort.

Sometimes he woke up in the morning with sticky underwear, and like a thief would hide in his room to wash his underwear himself, always attracting teasing laughter from his aunt and his other aunt.

He couldn’t get used to having maids, especially personal maids. His grandmother had arranged them, even specially buying high-quality goods from the slave trader Ren Yazi. But no matter how beastly Yun Ye was, he couldn’t bring himself to touch twelve or thirteen-year-old girls. Having relations with underage girls was something he rejected from his very bones.

Ignoring his aching body all over, early in the morning he waited at the family gate for Old Cheng to send Chu Liang and Chu Bi over.

The two brothers arrived but Old Cheng was nowhere to be seen. Even Madam Cheng wasn’t there. When asked, they learned that Old Cheng had forbidden the family from seeing them off, saying that farewells made his heart irritable, and women’s tears were even more annoying.

These two brats showed no sign of sadness at all, their faces full of excitement, saying they’d run from home in just one hour. No need to ask—just looking at the two horses drenched all over, you could tell how fast they’d run.

Little punks, you’re excited, are you? Hand them over to Brother Liu for pre-school education—let’s see how long you stay excited. Yun Ye held a grudge about these two brats mocking him at the Cheng household.

Today there were great scholars who had come from distant Shu to Chang’an for academic exchange. After completing various matters, they rushed over to visit old friends.

Master Yushan had long ago arranged for the Yun family cooks to stand ready at all times. He’d even sent his old servant driving an ox cart to the house to transport wine, saying his old friend most loved fine wine, and now that they’d finally met with great difficulty, they naturally should drink heartily.

It wasn’t one person but an entire visiting delegation—a dozen or so people, old and young. The leader was named Yang Shou, reportedly a descendant of the great scholar Yang Xiong. His ancestor had written the monumental work “Fayan” and was also the owner of the Ziyun Pavilion of Western Shu mentioned in the famous short essay “Inscription on a Humble Room.” With such deep family scholarly heritage, he couldn’t be underestimated.

The complicated etiquette nearly drove Yun Ye to collapse. Just one greeting phrase was repeated a full ten times. The cupped-hand salute with hands forming palms and thumbs pointing upward required bowing ninety degrees, and it couldn’t be rushed—it needed to be done slowly.

The four old masters at the academy seemed to be enjoying themselves immensely, performing the rituals meticulously. Though there were chairs, they insisted on kneeling on mats, placing their hands on their thighs, only moving their mouths while their bodies remained still—just like two Japanese people.

Unable to endure it any longer, he apologized saying he needed to arrange everyone’s food, clothing and lodging, then ran out. He instructed the steward Qian Tong, whose face showed envious expression, to go in and serve, while he himself went to the dormitory to lie on the bed and relieve his aching spine.

After Yun Ye had slept for a full hour, the steward finally came to wake him to attend the banquet, his mouth still constantly muttering about how much he’d benefited.

He didn’t know what education the steward had received, but he had actually begun to somewhat look down on his unlearned master, continuously praising how the famous scholars from Shu truly lived up to their reputation. They’d debated heatedly with Master Li Gang, Master Yushan, Master Yuanzhang, and Master Lishi in the pavilion, with quite a few students on site cheering for their own masters.

Master Yang Shou from Shu was not to be outdone either, expounding on the Analects in a dazzling manner with famous quotes from renowned scholars. It truly had a profound effect on him, and so on.