Vice General Zhong entered and heard Chu Ling’s murmur. The burly man’s eyes reddened and he nearly shed tears.

“Big Brother,” he choked out. “Don’t let your thoughts run wild. Everything will be fine. We’ve arranged everything—”

He was also very angry—what exactly had that A’Jiu said?

“Don’t listen to his nonsense! What does he know!”

Chu Ling smiled at him: “Yes, we’ve arranged everything. No need to worry.” He paused and asked, “When Ah Zhao met with you, what did she say to you?”

Earlier, Vice General Zhong had only described what happened and delivered Chu Zhao’s letter. Chu Ling hadn’t asked what Chu Zhao had said—there was no need to ask, after all. What could she say? Nothing more than that she’d been wronged, that she missed her father, that she wanted to come back and such clamoring.

But now Chu Ling suddenly wanted to hear it.

Vice General Zhong thought for a moment. His meeting with Chu Zhao had been brief, and they hadn’t said much, but he still remembered: “Miss said that wherever you are is her home. She demanded to know how I could bear not to let her see you even once. What if she never sees you again?”

Chu Ling fell silent, looking at the letter on the desk.

Vice General Zhong sighed. The young miss missed the general, and how could the general not think of the young miss? He had raised her with his own hands from a nursing infant to this age.

“Chang Rong,” Chu Ling called Vice General Zhong by his given name. “Settle the matters at hand, then go and bring Ah Zhao back.”

Vice General Zhong was stunned. What?

“Big Brother,” he stepped forward. “We’re about to submit the memorial to His Majesty. Your illness will no longer be concealed, and that mission will inevitably become known. This place will surely fall into chaos and conflict. To bring Miss back—”

He lowered his voice persuasively.

“Didn’t we already plan to let Miss stay safely at the family home in the capital? We’ll handle matters here, resign from our posts, and with no burdens and nothing to worry about, return home ourselves.”

Chu Ling nodded: “Actually, even if Ah Zhao were here, I could ensure her safety and stability. I sent Ah Zhao back because I didn’t want her to face the conflicts and be anxious. But now that she’s anxious in the capital anyway, she might as well come back.”

Ah, what exactly did that brat A’Jiu say! Vice General Zhong was both anxious and irritated. Wasn’t this just causing trouble?

“General, it’s not that simple,” he said urgently in a low voice. “The Crown Prince and Third Prince’s struggle has gone from covert to open. The Yang and Zhao families’ tyranny, and military power especially, is a major prize in the scramble. If the troops under your command are put on the table, they definitely won’t let you go.”

Chu Ling smiled, his expression indifferent: “The Yang and Zhao clans’ court disputes have nothing to do with me, but here in my domain, if they think they can do as they please, that’s impossible.”

Vice General Zhong looked at Chu Ling. The man’s frame was still imposing, his bearing as always like a towering mountain.

But this great mountain was actually hollow inside.

Over more than ten years, countless injuries had piled up like rocks forming a mountain, and now the rocks were collapsing and destroying this mountain.

“Big Brother,” he said hoarsely. “Today’s Emperor is no longer the Emperor of before. He’s old, and he’s changed. These past years the court has been in such chaos, the two princes causing such turmoil, yet he neither asks nor cares—he even indulges them. Big Brother, you wrote a private letter to His Majesty requesting to resign and asking how to arrange for the Dragon Might Army, yet His Majesty actually ignored it, forcing you to only write a memorial requesting resignation. This clearly means pushing you to the forefront of the storm.”

If other military officers from Yunzhong Commandery were present, they would certainly find it strange—among the four armies and twenty-three battalions of the border commandery, there had never been a force called the Dragon Might Army.

Chu Ling raised his hand to shush him.

Vice General Zhong bit down and stopped talking.

“I shall be as a boulder,” Chu Ling said. “A boulder does not shift. I don’t care about other people or other matters.”

Vice General Zhong clenched his fists.

“I will handle these matters,” Chu Ling smiled and asked. “Do you still not trust me?”

Of course he trusted him. Vice General Zhong grunted affirmatively.

“You’re the only person I can trust,” Chu Ling patted his shoulder, his eyes expectant. “Go and bring Ah Zhao back.”

Vice General Zhong sighed helplessly: “I’ll go right now.”

Chu Ling stopped him: “No need. Wait until after I’ve submitted the memorial.”

By then everyone would know he was gravely ill and dying, and bringing his daughter back would further confirm this.

Originally he had worried that Ah Zhao would be heartbroken and grieved upon learning of it, but now he understood—even if heartbroken and grieved, as long as she could stay by his side, Ah Zhao’s spirit would be at peace.

Only with her spirit at peace, regardless of where she was or what circumstances she faced, could she truly live steadily and safely.

“Go to the commandery city in the next couple of days,” Chu Ling said. “Send thanks to those postal soldiers.”

He means send thanks to that A’Jiu, doesn’t he? Vice General Zhong snorted: “What good things do we have? Besides, sending valuable gifts to a few postal soldiers will attract attention. If word about Ah Zhao spreads, that would be bad.”

Chu Ling thought for a moment: “Send each of them a pair of rush sandals.”

Those weren’t valuable. Vice General Zhong breathed a sigh of relief, though after a moment’s hesitation he asked in a low voice: “Ah Zhao and this A’Jiu—”

What exactly had Ah Zhao said to A’Jiu? How did A’Jiu become so cooperative and even persuade Chu Ling?

Sigh, Ah Zhao had barely spoken to him at all.

Were the two of them really at the point of life and death as that Tie Ying had described?

Chu Ling smiled: “Don’t overthink it. Ah Zhao and this A’Jiu have no relationship whatsoever.” He thought for a moment. “If we must speak of a relationship, it’s probably—empathy between kindred spirits.”

What kind of relationship was that? Vice General Zhong was even more confused.

“Go rest quickly,” Chu Ling said, looking at Vice General Zhong’s cracked lips. Since returning he still hadn’t sat down. “We can talk more tomorrow.”

Vice General Zhong saw the red threads appearing in Chu Ling’s eyes and came to his senses: “It’s getting late, Big Brother, you should rest quickly too.” He pointed at the desk. “No more reading.”

Chu Ling nodded. Vice General Zhong left, and the room returned to quiet. The night deepened. The guards extinguished the lamps one by one, urging Chu Ling to rest.

Chu Ling looked at the two letters on the desk. He casually tossed Young Master Xie the Third’s letter into the brazier. Sparks flew up and it turned to ash. He smoothed out Chu Zhao’s letter to put it away, but couldn’t help opening it again.

All the lamps in the room were extinguished except for one on the desk, dimly illuminating the letter in Chu Ling’s hands.

Chu Ling’s gaze fell on the last line.

He had only told Vice General Zhong half of it earlier. He said Chu Zhao had asked about her mother. Vice General Zhong assumed it was about Chu Zhao’s deceased mother’s origins being used to mock her again, but actually it wasn’t.

What Chu Zhao questioned in the letter wasn’t her mother’s origins, but rather asked “Is my mother still alive?”

Chu Ling slapped the letter back down on the desk with a sharp sound, blew out the last lamp, and his entire person was engulfed in darkness.

The events of that year had been handled very cleanly. Even on the border side, very few knew about it, and in the capital even fewer knew. More than ten years had passed—why was Chu Zhao suddenly asking about this?

Who told her that her mother was still alive?

Had she heard something, such as who her mother was?

……

……

When light appeared on the horizon, the Yunzhong Commandery military camp also became lively. A’Jiu walked through it with his head down, carrying a bucket of water. No one paid him any attention along the way, and he soon reached the door, picked the lock, and went inside.

Old Hei was still unconscious.

A’Jiu paid him no mind, took off his clothes, and had just changed into his own when he heard knocking at the door.

“A’Jiu, A’Jiu.”

“Old Hei, Old Hei.”

A’Jiu turned and got into bed, kicking Old Hei off the bed with one foot as he did so.

Old Hei rolled off and hit the ground with a thud. He came to, still somewhat dazed, when the door was already being barged open. Smelling the alcohol in the room, Zhang Gu covered his nose and mouth.

“Old Hei, how much did you drink!” He looked at Old Hei sitting on the floor, then hurried to check on A’Jiu on the bed. Seeing him sleeping facing inward, and apart from his muffled snoring, there were no other abnormalities, he finally breathed a sigh of relief.

Old Hei rubbed his head, feeling somewhat dizzy: “Not that much. This kid can’t hold his liquor.”

Zhang Gu grabbed him: “Come on, come out with me. Let him sleep properly—”

He pulled Old Hei along. Old Hei picked up his carelessly discarded clothes from the floor, wrapped them around himself, and stumbled out with Zhang Gu, remembering to close the door.

The morning clamor of the military camp was shut out. A’Jiu’s entire body on the bed relaxed.

Everything was finally done. No more worries or concerns.

He exhaled deeply, and this time truly fell into a deep sleep.