Qiao Zhao was slightly startled.

A girl had smiled at her? She could hardly believe it!

Ever since becoming the young miss Li Zhao, she had thought she was stealing all the girls’ men, making them hate her so much.

At this moment, Miss Qiao’s feelings were quite complex.

Zhu Yán was similarly stunned.

Why did she find Third Miss Li’s momentary daze so amusing?

“Zhaozhao.” Old Madam Deng spoke, drawing back Qiao Zhao’s attention.

“Grandmother.”

Old Madam Deng smiled with a face full of loving kindness: “Zhaozhao, would you be willing to write something for the ladies and young misses present to see?”

Qiao Zhao replied calmly: “I would not.”

At these words, Old Madam Deng was somewhat surprised, while everyone present displayed even more colorful expressions.

To so straightforwardly refuse the chance to show off under everyone’s gaze—such a girl was truly rare to encounter.

“Third Girl!” Old Madam Jiang coughed heavily, her voice carrying a warning.

What was this girl thinking? Since she could truly write such excellent calligraphy, why put on airs at a time like this?

“What’s wrong?” But Old Madam Deng’s expression remained unchanged, her attitude still gentle.

“The Buddhist realm is not a place for showing off,” Qiao Zhao replied.

Her purpose had already been achieved—how could she continue using her grandfather’s calligraphy to seek attention?

Qiao Zhao didn’t quite understand these people’s thinking.

Whether her calligraphy was good or poor, what business was it of theirs? In any case, they couldn’t possibly want their sons to marry her.

Qiao Zhao’s single statement left all the ladies speechless. Du Feixue, unwilling to give up, retorted: “Li Zhao, you’re just making excuses, aren’t you? If you don’t write, how can you prove you can write such excellent calligraphy?”

Looking at this girl, Qiao Zhao almost wanted to sigh as she asked: “Can’t the Master of Shuying Nunnery serve as proof?”

One sentence instantly silenced Du Feixue, who could only bite her lips in hatred and glare at her wordlessly.

Seeing this, Lady Zhu quickly gave Du Feixue a meaningful look and pulled her daughter behind herself, no longer letting her take the lead.

Her own daughter was far from being Third Miss Li’s match—better not to charge forward and invite ridicule.

But this Third Miss Li seemed quite different from her previous impressions.

Lady Zhu unconsciously glanced at Li Jiǎo.

If this continued, the future days of her late elder sister-in-law’s daughter would probably not be so smooth.

Li Jiǎo’s mother had shown considerable care for Lady Zhu, her sister-in-law, when alive, so Lady Zhu naturally had some genuine affection for Li Jiǎo. However, that was all—each family still had to live their own lives.

Li Jiǎo maintained a gentle smile on her face, but her heart had long since turned upside down.

Li Zhao absolutely could not write such excellent calligraphy—she must have used some scheme to fool that Master. Otherwise, why would she be so evasive when asked to write something now?

Heh heh, today at Dafu Temple, you have legitimate reasons to silence people, but there’s a long future ahead. Sooner or later, she would strip away her facade in front of everyone.

No matter how unwilling the people inside and outside the hall were, by the time the gathering ended, they still hadn’t seen Third Miss Li’s calligraphy. Because of this, almost everyone formed a deep impression of this Third Miss of the Li residence.

On the return journey, carriages formed a long train on the road, moving slowly forward. When it came time to enter the city, the speed became even slower, like snails crawling.

The masters in the carriages grew anxious, waiting, and sent servants to investigate.

Soon, the servants returned from their reconnaissance, wiping sweat squeezed out by the crowds: “Reporting to Madam, Marquis Guanjun is leading soldiers to escort the coffins of fallen warriors into the city. The common people are all watching.”

Upon hearing this, the ladies lifted their carriage curtains to look ahead, and the endless line of vehicles filled them with despair.

While they could still sit patiently in their carriages, the daughters and granddaughters they had brought could no longer bear it. Moreover, with their particular yearning for the young and handsome Marquis Guanjun, they all pleaded: “Mother (Grandmother), since we’re just waiting in the carriage anyway, why don’t we abandon the carriage and walk? We can properly express our respect for the fallen soldiers.”

The ladies all thought in unison: Look at our daughters (granddaughters)—just to catch a glimpse of that Marquis Guanjun, their little heads suddenly became so clever, finding such good excuses!

So they all allowed the young ladies to abandon the carriages and walk, protected by maids and servants.

Qiao Zhao had originally decided to stay in the carriage and wait slowly, but an overheard comment made her change her mind: “I heard the General’s wife’s coffin is also among them, and the General personally escorted it back.”

Her coffin?

Shao Mingyuan had left the city to escort her coffin back to the Marquis Jing’an’s residence?

This feeling was truly indescribable.

Qiao Zhao stopped by the roadside with the Li residence’s young ladies, waiting together with the common people.

A white expanse in the distance gradually approached, and only then could people see clearly that it was soldiers dressed in white slowly advancing.

Cart after cart without canopies carried the coffins of fallen heroes’ souls—a dark mass that was suffocatingly heavy.

The common people on both sides of the road all fell silent. No one spoke as they used their most devout and mournful gazes to see these heroes into the city.

Gradually, quiet weeping arose from the crowd.

Those who wept restrained themselves, enduring their grief, unwilling to wail loudly and disturb the solemn atmosphere of this moment.

In these coffins, whose white-haired mother’s son lay within? Whose young woman’s husband is in the prime of life? And how many people’s remains would forever stay in the distant Northern Territories?

They were sons, husbands, and fathers, but at the same time, they were warriors defending Great Liang’s people from being trampled by barbarian iron hooves.

Years ago, the fierce Northern Qi people had captured Shanhai Pass, and the entire city’s population had been slaughtered at will by the Northern Qi forces. The fate of women was too horrible to witness.

Time could heal many things, but there were some things it could never erase.

If barbarians invaded, they would willingly dress their family’s sons in battle robes with their own hands—this was the simplest thought of many Great Liang people.

So many common people lined the road. They might usually quarrel loudly over trivial matters, but at this moment, they unanimously maintained silence.

Using silence to send these fallen soldiers’ spirits on their final journey.

Qiao Zhao’s gaze fell upon the young man leading the procession.

He wasn’t riding a horse but walking beside a black lacquered coffin.

Gone was the spirited vigor from that day he entered the city. The young general now had cracked lips and short azure stubble sprouting on his chin. Even his white robe had turned greyish-yellow. Though disheveled from head to toe, this still could not diminish his outstanding bearing.

Countless young ladies’ gazes, whether subtle or openly displayed, clung to him.

But Qiao Zhao looked past him, staring intently at that black lacquered coffin.

Was she lying inside there?

To think that one day she would stand by the roadside, joining countless others in watching the coffin containing her corpse slowly move forward.

At this moment, Qiao Zhao was somewhat entranced.

No one knew that she was herself in this world, how utterly lonely she was.

Having died and been reborn, how extraordinarily fortunate she was.

Qiao Zhao was lost in thought when, just as Shao Mingyuan was about to pass by, a sudden great force from behind pushed her violently forward.