Chapter Forty-Five: Conveying Longings

Inside Ning City, the victorious soldiers were all jubilant, their faces glowing with smiles. Zhongli Yu ordered a grand banquet to celebrate the Eastling troops’ reclaiming of two cities in succession. The entire army joined in the festivities, and the banquet lasted until midnight before finally coming to an end. Only then did Zhongli Yu slowly make his way to the General’s Residence, where he was staying. Before entering, he paused and gazed deeply in the direction of the capital; only he knew how, in these quiet hours of the night, he missed his wife so dearly—remembering her gentle smile, recalling every moment he’d spent with her, wondering whether life in the royal mansion was treating her well, and if anyone was troubling her.

“Master, would you like to send a message to the Lady? You’ve been away so long and haven’t written to her at all,” Lihun said, unable to hide the longing in his eyes as Zhongli Yu entered.

“Yes, I ought to send her my regards,” Zhongli Yu replied, rubbing his forehead. He’d been so busy lately that he hadn’t managed to write her a letter; he wondered if she would resent him for it.

“I’ll prepare the ink right away,” Lihun said cheerfully. Clearly, this victory had rekindled hope for everyone, and they all firmly believed that defeating Xiyuan was only a matter of time.

Lihun deftly set out the brush and ink for Zhongli Yu, who watched his movements in silence. Suddenly, he found himself at a loss for words—there seemed to be so much to say, yet no way to express it fully. He picked up the brush, then set it down again; at this moment, a simple declaration of longing would not suffice to convey how much he missed her. He wished only to hold her in his arms—nothing else brought him more peace and fulfillment than embracing her.

“Master, why aren’t you writing?” Lihun asked, puzzled. Just moments ago, Zhongli Yu had seemed eager to write, but now he had put the brush aside.

“Wait a moment,” Zhongli Yu replied helplessly, shaking his head. He suddenly felt like a lovestruck youth, unsure how to express his emotions. At last, he picked up the brush and slowly wrote a single line on the paper: “Yan’er, I miss you. Wait for my return.”

“Master, is that all you’re going to write?” Lihun muttered, a bit speechless as he eyed the short line—it seemed rather stingy.

“Enough chattering. Send it off quickly,” Zhongli Yu said, clearing his throat in embarrassment. That single line was his most heartfelt thought; anything more would only be superfluous.

“Master, you’re so wasteful. It’s not easy to send a letter home, and you only write that much,” Lihun complained, as if he were the one receiving the message.

“When did you start meddling in my affairs? Perhaps I’ve been too lenient with you,” Zhongli Yu said, lifting his head with a smile that was half teasing.

“Your servant wouldn’t dare. I’ll send it right away,” Lihun replied, vanishing in a flash. Whenever the master looked at him like that, trouble was sure to follow; it was always safer to make a quick exit, for Zhongli Yu could be quite formidable when he set his mind to it.

In the Pure Prince’s Mansion, Zhan Yan sat beneath a tree, enjoying the cool breeze. The pear tree was heavy with fruit, half-grown pears dangling from the branches. She looked up at the orchard, letting longing slowly spread through her heart. He should be returning soon; by then, the pears would not yet be ripe, and they could pick them together. As these thoughts drifted through her mind, a smile crept onto her lips, and the sunlight filtering through the leaves made her face shine even more brightly. Ever since she learned that Zhongli Yu had reclaimed two cities in succession and that the end of the war was near, her spirits had gradually lifted.

“Miss, the Prince has sent a letter,” Qingyun said, entering with a small note, evidently delivered by carrier pigeon, the paper rolled into a tiny cylinder.

“Oh? Let me see,” Zhan Yan said, joyfully taking the note and gently unrolling it. When she saw that single line written there, her heart warmed with an indescribable sense of contentment, and her smile could not be hidden. So this was what it felt like to be cherished. In that moment, she was like a girl in love, delighted by her beloved’s brief words, her girlish demeanor on full display.

“Miss, the Prince must be coming back soon. Look how happy you are,” Qingyun said, also pleased. Everyone wished for the war to end as soon as possible.

“Yes, he should be back soon. Yang Qi is no match for the Prince, and he brought only elite soldiers with him this time. Defeating Xiyuan shouldn’t be a problem at all,” Zhan Yan said confidently, gently smoothing the note before folding it and tucking it into her sleeve pouch.

“That’s wonderful. Miss, would you like to reply to him?”

“No need. He’ll probably be back very soon. Whatever I want to say, I’ll wait till he returns and tell him then,” Zhan Yan thought optimistically.

“If you reply, the Prince would surely be delighted,” Qingyun encouraged.

“Oh, is that so?” Zhan Yan tilted her head, as if considering.

“Absolutely.”

“Come, to the study. I’ll write him a letter,” Zhan Yan said, suddenly in high spirits, rising and heading for the study.

“Yes, Miss,” Qingyun replied, following with a smile. She felt that her mistress was becoming more and more lovable; after so many years, Zhan Yan had always been calm and indifferent, never showing much emotion, but now her joys and sorrows were written plainly on her face, making her seem so genuine.

Zhan Yan sat at her desk, picked up a brush, and began to write. She penned, “Zhongli Yu, I miss you too. Hurry home.” Looking over her words, she thought it seemed a bit too forward and crumpled the paper. She wrote several more times, still unsatisfied. Finally, she settled on a single line: “Since you miss me, come back soon.”

“All right, let’s send this,” Zhan Yan said, rolling the tiny note and handing it to Qingyun.

“Uh, yes, Miss,” Qingyun replied, taking the delicate paper cylinder and heading out.

Left alone in the study, Zhan Yan suddenly felt at a loss for what to do. She picked up her brush and began to sketch idly. After a while, the paper revealed the handsome face of Zhongli Yu. Staring at her drawing, she was amazed to find that his image was so clear in her mind that she could capture him effortlessly, leaving not a single detail out. She gazed at the portrait in a daze—the man’s eyes were so gentle. He had always been gentle with her, cherishing and pampering her as if she were a precious treasure. Was meeting him heaven’s compensation for her tragic death in her past life? Looking out at the blazing sun, Zhan Yan drifted into thought. If this was compensation, then she would be grateful to the heavens from the bottom of her heart for not forgetting her, because after meeting him, she was no longer alone.