"I heard from your father that you're skilled in crafting hidden weapons. Are all these things in your room for making them? Tell me what else you need—no matter how hard it is to obtain, I'll get it for you!"
"Yan'er, is this courtyard too small for your weapon research? Didn’t you also want a training ground? I’ll have the neighboring courtyard merged with yours. That way, it’ll be safer and more convenient—no need to worry about you burning the house down or feeling too cooped up at home."
The old madam’s words spilled out rapidly, like scattered beans.
If this had been the old Zong Yan, he would have chatted back with her for hours. But now, he simply complied, "As you wish, Mother." Read full story at NoveI[F]ire.net
He neither refused nor showed any displeasure.
Every ounce of his mother’s devoted love reached him, and though many of her suggestions sounded extravagant, Zong Yan didn’t object.
He knew: this was because she loved him.
Tears welled up again in the old madam’s eyes. She blinked them back and forced a smile. "Then I’ll arrange it right away. It won’t take long—just a few days."
Zong Yan smiled. "Good."
Merging the two courtyards was quick—just a matter of tearing down the dividing wall.
The small pavilion and garden in the neighboring courtyard were all demolished, replaced with a training ground. Though not vast, it was spacious enough.
His mother moved his hidden weapon crafting tools into the newly merged house, keeping them separate from his sleeping quarters.
Zong Yan grew increasingly accustomed to these changes.
His mother’s actions felt familiar.
He recalled how, when his elder brother had expressed a desire to study, she had gone all out—building a grand two-story study, collecting books of every kind, and even hiring the esteemed Master Baili to tutor him.
She had always been this good to them.
Zong Yan’s heart swelled with warmth, and he threw himself into crafting hidden weapons with renewed focus. Yet, in idle moments, his gaze still drifted toward the door.
His brother had said: She’s here in the house.
Why… hadn’t she come to see him?
Zong Yan didn’t dare dwell on it, because if he did, he’d convince himself that Yan Suxue despised him. After all, he had wronged her all those years ago, abandoning her and Wenxiu without a second thought.
An unwed mother—she must have endured endless scorn.
She… probably hated him, didn’t she?
The thought made him retreat into his shell, torn between longing to see her and fearing her rejection.
Meanwhile, over the past few days, the Armory had worked tirelessly to complete the war chariots.
The little emperor, Chu Jincheng, eagerly summoned Zong Wenxiu to the palace. "Brother, the Armory says the materials for these chariots are rare but not impossible to procure. They can easily make several dozen. The only issue is transporting them to the border—they’re too conspicuous. It’d be better to carry the materials there and assemble them on-site."
Zong Wenxiu brightened. "That’s excellent news, Jin Cheng! This could truly aid the border forces. The Armory’s suggestion makes sense—have them send the blueprints and materials ahead. The Duke of State Protection can oversee the assembly at the border. There’s still time."
"Good, I’ll draft the decree at once!" Jin Cheng sat on the throne, brush poised, when a thought struck him.
Luo Jingfeng didn’t yet know about the Prince of Southern Pacification’s demand for a fiefdom.
How would Luo Jingfeng react if he found out?
He had once said that the three of them—brothers and nephew—were the closest kin in the world.
The Prince of Southern Pacification was his blood brother, a bond spanning over thirty years. Jin Cheng, in comparison, had only known him for a few. In Luo Jingfeng’s heart, who mattered more—his elder brother or his nephew?
Jin Cheng set down the brush, his smile fading.
Zong Wenxiu noticed. "What’s wrong, Jin Cheng?"
"Brother, I need your opinion," the little emperor said gravely. "Suppose you had an elder brother. You’d relied on each other for over thirty years. Then, out of nowhere, a nephew you’d only known for two years appeared. If your brother and nephew clashed, whose side would you take?"
He knew exactly whom Jin Cheng was referring to—the Prince of Southern Pacification, the Duke of State Protection, and the young emperor himself.
Jin Cheng pressed, "Brother, be honest. What would you do?"
Zong Wenxiu frowned, choosing his words carefully. "Regardless of how long I’ve known them, both my brother and nephew would be dear to me. If they clashed, I’d side with the one in the right and try to reason with the other. If the nephew were only twelve, I’d weigh his words carefully—people tend to dismiss children’s opinions. But I think the Duke of State Protection cares deeply for you. He wouldn’t abandon either of you."
Jin Cheng rubbed his temples, frustration mounting.
"Even though I often feel he treats me well, Luo Jingfeng is too domineering. I’m afraid he’ll return and force me into something I don’t want."
Zong Wenxiu was puzzled. "What does that have to do with this?"
"Everything!" Jin Cheng exclaimed. "Handing him the blueprints and materials means he’ll wield not just military power but also a new threat to Great Chu’s sovereignty."
Zong Wenxiu’s eyes widened. "Jin Cheng, you’re overthinking this! The Duke of State Protection helped you ascend the throne. He wouldn’t betray you."
"But being constantly overruled by a subject is infuriating," Jin Cheng grumbled. "I don’t want to give him the blueprints."
Zong Wenxiu scratched his head. "Won’t he take offense? He’d see it as distrust, creating a rift between you—and worse, it might destabilize the border."
He shuddered imagining Luo Jingfeng’s wrath.
A man of such pride, blatantly distrusted by his own nephew, might well abandon the front lines and storm back to the capital for answers.
Jin Cheng’s brows knitted so tightly they could crush flies. "That’s why we need a solution—one that doesn’t make him question my trust but also doesn’t place the blueprints directly in his hands."
Zong Wenxiu sighed. "That sounds nearly impossible… Unless you delivered them yourself. As his nephew, he’d see it as keeping things within the family. He wouldn’t doubt you then."
But that was out of the question.
Chu Jincheng was too young and, as emperor, couldn’t leave the capital.
"Within the family…" Jin Cheng mulled over the idea, then suddenly brightened, locking eyes with Zong Wenxiu. "I know who to send!"
"Who?" Zong Wenxiu blinked.
Jin Cheng grinned. "My dashing, brilliant, and righteous top-scoring martial cousin, of course!"
Luo Ji, Luo Jingfeng’s eldest son.
Last year, while the scholars of the elite class had aced the imperial exams, Luo Ji had claimed the title of Martial Arts Champion. Yet his father’s towering reputation, achievements, and status had overshadowed his son’s brilliance, leaving it unnoticed by most.