Thus, Zhao Mingyue became all alone. Unable to bear the loneliness, he wrote a memorial to the emperor, pleading for his dismissal. He did not want to command troops or achieve great merit; he only wanted to stay with his wife, children, and parents.

After seeing Zhao Mingyue's resignation, the emperor readily granted his request. A man so sentimental was indeed unsuitable for leading troops or serving as an official; he was only fit to be kept at home as a gigolo.

Zhao Mingyue didn't care what others thought of him, and Zhao Shui and Song Zhaodi didn't care whether their son was successful or not. They just wanted the whole family to be together, for no one to get into trouble, and for them to have a house to live in and enough to eat and wear.

Xingxing said with a mix of helplessness and amusement, "It's only because Xiantao likes it. If it were any other noble lady, Zhao Mingyue's family would be looked down upon for being so complacent and lacking ambition."

"What kind of pot goes with what kind of lid?" Zhu Lin said casually, a phrase he had learned from the old people in Yegou Village.

"Speaking of which, Brother Lin doesn't seem to have much ambition. He doesn't seem to have thought about making any achievements. You don't even have anything you want to do, like becoming a great general or something?" Thinking about it this way, Xingxing felt that Zhu Lin and Zhao Mingyue were inexplicably similar in their lack of desire.

"Why should I have so many thoughts? You are a princess of the Great Jin Dynasty, born with an inescapable mission. You already have enough to deal with. I can help you. If I were to create a bunch of schemes and plots on my end, wouldn't I be exhausted?" Zhu Lin said matter-of-factly.

Xingxing helplessly shrugged, unable to refute.