Su Jinyun, who usually had a distant smile, whose fingertips only touched the rim of the cup when serving tea, who always kept a distance of three feet when speaking to people, and who only took a small sip of the tea bestowed by His Majesty.

They actually went to great lengths to invite Qin Qianluo to her residence to taste the newly made pre-rain Longjing tea.

Not content with just one or two invitations, he even specially arranged for someone to buy Qin Qianluo's favorite jujube paste cake from "Fuji" in the south of the city, and even the candied fruit on top of the cake was chosen to be her favorite candied fruit peel.

Worried it would be too sweet, she asked the kitchen to reduce the sugar by half, saying, "Qianluo is afraid of it being too sweet, so less sugar is better."

Even more surprisingly, when Qin Qianluo caught a slight cold and had only a mild cough, and her voice was a little hoarse when she woke up in the morning, Su Jinyun personally stayed by her bedside to prepare medicine.

He personally filtered the dregs of the medicine three times, even skipping the morning court session, only submitting a memorial saying, "My sister Qianluo is ill and needs my personal care for her medicine."

The emperor was so surprised that he was stunned for a long time and asked repeatedly, "When did Prime Minister Su recognize the little girl from the Qin family as his sister?"

She quietly and subtly revealed Qin Qianluo's thoughts through my military token, my armor, and that muttered question, "Are your abs like blocks of iron?"

It gradually led me to her study, her teacup, and the medicine she brewed herself.

Even the inkstone on Qin Qianluo's desk was replaced with a Duan inkstone given to her by Su Jinyun, who said it "wouldn't hurt her hand when writing."

I'm so annoyed.

His fingertips rubbed the two characters "镇西" (Zhenxi, meaning "Suppress the West") on the military tally until they were burning hot, so hot that his fingertips went numb, as if he wanted to melt the gilding on the tally. Even the calluses on his palms were hot.

My chest felt like it was stuffed with a red-hot coal, even my breathing felt dry, and the freshly brewed pre-rain Longjing tea on the table seemed to cool down more slowly than usual.

That tea was a gift from Su Jinyun, who said, "General, you've worked hard in battle. Drink some tea to relieve your fatigue." But now, drinking it feels like it's been mixed with fire.

But I am the youngest General of the State in Tianxuan. When His Majesty personally bestowed upon me the military tally, he praised me in front of all the civil and military officials as "a young hero and pillar of the nation."

Yesterday, he was still on the city wall leading 100,000 soldiers, shouting "Those who offend my Heavenly Mystery, though far away, shall be punished!" His voice shook the heavens.

Even the stone lions beneath the city gate seemed to tremble from the shock, and the soldiers' shouts nearly lifted the tiles from the gate tower.

You can't show such pettiness in front of others, like being jealous over your children's feelings.

This gave the old ministers something to say about "even a general being troubled by love," providing them with another excuse to gossip.

During the court session, Su Jinyun saw Qin Qianluo, who had been granted the title of Princess, standing beside her, and the two of them were looking at the memorials together.

Her head was very close to Su Jinyun's, and her hair almost brushed against Su Jinyun's official robes. The official robes were newly made, embroidered with exquisite cloud patterns, and the fabric was personally selected by Qin Qianluo.

When Su Jinyun brushed the scraps of paper off her shoulder, she smiled and said, "Thank you, Sister Su," her eyes crinkling like crescent moons.

That smile, I had never seen before when she looked at me.

My hands, gripping the sword hilt, had turned white, my knuckles cracking from the pressure, and the rope binding the hilt had dug into my flesh, leaving deep marks.

Yet, when His Majesty asked, "How is the northern border defense these days?" he still had to put on a calm expression and speak in a voice as steady as a frozen lake.

They dared not show even the slightest ripple of emotion, for fear that if they opened their mouths, they would vent the anger in their hearts.

Okay, actually I'm still angry.

Last night, while flipping through military books, I kept seeing the shadow of Qin Qianluo.

Seeing the "feint to the east while attacking the west" tactic, and recalling how she secretly suppressed a laugh when she thought the censor's beard was covered in rice grains, I couldn't help but smile.

Looking at the "drawing the firewood from under the cauldron" strategy, I recalled her cheeks puffed out as she ate braised pork belly with preserved plums, her lips smeared with sauce, and I wanted to touch that soft, smooth texture with my fingertips.

Even when she was drawing tactical diagrams with ink, the tip of her brush almost resembled the shape of the plain silver hairpin in her hair, turning the pass of "Yanmen Pass" into the intertwined branches of the hairpin.

I was so angry that I threw the pen on the table, and the ink splattered on the drawing paper, leaving a black blot, like an unresolved worry.

Later, she simply threw the military book aside and stared blankly at the moon outside the window. The moon was as round as her cheeks when she ate jujube cake. The more she thought about it, the angrier she became, and she got up and went to the training ground.

The night wind was a bit chilly, making my battle robe flutter. I practiced with my gun for half an hour, and the locust leaves that the tip of my gun knocked down were all shattered into pieces, scattering green dust all over the ground.

Even the gun barrel was burning hot from gripping it, and the calluses on my palms were chafing painfully, but no matter how painful it was, it couldn't compare to the dull ache in my heart.

However, Su Jinyun is always meticulous in her actions, and she treats Qin Qianluo with utmost sincerity, so much so that I cannot find any fault with her.

Qin Qianluo was afraid of the cold. As soon as autumn arrived and the White Dew solar term passed, the underfloor heating in her mansion was already warm and cozy, and even the stone steps under the corridor were covered with thick velvet carpets.

It's cashmere from the Western Regions, so soft to the touch, that I was worried Qin Qianluo might slip and fall if she walked too fast.

A cotton curtain, embroidered with her favorite orchids, was hung under the eaves to block the wind, saying, "It's windy, so this will keep out the heat."