“The people who transport weapons are relatively fixed now, but there is still a risk of information leakage during the process of transferring from land to water. I think it would be better to have a fixed group of people for loading, unloading and transportation.”

Chen Hede felt that Xu Zhuohua made a lot of sense. "You're right, but where do we find these people? Weapons aren't transported all the time; we might only get one job every ten days or half a year."

It's dangerous, and you can't always have enough to eat, so this job isn't exactly desirable, and not many people want to do it.

Unless, of course, they are one of their own, someone completely under their control, like the bodyguards of high-ranking officials in ancient times.

Xu Zhuohua also thought of this: "These people may not have that much ability, but they must be extremely loyal and willing to give up their lives."

Chen Hede asked, "Does the Xu family have such a person?"

"To my knowledge, no."

Chen Hede spread his hands, "Unfortunately, I don't have anyone like that. If I had to say who has such a person, it would only be Young Marshal Cheng."

The chair scraped against the blue brick floor with a harsh screech. Xu Zhuohua suddenly stood up, the kapok flower jade pendant on her waist hitting the edge of the table, knocking over a celadon teacup that traced an arc.

"No! His men are no good!"

She wanted to separate the arms transport business from the Xu family's overt business, so she definitely didn't want Cheng Muyun to get involved anymore. She just hoped that the arms transport business would be a separate operation, so that if anything went wrong, no one would be implicated.

Chen Hede's slender fingers steadily supported the swaying teacup, his tone as clear and indifferent as West Lake Longjing tea: "Did it burn you?"

Xu Zhuohua subconsciously took a half step back, dark brown tea dripping down the edge of the tablecloth. "No." She lowered her eyes and stared at her intertwined fingers.

Chen Hede took out a plain white handkerchief and wiped the table with such gentle movements that it was as if he were repairing an ancient painting.

“I know what you’re thinking,” he suddenly paused, the tea-soaked handkerchief hanging in mid-air, “I don’t want Young Marshal Cheng to be entangled in arms deals again.”

Xu Zhuohua was slightly stunned and stood there. Chen Hede just looked at her, his gaze as precise as a scalpel, dissecting her carefully constructed defenses and exposing her hidden plans and worries to the sunlight.

Chen Hede continued, "After all, the world is in such a mess right now. We don't even know if the president will be replaced. The local army in the southwest is not under any control. For Governor Cheng and Young Marshal Cheng, it's best if nothing happens to them. After all, the Dongzhou Army still needs supplies from above, and now is not the time to set up their own independent force."

The moment Chen Hede finished speaking, Xu Zhuohua felt a fine layer of cold sweat break out on the back of her neck.

As she watched him slowly fold the tea-stained handkerchief, she suddenly realized that she was like a pawn being manipulated in a game of chess—she thought she was just trying to resolve a business predicament, but she didn't expect that Chen Hede had already extended the entire situation to several months later.

Xu Zhuohua dug her nails deep into her palms, finally realizing that this seemingly simple arms transport was actually a noose hanging over Cheng Muyun's head.

The military government's probing, Zhou Minhai's appearance, and the various forces lurking in the shadows all now transformed into countless eyes, intently watching the Dongzhou Army's every move.

The flow of weapons to the Dongzhou military camps was merely a routine means for warlords to expand their power, and was not a serious matter.

However, if he were to fall into the hands of those wanted armed forces, Cheng Muyun's hard-earned prestige would vanish, and he might even be accused of "treason."

A gust of wind suddenly rose outside the window, and the dry branches swayed like ghostly hands.

Xu Zhuohua seemed to see countless reporters with cameras surrounding the Young Marshal's Mansion, hear the still-wet headlines of newspapers circulating in the streets and alleys, and even see the despair in his own eyes when Cheng Muyun was shot dead.

The real danger was never smuggling itself, but the enormous waves that arms dealing could unleash in the chaos of war, enough to drag the entire Dongzhou army into an abyss of no return.

Xu Zhuohua clenched her fist, sat back down on the stool, and looked at Chen Hede with a melancholy gaze. "The most dangerous thing is not Cheng Muyun smuggling weapons, but smuggling weapons to the reactionaries, isn't it?"

Chen Hede's pupils contracted sharply, and the cup in his hand rippled—as if he had been struck by an invisible electric current, even his Adam's apple bobbed in shock.

After a long pause, he managed to squeeze out half a sentence through gritted teeth: "How could this be..."

Xu Zhuohua said, "It wasn't Cheng Muyun who told me, nor Liang Shaozun, nor Xu Jixin; I guessed it myself."

Chen Hede frowned. "Impossible, how could you know?"

Xu Zhuohua is clearly a woman who stays at home most of the time; she probably doesn't even know what a reactionary is.

"Not only do I know these things, I also know that Xinhai City has been making a big fuss about arresting people recently, and you've released everyone who's been arrested, right?"

Chen Hede's hands trembled, and the tea in his cup spilled out. He couldn't believe what he had just heard.

Chen Hede's pupils suddenly contracted, and his fingertips unconsciously rubbed the cool glaze of the teacup.

He stared at the pearl buttons on Xu Zhuohua's clothes shimmering in the light and shadow, as if he could see countless gun muzzles protruding from those round beads.

"what are you up to?"

Execution was an outcome he had long anticipated, but for the wounded soldiers waiting for medicine, the comrades waiting to pass on intelligence—once they were all uprooted…

Xu Zhuohua suddenly chuckled, "You don't need to be so nervous," her voice trailing off with a gentle, melodious tone like a Jiangnan folk song, "I won't expose what you've done, I just want Cheng Muyun to be safe."

Chen Hede's back was taut like a fully drawn bow, and the holster under his long gown was burning hot against his skin.

The shadow of the window frame fell across Xu Zhuohua's face, dividing his smiling eyes into two halves of light and shadow. He counted the frequency of the other's eyelashes fluttering, trying to determine the truthfulness of his words.

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