Madam Cheng was well aware that Xu Zhuohua held a more important place in Cheng Muyun's heart than she did herself.
Cheng Muyun pursed his lips. "I understand, Mother. I won't let Zhuohua become a widow."
Madam Cheng's fingertips trembled as she stroked the messy strands of hair around Cheng Muyun's ear, where bits of grass and dried scabs still clung.
She looked down at the dark shadows under her son's eyes, her eyes overflowing with tenderness: "Mu Yun, it's not that I want to stop you."
His voice carried an undeniable sincerity, "I just want you to think about your family when you do anything."
Cheng Muyun's throat bobbed, a lump forming in his throat from the bitter emotions.
"I understand, Mother." He nodded gently, his voice low and hoarse.
After Madam Cheng left, several of Cheng Muyun's adjutants gathered around, their faces wet with tears.
"Young Marshal, the Warlord's wife is so kind to you."
Cheng Muyun lowered his eyes silently. "I'm the only one left in the Cheng family. How could she not be anxious?"
One of the adjutants mustered his courage and said, "Young Marshal, the Governor's wife is right. You were doing a good job as Young Marshal, so why did you become friends with Chen Hede? And Young Master Liang, it seems that you have changed since you met Chen Hede."
Cheng Muyun pursed his lips helplessly. Actually, he only changed after he met Xu Zhuohua.
"That's right, especially Young Master Liang. He's been hanging out with the Japanese all day long, which is morally corrupt. Now all the high society in Xinhai City avoids him like the plague."
"The Japanese are targeting the young marshal like this, and yet Young Master Liang is still befriending them, it's really..."
The people around him argued endlessly about whether Cheng Muyun should get involved in Chen Hede's affairs and whether he should befriend Liang Shaozun.
Cheng Muyun found it annoying and chased everyone away.
He sat on the sofa with his eyes closed, resting.
In fact, he listened to what Madam Cheng said.
If he really messes things up and dies, Mrs. Cheng will probably be devastated.
I thought I could face death with equanimity, but now it seems that even if I have the courage, I don't have anyone who loves me.
Cheng Muyun suddenly had a thought of wanting to live a life of ignominy.
He lowered his eyes and stared at his hands, which were covered in scars, with scabs on his knuckles peeking out in the shadows.
If I were to take Zhuohua across the ocean right now, perhaps I could find peace in a foreign land, open a small teahouse in San Francisco's Chinatown, listen to her recite English words in her soft Wu dialect, and watch her relax her eyes in the sunlight.
Anyway, Xu Zhuohua said that more than 20 years later, China will usher in a new life.
Whether he's there or not doesn't matter, right?
"What if we're just one short?" he murmured to the void.
The darkness of the prison cell seemed to transform into a giant net, trapping him in the gap between national duty and personal feelings.
He didn't want to be a deserter.
With his thoughts in a jumbled mess, Cheng Muyun nestled on the sofa, feeling drowsy.
He didn't know how much time had passed before he fell into a chaotic dream.
The chessboard floated and sank in the void, while the white-haired old man opposite him held a piece and chuckled, a strange light hidden in his wrinkles.
Cheng Muyun's hand holding the black piece trembled uncontrollably. Even though he had aimed at the star point, the piece seemed to be pulled by invisible threads, rolling in the exact opposite direction.
The illusory figures watching chuckled mockingly, and the chessboard transformed into a blood-red vortex, engulfing him entirely.
"No!" Cheng Muyun suddenly sat up, his back, soaked in cold sweat, slammed against the sofa back, and the intense pain made him gasp.
He was panting heavily, the rise and fall of his chest aggravating the wounds on his chest and back. The sticky gauze was already soaked with blood and sweat, and each breath felt like someone was rubbing coarse salt into the wounds, the burning pain shooting up his spine to the back of his neck.
His fingertips touched the soaked shirt, and the sticky feeling made his stomach churn.
Cheng Muyun ripped off his wrinkled coat, the thin shirt sticking painfully to his wound. He gritted his teeth and pulled out a pair of scissors.
The cold metal moved against the skin, and with a soft "ripping" sound, the layers of gauze were torn open, exposing the hideous wound to the cool air.
The flesh rolled up like a blooming flower of evil, and the congealed blood scabs mixed with the oozing tissue fluid at the edges shone with an eerie bluish-purple hue under the moonlight.
Xu Zhuohua's letter stated that he would stay in Dongzhou for a while longer. Cheng Muyun estimated how much his wounds would have healed by the time Xu Zhuohua returned.
If Xu Zhuohua returns with her wounds still very obvious, how can that be explained?
Cheng Muyun stared blankly at the wound on his chest, completely unaware of Luo Yunqiao carrying a medicine box at the cell door.
A soft sound came from outside the prison door, and Luo Yunqiao stood beside the iron bars, holding a leather medicine box.
Upon seeing the gruesome wound on Cheng Muyun's chest, her eyelashes trembled violently, her eyes instantly filled with tears, and a sour feeling rose in her throat.
Several adjutants quietly shrank into the shadows, and everyone held their breath, not daring to make a sound.
Cheng Muyun suddenly turned around, his lower back hitting the metal bed frame, making it creak.
He looked at Luo Yunqiao's reddened eyes and was about to speak when he caught a glimpse of movement in the corner of the cell.
Seven or eight heads poked out from the haystack, and the moment their eyes met his, they all shrank back into the haystack like cats whose tails had been stepped on. The rustling of the straw was mixed with suppressed laughter.
One of the adjutants shrugged his head so suddenly that it slammed against the iron railing with a clang, causing everyone to freeze in shock.
"Yunqiao? What are you doing here?"
Luo Yunqiao pushed open the cell door and walked in. At that moment, Cheng Muyun felt that he should have locked the cell door.
These people coming and going so freely were greatly affecting his mood as a 'prisoner'.
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