After receiving the letter from Xu Zhuohua, Cheng Muyun's face softened.
After reading it, Cheng Muyun surprisingly felt less pain and less depressed.
The adjutants who had been keeping a close eye on Cheng Muyun through the fence also breathed a sigh of relief.
Cheng Muyun sat on a sofa that his adjutants had somehow brought out, and shook his head with a smile.
Xu Zhuohua said that the weather in Dongzhou was unpredictable. One day it was sunny and bright, but the next day it was freezing cold, so cold that she had to put on three cotton coats.
He also mentioned that Dongzhou has a wide variety of dishes. I was fortunate enough to go with Xu Shike to a famous Shandong cuisine restaurant and try the world-renowned braised sea cucumber with scallions. It was truly an exceptional dish!
As he laughed, Cheng Muyun seemed to remember something and waved his hand, asking, "After my accident, was the news kept under wraps?"
The adjutant pressed his head against the iron fence and said, "It's sealed off. Apart from Young Master Liang and Deputy Director Chen who came to inquire, no one knows anything."
"Chen Hede has been here?" Cheng Muyun frowned slightly.
Liang Shaozun wouldn't tell Xu Zhuohua about it, but Chen Hede might not.
"Yes, Deputy Director Chen came, but was driven away by the warlord, who also told him not to associate with you again."
Cheng Muyun nodded. His own father had been so ruthless this time that he definitely didn't want him to associate with Chen Hede anymore. After all, in Cheng Yuguang's eyes, without Chen Hede as an intermediary, the weapons that Cheng Muyun smuggled wouldn't reach the so-called 'reactionaries'.
“Give me paper and pen, and I will write a letter to Chen Hede.”
Everyone immediately found paper and pen for Cheng Muyun.
Cheng Muyun instructed Chen Hede not to tell Xu Zhuohua about being reported to the police.
He then explained the next steps.
Cheng Muyun wrote another letter to Xu Zhuohua.
The scabbed wound throbbed with pain under the bandage, and every time I moved my arm, the torn flesh sent piercing pain through me, as if countless fine needles were crawling between my bones.
How can I tell her that I'm imprisoned? How can I let her know that I'm currently huddled in this dark, damp cell, covered in wounds?
In the end, Cheng Muyun decided to keep it a secret.
He began to write about the changes in Xinhai City.
The sugar painting stall on the street corner has changed its offerings, the opera troupe has staged a new production of "Mu Guiying Breaks Through the Heavenly Gate Formation," and the century-old kapok tree in the old house has sprouted tender green buds...
The pain in his arm grew more and more intense, but he couldn't stop. The pen scratched across the scrap paper, as if only in this way could he express all his worries and longing.
The three sheets of paper were gradually filled with ink of varying shades. In some places, the ink had smudged due to shaky hands, and in others, the ink had torn the paper because of excessive force.
Cheng Muyun put down his pen and looked at the page full of ramblings about Xinhai City. He suddenly found it ridiculous—he had written so much, yet not a single word mentioned his own situation, not a single word expressed his longing.
But those descriptions of everyday life in the city, those detailed depictions of kapok flowers, aren't they also silently saying: Zhuohua, how I long to enjoy this spring scenery with you, how I long to be by your side.
Not a single word in the entire piece mentions longing, yet every word seems to be a lament, pouring out grievances and yearning.
Cheng Muyun smiled. It turned out that he was such a clingy person, like a child separated from his mother, chattering incessantly about his longing.
Cheng Muyun carefully folded the letter, hoping she could understand the unspoken words between the lines.
She didn't want Xu Zhuohua to worry about her.
"Deliver this letter to the Xu family, and the other one to Chen Hede."
The adjutant took the two letters, weighed their enormous thickness, and smirked, "The young marshal is really good to his wife; these letters are quite heavy."
Everyone else couldn't help but laugh. Cheng Muyun crumpled up the paper and threw it at them, saying, "Stop talking nonsense and go deliver it!"
"Understood!" The adjutant dashed out of the prison.
Cheng Muyun stayed in prison peacefully for seven or eight days. Apart from changing his dressings, he didn't have much to do and wrote a letter to Xu Zhuohua almost every day.
He felt that only when he was writing letters did his heart become more resolute.
His reflections over the past few days have helped him understand many things.
If things really develop as Xu Zhuohua predicted, the next step will be damage to his reputation, and then many people will stand against him.
Then, his wife would be burned to death.
Cheng Muyun felt that the physical pain was bearable, but the fear in his heart was even more unbearable.
Fortunately, Xu Zhuohua is currently preoccupied with something in Dongzhou and has no idea what has happened to her.
The sudden sound of shoving outside the iron fence shattered the deathly silence. Cheng Muyun struggled to his feet, supporting himself against the stone wall. The sharp pain from the wound on his back made his vision go black.
The guard's screams rang out: "Madam! Madam! The warlord said that no one is allowed to visit. Please don't make things difficult for me!"
Madam Cheng's pale face was streaked with tears, and her skirt, embroidered with lotus blossoms, was stained with mud. She had clearly rushed over despite all obstacles.
The silver hairpin in her hair was askew, and a few strands of her once dignified hair were now loose, but she looked like a mother beast protecting her cubs, crashing straight through the guards blocking her way.
Uncle Li, carrying a medicine box, stumbled behind him, saying, "Slow down! Take care of yourself!"
"Mother?" Cheng Muyun's voice was so hoarse it was almost incoherent. "Why are you here? Weren't you recuperating at your maternal grandparents' house?"
The prison door burst open, and a familiar sandalwood-scented embrace suddenly enveloped him.
Madam Cheng's trembling fingertips traced the scabbed wound on Cheng Muyun's body. Icy tears fell onto his blood-soaked gauze, spreading into dark patterns: "Did you think you could hide it from me?"
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