The next day, just as dawn was breaking and the morning mist had not yet dissipated, Cheng Muyun had already changed into a crisp dark green military uniform and strode quickly toward the Dongzhou Army's encampment, his steps heavy with dew on the stone path.
The camp was already filled with the sounds of drills, and the neat slogans pierced the morning mist, but a heavy stone was pressing on his heart—the army commander had been absent for three days, and now there was that uproarious "execution" farce, the morale of the army was bound to be shaken.
Sure enough, as soon as he stepped into the central command tent, he saw Cheng Yuguang standing in front of the map with his back to him, the sound of his military boots hitting the ground filled with suppressed anger.
Cheng Muyun stood in the center of the tent, his military cap held neatly in his hand, his back ramrod straight. Only when his father turned around did he lower his eyes slightly, calmly meeting those eyes that held thunderous fury.
"Publicate a notice saying you've been arrested and will be executed in three days." Cheng Yuguang's voice wasn't loud, but it was like a heavy hammer hitting iron armor. "You're something else, Cheng Muyun. Why didn't you just say you were already dead? That way I wouldn't be here waiting for you to come back and receive your punishment!"
Cheng Muyun bowed slightly, the brass buttons on his military uniform gleaming coldly in the morning light: "I'm sorry, it was an emergency at the time, and there was no other way."
"No way?" Cheng Yuguang suddenly grabbed the stacked newspapers on the table and threw them hard on the ground.
Newspapers were scattered, and the bold headline "Cheng Muyun to be executed in three days" was so eye-catching it hurt your eyes.
His eyebrows shot up in fury, and the veins on his forehead throbbed: "You have time to run to the newspaper office and publish fake news, but not a moment to send someone home to deliver a message? Your mother hasn't eaten or drunk anything for three days, and her eyes are swollen from crying. Have you forgotten that you have a mother at home who worries about you day and night?"
Cheng Muyun choked up, and without saying a word, he knelt down on the cold blue brick floor with a thud.
The knees of the soldiers' uniforms slammed heavily against the ground with a dull thud.
"It was my oversight that caused my mother so much worry and fear. I deserve to die."
Cheng Yuguang walked out from behind the table, his military boots stepping over the scattered newspapers, the metal anti-slip studs on the soles gleaming coldly.
He walked step by step to Cheng Muyun, and when he stopped, his fingers slowly rested on the butt of the gun at his waist. The movement was casual, but it made the air in the tent freeze instantly.
"You should know how important Xu Zhuohua is to you." His voice was as cold as ice in the dead of winter, each word striking like a hammer blow. "Your mother is even more important to me. If Shi Jing falls ill because of your willfulness," he leaned down, his gaze like a knife scraping across Cheng Muyun's face, "even if you are my son, I will not forgive you."
Cheng Muyun suddenly raised his head, his heart clenching as if gripped by an icy hand.
The coldness in his father's eyes almost froze him, but what chilled him to the bone even more was the question, "How important is Xu Zhuohua in your heart?"
The news that Xu Zhuohua was still alive was kept completely under wraps.
To be on the safe side, Xu Shih-nong deliberately silenced everyone in the know along the eastern route, even his personal guards only said that "an important person was rescued"; Chen He-de was even more tight-lipped and would never reveal a word to Cheng Yu-guang.
How did the father find out?
Cheng Muyun knelt on the ground, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. The slogans of the drill outside the tent could still be faintly heard, but all he could hear was the pounding of his own heart.
Could it be that the news has leaked somewhere? Or has his father already planted spies around him that he doesn't know about?
Cheng Yuguang let out a cold laugh, his arms crossed over his chest, the cuffs of his military green sleeves stretched taut.
He stood there in front of Cheng Muyun, his gaze sweeping over her from a superior angle, carrying a complex mix of scrutiny and disappointment.
“You are good in every way.” He said, his voice as cold as the frost on the weapons outside the tent. “Your strategy, determination, and talent are top-notch in the entire Dongzhou Army. You are flawless in battle, and you are more meticulous than anyone else when facing political enemies. You seem invincible.”
He paused, leaned down slightly, and looked at Cheng Muyun's downcast profile: "But you're too young. Especially when it comes to Xu Zhuohua, you lost your composure as soon as you got involved, and your weakness was blatantly exposed. You're too easy to guess."
Cheng Muyun's shoulders tensed almost imperceptibly, and he silently lowered his head.
He couldn't refute it—all his composure and self-control crumbled when facing Xu Zhuohua; it was a concern etched into his very bones, how could he possibly remain indifferent?
“Aren’t you the same?” he said in a muffled voice, with a hint of barely perceptible grievance in his tone. “Every time Mother has a headache or fever, or is disturbed by the noise outside, don’t you also lose your composure? In the past, you could sit and listen to urgent reports from the army, but as soon as someone from home said that Mother was not well, you immediately got up and rushed back. I clearly inherited this.”
Snap—
A crisp sound exploded inside the tent.
Cheng Yuguang picked up a scattered newspaper from beside his feet, rolled it into a tight roll in a few quick movements, and accurately hit Cheng Muyun on the forehead.
The force wasn't strong, but it carried a strong warning.
"Hmph, stop bringing up your mother." Cheng Yuguang withdrew his hand, tapping the rolled-up paper in his palm. "I don't want you to learn this from me—if you do, you'll do it so poorly that you'll lose a living person."
The last few words were like needles, pricking Cheng Muyun's heart.
His head drooped even lower, his chin almost touching his chest, and his voice was as soft as a sigh: "Perhaps... our son hasn't done enough."
"It's not that you're not good enough, it's that you're stupid!" Cheng Yuguang said, exasperated. He raised his hand again, and the rolled-up paper landed on the back of Cheng Yuguang's neck. "What do women want? A stable life, tangible security! And what do you want? To collude with rebels? To ruin your own reputation?"
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