Chapter 11

I didn’t remember the reason I joined the army, but I remembered the high-spirited will to fight, the dejection of defeat, and the cheers of victory. I had completely melted into military life and immersed myself in the role of a soldier. I had witnessed the deaths of countless comrades-in-arms, and I had long handed over my own life and death as well. The reason didn’t matter anymore.

Ji Wenmu’s eyes were very red. He asked me, “What… what exactly was the reason you joined the army?”

I thought about it for a while and wrote, “To repay my home…”

He suddenly grasped the hand I was writing with and stared at me unblinkingly, his eyes filled with tension and earnestness.

“It wasn’t because of me?”

I froze for a moment, my eyes widening.

“Where do you get that much charm?” I shot him a look. His gaze was fixated on his palm, deciphering the characters I had written down.

As I finished the last stroke, he looked up at me. His eyes were wet, washed clean by tears, holding a bit of confusion and inexplicable resistance.

“You, what did you forget?” His Adam’s apple bobbed several times before he asked me cautiously, “Do you still remember, what… what am I to you?”

“I remember you. You are Ji Wenmu,” I wrote. “You are the best brother I’ve grown up with since childhood.”

“Brother…” He seemed to be muttering to himself, immersed in his own world. “You forgot?”

“Forgot what? If we’re not brothers, what else could we be?”

I looked at him with a smile. He stared back blankly, as if he had lost his soul. Looking at me, he shook his head, the corners of his mouth hooking into a tiny arc.

“That’s right, brothers.”

I didn’t see Ji Wenmu for a long time. Because of the security lapse during the autumn hunt, both he and Uncle Ji were punished. For the most part, they were either at the imperial palace or the military camp.

Aunt Ji visited me frequently to keep me company and feed me tonics, fattening me up quite a bit.

After resting and recovering for months, I was bored out of my mind. Liang Ji came every day to change my dressings and would tell me many interesting stories from his travels. The tale of him surviving in a bandit lair and working his way up to being the third-in-command made me laugh every time I heard it.

My throat injury had somewhat healed, but it wasn’t fully recovered. Liang Ji advised me to remain silent for a while longer and suggested I practice my calligraphy in the meantime.

He looked gentle and polite, but he didn’t hold back at all when it came to saying heart-stabbing things.

My handwriting was ugly, yes, but as long as it was legible, wasn’t that enough?

His handwriting was different from his appearance—exceptionally free and natural, even a bit bold and unrestrained. Ironically, I was the one who couldn’t read what he wrote.

Over time, seeing that pair of eyes no longer gave me the same initial feeling of stunning surprise. Aunt Ji, however, grew fonder and fonder of him. During this period, I noticed his cheeks had also plumped up a bit.

He told me, “I heard a divine doctor has appeared in Yannan. Once your injury is completely healed, I will go seek him out.”

I looked at him. The writing brush hovered in the air, blotting a pool of ink onto the rice paper.

“You’re not staying in the capital?”

He nodded. “I came to the capital this time originally to exchange medical knowledge with the top physicians in the city. Now that I have drawn my conclusions, and it just so happens that the divine doctor in Yannan is gaining fame, it’s a good time to pay a visit.”

I couldn’t quite describe my mood, but I felt that if he left, my days would become much more boring. But what could I use to keep him? He had traveled the world since childhood, seen everything there was to see. Why would he ever stay in one place?

I wrote on the paper, “If you’re in a hurry, you can go now. My injury is no longer a major issue.”

“No rush. Compared to exchanging knowledge with peers, being responsible for my own patient is more important.”

He smiled at me, the pool of water in his eyes looking as if it would spill over with his amusement.

I nodded and lowered my head to continue practicing calligraphy. He leaned in to take a look. “Why so listless? Where is the sharpness in the strokes?”

I wrote, “You’re not a teacher, why do you care how I write?”

He gave me a few extra glances, suddenly showing a look of realization. Without a word, he went out for a trip and came back with a bowl of brown sugar water.

“Drink it. Will your mood improve?”

Meeting his understanding gaze, I felt too embarrassed to refuse. Bracing myself, I drank the sweet water. The last mouthful was the most cloying. Just as I furrowed my brow to swallow it, the door was suddenly pushed open. I was startled, and that mouthful went straight down my windpipe, choking me.

I covered my mouth and coughed. Liang Ji handed me a bowl of clear water and looked toward the door. “Little General Ji is here.”