The war was far from over, and that was no comfort to anyone—least of all to the general of the Eastern main army, Liang Zehan.

However, there was one thing that made it more bearable... Someone was waiting for him at home. The moment the sound of his boots echoed through the back courtyard, he saw the feverish, drowsy figure almost swaying on his own feet. Adorable, he thought. I should marry him...

He sighed. He entered the home without a word—a small, simple house he had built with his own hands to save Ruan Yin from slavery after his exile. He left his boots by the door, outside, out of courtesy...

"Laopo?" Liang Zehan called out, pretending not to notice the other's emotion at seeing him. The term qizi wasn’t technically right for his lover—his fiancée had died, and she should’ve been Liang Zehan’s qizi—but… he had never liked that woman. “Are you home?”

Of course he is. He’s sick, he couldn’t run even if he wanted to, he thought. A barely visible smile began to form on his face as he crossed his arms… He loved his laopo. His so-called laopo.