Su Zizhan clutched Hua Yan's letter and pondered for a long time, yet in the end, he did not write to the Marquis of Wuwei in the Capital City.
Seeing Su Zizhan's solemn expression, Qing Hun noted that ever since they had entered the Northern Region, he had been seething with rage every day, yet he managed to restrain himself. Today, it was rare to see an emotion other than fury on his face. Tentatively, he asked, "Young Master, is there something exceedingly troubling that you cannot resolve?"
Su Zizhan put down the letter, turned around, and stood by the window with his hands clasped behind his back. Outside, the sunshine was bright, and the breeze carried the fragrance of osmanthus - it was undeniably pleasant weather, but his heart was heavy with gloom. He asked in a deep voice, "Qing Hun, you've been by my side since you were a child. Do you know what kind of person my father is?"
Qing Hun was startled slightly, "Are you referring to Marquis, Young Master?"
