Indulging in revelry, flaunting wealth, and showing disregard for elders seemed unchanged behaviors. "Really?" He Chunhua glanced at her, his gaze laden with deeper meanings, "I've been away from the estate recently, and you've seldom dined with him, haven't you?"
Ying Hongchan's complexion shifted, "My lord, it's Lingchuan who seldom chooses to dine at home! It's considered good if he returns to eat twice in nearly ten days."
He Chunhua sighed, "You must show him more understanding. After all, he is nearing sixteen."
"Of course," the lady assured readily, as always, "Regardless, Lingchuan is the He family's eldest son."
After Mrs. He retired to her chambers, He Chunhua watched her leave with a long exhale, the steward, Old Mo, materialized beside him.
He Chunhua, hands clasped behind his back, remarked, "The agents sent by Donglai Prefecture to track the demon leopard disappeared upon reaching Heishui City. Should this matter bear significant weight, they will not let it rest easily; I fear there is more to come."
He sighed again, "What concerns me most, however, is the situation to the east. Our connection with the royal court has been severed for too long. I have a premonition that great turmoil is imminent."
"Even if it's a calamity, my lord will safely navigate through," affirmed the steward with unwavering confidence, "As always."
The next ten days passed uneventfully.
As the closure of the Red Cliff Route drew near, the influx of merchants into and out of Heishui City increased, keeping the magistrate exceedingly busy, while communication with the eastern part of the Yan Kingdom remained disrupted.
He Lingchuan continued to make his presence felt.
Life seemed monotonously uneventful, and he hardly knew how to enjoy such tranquil days anymore.
He Chunhua, caught up in a whirlwind of duties, had no time for evening meals at home, and Mrs. He did not summon their sons for dinner, allowing each to dine separately. He Lingchuan found this arrangement rather convenient. Compared to Mrs. He, He Chunhua was indeed a more lenient father.
Contrary to what one might assume, an official's son like He Lingchuan typically didn't need to spend his own money when out socializing. For instance, today Liu Baobao invited him to dine at Hongyan Tower as a gesture of gratitude for the pass He Lingchuan had secured for Liu's trading caravan, which had safely returned.
Liu Baobao called it a "simple meal," yet the table boasted exotic delicacies and fine wine aged twenty years from the Liu family's cellar.
Not to mention, the wine was served by Liu Baobao's favored concubine, her peach blossom eyes frequently casting admiring glances at He Lingchuan, eagerly refilling his cup.
Liu Baobao inwardly cursed the concubine's audacity but feigned regret, "My lord, must you really wait until eighteen to indulge?"
"Mm-hmm," He Lingchuan responded, setting aside the braised venison for pickled peanuts with a sip of wine.
After nearly two months of lavish dining, he found himself longing for simpler fare like pickled vegetables with noodle soup or sugar-topped scallion pancakes and large wontons, the kind of meals he used to have at the end of a tight month.
Now, seeing a street-side pancake stall, he felt the urge to buy another portion.
It had been too long; his soul missed it, much like a middle-aged man who, despite marrying into wealth, occasionally dreams of his plain first love.
At that moment, a disturbance from outside reached their ears.
Dining in the second-floor private room of Hongyan Tower, He Lingchuan peered out the window just in time to see the crowded street suddenly part for two charging horses.
He uttered a soft exclamation, recognizing the horses as not purebred steeds but hybrids with bovine features, known for their large heads, sharp teeth, reddish bodies, and bulging red eyes.
Named "Fierce Horses," they inherit the swift, enduring nature and temperamental disposition of their bovine ancestors, preferring flesh and blood, and serving as formidable assets on the battlefield. A single Fierce Horse could be worth twenty of the finest horses.
Of course, there are ranks among Fierce Horses. He Lingchuan's cherished mount, a gift from a small western nation to the magistrate of Qiansong County, was of the highest quality, barely distinguishable from the two below.
Who could these riders be? Leading the pair was a young man in white robes, about seventeen or eighteen, with sharp eyes; followed by a grey-clothed figure whose face remained hidden.
As they approached, a spirit orb floated before the