Long Junhao’s eyes turned red, radiating a fierce light. His hawk-like gaze swept around, and his subordinates, caught in his fierce glare, shuddered.
Lan braced for his response, ready to cover her ears.
“Lan’er, come back with me!” he said softly.
Before she could rejoice, he whispered in her ear: “We’ll settle accounts when we get back.”
He then instructed his subordinates: “We’ll rest here tonight and set out tomorrow.”
After settling the children, he took off his leather coat and draped it over Lan.
Lan watched as the children quietly observed Long Junhao arranging them. When he removed his coat for her, she felt a warmth surge in her heart, reminiscent of another man who brought her happiness—Ling Feng. Though she longed for the warmth before her, she couldn’t let go of thoughts of Ling Feng, who had been there for her in painful times, leaving her heart feeling lost.
Her thoughts shifted to Uncle Chen, and she wondered how he was doing.
“Junhao, did you pass through that grove of trees when you came?” Lan asked nervously, pointing north.
“Trees?” Long Junhao recalled the grove where they had found a broken carriage and a middle-aged man lying in blood.
By the time they arrived, the man was already dead, clutching a sachet.
“Yes!” He described the scene in detail, causing Lan to weep uncontrollably.
Long Junhao pulled the sachet from his collar and handed it to her.
Lan trembled as she recognized it. She remembered teasing Uncle Chen about it and how he had blushed while explaining it was a token of affection from Aunt Chen. Back then, she admired their deep love, but now? He had died for them. She couldn’t bear to think about Ling Feng’s fate.
Looking at the sachet that once represented happiness, Lan covered her face and cried.
Long Junhao held her tightly, gently stroking her head, his face filled with heartache. He wanted to savor the satisfaction of having her by his side and thought of their two adorable children, a smile curving at the corner of his mouth as he leaned his head against Lan’s.
