27 Venting Emotions

“Yuanyuan, don’t be unreasonable.” Madam Luo hurriedly scolded, then turned to Han Lei and apologized. “My daughter is impudent; please don’t take offense.”

“It’s nothing,” Han Lei replied with a sweet smile, extending her hand to Luo Yuanyuan. “Hello, my name is Han Lei. I look forward to your friendship.”

Luo Yuanyuan said nothing but stared curiously at the outstretched hand, unsure of what Han Lei intended.

Seeing her confusion, Han Lei quickly took Yuanyuan’s hand and shook it gently up and down. “This is called a handshake. It means we are friends,” she explained with a radiant smile. In an instant, Luo Yuanyuan grew fond of this kind and beautiful woman.

“Oh, so that’s what it means to be friendly! How interesting. Haha! Sister Han, your hair is so lovely. Don’t you usually wear it up in a bun?” Yuanyuan’s eyes sparkled with admiration as she examined Han Lei’s hairstyle.

When Han Lei was in the army, she kept her hair cut in a bob just above the ears. Now it had grown to her collarbone, and unfamiliar with traditional hairstyles, she let it fall freely over her shoulders.

A woman dresses for the one she loves. Yuanyuan saw not strangeness, but beauty in Han Lei’s style, which warmed Han Lei’s heart and deepened her fondness for the girl.

Seeing the two girls quickly become comfortable with each other, Zhao Zun and the Luo family smiled warmly.

“Yuanyuan, Sister Han is the fiancée that Brother Zun has chosen. From now on, you should call her sister-in-law,” Luo Hai emphasized. Zhao Zun had long sent word ahead, sharing the situation at the border and especially mentioning Han Lei.

Fiancée?

Han Lei blushed deeply, suddenly feeling as if Zhao Zun had brought her home to meet his family.

She shot a reproachful glance at Zhao Zun, who quickly scratched his nose and looked up at the sky, causing Luo Hai and Madam Luo to laugh heartily.

After some greetings at the door, they entered the county magistrate’s residence. The official office was at the front, with the living quarters behind.

It seemed Zhao Zun had already informed them of their arrival, as the household had prepared a meal. After a quick wash, everyone sat down for dinner. Zhao Zun and the Luo family shared one table, while Ping Chuan led two squads of wounded soldiers to dine in a side hall.

Han Lei, feeling somewhat reserved in this unfamiliar setting, was warmly welcomed by Madam Luo, who kept urging her to eat more. Zhao Zun and Luo Yuanyuan also frequently offered her dishes.

After the meal, the women retired from the table. Madam Luo and Yuanyuan accompanied Han Lei on a leisurely tour of the magistrate’s residence to aid digestion and satisfy curiosity, leaving Luo Hai and Zhao Zun to drink and talk.

It was Han Lei’s first time exploring an ancient official’s mansion, and she found it quite fascinating. It was late when, under Madam Luo’s guidance, she finally returned to her room to rest.

In the middle of the night, after a day of travel, Han Lei slept soundly beneath the covers until a knock at the door startled her awake.

She glanced at her spatial watch—it was past three in the morning.

“Who is it?”

A late-night knock usually meant something urgent. Though drowsy, Han Lei grumbled as she rose, wrapped herself in a cloak, and opened the door.

Standing outside was Ping Chuan, his face anxious. As soon as the door opened, he cupped his fist toward Han Lei.

“Miss Han, please come quickly. The Prince has drunk too much. He keeps vomiting and feels terrible.”

“The Prince is drunk?” Han Lei was surprised. In her experience, Zhao Zun was disciplined. Except for the night before they returned to the capital, when he drank all night with Ma Cheng and others, she had never seen him drunk—and even then, he didn’t appear intoxicated.

“His Highness seldom drinks, and he’s not good with alcohol. Today, he was drinking with the county magistrate and somehow overdid it. Miss Han, please come with me at once.”

Seeing Han Lei hesitate, Ping Chuan urged anxiously, “Miss Han, please come quickly.”

“All right, wait for me a moment.”

Han Lei closed the door, swiftly changed into thick sportswear, grabbed her medical kit, and followed Ping Chuan out.

They hurried to Zhao Zun’s room, and just as they reached the door, there was a sharp crash of shattered porcelain, followed by Zhao Zun’s muffled, aggrieved muttering.

“You... you ungrateful wretches! How dare you... I’ve worked tirelessly, enduring wind and rain at the border, charging into battle... haha... and yet you slander me... ugh, ugh...”

Han Lei stopped in her tracks and raised a hand to stop Ping Chuan from entering.

She understood now: though Zhao Zun appeared calm these days, the burden in his heart remained unresolved. Having left the military camp and come to the magistrate’s home, seeing them as family, Zhao Zun was now venting the anger and resentment he had suppressed for days, fueled by drink.

“He’s all right. Let’s stay here and not go in. Let him vent for a while.”

Tears welled in Han Lei’s eyes as she felt an inexplicable sympathy for Zhao Zun. How could the emperor treat a hero who guarded the border this way? Anyone in his place would feel heartbroken—who could endure such injustice?

“Yes!” Ping Chuan nodded firmly.

Inside, Zhao Zun continued to vomit intermittently, then resumed cursing. Han Lei and Ping Chuan wrapped their coats tighter, shivering as they kept vigil in the corridor.

Han Lei knew that unless Zhao Zun emptied this bitterness from his chest, he might never move past this hurdle. At this moment, he needed no comfort or consolation; all they could do was quietly accompany him.

Only when the curses and retching ceased did Han Lei gently push open the door and, with Ping Chuan tiptoeing behind her, enter.

A strong stench of alcohol hit Han Lei, making her frown. She waved her hand in front of her nose while Ping Chuan hurried to open a window.

The room was in disarray, stained with vomit. Zhao Zun lay half off the bed, the quilt kicked aside. Han Lei carefully stepped around shattered porcelain shards and helped him back onto the bed, covering him with the blanket.

At one meter eighty in height, Zhao Zun was heavy, and Han Lei’s slight frame struggled to support him. Ping Chuan went out to fetch cleaning tools, but Han Lei waved him off.

“Ping, it’s almost dawn. You should go rest. I’ll take care of him here.”

“Uh...” Ping Chuan hesitated.

Serving his master was his duty. Moreover, if he left, rumors about a lone man and woman together might harm Miss Han’s reputation.

“It’s fine. You go rest. Don’t forget, I’m a doctor, and I’ll be more careful with his care.”

Han Lei understood his concern. So what if they were alone? Zhao Zun was utterly drunk—what could he do? Besides, as a doctor, she was better suited to look after him. Even if gossip arose, so be it.

“All right, then. Thank you, Miss Han. I’m next door; call if you need me.”

“Hmm.”

Han Lei nodded, took out two glucose injections from her spatial pocket, gently pried open Zhao Zun’s mouth, and slowly administered them.

After Ping Chuan left, she retrieved more supplies from her spatial storage, ready to tend to Zhao Zun through the night.