After crying out her worries, Lin Wei stood, a fragile smile on her lips. "Sister, thank you for listening. As the king's sister, I should be finding a way to ease his pain, not adding to it with my tears. Crying solves nothing." She left then, her smile fading, the ghost of sorrow lingering in the air behind her.

  Alone, Wǎn Lù went to the window. The full moon hung pristine in the sky, its silver light pooling in the dark abyss between the palace rooftops. She let out a long, heavy sigh that seemed to carry the weight of the memories she now bore.

  [Wǎn Lù]: "Mr. Dead Eyes… five years my junior, yet you’ve never shown me an ounce of deference. Once I return to the palace, you’ll get what you deserve, you reckless, self-destructive moron."

  She spoke the words into the silent night, a futile complaint cast at the moon, enjoying the calm view even as her mind churned.

  The next morning, Lin Wei roused her. After preparing for the day, they set out for the healing camp.

  [Wǎn Lù]: "Lin Wei, where will your grandfather be at this hour?"

  [Lin Wei]: "In the courtyard, reviewing ledgers. We can meet him after the camp."

  The camp, however, was far busier than Wǎn Lù anticipated. A small crowd had gathered.

  Wǎn Lù’s Internal Monologue: Aish… so many? Will I have any energy left to even speak? Fine. I’ll talk to them. The people are the key.

  After the first treatment—a middle-aged farmer named Lǎo Chén (老陈) with a chronic shoulder ailment—Wǎn Lù stopped him.

  [Wǎn Lù]: "Excuse me, may I ask you something?"

  [Lǎo Chén]: "Of course, miss!" he replied, assuming it was medical advice.

  [Wǎn Lù]: "What is your opinion of the current king’s reign?"

  The farmer’s posture relaxed instantly, a genuine bloom of joy brightening his weathered face. "Oh! Our king? Life has been better than ever since he took the throne. The district provides rations under his rules. Even the alcohol ban—I think it’s for our own good. I pray to live under his reign forever."

  Wǎn Lù’s Internal Monologue: Government rations? A ban on drink? He’s building a system, not just a kingdom. Interesting.

  [Wǎn Lù]: "Are the rations free, or must you pay?"

  [Lǎo Chén]: "They’re sold at a minimal cost, based on your income. With our Iron Citizen Card, every household gets a monthly allotment—some free, some at a low price. It’s fair."

  [Wǎn Lù]: "I see. And you’re truly content? Do you know anything of his origins?"

  [Lǎo Chén]: "Content? More than I’ve ever been. He came from the Devil’s Mountain, that’s all we know." He pointed a calloused thumb toward Lin Wei. "Our Lady Lin Wei brought him down to us." With a final nod, he left.

  More patients came and went. Wǎn Lù treated them and asked her questions. Most praised the king’s reign—the order, the safety, the fairness. A few grumbled about the lack of ale. Some called him too rigid, a disciplinarian. One elderly woman whispered he must have come from hell itself to be so fearless. They were a chorus of the unknowing, singing praises and grievances for a man whose true score was written in blood on a mountain.

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  [Wǎn Lù]: "Lin Wei," she said during a break, her voice tinged with exhaustion and awe. "These people… they’re genuinely happy. What did he actually *do* here? And why ban alcohol?"

  [Lin Wei]: "[Giggling] He didn’t cast a spell, sister. He uprooted corruption and replaced chaos with structure. Alcohol… it poisoned minds and shortened lives. He banned it so his people could live longer, and saner."

  [Wǎn Lù]: "[Eyebrows arching] ‘Saner’? Look who’s talking about sanity."

  Lin Wei laughed, the sound a bright note in the serious air, and they returned to their work.

  After the last patient, they found Scribe Wén in the courtyard, an island of calm amidst a sea of scrolls and reports.

  [Lin Wei]: "Grandfather, may we have a moment?"

  He set down his brush, his calm, intelligent eyes settling on them. He nodded, granting them his full attention.

  [Wǎn Lù]: "I’ll be direct. Why does… Jian Zhi have those scars? What happened *before* he went to the mountain? I need to know, because I believe I am the only one, after him and the mountain beasts, who knows what he endured there."

  [Scribe Wén]: "Trading knowledge for knowledge? [A faint, knowing smile] Very well. He is my daughter’s only son. Her name was also Lin Wei." He noticed Wǎn Lù’s glance. "Do not be confused. This one is her namesake. My daughter was murdered by her own husband—a man corrupted by drink."

  [Wǎn Lù]: "Why did she marry an alcoholic? How did he become that way?"

  [Scribe Wén]: "[A slow, sad nod] He was a good man. A merchant. He was betrayed by his business partner and lost everything. The bottle became his solace. It began after Jian Zhi was born. The village called the boy a curse. But my daughter… she cherished him until her last breath." A faint, pained smirk touched his lips.

  Wǎn Lù’s Internal Monologue: So he was talking to his mother’s memory in the cave. I understand now. He went to the mountain because he believed he failed to protect her. His solution was to destroy himself to become strong enough to never fail again… but his true plan was to die. Something stopped him. That’s how you got your king. Am I right?

  [Wǎn Lù]: "He ascended the mountain because he believed he failed to protect her. His training was a form of penance. I think he intended to die there, but something—or someone—stopped him. That’s the man you have now. Am I correct?"

  [Scribe Wén]: "[Visibly impressed] Your analysis… it may be right. It is certainly the most probable truth. Only Jian Zhi can confirm it. But well done, young lady. Now… tell me. What did you see on that mountain?"

  For the next several minutes, Wǎn Lù spoke. She described the hollowed, blood-stained tree, the brutal kicks against the bamboo, the limping exhaustion, the cave, the self-reproach, and the chilling, metallic voice of his own soul guiding him from despair into a cold, purposeful fury.

  Scribe Wén listened, his aged face a mask of profound sorrow. When she finished, he let out a weary sigh that seemed to carry the weight of years.

  [Scribe Wén]: "That reckless, stubborn boy… just like his mother. She would be so proud of the man he’s become. But to see the child still buried inside, screaming… I must do something. I must find a way to give him back some of the childhood he lost."

  [Wǎn Lù]: "I thought he was a tyrant with a black heart. But he’s just… a lost child acting tough because he’s strong. I pity him. No one deserves that kind of pain." A new resolve straightened her spine. "Don’t worry, Governor. I have a plan to bring some light into your grandson’s dead eyes."

  Wǎn Lù’s Internal Monologue: You’re just a traumatised child, aren’t you? You have strength, wealth, even a striking face… but you’re missing the one thing that heals: love. If I give him what he lacks, he might be more… amenable. That girl—Lian. A traumatized king needs an anchor. If he falls for Lian, he softens. If he softens, he talks. If he talks... I get my blueprints. It's a gamble, but better than fighting him head-on. A fair trade. A proud smile touched her lips. Wǎn Lù, you do have a good brain.

  [Lin Wei]: "Sister? Why are you smiling? What is this plan?"

  [Wǎn Lù]: "[Clearing her throat] Your brother needs love. Not the familial or loyal kind he already has. Something personal. Someone to stand beside him, to share his burdens, to complete his soul. It’s only a possibility… but we have to try."

  Lin Wei watched her, a silent question in her eyes. Will this work? Brother is a fortress of stoicism. He smiles only for me, and even those are rare now. Are we on the right path? Does he need something beyond love to heal a scar so deep?

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