A family of loyal martyrs, starting with nine wives to continue the family line.

Wei Zhao pressed his fingers on his knees, neither immediately agreeing nor immediately refusing.

Jinle sat opposite him, watching him quietly.

"Give me three days to discuss this matter."

Wei Zhao stood up, his voice not loud, but leaving no room for negotiation.

"I will ask him myself. If he is willing, I will let him go. If he is not willing, no one can force him."

Kinler also stood up.

He didn't show any displeasure at those words; instead, he placed his hand on the edge of the table and nodded to Wei Zhao.

"Can."

Li Huai and the others were outside the hall. When they saw Jin Le come out, they immediately went to greet him.

"Chief, please return to the inn to rest."

Jinle didn't look at him, but walked down the long steps outside the palace.

The translator followed behind, and after taking a few steps, turned back to look at Wei Zhao.

There was doubt and a hint of unease in his eyes.

Wei Zhao offered no explanation.

The White Wolf tribe wanted Fang Zhaoru, and everyone knew how important this matter was when it was brought to the forefront.

Fang Zhaoru is gone, and may never come back.

If they don't go, the White Wolf tribe might lose its last person who knows the way.

This choice cannot be made for him by the imperial court.

When Jinle reached the palace gate, he paused for a moment.

He didn't turn around, but said in broken Chinese:

"My brother chased you from twenty to thirty, for ten years, and died outside the Great Wall."

Wei Zhao watched his retreating figure, waiting for what he would say next.

"I don't want to chase it for ten years."

After saying that, Jinle continued walking forward.

His steps were steady, and he did not look back until he reached the bottom of the long steps.

Wei Zhao stood in the hall, and the little bit of relief he had just felt in his heart was pushed back down.

Kinler wasn't asking anyone for help.

He was urging Xinwu to give an answer.

The White Wolf tribe has waited for three hundred years, and the Golden Crown people have been chasing for another ten years.

Kinler did not take over a complete tribe, but a group of people whose patience was almost worn away by the desert.

He doesn't have ten years to spare.

Xinwu doesn't have ten years to wait.

That evening, Wei Zhao had Fang Fuyao invited over.

When Fang Fuyao entered, she was holding a booklet that she hadn't finished reading.

She didn't rush to ask questions after she sat down. Only after Wei Zhao finished recounting the conversation in the hall did she put the book aside.

"He wants Fang Zhaoru?"

"Um."

"You want him to go with the White Wolf tribe?"

"Jinle said that Fang Zhaoru knew their way."

Fang Fuyao remained silent for a long time.

Wei Zhao did not urge her.

He knew about the relationship between Fang Fuyao and Fang Zhaoru.

That was her grandfather, one of her only remaining relatives in the world.

Sending Fang Zhaoru back to the Western Regions is not much different from sending an old man to his death.

Fang Fuyao remained silent, indicating that she wasn't thinking about her own reluctance to part with Fang Zhaoru, but rather why the White Wolf Tribe had targeted her.

"What do you think?" Wei Zhao asked.

Fang Fuyao raised her head, her voice lower than usual.

"The thing my grandfather regretted most in his life was that he drew that picture and took it with him back then."

Wei Zhao did not interrupt.

"Back then, he was young and felt that he was just recording a road for someone else. The person who drew the map took the money, returned to the Central Plains, and the road had nothing to do with him anymore."

Fang Fuyao's fingers landed on the table and tapped lightly.

"Later he learned what that road meant to a tribe."

She paused for a moment before continuing:

"The White Wolf tribe pressed him for answers many times, but he refused to say anything. It wasn't because he hated them, nor because he was afraid of their retaliation. He just felt that he had made a mistake back then."

Wei Zhao looked at her.

Fang Zhaoru painted a landscape map and took it with him when he left the Western Regions.

Each stroke of the pen may have been merely for making a living, or perhaps it was entrusted to someone, but the path that the White Wolf Clan had been searching for for three hundred years was thus severed.

This sense of indebtedness fell on an old man, weighing on him for most of his life.

"Why did he go to the Western Regions later?" Wei Zhao asked.

Fang Fuyao lowered her eyes.

"His travels in the Western Regions, deliberately allowing the White Wolf tribe to recognize him, may not have been unintentional."

Wei Zhao's fingers stopped.

The meaning of this sentence is already very clear.

Fang Zhaoru hadn't been hiding from the White Wolf Tribe all these years; he was waiting for an opportunity to send Lu back.

He just didn't expect that the person who would ultimately accomplish this for him would be the new Emperor Wu.

Fang Fuyao raised her head and looked at Wei Zhao.

"He may have been waiting for this day."

"Is he willing to go?"

"I have no idea."

This time, Fang Fuyao answered very quickly.

"I'll ask him tomorrow. If he's willing, then it's his own choice. If he's not willing, no one can force him to go."

Wei Zhao nodded.

"You ask for me. No need to rush or persuade him. Let him speak for himself."

Fang Fuyao got up to take her leave, but stopped at the door.

She had her back to Wei Zhao and spoke after a few breaths:

"Your Majesty, if Grandpa is willing to leave, he may never come back in this lifetime."

Wei Zhao did not answer immediately.

Beside the imperial desk was a roster sent by the White Wolf tribe, the paper densely covered with the number of people, livestock, and vehicles.

That was not a simple migration; it was a tribe handing over its last escape route to someone else.

If Fang Zhaoru goes, it won't just be a trip with the White Wolf Tribe.

He wants to walk the path he took back then.

"I know."

Wei Zhao watched Fang Fuyao's retreating figure.

"But someone has to walk the path that he owes the White Wolf Clan three hundred years of history."

Fang Fuyao didn't say anything more, and left after pushing open the door.

Wei Zhao sat alone at the desk.

He agreed to Jinle's request in three days because this matter could not be decided hastily.

Agreeing too quickly makes it seem like Fang Zhaoru is being used as a bargaining chip.

Rejecting too quickly is like Shinwu only being willing to return a map, not a complete journey home.

But now it seems that the one who really has to make the choice is neither him nor Kinler.

It was Fang Zhaoru.

The next morning, when Fang Fuyao returned to the house where Fang Zhaoru lived, the old man was already up.

As soon as she entered the courtyard, she saw Fang Zhaoru sitting at the stone table making tea.

A rolled-up map lay open next to the teacup.

It's not that landscape painting.

The picture has been returned to the White Wolf tribe.

The scroll before you is Fang Zhaoru's own hand-drawn notes on the mountains and rivers of the Western Regions.

The edges of the paper were rolled up, and many places had been touched up with ink.

There were no imperial seals or official documents on it, only mountain passes, rivers, old wells, and a few marks that others couldn't understand.

Fang Fuyao stood in the courtyard, not going over immediately.

Fang Zhaoru looked up at her.

"No need to ask."

Fang Fuyao stopped in her tracks.

The old man picked up his teacup and took a sip.

"I'll go to the palace with you and tell His Majesty."

He rolled up the map and tucked it into his sleeve.

"I'll go."

Fang Fuyao looked at him without saying a word for a long time.

She had prepared a lot to say.

Ask him if he's thought it through, tell him the Western Regions are far away, and remind him that the White Wolf tribe might not really protect an old man from the Central Plains.

She even considered how she could persuade him to stay if he hesitated.

But when these words reached his lips, he couldn't utter a single one.

Because Fang Zhaoru had already answered for her.