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

The day Shang Wanqing returned to the capital was the third day of the tenth month.

Autumn is in full swing, and the morning frost on the official road from Quanzhou to the capital is thicker than in previous years.

She didn't have a procession clear the way, nor did she ride in a carriage. She only brought three of her most capable attendants, each with two horses, and drove back from the southeast coast, changing horses but not riders all the way.

The battle report was delivered by express courier, and the person also traveled by express courier.

When we arrived at the gates of the capital, it was just getting dark. The massive city gates looked like a silent behemoth in the twilight.

After the soldiers guarding the city examined her black iron token engraved with the character "Shang," they immediately bowed and let her pass without saying a word.

The reverence in his eyes was more genuine than when he saw any official seal.

She didn't ride a horse, but led the warhorse that had accompanied her for the last three hundred miles, slowly walking through the long street as the lights came on.

The horses' hooves clattered on the bluestone slabs, making a crisp and lonely "clatter, clatter" sound.

The people on the street looked at the travel-worn woman with a strange short knife hanging at her waist with curiosity.

They didn't know who she was, but they felt that the woman's aura was even more imposing than that of ordinary imperial guards generals.

The night watchman at the palace gate had sharp eyes and recognized her from afar. Her expressionless face, which had been reported countless times in the army, was easier to recognize than any portrait.

The captain was startled and hurriedly ran to meet him, about to shout the news inside.

"business……"

"No need to alarm anyone."

Shang Wanqing raised her hand to stop him, her voice hoarse from the long journey: "I'll go in myself."

The captain paused for a moment, looking at her eyes that were still frighteningly bright in the night, and subconsciously swallowed the rest of his words, only bowing and making a gesture of invitation.

Shang Wanqing handed the reins to her attendant behind her, told her to "take good care of the horse," and then walked alone into the brightly lit depths of the palace.

Instead of returning to her own "Tiangongyuan" (Heavenly Crafts Institute), where she had barely lived since moving into the palace, she went straight to the Imperial Study.

She knew very well that it was the heart of the entire Xinwu Dynasty.

She won the battle, and she had to return to report to this heart.

Inside the imperial study, the candlelight shone as brightly as day.

Wei Zhao was looking at the memorial presented by Li Huai, which concerned the autumn harvest and post-war reconstruction in the three southeastern prefectures.

The numbers are densely packed, like a swarm of ants eagerly awaiting their meal.

The war was over, but the follow-up matters of appeasement, reconstruction, and opening up the sea for trade were more exhausting than the war itself.

The palace doors were gently pushed open, bringing in a cool breeze carrying a mixture of dust and night air.

Wei Zhao didn't even look up, assuming it was Hua Jieyu or one of the eunuchs on night duty delivering a new report.

"Put it on the table." He continued writing with his vermilion brush, his voice carrying a hint of barely perceptible fatigue.

The people at the door didn't move, nor did they quietly leave as usual.

The imperial study was quiet for a few breaths, so quiet that the soft scratching of the pen tip across the paper could be heard.

Wei Zhao finally realized something was wrong. He frowned slightly and stopped writing.

Just as he was about to look up and reprimand, a hoarse but incredibly familiar voice rang out from the doorway.

"Your Majesty, I have returned."

Wei Zhao stopped writing.

He suddenly raised his head, his gaze passing over the high stack of memorials and looking toward the doorway.

Shang Wanqing stood there, backlit, her figure somewhat blurred by the darkness outside the door.

She was still wearing that black outfit that allowed her to move around easily. She looked travel-worn, with mud still clinging to her boots. Her face was dry from the autumn wind, and her lips were even chapped.

But those eyes were very bright.

It shines like steel tempered in a shipyard, and like the ever-burning lighthouse in Quanzhou Port at night.

Wei Zhao looked at her, momentarily forgetting to speak.

He put down his pen, stood up, walked around the large imperial desk, and stepped towards her.

From her wind-blown hair to her chapped lips, and her hands calloused from holding reins and weapons for so long.

He stared at her for a long time, so long that Shang Wanqing felt somewhat uncomfortable and subconsciously wanted to take a step back before he finally spoke.

The voice was very soft, containing only two words.

"You've lost weight."

That night, Shang Wanqing did not return to her Tiangong Academy.

Wei Zhao didn't let her go back.

He simply sent Hua Jieyu to the imperial kitchen to deliver a message, and then had a small table set up in a side hall of the imperial study.

A steaming bowl of chicken noodle soup, topped with two golden poached eggs and sprinkled with bright green scallions.

Shang Wan-qing was really hungry. On the way back from Quanzhou, she had hardly had a proper hot meal.

She didn't stand on ceremony; she sat down, picked up her chopsticks, and started eating.

Wei Zhao sat opposite her, not touching his chopsticks, but quietly watching her eat while holding a cup of hot tea.

The flickering lights reflected her less-than-refined eating habits and his smiling eyes.

"Ke Zhenchuan has been handed over to the Jinyige for safekeeping. Liu Jingshuang said that the old fox knows more about the waterways and hydrology than any of our existing nautical charts. He is a treasure."

While eating, Shang Wanqing gave a vague report.

She couldn't be bothered with formalities in front of Wei Zhao.

"The shipyards and granaries on Black Shark Island have been inventoried, and the captured grain is enough to feed the Quanzhou garrison for half a year. Those prisoners who wish to return home have been dispersed in batches, and Liu Jingshuang sent people to escort them along the way to ensure that the local government would not dare to make things difficult for them. The remaining veterans who were unwilling to leave have been dispersed and incorporated into the naval forces of Yuezhou and Mingzhou, and are being watched by our people, which is a good way to make the best use of them."

She finished a poached egg in a few bites, drank some hot soup, and then continued, "Liu Jingshuang said there are still many follow-up matters in Quanzhou that she needs to keep an eye on, so she probably won't be back for another ten days to half a month."

Wei Zhao listened quietly, nodding occasionally, without interrupting.

Only after Shang Wanqing finished eating the last noodle in her bowl and put down her chopsticks contentedly did he ask the question he had wanted to ask since the first moment he saw her.

"Why are you in such a hurry to come back?"

Shang Wanqing paused for a moment while wiping her mouth.

She raised her eyes and looked at Wei Zhao.

Under the lamplight, his face remained thin, and the weariness between his brows could not conceal his keen insight into people's hearts.

Why was she in such a hurry to come back?

In order to personally hand over the captured blueprints for the new type of ramming ram from the pirates?

To discuss the design of the next generation of Clippers with him? For...

Shang Wanqing discovered that she couldn't find a reason that was sufficiently justifiable.

She looked at him for a long time, but in the end she didn't say anything and just silently lowered her head.

Even if she didn't say it, Wei Zhao could guess.

From the southeast to the capital, a journey of thousands of miles, she traveled faster than the war reports. This wasn't a report on duty; it was an expression of her burning desire to return home.

A woman who considers the dock her home suddenly longs to return home, and this "home" naturally doesn't refer to that cold and impersonal Tiangong Institute.

Wei Zhao did not ask any further questions.

He simply stood up and instructed Hua Jieyu, who was waiting beside him, "Clean up the side hall and let Madam Shang stay here tonight. Her courtyard has been uninhabited for a long time and is too cold."

Hua Jieyu bowed in agreement, glanced at Shang Wanqing who had her head bowed, then at her own emperor, a knowing smile flashing in her eyes, before quietly retreating.

That night, the two slept separately.

In the spacious side hall of the Imperial Study, a screen separates the inside from the outside.

Wei Zhao slept on the soft couch in the inner room, while Shang Wanqing slept in the bedroom in the outer room.

No one crossed that screen.

But Shang Wanqing could clearly hear the faint sound of Wei Zhao turning over on the other side of the screen, as well as his deliberately suppressed cough that seemed to never stop.

Wei Zhao could also hear that on the other side of the screen, the woman who could defeat fifty warships on the battlefield was tossing and turning in bed like a fish out of water, unable to fall asleep for a long time.

Shang Wanqing couldn't sleep.

The physical exhaustion seemed to have been drained away, leaving only mental excitement and a strange sense of anxiety.

She closed her eyes, and her mind was not filled with the clanging and hammering sounds of the dock, nor with the deafening roar of cannons on the sea.

Instead, it was completely quiet.

Wei Zhao sat opposite her, quietly watching her eat noodles.

It was the light in his eyes when he said "you've lost weight".

She suddenly remembered what Liu Jingshuang had said to her at the Quanzhou dock.

"Come back alive."

"You haven't given birth to Wei Zhao's child yet."

At the time, she only thought it was absurd, but now, those words are like a tiny vine, quietly taking root and sprouting in a corner of her heart.

She suddenly rolled over and covered her head with the blanket.

What nonsense are you thinking!

She said to herself.

There are still a lot of blueprints to draw tomorrow, the formula for the new kerosene hasn't been finalized yet, and the smelting of marine steel has also encountered a bottleneck...

But as she pondered, her thoughts drifted uncontrollably back to the other side of the screen.

Is he asleep?

Are you coughing again?

On the other side, Wei Zhao was also not asleep.