Zong Zhao thought from a family perspective: it was all about how to bring Zong Yan back into the fold.
But the relationship between Zong Yan and Yan Suxue wasn’t just that of husband and wife or family—she was the woman he had asked his brother to find for him when he was on the brink of death.
They still lacked a proper beginning.
Zong Zhao understood, but he was still worried. "I’m afraid Zong Yan won’t take the initiative."
Xu Wan chuckled. "Zong Yan has long grown up, yet you still treat him like a child. With Suxue, you were afraid of triggering him, so you never dared bring her up. But in the end, wasn’t it him who couldn’t hold back and asked about her?"
"But he—"
Zong Zhao tried to continue, but Xu Wan cut him off. "Oh, and if we’re being technical, if you subtract the seven years you were in a coma, your actual age is even younger than Zong Yan’s, isn’t that right, dear brother?"
Zong Zhao: "…" He couldn’t argue with his wife.
By Xu Wan’s calculations, Zong Yan had more life experience than him. Even if he counted the three years after his return to the capital in his past life, it still wouldn’t make up for those seven missing years.
"So we just leave it be?" Zong Zhao asked.
Xu Wan smiled. "I think we can wait and see. He already knows Suxue is at home. If he wants to see her, he’ll bring it up himself. Don’t worry—even if he doesn’t ask you, he’ll ask Wenxiu."
Zong Zhao’s expression was complicated.
He couldn’t imagine Zong Yan taking the initiative to ask Wenxiu…
Xu Wan teased him lightly. "Oh, come on, don’t meddle in a married couple’s affairs. This involves the private matters of the second household—show some boundaries, will you?"
"…"
Zong Zhao was left speechless.
In the days that followed, whenever Zong Wenxiu wasn’t busy, he would visit his father—sometimes to consult him on archery, other times to ask for health tips. He always prepared a long list of questions beforehand, afraid of awkward silences.
Zong Wenxiu never imagined there’d come a day when he’d rack his brains just to keep a conversation going. But the thought that this was his father, returned from the dead, filled him with warmth.
He had a father now. His dad was alive.
He had gained another family member.
He was really, really, really happy!
Another day arrived.
Zong Wenxiu carried a stack of books with him, planning to handle official duties in his father’s room. He had recently moved into this courtyard—his father had allowed him to take his uncle’s place here, so they could sleep and talk late into the night together.
But the moment he stepped inside, Zong Yan said to him, "Wenxiu, deliver this blueprint to the palace."
"Huh? What blueprint?"
Zong Wenxiu set down the books and took it. It appeared to be a weapon design, but the drawing was intricate—a vehicle-like contraption with four heavy iron wheels, capable of crushing obstacles. The vehicle was equipped with rows of crossbow mechanisms and compartments for fuel, allowing it to launch flaming weapons in rapid succession—a single machine that could rival a hundred soldiers.
Zong Wenxiu looked up, uncertain. "Father, is this a war chariot you designed?"
As far as he knew, the frontlines had no such weapon. And given its complexity, it likely couldn’t be produced without substantial funding.
Zong Yan nodded. "I’ve had this idea in mind for a long time. Crown Prince Jin’an once asked for it, but they’re the enemy. If I’m giving it to anyone, it’ll be our own people."
Zong Wenxiu was exhilarated. "Father, you’re amazing! I’ll take this to the palace right away. Jincheng will be thrilled—this could end the war quickly!"
"Mm. Go ahead."
Palace, Imperial Study.
The little tyrant was in a rage. He hurled a memorial to the ground and roared, "Denied, denied, denied! Not even if the Prince of Southern Pacification comes in person—no, not even the Duke of State Protection! I refuse!!"
"Your Majesty, please calm down!" The officials in the room all dropped to their knees.
Even Eunuch Huang, who had rarely seen him this furious, knelt with a heavy thud.
Zong Zhao wasn’t present today—Prime Minister Shen was on duty instead. Midway through reviewing memorials, General Pang delivered one from the Prince of Southern Pacification, claiming it was an urgent eight-hundred-li dispatch that required the emperor’s immediate attention.
Chu Jincheng, thinking it was something critical, opened it at once—only to find the prince writing about… mushrooms.
According to the memorial, the prince had cultivated a new type of mushroom in Yunnan, suitable for mass production to alleviate food shortages.
The idea that mushrooms alone could solve hunger was absurd, but Yunnan was the prince’s domain—he could grow whatever he pleased, and Jincheng had no intention of interfering.
But then the prince went further: he requested that several neighboring counties, where the land was too barren for crops, be annexed into Yunnan so he could "unify planning" and "lead the people to prosperity."
It was a blatant ploy—using poverty relief as a pretext to expand his territory!
Prime Minister Shen’s expression darkened, but with General Pang and others present, he couldn’t openly oppose it without risking the Duke of State Protection’s ire.
Fortunately, the emperor was sharp. He saw right through the scheme and unleashed his temper, cowing even General Pang into silence.
Cowardice aside, duty called.
General Pang kept his head low. "Your Majesty, the Prince of Southern Pacification only wishes to ease the burdens of the people and the court…"
Jincheng scoffed. "If growing mushrooms is so simple, why not just share the seeds and methods? Why demand land from me?"
The moment he said "land annexation," the room trembled.
General Pang protested in panic, "Your Majesty, the prince is your maternal uncle! He would never—"
Jincheng snatched up the memorial, scrawled "DENIED" across it, and flung it back at the general’s feet. "Take this to him. My answer is final!"
"Your Majesty! Please reconsider—"
"Get out!"
"Yes… This humble servant withdraws." General Pang shot Prime Minister Shen a venomous glare on his way out.
You old fox—I saw you smirking.
Prime Minister Shen: "…?"
I didn’t say a word!!
Once the officials had left, only Prime Minister Shen and Eunuch Huang remained.
The prime minister praised, "Your Majesty’s outburst was perfectly timed. Your presence alone intimidated even General Pang—more commanding than the late emperor at his peak."
The little tyrant huffed. "I was genuinely furious! Every memorial from him is about mushrooms, mushrooms, mushrooms! Is there nothing else in Yunnan? Finally, he sends something 'urgent'—only to ask for more land to grow them! Why doesn’t he just plant them in my imperial gardens?"
Prime Minister Shen hastily interjected, "Ah, Your Majesty, you mustn’t say such things! If overheard, it might be misconstrued as suspicion of treason."
"But he’s clearly—"
Before Jincheng could finish, an attendant announced Zong Wenxiu’s arrival.
The emperor, exhausted from hours of memorials, instantly perked up. His stern, angry expression melted into bright-eyed excitement.
"Quick! Bring him in!"
Big Brother’s here to see me!
Happiness!!!
