My wife, Wei Gui, was 1.9 meters tall and fought against the Tang dynasty for the throne.

In the evening, Li Ju returned to his residence.

The charcoal fire was burning brightly in the main hall, and the family was having dinner around the stove.

Li Ju sat in the main seat, Wei Gui sat on the east side, and Yuwen Yue sat on the west side. There weren't many dishes on the table, four dishes and a soup, all prepared by Wei Gui himself.

Wei Gui, being observant, noticed a deeper meaning in Li Ju's expression and asked, "Did Sixth Brother have an extraordinary encounter today?"

Li Ju smiled faintly, picked up a piece of fish, ate it slowly, and then said, "I met a blacksmith on the street. He was exceptionally burly, and all the weapons he made were hard-hit items from the battlefield. He exuded a murderous aura that he couldn't hide. He was a hidden hero."

When Yuwen Yue spoke for the first time, her voice was gentle yet reasonable: "Bandits are rampant now, and the Yongji Canal is not safe. This is the time when brave and valiant people are needed."

Li Ju glanced at her and nodded: "I've already pointed him in a direction—to become a blacksmith at the river embankment camp. Whether he can make it or not depends on his own fate."

Wei Gui did not press further, only saying, "Sixth Brother's judgment of people is never wrong."

Yuwen Yue quietly drank her soup, no longer interrupting.

Wei Gui put down his chopsticks and suddenly said, "Sixth Brother, Zheng Guanyin came to the mansion today."

Li Ju looked up: "What's she doing here?"

"She came to visit me and have a chat." Wei Gui paused. "She also mentioned something—Li Yuan sent someone to the Zheng family to propose marriage to her. She refused. Instead, Lord Zheng betrothed his other legitimate daughter, Lingwei, to Li Jiancheng."

Li Ju put down his chopsticks and remained silent for a moment.

Li Yuan was secretly plotting to win over the Shandong gentry.

"I understand," he said calmly, without saying anything more.

Yuwen Yue ate her meal quietly, her eyes never leaving her bowl and plate.

Just as Li Ju put down his chopsticks, she quietly added a spoonful of hot soup to his bowl, her movements gentle so as not to disturb their conversation.

She knew what she should and shouldn't listen to, what she should and shouldn't say in this house.

After dinner, Li Ju and Wei Gui strolled side by side under the eaves. The winter night was cold, and their breaths dispersed in the glow of the lanterns.

"Sixth Brother, what do you think about Zheng Guanyin's matter?" Wei Gui asked softly.

"Zheng Jibo is betting on both sides," Li Ju said. "He's a cunning old fox."

Wei Gui nodded: "She came today and mentioned many things about you. She talked about your poetry, your grain transport, and your contributions during Yang Xuangan's rebellion."

Li Ju remained silent.

Wei Gui leaned on his shoulder and said nothing more.

The winter night was long, but the two walked side by side and didn't feel cold.

Wei Gui removed her hairpins and ornaments and sat alone under the lamp.

Li Ju wrapped his arms around her waist from behind, buried his face in her neck, and took a deep breath.

"Your hair smells especially good today," he said in a low, hoarse voice, sounding tired.

Wei Gui turned around, raised his hand and gently stroked his brow bone, cheekbone, and jaw, his fingertips lingering for a moment on his tightly pursed lips.

After days of tedious paperwork, the dark circles under his eyes had deepened.

"Sixth Brother, you've been traveling all day and are exhausted. Let me help you relax." Her voice was soft, like a spring breeze.

Li Ju pulled her closer to him and kissed her forehead: "With Ze Niang's words, nothing feels tiring."

He bent down and picked her up horizontally.

It's heavy, but soft and warm.

The curtains were drawn, obscuring the candlelight in the room.

One by one, the clothes fell to the ground beside the couch: first the outer robe, then the inner garment, and finally the undergarment. They were piled together, making it impossible to tell which was his and which was hers.

——Separation line——

Wei Gui gently stroked his back, his fingertips tracing the grooves of his spine downwards and then slowly upwards.

His long hair fell over her chest, black and slightly cool.

"Liulang?" she called softly.

no respond.

He was already asleep.

Wei Gui looked down at the face that had let down all its guard.

His eyebrows and eyes relaxed, the vertical line between his brows that had appeared from deep thought disappeared, and the corners of his mouth were slightly curved, like a sleeping boy.

She reached out and gently brushed away the stray hairs from his forehead, stroking his back repeatedly.

The lamp flame burst open with a soft crackling sound.

The night wind outside the window rustled through the bare branches of the old locust tree.

She hugged him tighter, rested her chin on the top of his head, and gently closed her eyes.

======

Yuchi Gong sat on the edge of the bed, clutching the waist token in his hand, and had been looking at it for more than half an hour.

He thought about it a lot.

I remember back in my hometown, I offended the local gentry by standing up for the wronged, and was forced to leave my home.

He recalled how, in the army, he refused to flatter his superiors and was punished by them. In a fit of anger, he injured his superior and fled the camp overnight.

I remember working as a blacksmith in Luoyang for several months, being called a "blacksmith" by my boss, and complained by customers that I was "so heavy I could crush an ox."

He possessed extraordinary skills, yet no one recognized them.

Today, someone recognizes it.

That young man, at the age of eighteen, was already a fourth-rank official in charge of water transport, overseeing the entire nation's grain transport.

He has power, but he doesn't flaunt it; he has influence, but he isn't arrogant.

He had a keen eye for people and saw through his skills hidden in the blacksmith shop with just one glance.

He spoke slowly and deliberately, yet every word he uttered hit the nail on the head.

He did not act superior or condescending, but treated him with the respect due to an equal, leaving him ample dignity and a way out.

Yuchi Gong placed the waist token against his chest and closed his eyes.

"If I could really work for someone like that, it might not be a bad way out," he murmured, his voice low and echoing in the empty room.

To go or not to go?