Remarried to a top-tier playboy, her reborn ex-husband is filled with regret.

If that brat says he's fine, then he's fine.

As long as everyone is alright.

With a stern face, the Prince of Zhenbei picked up the teacup on the table and took a sip.

The tea was brewed yesterday and was bitter from being cold, but it tasted somewhat sweet to him.

The tent flap was lifted again, and the veteran general Zhou Chong strode in.

The deputy commander witnessed the entire battle today and was so excited that his face turned red.

As soon as he entered the door, he clasped his hands in a salute to Xiao Ji, his voice booming like a bell.

"Your Highness! Today, the Crown Prince used a feint to lure the enemy, and personally led three thousand elite cavalry to launch a surprise attack on the enemy's rear from the Wolf Fang Pass, defeating the Northern Hu's fifty thousand-strong army in one fell swoop."

This boy is truly a born general!

"I've fought most of my life, and today, seeing the Crown Prince deploy his troops with such masterful skill, I am truly awestruck!"

Xiao Ji held his teacup, his face expressionless, and said something indifferently.

"There's no need to speak well of him; he's just being bold because he's young."

Before he could finish speaking, another adjutant lifted the curtain and entered, kneeling on one knee to report:

"Your Highness! This humble general has surveyed the battlefield. In this battle, we annihilated over 32,000 enemy soldiers and captured 4,000."

The prince's cavalry attacked from the gap in the wolf's teeth at the perfect time, which I witnessed firsthand from the front lines.

The crown prince charged alone into the enemy ranks; his long sword struck at the Northern barbarian soldiers, and none could stop him!

Xiao Ji put down the teacup, then picked it up again. When he looked down again, he realized that there was no tea left in the teacup.

Then, without realizing it, he stroked his beard, his fingers running up and down repeatedly.

He said it in a calm tone.

"You people love to exaggerate when you win a battle."

I saw him in the camp; he made at least three mistakes of underestimating the enemy and advancing rashly. I'll explain them to him in detail later.

But in his eyes, which were exactly the same as Xiao Fang's, there was something so bright that it couldn't be suppressed, like the light of a torch reflected on a blade.

The mustache at the corner of his mouth twitched, whether it curved downwards or upwards, even he himself wasn't sure.

The two generals exchanged a glance.

They had served the prince for decades and knew the old man all too well.

Beneath that cold face lay an irrepressible smile.

"Alright, everyone go back and prepare the troops."

Xiao Ji waved his hand, dismissing the two men.

The tent fell silent again.

Xiao Ji sat behind the desk for a while, then stood up, lifted the curtain, and walked towards the side tent.

As he walked, he told himself, "I'm just passing by and going to check on the wounded soldiers' camp."

When he reached the entrance of the side tent, he slowed his pace and his hand that was lifting the tent flap also slowed down.

The tent was quiet, with only the flickering flame of the oil lamp.

Xiao Fang lay on his camp bed, fully clothed, without even taking off his armor, only unfastening his sword and leaning against the edge of the bed.

He was fast asleep, snoring loudly, and fine beads of blood were still seeping from the cuts on his face caused by the wind and sand.

Xiao Fang is a completely different person when he is asleep compared to when he is awake.

When awake, she's like a sharp sword drawn from its sheath; when asleep, she's like a carefree child.

Xiao Ji stood in front of the bed, looking down at his son.

Looked for a long time.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small porcelain bottle, which contained his usual wound medicine.

Xiao Ji uncorked the bottle, poured a little ointment onto his fingertip, bent down, and gently applied it to the deepest crack on Xiao Fang's face.

The ointment was very cool. Xiao Fang frowned in his sleep, mumbled something incoherent in his sleep, turned over and fell into a deep sleep again.

Xiao Ji's hand froze in mid-air. Only after confirming that his son had not woken up did he continue to apply medicine to the remaining wounds.

He pulled over the military blanket next to him, shook it, and gently covered Xiao Fang with it.

Then he slowly sat down on the edge of the bed, leaning against the wooden pole of the tent, listening to the howling north wind outside.

In a daze, he remembered what Xiao Fang looked like when he was a child.

At that time, he rarely returned to Kyoto to rest. His son was only three or four years old, with two small pigtails, and he would squat by the training ground every day to watch him practice with a spear.

The little guy couldn't sit still and always wanted to crawl into the field, so his nanny had to carry him back over and over again.

But he climbed out again and again, shouting, "Father is amazing! Father is the most amazing!"

After he finished practicing with the gun, he stuck the silver spear into the ground, and the little guy ran over and hugged his leg.

When she looked up, her eyes were filled with sparkling admiration.

At that time, he thought that when the boy got a little older, he would teach him the Xiao family spear technique and make him a young general in the Zhenbei Army.

But later, Arou died.

Seven-year-old Xiao Fang killed the concubine who had killed his mother.

Before he could say anything, he mustered his troops and set off for battle.

The idea was to let their son enjoy a comfortable life in Kyoto.

In reality, the seven-year-old child, who had lost his mother, was merely a hostage kept by the emperor.

The emperor was suspicious, and the border generals held too much power. Without leaving his son in the capital as a hostage, he could not secure the safety of the 400,000 border troops.

When he pried open Xiao Fang's little hands that were clutching the hem of his robe, the little guy's eyes reddened.

But he didn't pester him anymore. He didn't cry or shout. He just looked at him quietly with his dark, grape-like eyes.

There was no longer any admiration in his eyes, only the indifference of a child who had been abandoned.

Only a child, about the same height as a knife, stood at the gate of the Prince's mansion, watching the horses disappear at the end of the long street.

According to the housekeeper, Xiao Fang didn't turn back until it was completely dark.

That night, Xiao Ji held Arou's memorial tablet and sat there all night without closing his eyes.

Xiao Ji leaned against the wooden post of the tent and closed his eyes.

He remembered that before Arou left, every spring he would take her and Afang to the countryside for a spring outing.

Arou likes to pick wildflowers. She picks a big bunch, holds it in her arms, turns back and smiles at him, her eyes curving like the new moon rising in the sky.

Ah Fang rode on his shoulders, her little hands gripping his ears like reins, shouting "Giddy up! Giddy up!"

He lifted Arou onto the horse's back, and the family of three rode slowly across the spring fields.

Arou leaned against him, softly humming a Jiangnan folk song, the tune as gentle and sweet as the osmanthus cake she made.

At that time, he felt that having her was enough for him in this life, having Afang was enough. No matter what border wars or court suspicions were, they couldn't compare to her smile.

Then she left.

He couldn't protect her.

He didn't even have time to avenge her, and now he has to rely on his seven-year-old son to kill the enemy.

Later on, A-Fang stopped talking to him.

He had considered talking to Xiao Fang to explain, to tell him that the concubine's affair was just a case of mistaken identity after drinking.

He has never liked any woman other than Arou.

But when he wanted to get rid of the concubine, he discovered that she was pregnant, so he decided to keep her.

If he had known that the concubine dared to harbor evil intentions towards Arou, he would never have spared her.

But since things have come to this, it seems there's no point in saying anything now.

Over the years, the father and son, one in Kyoto and the other at the border, have barely managed to write a few proper family letters throughout the year.

Ah Fang's handwriting is not good, just like his mother's; he always holds the pen crookedly.

But every time he received that letter with only a few lines, he would read it over and over again under the lamp.

Then, with a stern face, he asked his staff to write a reply for him. After it was written, he felt it was too cold, so he added two sentences himself.

He told him to "wear more clothes when it's cold" and "there's nothing to worry about at the border."

The staff stood by and watched, pretending not to notice anything.

He sat by his son's bedside, listening to the familiar snoring.

Looking at that face, weathered and stained with blood, yet still bearing a striking resemblance to his mother, he suddenly felt a lump in his throat.

He raised his hand and wiped his face, removing the drop of something that had slid to the corner of his mouth.

She tucked the blanket around Xiao Fang again, then got up and walked out of the side tent.

The north wind outside the tent continued to howl.

Xiao Ji stood under the starlight, looking up at the vast night sky above.

There is no moon tonight; the Milky Way stretches across the sky, and countless stars resemble scattered silver fragments.

"Arou".

He said softly.

"Our son has grown up."

He...is very talented...