"Just in time, Peter." Schiller poured Peter a cup of hot tea. Peter, sitting on the edge of the hotel room bed, looked too restless to sit still. He took a sip, only to nearly spit it out from the heat.
"Cough, cough, cough..."
Schiller gave him a disapproving look. "What's wrong? Drink slowly. No one's going to steal it from you."
Peter broke into another fit of coughing, then wiped his mouth with the cuff of his hoodie. He spread his arms and slumped back in the chair again. "I just wanted to come take a look and make sure things are heading in the right direction."
Then he abruptly sat bolt upright as if rising from the dead. "Really, Doctor, having a superhero identity exposed is a terrible thing. They can't handle pressure from criminals and the public at the same time. I've been through it, so I know how hard it is."
Schiller looked at the worry in Peter's eyes. He set down his teacup, sat opposite Peter, and said, "Peter, there is an old story from the East. In an ancient Dynasty, war had broken out. The emperor was young, and the Empress Dowager had no authority."
"A General received the emperor's order to go to the frontier and suppress the rebellion. On the way there, his subordinates told him that the country was in turmoil, its strength was too weak, and the emperor could not command respect. Even if they risked their lives in battle, perhaps no one would ever know."
Peter's attention was gradually drawn in. He remembered that at the clinic, Schiller had often told him interesting stories: a man who bought jewelry, returned the jewelry but kept the box; a man sailing a boat whose sword fell into the water, so he