Meng Zhao and Beitang He, Heir of Yanping Commandery Prince, sat facing each other in a side room within a secluded courtyard of Yanping Commandery Prince's Mansion.
Though the room was spacious, its furnishings were rather simple, with plain colors and few decorations.
It was clear that Beitang He differed from his Laozi. He was not particularly attached to such outward luxuries.
"General Meng, what brings you to see me today?"
After inviting Meng Zhao to sit and pouring him a cup of tea, Beitang He asked, looking somewhat weary.
As the true controller of both the City Lord's Mansion and Yanping Commandery Prince's Mansion, he had to make decisions and handle every matter, great or small, within the city and inside and outside the mansion. He had been wearing himself out and was busy beyond measure every day.
Had Meng Zhao not sent someone ahead with a calling card and arranged a time, Beitang He might have been occupied somewhere else even now. Thus, he did not beat around the bush and asked directly.
"What, we're old friends, and our cooperation has been so seamless. Can't I come by just to see you?"
Seeing Beitang He's dark-rimmed eyes and listless expression, Meng Zhao said with a chuckle.
In truth, he knew perfectly well that Beitang He had been run ragged lately because of the endless waves of refugees. Food, drink, and bodily needs—there were so many people, and where there were people, there were disputes. He also had to protect Lingwu City's native forces. These trivial matters might not have been difficult, but they were certainly tedious.
"Ah, you have it easy. Every day, you practice martial arts in the camp and show your face before those rank-and-file soldiers, free and carefree. And Linghu Rui is there to cover