The spring breeze intoxicated the travelers; they mistook Jinling for Huiwen.
On the official road, Uncle Fu was in high spirits as he drove the carriage.
Ever since leaving Huiwen City and arriving in the imperial capital, Uncle Fu had changed almost every year. By now, he could hardly be called an old man.
He looked more like someone who had taken a miraculous elixir and regained his youth. His white hair had turned black, and the wrinkles on his face had vanished over the years.
He was the spitting image of a middle-aged man.
As he drove, Uncle Fu hummed a little tune.
He had never imagined that the young master would suddenly appear before him like this...
With his eyes closed, Wang Xian leaned against the window and rested, lost in his thoughts amid the spring breeze.
He was quite satisfied with the mess in the imperial capital. In fact, from the moment he left Misty Rain Lake, he had felt exceptionally relieved.
From this moment onward, whatever happened in the imperial capital had nothing to do with him.
He tossed everything, good or bad, to the back of his mind.
Still humming, Uncle Fu asked, "Young master, will those fellows staying in the prince's manor go mad when they wake up this morning and find you gone?"
Wang Xian froze for a moment, then smiled. "Even if I hosted a seven-day, seven-night banquet, there would still come a moment when the music ended and the guests went home."
For some reason, Uncle Fu thought of his late wife.
The corners of his eyes reddened, and he murmured, "That's true."
One pavilion after another receded behind them.
This time, no one came to see him off.
The carriage, drawn by two horses, rolled along briskly. Before the