He could only rely on Tang San, Tang Hao, and people stronger than himself.
That realization felt like someone had poured a basin of cold water over him, chilling him from head to toe.
The night wind swept over the courtyard wall, rustling the parasol tree leaves.
The three stood beneath the old locust tree, and no one spoke again.
Meanwhile, a thousand miles away in Heaven Dou City, Fang Fan lounged on a soft couch in the State-Protecting Prince's Residence, holding a wine jug with a woman in each arm.
Life in the State-Protecting Prince's Residence was like wine warming over a stove—not too hot, not too cold, just right to drink.
Other than drinking every day, Fang Fan spent his time with Zhu Zhuqing and Ning Rongrong at his sides.
Occasionally, he took a stroll through the palace. Xue Qinghe merely nodded whenever he saw him. As for how much calculation lay beneath that gentle face, Fang Fan could not be bothered to guess.
He was now the Pacifying-the-State King, with a sizable fief, a generous stipend, several servants in his residence, and osmanthus trees in the courtyard that had bloomed twice, their fragrance sweet enough to melt one's bones.
"Shall we go take a look at the Heaven Dou Soul Fighting Arena?"
Zhu Zhuqing reclined against the side of the couch, her fingers playing with the empty cup in Fang Fan's hand.
She had been talking more than before these past few days. Though she still looked cool and aloof, whenever she faced Fang Fan, her eyes always seemed to hold a mist that would never disperse.
"Sure."
Fang Fan nodded, setting his cup on the table before turning toward the other side.
"Rongrong, do you want to come?"
"Of course I do."
Ning Rongrong hopped down