He was finally home.
Of course, this was not his home in the twenty-first century, but the courtyard residence in Good Well Lane, Jingzhou.
It was the first property Wang Yang had owned since arriving in this world, and so far, his only one. It was where he felt most at ease, and most comfortable.
The Barbarian Tribes hardly bore mentioning-the whole experience had been like being sent down to the countryside and up into the mountains. The Prince of Badong's Residence was certainly luxurious, but even setting practical interests aside, Wang Yang would rather live in his own home. As the saying went, a nest of gold or silver could not compare to one's own... Ahem, my residence is actually quite nice!
Wang Yang bathed, changed his clothes, and leaned languidly against an armrest, listening to Black Han's report. His gaze swept over the room: neat, cozy, everything just as usual, clearly tended with care every day. Then he took the plain tea Little A-Wu had brewed and sipped it. A soothing warmth slowly rose through his chest, easing even some of the stubborn weariness between his brows.
Yes, Wang Yang was exhausted.
Despite the high spirits he displayed before the Prince of Badong, his assured confidence before Xie Xinghan, and the ease with which he maneuvered around Kong Changyu, he was, in truth, exhausted.
He had simply hidden that side of himself, revealing it only once he stepped into this little courtyard that belonged entirely to him.
According to his rule of a short calligraphy session every three days and a long one every five, he should have practiced tonight. This rule was part of his "daily lessons," and he had rarely neglected it even among the Barbarian Tribes. But right now, lethargy had truly overtaken him. He