In front of Duke Zhen's Mansion, two young servants in blue were sweeping fallen leaves.
Zhao Lin had rushed home without stopping, yet standing before his own gate, he suddenly felt a surge of homesick apprehension.
'It's been a year. I wonder if Mother and my brother are well?'
After a moment's hesitation, he strode forward.
Inside the mansion, Mrs. Zhao was gathered with her son, Zhao Shan, his wife, and her three grandchildren.
"Shan, what of the inquiries you sent people to make? Is there any news of Lin'Er?"
Mrs. Zhao clutched a stack of letters. Every single one was signed with the same name: Zhao Lin.
In truth, Zhao Lin had written all these letters before he left. He had instructed the steward, Tian Dabang, to present one every month or two, pretending it had been mailed from outside to put the family's minds at ease.
"There's still no news of my brother."
Zhao Shan replied, "But please don't worry, Mother. My brother is a Wuzong. He won't be in any danger."
