Right after that, the air fell silent for a few seconds, and their complexions were inexplicably a little red.
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After more than a hundred hostages—elderly, women, and children—were rescued, the Yan Kingdom’s army pursued the victory and finally forced the neighboring country into a situation where they had nowhere left to retreat.
Good news kept coming from the court, and the emperor was overjoyed, declaring that once the army returned, he would promote everyone in the army.
This war on the northern border had lasted for nearly a year, and finally there was a glimmer of hope for a victorious end.
The northern border city, recuperating and regaining its vitality, was also gradually recovering from the days of devastation during the war. The faces of the common people were visibly no longer as pale and gaunt as before. The corpses of their family members were buried as they should be, and those who were alive could only continue to live on well.
At the same time, the systems on both Lu Huan’s and Su Xi’s sides popped up: 【Congratulations on completing Mission Twelve: Pacify the riot, establish military merit, and force the enemy to retreat! Gold reward +2000, points reward +18.】
With this, the total points now reached one hundred and forty-five!
Before this notification disappeared, new missions popped up continuously on both interfaces: 【Please receive Mission Thirteen (Advanced): Please let the entire capital know who is behind the “miracle doctor of Yong’an Temple” and the “mysterious wealthy merchant who allocated ten thousand qian to procure grain.” Gold reward: 1500, points reward: 12.】
【Please receive Mission Fourteen (Advanced): Please successfully restore His Highness the Ninth Prince’s identity, and have the emperor accept it. Gold reward: 2500, points reward: 18.】
Su Xi’s understanding of these two consecutive missions was that the matter of treating and saving people at Yong’an Temple back then had already become a well-known tale, and so had the matter of Wan Sanqian raising grain and sending it to the front lines. But the people of Yan only knew that someone in the Zhenyuan Army had both courage and resourcefulness, loyally protecting the entire Yan Kingdom and even opening granaries for disaster relief in Fengzhou and other places. They did not know who the miracle doctor and miracle merchant they spoke of actually were.
If one used some means at this time to let the common people know that the person was Zai Zai, they would definitely be filled with gratitude toward him.
In this way, Zai Zai’s restoration as the Ninth Prince would naturally fall into place, and it would also help the royal family’s reputation.
But the problem was—was this what Zai Zai wanted? She had spoken with him earlier; he did not seem very willing to be involved in the struggles between princes.
Moreover, once his identity as the Ninth Prince was restored, it seemed that the final mission of this game would not be far away…
After all, as task after task was completed, the game had already gradually paved the way for Zai Zai among the people’s hearts, the military, and the officials.
As for the emperor—so long as he knew that Zai Zai was Consort Qing’s son, he would not become an obstacle to him.
In addition, the Yan Kingdom did not have the rule that the eldest son must be established as Crown Prince. If the emperor insisted on changing the heir, and with the support of the people, there would not be many tasks left to complete.
At most, when the time came, there would be a political upheaval and objections from the Crown Prince’s and Fifth Prince’s factions.
In other words, once Zai Zai returned to the capital and completed these two tasks, the final chapter of the game would be right before their eyes.
An uncontrollable feeling of melancholy quietly rose in Su Xi’s heart. It was like how, whenever she played a game, she would hold her breath wanting to clear it as soon as possible, but when she actually reached the final level, she would instead feel reluctant. Or like watching a TV drama—she would be excited to finish it quickly at first, but when the progress bar reached the end and only a few episodes remained, her heart would feel a deep sense of loss.
Moreover, Zai Zai had really grown up recently. He could handle everything flawlessly and no longer needed her help much.
She suddenly no longer wanted to see the ending of this game so soon. She would rather start again from that small firewood hut in Prince Ning’s residence and accompany Zai Zai to walk through the past year and a half of life all over again.
Su Xi subconsciously dragged things out, hoping the last few tasks would be completed more slowly, and that Zai Zai would return triumphantly to the capital a little later.
Meanwhile, seeing the total points reach one hundred and forty-five, Lu Huan’s heart was filled with hope. It was as if he had run more than half of a long race, and the day he could see her was right at hand. Thus, he practically did not sleep, day and night studying the entire Yan Kingdom’s geography and terrain, past taxes and corvée labor, and various policies, learning more and more about the ways of governing a country.
The more he did this, the closer he came to becoming a wise ruler capable of governing the world, and the more points the interface rewarded him with.
Thus, even though he had been leading troops and fighting in the northern border for this past half year, the total points on the system, in aspects such as martial strength and governing the country, still slowly increased by another seven points.
And when Su Xi logged in and discovered that the one hundred and forty-five had, for some unknown reason, suddenly jumped to one hundred and fifty-two, she was simply in utter despair! What was wrong with this broken game—did it start cheating in the later stages and automatically give the player extra points?!
Lu Huan indeed had never thought about restoring his identity before. Whether as the Ninth Prince, or as a concubine-born son of Prince Ning’s residence, to him, it was merely the perspective of outsiders. And the person he truly cared about did not care about his identity at all.
Therefore, at Changchun Temple he had put away that jade pendant. Therefore, during the assassination incident in Yunzhou, although he already believed most of what the Daoist nun had said about his life story, he still did not present the jade pendant to the emperor.
But when he saw Mission Fourteen and Mission Fifteen requiring him to restore his identity, in order to reach two hundred points as soon as possible, he still decided to do it. This prince’s position—he could pick it up lightly, and at that time, he could also put it down lightly.
During the assassination in Yunzhou, Lu Huan had felt that the emperor should already have begun to suspect his identity. In this past half year, he must have already investigated something as well. But the reason he was still remaining quiet was likely because he was waiting for Lu Huan to return to the capital together with the Zhenyuan Army, so he could conduct the final confirmation of identity—perhaps through a blood test, or perhaps by finding the jade pendant or other items on Lu Huan that could confirm who he was.
Lu Huan thought for a moment, then temporarily did nothing. He only wrote a letter and had someone deliver it urgently back to Worker Wu.
The letter contained nothing, not even a signature, merely inquiring about how the affairs of the farmstead had been progressing recently.
After finishing this matter, Lu Huan no longer concerned himself with it for the time being and quietly waited for events to unfold.
───♡───
Perhaps because suffering minor injuries was already as common as daily meals to Lu Huan, and coupled with the miraculous effects of the wound medicine exchanged from the store, his injuries healed very quickly.
Every time Su Xi logged in and saw that Zai Zai was becoming more and more trusted in the army, and had gradually gained other friends besides Yun Xiupang with whom he could discuss military matters, she felt gratified on one hand, but on the other hand, she could not help but feel a sense of melancholy that, in the later stages of the game, Zai Zai gradually no longer needed her.
However, she felt the problem lay with herself. Perhaps she needed to change this motherly way of thinking.
The end-of-term exams on Su Xi’s side were approaching, and she had no choice but to temporarily shift her attention to the exams.
Throughout this semester, aside from the first two-and-a-half-day monthly exam when she had not told Zai Zai in advance and had disappeared directly—causing him to think she would never appear again—every exam afterward she would always inform him beforehand. This time was no exception.
But what she found strange was that previously, every time she said she needed to leave for a few days to handle something, Zai Zai would always show some faint disappointment and anxiety on his face, and would keep asking her what exactly she was going to do.
But this time, when she spoke, although Zai Zai’s face did show the disappointment of not seeing her for several days, he did not ask her again what she would be doing during the days of her disappearance.
Su Xi: ?
When Lu Huan saw her on the screen packing her schoolbag while chatting with him on her small interface, he knew that she must, just like last time, be going to take the exams of the school in her world. The school in her world conducted exams extremely frequently—every three months on his side, she would have an exam on hers.
Previously, Lu Huan had not known what she did every time she suddenly disappeared for around eight days, so he could not help asking many questions like “What are you going to do?”, “When will you come back?”, “Can you come back earlier?” asking again and again. But now that he already knew where she was going, his heart was at ease. Knowing she would not disappear suddenly, he naturally no longer needed to ask.
But Su Xi instead felt uncomfortable everywhere because Zai Zai did not ask.
She could not help emphasizing again: “I might not be able to come for a full eight days.”
Zai Zai was reviewing military reports. His pen paused slightly, and there was some disappointment on his face, but in the end he said nothing: “Mm, I will wait for you to come back.”
Wait… Su Xi felt utterly baffled, almost wanting to rush into the screen and shake Zai Zai’s shoulders: Zai Zai, why are you not like before—like a little kindergarten child unable to wait for their parent to pick them up, repeatedly asking where I’m going, when I’m coming back, and why I’m abandoning you for other things… anymore?!
Zai Zai no longer asked questions, and Su Xi, who used to laugh at him for clinging too tightly, now felt completely at a loss.
Her heart once again filled with melancholy. Her Zai… truly was no longer a little Zai.
Look—he no longer depended on her.
She dejectedly closed her phone screen, packed her schoolbag and pencil case, and prepared to go take her exams. This end-of-term exam lasted four days, because not only were academic subjects being tested, but also art, music, and physical education. Especially the physical fitness test—she had to run eight hundred meters. Just thinking about it made Su Xi feel miserable. She gave herself a bit of encouragement, then picked up her schoolbag and headed to school.
And when Lu Huan lifted his head, he could see on the screen that she had already arrived at the school in a four-wheeled large carriage, entered a classroom, and opened the white test paper in front of her.
On her side, the tip of her pen was shua shua shua as she took the exam.
Lu Huan also took out a blank sheet of paper to test how much of the tiny, fly-sized writing of her world he had learned during the past half year of marching.
The listening section—because Su Xi was wearing earphones—could not be heard on his end, so he skipped it entirely. When Su Xi flipped to the cloze passage and reading comprehension, he skillfully enlarged his own screen and did the questions along with her.
After all, the vocabulary he had learned from her textbooks was limited, and half a year was too short. His writing speed was slightly slower than hers, but faster than the vast majority of people in that exam room.
And for the following history and geography test paper, he browsed along as well. It was good to learn something about the history of her era anyway.
Over these six months, Lu Huan had already learned many things. Sometimes, after Su Xi fell asleep, he would switch his screen to the streets and observe how those riding four-wheeled carriages used that card—just one “beep,” and they could get on.
In transportation, society, medicine, and other areas, although he had not fully grasped everything, he was no longer completely clueless.
If one day he ever went to her era, he would at least not end up being hauled into a police station on the big roads.
Lu Huan replaced the test paper filled with answers with a new sheet and continued answering questions together with Su Xi.
Meanwhile, Su Xi had also been feeling that something strange was going on these past two days. Previously, the fish soup incident and the near-fall on the stairs—she had simply thought her luck had improved because of the game. But these past two days, something felt… off.
After finishing the first two subjects, she was having evening self-study with her class. The teacher entered the room at night for the lesson. Because she had spaced out for a moment, she did not hear what the teacher said and was called on to answer a question. Just when she didn’t know what the teacher had asked and what she should answer, a gust of wind suddenly blew—seemingly from the direction of the window—and abruptly flipped the textbook in front of her, turning it directly to the page the teacher was asking about.
She stared blankly for a moment before stumbling through her answer.
And when she and her classmates were moving desks, for some unknown reason, whichever desk she grabbed felt especially light, as if someone were lifting it from above.
As a result, when she and Gu Qin carried the desks back to their original places in the classroom, Gu Qin was panting heavily, while she felt no weight at all.
Not only that—on the fourth day during the physical test, when running the eight-hundred meters, she felt a wind pushing from behind, almost like a force propelling her forward. The eight-hundred-meter run that usually tormented her was completed with ease for the first time in her life!
When Su Xi reached the finish line and removed the timer watch on her wrist, she felt it was utterly unbelievable.
A while later, Gu Qin finally ran to her side, panting, and exclaimed, “Su Xi, you did great this time—how did you run so easily?”
Su Xi also found it unbelievably strange. She couldn’t help running another half lap, but this time she felt tired quickly. Was it just that she had been in good condition earlier?
On the way back to the classroom to change out of her gym clothes, Su Xi kept thinking and felt something was definitely wrong.
She had already experienced the magical aspects of the game. Back then, when she came into contact with people inside the game, she appeared like a gust of wind to them. And back then, when she suddenly pulled up the water bucket, Zai Zai had also felt the water bucket become inexplicably light—just like how she felt now.
Su Xi was soon frightened by a thought that suddenly emerged in her mind… Could it be that someone was also playing the same game she was playing?
Thinking this way, she increasingly felt that even the cup of brown sugar ginger tea that had mysteriously appeared beside her bedside table during her last menstrual cramps didn’t seem like something her notoriously careless parents would have made for her.