Chapter 261.1: “Hello Chang'an
Chapter 261.1: “She is not mine, but I am hers”
The military officer in charge of Cui Jing’s paperwork answered, “Reporting to the Grand General, during your absence, letters arrived from all quarters. From the south alone, there are seven or eight letters.”
“Seven or eight letters?”
Cui Jing quickened his pace.
The officer ran to keep up.
Once they entered the study, Cui Jing removed his cloak and sword, handing them to his attendant, and immediately turned to the letters.
The officer swiftly carried the entire stack of correspondence over.
There were letters from the south, and others from various parts of the capital. The officer had been meticulous, organizing the letters by origin and date, arranging them neatly on the desk so that Cui Jing could view them at a glance.
There were so many letters that the organized rows took up most of the desk.
Yet Cui Jing’s eyes immediately fell on the letter from Chang Suining.
Her handwriting was unmistakable—or perhaps he was simply too familiar with it—especially the handwriting on the envelope, nearly identical to the notes and military strategies he had repeatedly reviewed over the years.
Standing by the desk, he had no time to sit before opening the letter.
Although he had been away for half a month, he was already aware of the outcomes in Hezhou and regarding Li Yi, so he read the letter purely out of his own desire, not concern.
At first glance, he saw a vivid drawing of a chestnut on the paper.
Seeing the chestnut, a faint smile flickered across his brows, and in an instant, the chill he had brought in from outside seemed to vanish.
The officer, emboldened, stole a glance and found it curious.
Is this… the effect of the New Year? Even the Grand General’s face now carried the festive warmth of the season.
Cui Jing began reading the letter carefully, word by word, without skipping a single line.
He returned at the late Shen hour; the study was dim. The officer lit a lamp, and red lanterns were hung in the corridor.
Cui Jing reached the end of the letter for the second time.
“Strive in your path, let the thousand-mile winds carry you together…”
The lamplight cast a rare warmth over his sharp, clear features; the corners of his mouth curved into an arc.
His eyes were on the letter, yet it was as if he were seeing, through it, only what he alone could see.
“…Grand General, you—” the officer’s voice sounded, faint and distant in Cui Jing’s ears.
Cui Jing half-snapped out of his reverie, looking at him: “I am reading a letter.”
The officer’s mouth opened and closed in surprise, then he said, “Understood… I only meant to remind you, Grand General, that you must be weary after your journey. You may wish to sit and read carefully.”
He had already said it once, but the Grand General had not heard; it seemed Cui Jing was truly tired.
Cui Jing responded with a low, “Mm,” then suddenly asked, “Have you ever heard of Zhou Xingji’s poem ‘Seeing a Friend Off to the East’?”
The officer blinked in surprise, then nodded. “Yes, sir…”
So the Grand General was engaging in casual conversation.
The officer, feeling privileged, ventured further: “Do you favor this poem, Grand General?”
Cui Jing lowered his eyes to the letter, smiling as he nodded.
He liked it—truly liked it.
He intended to copy it down.
Considering this, Cui Jing surveyed the study, pondering the best place to display it, where he could see it at a glance while attending to affairs.
The officer noticed his good mood and said with a smile, “It seems this letter is from a close friend of yours, Grand General… surely a very important confidant.”
Cui Jing did not reply.
Not just important.
To him, she was more than important.
Considering other letters that required immediate attention, he temporarily put Chang Suining’s letter aside—but not aside carelessly; he tucked it into his robe.
The officer’s surprise deepened. What kind of friend could this be?
He wanted to inquire further, but his rank and decorum restrained him, and his superior had already adopted the demeanor expected for official business.
Together, they first handled some official correspondence, including letters from the Xuance Office in the capital and letters from the court.
After completing those, Cui Jing opened the letter from Chang Kuo.
Chang Kuo’s handwriting was larger than usual, the content simple: a message assuring him not to worry about matters in Jiangnan, along with a brief New Year greeting.
Next came letters from Yuan Xiang, two in total. When Cui Jing touched the thickness of the envelope, he hesitated slightly but opened them nonetheless.
Most of the content was trivial; he skimmed quickly, picking out the details he wished to see.
Yuan Xiang described his actions alongside Wei Shuyi, then quietly added that during a quarrel with Chang Ji, he had overheard Chang Ji inadvertently reveal that Wei Shiyi’s trip to Jiangnan was self-recommended by the Holy Emperor.
Here, Yuan Xiang’s handwriting shrank, as if the letters had a voice, creating a sense of secret observation, almost conspiratorial.
He wrote further:
“From my discreet observation, Wei Shiyi treats Lady Chang with utmost attention, never straying three words without mentioning her. Coupled with his self-recommendation, I have a bold suspicion: Wei Shiyi may harbor ill intentions toward Lady Chang.”
Cui Jing noted the “also” character had been crossed out: “….”
Yuan Xiang ended with a vow to watch Wei Shiyi closely, ensuring he had no opportunity to act improperly. The strokes were firm, like a snarling wolfdog bristling with resolve.
Cui Jing then opened the second letter from this vigilant “wolfdog.”
This letter, delivered a few days later, contained one key point: Wei Shiyi had returned to the capital. Rest assured, Grand General!
The handwriting this time was lively, like a proud wolfdog wagging its tail.
Finally, Cui Jing opened letters from his family: from his grandfather, several uncles, and a trio—Lu Shi, Cui Tang, and Cui Lang.
The trio’s letters were weighty, even more elaborate than Yuan Xiang’s, yet with a similar meticulousness.
If he lacked sufficient time, he would not dare open these letters casually.
Perhaps because this was the last correspondence before the New Year, it felt especially substantial. Judging by the handwriting, all three had contributed: one wrote until exhausted, then another took over.
The order followed family rank; Cui Lang’s writing appeared first.
Cui Lang detailed family affairs and clan matters, lightly touching on court affairs, repeatedly mentioning “Master,” taking pride in Chang Suining’s rising renown in the capital, hailed as the reincarnation of a military star.
The “reincarnation of a military star” — Cui Jing read these words quietly, smiling.
Having read all the letters took half an hour.
Along with the letters from Lu Shi and the other two, a box had been delivered.
Cui Jing had it opened: it was neatly packed with new clothing and shoes.
Lu Shi had written that, pressed for time, she had sent these before the New Year, asking tailors to prepare them; she would make the spring and summer garments by hand once there was time, adding, “My craftsmanship is ordinary; I hope you will not dislike it.”
Attendants prepared hot water. Cui Jing bathed and changed into the clean, fitting robes and shoes, keeping Chang Suining’s letter close to his chest.
At that moment, a guard reported: “The feast is ready. Protector Qin invites the Grand General to attend.”
The feast marked both Cui Jing’s formal return and the New Year’s Eve banquet.
All officials of the Protectorate of Anbei and other border generals rose to greet the young man as he entered.
He wore a deep-blue long robe with round collar and wide sleeves, his hair bound with a jade crown. His black, sharp features were striking, blending the noble bearing of the Cui clan with the sharp edge forged on the battlefield, making him exceptionally distinguished.
The northern people were rugged and open, and the ladies of the Protector’s household were present, though seated separately.
Several young women rose to greet him, their gaze fixed on Cui Jing, unable to look away.
Cui Jing sat first; only then did the others take their seats.
Throughout the meal, he spoke little, his usual taciturnity well known to the officials present.
“Do you think the Grand General will manage to speak ten sentences before leaving?” A few young ladies whispered at their table.
Protector Qin felt uneasy; he suspected Cui Jing was not listening to their idle chatter at all.
After three rounds of wine, Cui Jing still said little. The border generals, however, loosened tongues under the influence of alcohol.
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