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Zhen Ping considered his transfer into the Chiyu division the greatest achievement in his life. It wasn’t only that it was the famous Chiyan Army that made his chest swell with pride, nor the fact that he was in the Chiyu Division, but the fact that he was under the direct command of Vice-Marshal Lin Shu that made it such a feat.
For as long as he could remember, Zhen Ping had only heard great things about the Vice-Marshal. There were stories of his unparalleled brilliance in both tactics and strategy that inspire awe in the general public, never mind his young age. He would be the greatest general the kingdom has seen, they say, and Zhen Ping might have doubted it if he hadn’t seen it for himself.
Watching Lin Shu train with them was always an event to behold. He moved with speed and agility that shouldn’t be humanly possible, and possessed an incredible amount of strength that always put the most impressively built soldiers in their army to shame. Lin Shu wielded his sword like it was merely an extension of his arm, and rode his horse with experience that belied his years.
And if this wasn’t enough to gain the admiration of his men, Lin Shu was gifted with intelligence that bestest even some of their tried and tested strategists. Given tough training conditions, Lin Shu was always able to think of an ingenious solution that played to their advantages, and opened new opportunities for victory.
But what won Zhen Ping over was not his physical or mental abilities, but Lin Shu’s heart. Despite being born into such a privileged background and being blessed with so much talent and skill, Lin Shu went out of his way to understand his men and to help them as much as he could. Zhen Ping always looked back on the time when he had newly joined the Chiyan Army and struggled with training up his stamina. Back then, he tried his best to keep up with the seasoned soldiers, but found himself straggling behind the pack. It was also on one of those morning runs that Lin Shu noticed Zhen Ping falling behind the rest and stayed with him for the rest of the run, giving him the encouragement he needed to push himself.
Lin Shu never asked more of his men than what he could give, and always went above and beyond to care for them in the most trying circumstances of their campaigns. He made sure that they were well fed, well equipped and well paid, and for men with no bargaining power at all, Lin Shu was godsent, and Zhen Ping was sure that this was the man he would lay down his life for. This was the man he would gladly follow into a lost battle, the man who he would be proud and honoured to die with if the situation called for it.
It was because of this that Zhen Ping paid extra attention to anything concerning the Vice-Marshal, whether it was official news announced through the ranks of the army or rumours about the Vice-Marshal’s recent escapades, and in the time spent diligently following the Vice-Marshal Zhen Ping had become familiar with a few names. Some names came up more sporadically: Xiao Jingrui, son of Grand Princess Li Yang and nephew of the emperor, Yan Yujin, son of Marquis Yan Que, and Princess Mu Nihuang. Even Crown Prince Xiao Jingyu’s name came up once in a while.
There was one name in particular, however, that never failed to come up in association with the Vice-Marshal: Xiao Jingyan, the Seventh Prince of the Emperor, commanding general of his own army and best friend of Lin Shu.
There was a kind of reverence that Xiao Jingyan’s name carried, which almost explained away everything related to the Vice-Marshal. If Vice-Marshal Lin Shu was gone for extended periods of time, learning that he was with His Highness Xiao Jingyan answered everything. If Vice-Marshal Lin Shu was in a foul mood during morning practice, finding out that he had an argument with His Highness Xiao Jingyan the night before seemed a satisfactory reason. If Vice-Marshal Lin Shu, who usually couldn’t care less about politics, began fishing around for inner palace gossip and news, discovering that it was related to His Highness Xiao Jingyan explained away all the unspoken questions that everyone had.
This was what Zhen Ping had observed in the short time he spent in the Chiyu Division– not that he understood any of it. In fact, his confusion only grew with time. What was it about His Highness Xiao Jingyan that everyone else knew about that could explain everything about their Vice-Marshal?
“His Highness Prince Jing?” Wei Zheng repeated with furrowed brows. “He’s Vice-Marshal Lin’s best friend.”
“Well, yes,” Zhen Ping hesitated, “but who is he?”
Wei Zheng’s gaze drifted to the side in thought. “He’s Vice-Marshal Lin’s best friend,” Wei Zheng said again, as if it explained everything. Zhen Ping sighed in frustration inwardly.
“Isn’t our Vice-Marshal betrothed to Princess Mu Nihuang, sir?”
“Yes.”
“But her name is hardly ever mentioned with Vice-Marshal Lin’s around here.”
“Why would it?” Wei Zheng asked back, puzzled. “She’s not in the Chiyan army.”
“Neither is Prince Jing,” Zhen Ping pointed out. Wei Zheng frowned, not understanding.
“But Prince Jing is Vice-Marshal Lin’s best friend.”
That was the point where Zhen Ping gave up, because all the answers he was getting seemed to be some variation of Prince Jing being Lin Shu’s best friend, but none of it actually answered his question of who Prince Jing was.
Zhen Ping mulled over the question for a long time, because he, too, had a best friend, and Li Gang surely wasn’t as involved in his life as Prince Jing was in Lin Shu’s. Despite being in the same army and the same division, Zhen Ping didn’t spend all his free time with Li Gang the way that Lin Shu sought Prince Jing out once their trainings had concluded. Zhen Ping didn’t bring up memories of his adventures with Li Gang the way Lin Shu was so fond of doing about his own with Prince Jing. Zhen Ping didn’t buy gifts for Li Gang the way that Lin Shu did every expedition out of Jinling, and Zhen Ping certainly didn’t receive the thoughtful kind of gifts that Lin Shu did, the kind of gifts that would mean nothing much to other people but would make the recipient very happy: a hair tie, an old book, a pair of shoes that paled in comparison to the kind worn by other people of Lin Shu’s stature.
So Prince Jing was Lin Shu’s best friend– a fact known throughout the Chiyan Army and perhaps the entire capital– but no one could explain just who Prince Jing was. To Zhen Ping, Prince Jing was a faceless man of unequivocal importance to Vice-Marshal Lin Shu, a name that floated around the Chiyu Division more often than Zhen Ping thought it should. And it definitely didn’t help that Zhen Ping had never seen Prince Jing in person before.
“What?” Li Gang said, raising a brow as he halted his hand in mid-air. “You’ve never seen Prince Jing before?”
“You have?” Zhen Ping asked, betrayed.
Li Gang nodded. He brought the cup of wine to his lips before hesitating again. “I was stationed on guard duty a few months ago. Prince Jing came by to drop off a book that Vice-Marshal Lin loaned to him.”
“He came all the way to return a book?”
“He did,” Li Gang confirmed with a shrug. “I was quite surprised myself– it was late in the night, after all, and Prince Jing had just returned from a training exercise along the Southern borders. He looked exhausted, so I offered to return the book to Vice-Marshal Lin on his behalf, but he insisted on doing it personally.”
Zhen Ping refilled his cup in a thoughtful silence. No matter how he thought about it, travelling all the way to their camp based at the edge of the capital just to return a book, especially after a long journey home, seemed excessive.
“It must have been an important book, for Prince Jing to do that,” Zhen Ping commented, putting down the wine vase. Li Gang hummed in agreement as he gulped down his wine.
“But you know, that’s not the thing that surprised me most that night.”
Zhen Ping froze with his cup brushing his lips. “It’s not?”
Li Gang shook his head, wiping the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. “It’s that Vice-Marshal Lin loaned his book to someone, of course.”
Li Gang picked up the wine vase and poured himself another cup, unaware of the perplexed frown on Zhen Ping’s face until he noticed the answering silence. Li Gang’s gaze flickered up, surprised to see Zhen Ping’s brows knitted and soft lines bracketing his mouth. “What?”
“Why is that so surprising?”
Li Gang mirrored Zhen Ping’s confused frown. “Why isn’t it? Vice-Marshal Lin never–” he stopped abruptly. Li Gang’s eyes lit up in understanding and a smile spread across his face. “Ah, you don’t know yet.”
“Know what?” Zhen Ping pressed impatiently.
“Vice-Marshal Lin doesn’t let anyone touch his things,” Li Gang explained with an air of self-satisfaction about him, as if he were offering wise counsel to a desperate man. “He gets very upset when anyone touches his things without permission, and asking for permission doesn’t work either. He never loans his things to anyone. There’s even a story that Vice-Marshal Lin once tied Marquis Yan’s son to a tree because he tried to take his book.”
“That can’t be true. Marquis Yan’s son is Vice-Marshal Lin’s friend.”
“And that’s why it’s so surprising!” Li Gang boomed, “Vice-Marshal Lin doesn’t lend his things to even his friends! And yet, Prince Jing was allowed to borrow his book!”
Zhen Ping tilted his head back and sipped on his wine, absorbing the new information quietly when Li Gang laughed, shaking his head as he filled his cup once again.
“Then again, I guess if anyone could borrow Vice-Marshal Lin’s things, it would be Prince Jing.”
Zhen Ping lowered his cup and waited for Li Gang to explain. Instead, Li Gang smiled knowingly to himself, as if that had been the end of the topic. The constant feeling of being left out of the know was starting to grate on Zhen Ping’s nerves.
“Why?” Zhen Ping asked at last, unable to stop his annoyance from bleeding into his words.
Li Gang blinked at Zhen Ping, surprised that the conversation was still going on. “Because Prince Jing is Vice-Marshal Lin’s best friend,” he replied simply.
There was that answer again. Zhen Ping was on the verge of tearing his hair out. Was there some memo that Zhen Ping had missed, one that spelled out exactly how to answer every and any question pertaining to who Prince Jing was?
The mystery only deepened during a spontaneous tea session at the Lin Manor one rainy afternoon. Zhen Ping, as a relatively new and junior ranking member of the Chiyu Army, wasn’t usually invited to such gatherings with people so high up the chain, much less with the Lins themselves, but such was the magnanimity of the Lins that when Lin Shu, who came by to find Wei Zheng after training, saw Zhen Ping helping to clean up the muddy equipment, insisted that he come along for some snacks and a good chat.
Zhen Ping sat rigidly next to Wei Zheng as they waited to be served their tea and food. The pitter-patter of raindrops on the patio outside added to the cosy atmosphere as Lin Shu and Wei Zheng bantered about the day’s training. Zhen Ping sat quietly next to them, soaking in the honour of being invited to the Lin Manor for the first time in his life. He looked around his Vice-Marshal’s neat room, clean almost to a fault, and was in the middle of reading the titles on Lin Shu’s shelf when the servants shuffled into the room.
“Young master,” one of them greeted with fondness in his voice. He kneeled down to arrange the tea cups on the table, pouring out the tea with careful hands. “This tea is brewed from a gift sent by Princess Mu, which arrived in the morning. The tea leaves are said to be hard to grow and even harder to buy, it’s flavour rich and refreshing. Princess Mu is extremely generous in sending over so much of it!”
A grin spread across Lin Shu’s face. He picked up his cup and inhaled deeply, closing his eyes as he took a long, indulgent sip. “Mmm, it’s good tea,” he said, placing his cup gently on the table. “Strong and fragrant, but not overwhelming. There’s a floral taste in it, but it doesn’t overpower its natural sweetness.” He opened his eyes and nodded to himself in approval. “Pack a bag– no, pack three bags– for Jingyan!”
The servant’s smile faltered at the same time that Wei Zheng’s brows scrunched up slightly, but the servant recovered his composure quickly and nodded in acquiescence.
“Shall I send someone to deliver it, sir?”
Lin Shu frowned in confusion. “What for? I’ll go over and give it to him myself tonight.”
The servant nodded again. “And what about Princess Mu, sir?”
Lin Shu’s frown deepened. “What about her?”
The servant bowed lower, stepping closer to Lin Shu. “Should we send some gifts over to thank her?”
“Oh,” Lin Shu said. The crease between his brows smoothened as he waved a hand. “I’ll write her a letter later.”
Zhen Ping looked between them quietly, wondering what it was that threw them off. He suspected that it had something to do with Prince Jing– as it usually did– but it wasn’t until he and Wei Zheng had left the Lin Manor that he brought it up again.
“Lieutenant,” Zhen Ping began tentatively. Wei Zheng hummed in acknowledgement. “Can I ask a question?”
“Go ahead.”
Zhen Ping nodded firmly and cleared his throat. “What was wrong with Vice-Marshal Lin instructing three bags of tea leaves to be packed for Prince Jing?”
“There’s nothing wrong with it,” Wei Zheng snorted, “it’s just that he’s giving premium tea to the water buffalo.”
Wei Zheng laughed to himself for a moment, shaking his head as he did, but Zhen Ping looked on silently. It was only after Wei Zheng noticed that he was laughing by himself that he turned to Zhen Ping and saw the question in his eyes, that realisation dawned on him.
“You don’t know,” Wei Zheng stated.
“Know what, sir?”
“Prince Jing’s nickname, the one Vice-Marshal Lin gave him.”
It took Zhen Ping a second to piece two and two together. “Water buffalo?”
“That’s the one, but don’t let him catch you saying that, he doesn’t like it when other people call Prince Jing a water buffalo.”
Zhen Ping waited for a minute, but no explanation seemed forthcoming. He glanced at Wei Zheng before looking forward again.
“May I ask why a water buffalo, sir?”
Wei Zheng threw his head back and let out a soft sigh, looking ahead of them as the white dots in the inky sky twinkled at them in greeting. The streets were quiet, winding down from a busy day and getting ready for the next. Their footsteps came one after another, a soft lullaby for the day’s end.
“Prince Jing only enjoys drinking water,” Wei Zheng explained, “It doesn’t matter how expensive the wine is, or how fragrant the tea is, if plain water is an option, Prince Jing will always opt for it. Our Vice-Marshal says Prince Jing can’t appreciate anything but water, that’s why he gave Prince Jing that nickname.”
“Oh,” Zhen Ping said, looking down at his feet in thought. “But if that’s the case, why would Vice-Marshal Lin want to give Prince Jing so much of that tea?”
A cryptic smile touched Wei Zheng’s face. “Because Prince Jing is Vice-Marshal Lin’s best friend.”
And there it was again: the Vice-Marshal and his best friend. Zhen Ping walked in shared silence with Wei Zheng all the way back to their camp, trying to understand why that simple fact left him so subdued. As they approached the camp, a silhouette lit by fire torches came into view, and Zhen Ping had seen Li Gang’s silhouette too much to be mistaken. Li Gang noticed them a few seconds later and waved at them in greeting, and as Zhen Ping raised his in return, Linshu’s ecstatic grin floated to the forefront of his thoughts again.
Zhen Ping was happy to see Li Gang– and he was usually happy to see Li Gang– but being usually happy to see someone was not the same as being always happy to see someone, like Vice-Marshal Lin was with Prince Jing. Zhen Ping and Li Gang saw each other frequently, but their frequent meetings were not a product of an active effort to meet up, the way that Vice-Marshal Lin and Prince Jing’s were. And surely, Zhen Ping wasn’t grinning from ear to ear, overjoyed to meet Li Gang again the way that Vice-Marshal Lin always looked as he took off in search of Prince Jing. There was no excitement in their meetings, and none of that obvious tenderness and fondness that twinkled in his Vice-Marshal’s eyes.
Li Gang was his best friend, like Prince Jing was Lin Shu’s, so why were their reactions so vastly different? No matter how long and how hard Zhen Ping thought about it, he couldn’t put a finger on why it was so different.
And then one day, everything came together.
Snow rained down on their camps in sheets that fluttered with the strong wind. There was worry that there might even be sleet, but everything had been following the best case scenario that Marshal Lin predicted at the start of the week. The bad weather had put paid to any hope that the Chiyan Army’s annual training exercise could continue as planned, but it gave an opportunity for them to practise their contingency plans.
Zhen Ping had been standing guard inside Marshal Lin’s tent, waiting stoically for the daily discussions to end. While Zhen Ping was still a lowly ranked soldier within the army, Wei Zheng had taken a liking to him and his ability to discern things quickly. And where their Vice-Marshal went, so did Wei Zheng, and thus so did Zhen Ping.
And so it was that Zhen Ping had been in the tent when a Lieutenant burst in with a distress pouring out of him in waves. The disruption itself had silenced all talk in the tent, but it was the look of panic and fear on his face that set everyone on edge. Marshal Lin straightened his back and the set of his shoulders turned rigid as he cleared his throat, trying to ease the tension that stifled the room.
“Lieutenant An, it is out of decorum for you to come in unannounced and uninvited. What is the meaning of this?”
The lieutenant fell to his knees, planting his arms on the floor in front of his head. “This lowly soldier admits his fault, and willingly accepts any punishment, but I come with urgent news!”
Vice-Marshal Lin exchanged a look with his father before stepping forward. “What is it? Stand up and tell us.”
The man lifted his head for a fraction of a second– just long enough for everyone to catch a glimpse of the dread on his face– before he burrowed even closer to the floor than before.
“That is– I..” the man began frightfully, “A letter arrived from the North, sir! Bearing the insignia of Prince Jing’s army.”
“Jingyan..?” Lin Shu echoed distantly. It was as if he was saying it for the first time, an unfamiliar name that he had heard elsewhere a long time ago. Then, all of a sudden, there was a spark in Lin Shu’s eyes, like his soul had returned to him. Lin Shu sank to his knees and gripped the lieutenant’s shoulders urgently, forcing the man to look up. “What about Jingyan? What did the letter say?”
The man’s gaze bounced between Lin Shu and everyone standing in the room, helplessly begging for help. But none was found, and none offered, and so the lieutenant swallowed thickly, screwing shut his eyes as he spoke.
“There was a planned attack on the Northern Yan Army two nights before the date of the letter. Prince Jing’s army had cut off their supply a few days before the sudden blizzard came. The Northern Yan Army was reported to be in chaos. They didn’t have food or proper shelter. It was supposed to be a siege situation, but–”
“It was a trap,” Lin Shu whispered hollowly, letting go of the lieutenant. The lieutenant nodded, hesitantly at first. “They lured him in and then ambushed him.”
“The letter said that the army had managed to fight their way out of besiegement, but–” The man kowtowed again, his voice wavering as he said, “But Prince Jing refused to leave until all of his men had evacuated, and was critically injured by the enemy as they were retreating.”
A heavy silence descended upon them. Zhen Ping had never felt a quiet so physical as the one in the tent at that moment, where swallowing his saliva or even blinking felt like it would cause a butterfly effect instantly. Zhen Ping stood stiffly, not daring to move any part of his body except for his eyes, which were on their eerily silent Vice-Marshal. Lin Shu knelt on the ground with his head lowered and his fringe obstructing the view of his eyes. Time crawled, and everyone observed Lin Shu intently because–
Because Prince Jing was Lin Shu’s best friend.
Lin Shu’s hands clenched into fists on his knees before he shot up, taking large strides towards the exit when Marshal Lin’s voice thundered in the room.
“Vice-marshal Lin Shu!” he roared, emphasising Lin Shu’s title. He stepped away from the table towards his son with his own hands balled into fists by his side. “Where do you think you’re going?!”
Lin Shu spun around with defiance blazing in his eyes. “To find Jingyan! He’s critically injured, and–”
“And what about your duties to your own army, your own men?!” Lin Xie shot back. “You are the Vice-Marshal of the Chiyan Army, the next Marshal of this army! You have a responsibility to your men! Will you throw them aside for your own personal worries? For your selfish reasons?”
Lin Shu cast his gaze aside, squaring his jaw. “You don’t understand. Jingyan–”
“Do you think I don’t worry about Jingyan?” Lin Xie asked with a thinly veiled challenge. Lin Shu’s mouth snapped shut.
Lin Shu held Lin Xie’s stare for a long moment, both men refusing to back down out of pride, but Lin Shu’s silence was the loudest defeat that Zhen Ping had ever heard, and Lin Xie knew it too. Lin Xie dropped his gaze eventually, the expression on his face turning downcast as his voice turned gentle.
“I love Jingyan like my own,” Lin Xie said softly, regretfully, “but duty comes first. Our loyalty is to the country, our duty to our men, and one man’s life cannot be above that.”
The words rang in Zhen Ping’s head all night as he stood guard in the horse stable, as Marshal Lin instructed him to do. Despite the way that Lin Shu bowed in deference earlier, Lin Xie suspected that his son would not give up that easily, and ordered Zhen Ping to stop his son from leaving their camp.
The wind howled, showering snow across the fields. Zhen Ping shivered slightly, hunching his shoulders to protect his face from the biting chill. Marshal Lin thought too highly of Vice-Marshal Lin, Zhen Ping thought. There was no way that anyone would be able to leave camp in this weather, not even if it was Vice-Marshal Lin. It was a death wish.
Vice-Marshal Lin wouldn’t leave the camp, not even for Prince Jing. There were still limits to the lengths that someone would go to for a friend, no matter how important that friend may be.
Zhen Ping pushed his hands closer to the crackling fire, trying to wiggle some feeling back into his fingers when a sound echoed in the stable. His eyes shot up, genuinely caught off guard. He was not alone in the stable, but when had anyone entered?
“Who’s there?” Zhen Ping asked, standing up and touching his sword apprehensively. He took slow, careful steps towards the source of the sound, where Vice-Marshal Lin’s horse was neighing. It didn’t take much to deduce who it was from there. “Vice-Marshal Lin?”
There was a pause.
“Zhen Ping,” Lin Shu greeted without turning around. He continued to get his horse ready.
Zhen Ping watched Lin Shu for a moment. Lin Shu worked with steady hands, the set of his shoulders firm and determined. “You’re leaving,” Zhen Ping said.
“I am,” Lin Shu agreed with no hesitation.
Zhen Ping bit his lip. Marshal Lin had instructed him to stop Vice-marshal Lin from leaving the compound, but Vice-Marshal Lin was his commander. His loyalty was to his Vice-Marshal, but as Marshal Lin said earlier, his loyalty was also to his country, and no one could be above that. He would go into a lost battle with his Vice-Marshal and lay down his life for him, but he couldn’t let his Vice-Marshal do something as foolish as disobeying a direct order to stay in the camp.
“I’ll have to report this to Marshal Lin,” Zhen Ping said in a last attempt to stop Lin Shu, inwardly proud of how level his voice was despite feeling otherwise.
Lin Shu paused for a split second, enough time for hope to flicker in Zhen Ping’s chest, before he continued as if Zhen Ping had never said anything.
“Do what you need to do, and I’ll do what I need to do.” Lin Shu got onto his horse in one smooth motion, picking up the reins as he settled on the saddle.
Zhen Ping stood in place, overcome with melancholy. He was once again on the outside, a passerby with no right to pry too much. He stared, uncomprehending, as Lin Shu guided his horse around him.
Lin Shu would be severely punished for this– Marshal Lin expected a lot from his men, and what he expected from his men, he demanded of his son tenfold. Lin Shu would be made an example of. He could even be stripped of his position and the chance to become the future Marshal of the Chiyan Army. There was no way that Lin Shu could be ignorant of this.
So why did he have to insist on leaving, when Marshal Lin had already made his position clear? Why did Lin Shu have to risk throwing away everything for a friend, for his best friend?
“Sir.”
Lin Shu stopped his horse. Zhen Ping blinked, surprised that he blurted something out, surprised that Lin Shu was waiting for him to finish. He worried his lip for a second, balling his hands at his side, as if it would gather the courage he needed to say what he wanted.
“Is it worth it?” Zhen Ping asked quietly, “Risking everything for this?”
For him?
There was a brief pause before Lin Shu said, equally quietly, “Jingyan is my most important person.” A moment went by before Lin Shu finished, his voice just above a breath, “Everything else is a small price to pay.”
Lin Shu tugged the reins, and his horse neighed loudly as it started out of the stable, its gallop across the untouched plains of snow leaving a cloud of white trailing behind them. Zhen Ping watched as Lin Shu and his horse grew smaller and smaller in the distance until, at last, they disappeared into the thin line separating the ink black night sky and the white snow that looked grey in the dark of the night.
Finally, everything made sense to Zhen Ping.
Xiao Jingyan was the Seventh Prince, commander of his own army, and Vice-Marshal Lin Shu’s best friend.
All along, Zhen Ping had been conflating the two. It wasn’t that Xiao Jingyan was Lin Shu’s best friend, but that Lin Shu’s best friend was Xiao Jingyan. Xiao Jingyan wasn’t just Lin Shu’s best friend, Xiao Jingyan was also Lin Shu’s most important person. The two could be separate entities for others, but they were one in the same for Lin Shu.
Or perhaps Zhen Ping was still thinking in simple terms. Perhaps there was no way to place a label on what Prince Jing was to Lin Shu, because it was never about what his place in his Vice-Marshal’s life was. Xiao Jingyan was his own label, a name given to a person with so much importance to Lin Shu that it was difficult to define something so abstract. Would it be enough to call that person your best friend? The person you love? The most important person in your life? All of those positions could be replaced by someone else. But to be Xiao Jingyan– that was a place that only one person could ever fill.
That Xiao Jingyan was Xiao Jingyan was what mattered to Lin Shu, everything else was dust.
Xiao Jingyan was Vice-Marshal Lin Shu’s best friend, his most important person, his Xiao Jingyan. That was all there was to it, really.
.
.
.
.
.
“Sir?”
Zhen Ping threw a glance over his shoulder at the new recruit, waiting hesitantly for Zhen Ping’s acknowledgement. He grunted in response, trying to scrub down the last stubborn bits of dried mud from his boots.
“Can I ask a question?”
Zhen Ping nodded, still frowning at his boots. “Yes.”
“Who is Prince Jing?”
Zhen Ping’s furious scrubbing died down gradually as the familiar words echoed in his head. He lifted his head to meet the new recruit’s eyes, at the confusion written in the small crease between his brows, and chuckled to himself.
“Prince Jing? He’s Vice-Marshal Lin’s best friend.”