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Sun Chao’en had walked up to Wei Yuan’s side before he knew it. After reading the letter, he remarked, “You can pour it all out, but can’t hold anything in. Your style is also reckless and untamed. If our teacher sees your calligraphy now, he will surely give you another scolding!”
“True.” Wei Yuan nodded. Suddenly, a pair of tears fell off his eyes and shattered against his chest plate.
His hand felt warm when he used it to wipe his face. When he turned to look at Sun Chao’en, he noticed that the man was full of tears a long time ago.
He wiped his face again when suddenly, he noticed an arrow sitting at a corner. It was the signal arrow Wei Yuan had left behind for Fang Hetong. Had the scholar shot the arrow, he would have learned of the assault and rushed back immediately.
The arrow was right within Fang Hetong’s reach, yet he had never used it.
Wei Yuan wondered why and arrived at the answer just a few seconds later. The Liao barbarians had invaded en masse, and there wasn’t a single spot on the frontier that was untouched by the flames of war. Those with spare forces had already dispatched them to aid the besieged. Wei Yuan himself had no established connections; there was no way anyone would turn back solely to rescue him. Fang Hetong, a man who knew the ways of the world very well, had long discerned this truth when...
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