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Zhao Changhe had anticipated an intense atmosphere of wartime urgency upon his return to the capital. In the end, however, he spent the New Year in the company of his women, balancing cultivation, introspection, and exploration.
At first, he felt overwhelmed, trying to divide his time among them all. But by the second or third day, everything gradually returned to a natural rhythm.
Everyone had their own matters to attend to. No one needed to cling to him, and he did not have to go out of his way to seek anyone’s company. For Chichi, Wanzhuang, and the others, just knowing that he was home was enough. His presence alone brought them a sense of security and contentment far more meaningful than any amount of time spent together.
Most of his time was spent in seclusion beneath the Imperial Ancestral Temple, meditating alongside Yue Hongling. They barely spoke, exchanging only the occasional glance and a faint smile.
In contrast with Yue Hongling, who remained almost completely motionless, Zhao Changhe still moved around frequently, mostly to join the others for meals and keep an eye on various ongoing matters.
The first of these matters was the storage boxes.
The boxes could be mass-produced, but the arrays carved into them had to be inscribed by hand. Each array was meticulously etched by the monks, making the completion...
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