Valerian

Although his words were so fluent, his hands were still hanging in the air. He learned from an early age how to surrender to fate, how to bend the childish pride and willfulness inch by inch, and oppress him under a smile as unbreakable as cast iron. Every time he thought that this was the last time, but every time, he was always disappointed. Tang Qian did not rush him. He picked up the garnet red brocade tunic dragon robe on the ground, dusted it off, and walked over and put it on his shoulders. The ink was too full and gradually condensed to the tip of the pen. Ji Chang's hand trembled, and one drop fell. In a blink of an eye, it soaked into the clean paper and spread irretrievably. He bit his lower lip, simply followed the ink marks, and quickly wrote: "Brother Zhong Xu: The situation is critical." The boy's eyes suddenly filled with tears, but he still kept writing. Letters are always written in twelve lines, no more and no less, and the writing is clear and precise. All the princes in the Zheng Dynasty have this kind of skill. Ji Chang put his cinnabar seal on the black and white paper, looked at it carefully, then folded it and handed it to Tang Qian. The childish and determined look on his face reminded Tang Qian of the gambler who bet his last gold baht in the gambling shop. Ji Chang looked at his Yulin troops and suddenly smiled. He was still a boy of thirteen and a half, with a smile that was still bright, but tired, and his eyebrows were heavy, as if they would never shine again.