Chapter 36 — The Talisman Painter Who Guards the Village

Letters from the Capital

A rare group of postmen from the capital Lệ Dương stopped by the Tiêu Sa Pass on a hot sunny afternoon, carrying periodic letters and supplies for the border garrison - the first mail shipment in nearly two months, causing the entire camp to stir up excitement.

Diệp Sương received a thick envelope from Âu Bội Nhi, with familiar handwriting scribbled full of enthusiasm, while Cố Thanh Việt held another envelope in his hand, bearing the familiar seal of the General's palace, but this time it was much thicker than the previous letters, and his face when he received it revealed an undisguised tension.

"Aren't you going to open it now?" Diệp Sương asked, realizing he only held the envelope in his hand, with no intention of opening it to read.

"We need to prepare mentally first," Thanh Việt replied, his voice somewhat forced. "My father's letters are always heavy. Later." Diệp Sương did not force him, just nodded slightly, then turned to tear open her envelope, her voice deliberately gentle to dispel the tense atmosphere. "Then let me read Âu Bội Nhi's letter first, it'll probably be just fun gossip."

The entire postal army, after delivering mail and supplies, was invited by Sầm Nguyên Trạch to stay for lunch before continuing their journey further toward other garrisons along the border. The barracks atmosphere became bustling in an instant, soldiers gathered together to ask for news from the capital, from big towns they had not visited for a long time, a rare simple joy amid the dry daily life on the border.

*

In the afternoon, while Diệp Sương read Âu Bội Nhi's letter in a quiet corner of the yard, she could not help laughing at her friend's lively words: Wei Bá Tuân had just been harshly criticized by Nhiêu Bá Tường for his negligent attitude; Húc Bá Nguyên was pushing for stricter standards for "unorthodox" methods; and Âu Bội Nhi had been selected for a small survey team in Lam Thủy Town.

But at the end of the letter, the gentle tone changed to a much more serious one.

"I heard something strange," Âu Bội Nhi wrote. "Someone said that Húc Bá Nguyên recently had frequent contact with a few Khâm Vân Ti officials who visited the sect, discussing something about 'optimizing the allocation of Linh Mạch resources to key areas'. I don't understand the meaning, but it doesn't sound very good, especially when you are in a place that is listed as 'non-key'. Be careful, don't let your stomach go hungry and forget to eat like everyone else."

Diệp Sương read and reread that last paragraph many times, a cold feeling creeping into her heart even though the weather was hot. The phrase "key area" rang in her head like a vague but persistent warning bell.

She folded the letter, put it in her chest, then found Vệ Chinh, who was sitting nearby taking notes in the logistics book, and recounted the part of the letter that bothered her. "Have you heard anything about the classification of Khâm Vân Ti's key areas?" she asked.

Vệ Chinh frowned in thought. "I vaguely heard, back when I was in the sect, that the royal court had a system of ranking regions according to the priority of investing resources in protecting Linh Mạch," he replied, his voice cautious. "But I've never seen any official documents, and it's unclear where Tiêu Sa Pass ranks in that system."

"If this area is not classified as a key area," Diệp Sương muttered, "then is our being sent here just a temporary exception, not a real change in the way the court treats places like Diêm Cốc village?"

That question had no immediate answer, just hovering in the hot afternoon air, making Diệp Sương even more determined to find out more clearly before this mission ended.

*

That night, Diệp Sương went to Thanh Việt's room and saw him sitting quietly at the table, the envelope from the capital had been opened, but his eyes looked farther out the window than at the words.

"Are you okay?" he asked softly, sitting down opposite.

Thanh Việt was silent for a long time before responding. "My father wrote," he said, his voice lowering, "that the situation in the capital is becoming increasingly tense. There are factions in the court arguing fiercely over the policy of exploiting Linh Mạch, and my father, as General, is being dragged into the middle of those disputes even though he doesn't want to be."

He paused, his hand tightening on the edge of the table. "My father also mentioned my brother," he continued, his voice hoarse, something he rarely said on his own initiative. "Say that if he were still alive, he would probably be strong enough to shoulder these responsibilities for me, so that I wouldn't have to bear the pressure of having to learn how to draw spells while taking care of family matters."

*

Diệp Sương quietly held his hand, saying nothing at first and simply letting her presence be a fulcrum. She remembered all the times Thanh Việt had been by her side in her weakest moments—the first night on duty at Cảnh Linh Đài, the night at Linh Căn temple when she was exhausted, and the last night when he had worried outside the pharmacist's room—and realized that this was probably the first time the roles were reversed, when she was the one who needed to be stronger to support him.

"You don't have to be a carbon copy of your brother," he said softly, his voice firm. "My father may be grieving in his own way, but that doesn't mean he's right to compare me to the deceased. I am who I am, and what I've done—in Vân Tiêu, here—is truly my own effort, not borrowed from anyone."

Thanh Việt looked up at it, his eyes revealing a deep emotion that was rarely revealed. "You always know how to say exactly what I need to hear," he said softly, his voice shaking slightly. "I don't know if I'm worthy of that trust."

"You deserve it," Diệp Sương replied without hesitation, repeating the same words he once told her. "More than anyone I've ever known."

Outside the window, the chirping sound of night insects echoed from the arid land, and the crescent moon gradually hung high in the sky, shining a silver halo on the two figures still sitting quietly together, no one let go of the other's hand first, as if both wanted to prolong that fragile moment a little longer.

*

The two sat silently together for a long time, the flickering oil lamplight reflected their shadows on the cliff, no one said anything more, just let that moment of silence heal the invisible wounds that words could hardly touch.

"Thank you," Thanh Việt finally said, his voice calm again. "For being here."

"I will always be here," Diệp Sương replied, then suddenly remembered Âu Bội Nhi's letter about Húc Bá Nguyên, Khâm Vân Ti, and the phrase "key area" that had bothered her all afternoon.

Thanh Việt listened, his face gradually became serious again, completely putting aside his own sadness to focus on the common problem. "If that's true," he said, his voice thoughtful, "perhaps our being sent here wasn't simply for internal sect political reasons as I once thought. Maybe there's another, bigger reason, that both of us haven't fully seen yet." Diệp Sương nodded, a familiar feeling of insecurity arose in her heart again, but this time, she no longer felt alone in facing it, with Thanh Việt sitting right next to her, sharing the burden of unanswered questions.

"We should write a reply to Âu Bội Nhi," he said after a moment of contemplation, "asking her to inquire more, very discreetly, about the meetings between Húc Bá Nguyên and Khâm Vân Ti. But we must be careful not to reveal that we are suspicious of anything specific."

"Agree," Thanh Việt nodded. "I will also write to ask my father, although he rarely answers directly to sensitive questions. But at least, maybe he will reveal something through the way he avoids the answer."

Diệp Sương chuckled softly at that calculated, roundabout way of speaking, a personality trait rarely revealed in a person who is always straightforward like Thanh Việt. "Sounds like you learned a few tricks from your father," he teased.

"Maybe so," Thanh Việt replied, smiling slightly, his eyes softened compared to the heavy look at the beginning of the evening. "But at least, I learned how to use it for a purpose I believe is right, not to compete for power in the court."

Outside, the night wind whistled softly through the cracks in the stone wall, bringing with it the cold air of the border region, but in that small room, between two people who had just faced their own pain and shared worries together, a deeper bond had silently grown up, without needing a word to be said for both of them to feel it.