This was Huan Xian’s thoughtfulness.
Thus, Zhou Xiuwen didn’t immediately refute or explain. Instead, he said gently, “I’ll mention it to my father later. Thanks.”
However… it probably wouldn’t change anything. At that moment, he turned his head away, and no one noticed the faint bitter smile on his lips.
Because this place was the only one where his father could now find some freedom and relaxation. Bound by the empire’s responsibilities for a lifetime, he could only rely on such external things to gain a sliver of mental peace.
When this former marshal was still in robust health, he had repeatedly thrown himself into the abyss to ensure the safety of billions. Now, with his body weakened and his life’s fire nearly extinguished, he still couldn’t find release, trapped in a frail, diminished form, gazing at the same scenery day after day.
After returning to this less bustling territory, their lives had become much quieter, and his father’s spirit had slightly eased. Uncle Rex suggested building a spacious garden around the residence to help Zhou Yuanjing recover and rest, so they designated a large nearby plot and even organized a dedicated patrol team for the area.
The garden did improve Zhou Yuanjing’s spirits somewhat. He never said whether he liked it or not, but he would occasionally have someone push him around in it.
But that was all. He still wasn’t happy… His father rarely smiled anymore, despite how his grandfather once described him as someone who loved to laugh.
Who could save him?
Years ago, that catastrophe left this man plagued by illness, tormented by suffering, and gradually wasting away.
Though the marks and legends he left behind remained vivid, the cruel flower of reality had wilted beyond recognition. The warrior who once shone with such vigor, who made countless strongmen bow and earned the love of the masses, had lost his strong, whole body and become frail and broken.
Even though he rarely showed it to them, Zhou Xiuwen knew… this powerful father would sometimes sit silently by the window in the quiet of the night, lost in thought.
Having lost both legs, daily movement was inconvenient, despite having many soldiers at his command. With his condition, forcing himself to go out was merely a burden. Thus, in recent years, Zhou Yuanjing had rarely left the Zhou residence except for official duties.
The last time he went to the school to watch a competition was only after Zhou Xiuwen’s persistent pleading. The time before that was three years prior.
And in recent years, as the toxins eroded his body, Zhou Yuanjing was often in a state of extreme weakness, frequently bedridden, his spirits consistently low.
Yet the military’s sudden pursuit operation still stirred this bedridden former marshal. To protect the people of their star to the fullest, he had to drag his frail body to assist the military in closing the net, even though he himself had little faith in the deeply flawed plan. But those in charge insisted on proceeding.
As expected, the operation’s outcome was far from ideal, costing many lives with little progress. If mishandled, it could spark public resentment…
But that was no longer Zhou Yuanjing’s concern. He had done what he could. The mess created by others could be cleaned up by them—it had nothing to do with him.
These were matters for later.
In short, although this garden posed considerable risks and required significant manpower and resources to maintain, it was the only thing they could do for Zhou Yuanjing. No matter how difficult, they had to keep it up, so this hero, struck by ill fate, could enjoy a bit more of life’s beauty.
---
Xierman’s guess was correct. As they approached the central residence, they passed through several layers of stringent security: gamma detection beams, triple identity verification, badge checks, and more—a rigorous, multi-tiered screening process.
Of course, for Zhou Xiuwen, each checkpoint was relatively straightforward. Aside from one automated scan, most were cleared with facial recognition. After all, he was the son of the household’s master, known to all, so there was no need for excessive formalities.
The cumbersome procedures were mainly due to the hovercar trailing behind them, which kept getting delayed at every step for lack of such privileges. At first, they waited at each checkpoint, but eventually, growing impatient, they drove straight ahead, leaving the other vehicle far behind.
The deeper they went, the heavier the atmosphere grew. Upon entering a certain inner perimeter, they felt dozens of gazes instantly lock onto them. Though there was no hostility, the undeniable weight of scrutiny made their muscles tense involuntarily.
What kind of household was this? The security was so intense… Although Jiang Hui had anticipated something like this, experiencing it firsthand gave her a visceral sense of its reality.
Another checkpoint appeared, but according to Zhou Xiuwen, it was the final one.
Everyone breathed a sigh of relief. Seeing that the trailing hovercar wouldn’t catch up anytime soon, Zhou Xiuwen set the navigation to head toward a small white building where they would stay. The others in the hovercar were headed to report to Zhou Yuanjing anyway, so waiting would only mean parting ways later.
As Jiang Hui’s gaze followed a staff member who sped by, she suddenly recalled something and asked, “Classmate Zhou, where are those people from earlier? The soldiers who escorted us at the arena… Have they not returned yet?”
Seeing the staff member’s uniform reminded her of the soldiers who had escorted them at the arena, dressed in similar attire, likely part of Zhou Xiuwen’s security detail. She realized the faces following Zhou Xiuwen now seemed different, and she wondered where the earlier group had gone.
Zhou Xiuwen’s expression froze. Caught off guard by Jiang Hui’s question, he turned to look at her, unprepared for the topic. In that fleeting moment, his change in demeanor was unmistakable to everyone present.
Seeing this, Jiang Hui instinctively sensed something was wrong. But having already asked, changing the subject now would seem forced, leaving her at a loss.
The hovercar fell silent.
Zhou Xiuwen hadn’t expected Jiang Hui to remember. Nor had he forgotten… because to him, it was devastating news. Since learning of it, he had been quietly despondent, trying not to let his friends notice, bottling it up inside. Yet Jiang Hui’s question had pierced through his facade.
He, too, wanted to know… Where had they gone? A brief parting had become eternal.
“They’re gone,” the young man said softly, as if afraid of disturbing something.