Chapter 392: Writing a Letter

Zhu Yong sat in the courtyard for a while longer, then got up and walked toward the study.

In the study were piles of documents, some from the local Tie Mu Er Prefecture, some sent from Constantinople, and others forwarded from Yingtian Prefecture.

He sat down and began reviewing them.

The first was from Constantinople, reporting that the city's populace had grown accustomed to the Ming army's rule, that the former Ottoman troops had become obedient, farming where they should farm, trading where they should trade, and no one caused trouble.

The second came from a county west of Tie Mu Er Prefecture, stating that this year's cotton harvest was abundant, yielding three thousand shi more than last year.

The third was forwarded from Yingtian Prefecture, handwritten by Zhu Yuanzhang.

"Yong Er, seeing these words is like seeing you face to face; your elder brother has arrived in Samarkand, right? Send him my regards. He wrote to me about the affairs over there; he's doing well. Your mother and I are fine, no need to worry.

The railway has reached Lanzhou; when your elder brother returns he can take a train. If you lack anything over there, write back and we'll have someone deliver it. Take care... Father."

Zhu Yong finished reading the letter, folded the paper neatly, and placed it in the drawer.

He picked up a brush and began writing a reply.

"Father, seeing these words is like seeing you. Elder brother has arrived, has been here for over a month, surveyed the situation in Tie Mu Er Prefecture, and says the administration here is decent, so you can rest assured.

Elder brother set out today to return; I sent Qiongjiong and Huan Huan to accompany him and see you and Mother. That kid Qiongjiong is very cheeky; don't spoil him. Mother's health is still good, right? In your last letter you mentioned a backache; I sent Mother some medicine, prepared by the Sixth Prince, said it works.

Make Mother take it on schedule. Regarding the railway, elder brother told me it has reached Lanzhou; once it reaches Samarkand, I'll return to see you and Mother. Take care... Son Zhu Yong, respectfully."

After finishing the letter, he sealed it and handed it to Zhang Wu: "Send a courier on a swift horse to return it to Yingtian Prefecture."

"Understood."

Zhu Yong leaned against the chair back and closed his eyes.

His mind was a jumble: one moment he saw Zhu Biao riding away on horseback, the next Zhu Qiongjiong grinning, and another moment Zhu Huanhuan with red‑eyed circles saying, "Father, you must take care of yourself."

He opened his eyes and looked at the sky outside the window.

The sky was a deep blue, cloudless.

A few birds flew over the courtyard and headed east.

That was the direction of Yingtian Prefecture.

At the same time, three hundred li east of Samarkand, a detachment was slowly advancing along the official road.

Zhu Biao rode at the front, Zhu Xiongying beside him, Zhu Qiongjiong and Zhu Huanhuan behind, and Zhu Gaochi lagged at the rear.

"Elder uncle, where shall we rest tonight?" Zhu Qiongjiong urged his horse to catch up.

Zhu Biao glanced at the sky, then at the map, and said, "There's a post station ahead; we can reach it before nightfall."

Zhu Qiongjiong nodded and asked, "Elder uncle, when we get to Lanzhou, can we really take a train?"

"Yes."

"Is it fast?"

"Fast—much faster than riding."

Zhu Qiongjiong's eyes lit up; he turned his horse back, and whispered something to Zhu Xiongying.

Zhu Huanhuan rode at the rear, cradling a book in her hands but not reading it.

She lifted her head and gazed at the western sky.

There, in the direction of Samarkand, nothing could be seen.

"Sister Huan Huan, do you miss home?" Zhu Gaochi urged his horse to keep up.

Zhu Huanhuan withdrew her gaze and whispered, "I miss..."

Zhu Gaochi nodded, took out the small notebook, and wrote a few characters.

"In the nineteenth year of Hongwu, three hundred li east of Samarkand, Sister Huan Huan said she missed home."

Zhu Huanhuan watched him write, a faint smile curling her lips.

This child remembers everything.

The column continued eastward.

The sun gradually sank westward, tinting the whole plain golden.

In the distance, the outline of a post station could be faintly seen.

Zhu Biao halted his horse and glanced back at the western sky.

There, toward Samarkand, nothing was visible.

He turned, gave his mount a sharp cue, and the warhorse surged forward.

Zhu Xiongying and Zhu Qiongjiong followed behind, while Zhu Huanhuan and Zhu Gaochi lagged at the rear.

The hoofbeats echoed across the open plain, one after another, fading into the distance.

The sunset sank, and the final afterglow vanished on the horizon.

The column stopped before the post station.

Zhu Biao tossed himself off the horse and strode into the courtyard.

A few children trailed behind; Zhu Qiongjiong ran to the front and, upon entering, shouted, "Shopkeeper, any food? I'm starving!"

The shopkeeper was a man in his fifties, speaking with a He Xi Corridor accent, smiling as he replied, "We've got it, just out of the pot—lamb noodle soup. How many bowls, sir?"

"Five bowls!" Zhu Qiongjiong plopped onto a stool.

Zhu Huanhuan entered, sat beside her brother, and whispered, "Can you really eat five bowls?"

"I can, sister; you already know me."

Zhu Huanhuan shook her head and said nothing more.

Zhu Biao sat at the table, Zhu Xiongying beside him, Zhu Gaochi at the far end, took out his notebook and began writing again.

The noodles were promptly served, steaming hot, the lamb stew thick and mushy, the noodles chewy.

Zhu Qiongjiong buried his face in the noodles, slurping loudly.

Zhu Xiongying ate more gracefully, but not slowly.

Zhu Gaochi ate in tiny bites, and while eating he was jotting something in his notebook.

Zhu Biao looked at the children, a slight smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

He suddenly recalled the days in Yingtian Prefecture, when he too had dined like this with his younger brothers.

Back then, Zhu Shuang and Zhu Gang were the most boisterous at meals, scattering rice grains everywhere each time.

Zhu Di was the quietest; after finishing, he would even help Chang Wan clear the dishes.

In the blink of an eye, they had all grown up.

"Uncle, what are you thinking?" Zhu Qiong Jiong lifted his head, noodle broth staining his face.

Zhu Biao shook his head and laughed, "Nothing. Eat quickly, rest early after finishing; we have to set out tomorrow."

Zhu Qiong Jiong responded with a nod and kept tucking into his noodles.

Zhu Huanhuan ate slowly, chewing bite by bite, occasionally looking up at his brothers with a smile at the corner of his mouth.

Zhu Gaochi set down his brush, closed his notebook, and also began eating noodles.

Outside the Post Station, the sky had already turned completely dark.

Stars lit up one by one, dense and countless, like a handful of scattered silver dust.

In the distance, faint wolf howls drifted, mournful and lingering.

Zhu Qiong Jiong set his bowl down, listened, and grinned.

"More wolves again, Uncle. Want me to deal with them?"

Zhu Biao glanced at him and said, "Eat your noodles."

Zhu Qiong Jiong let out a chuckle and kept tucking into his noodles.

Zhu Huanhuan shook his head and softly said, "Can't you just settle down for a while?"

Zhu Qiong Jiong fell silent, but his eyes still glanced out the window.

Zhu Biao set his bowl down, stood up, walked to the window, and gazed at the night outside.

In the distance, the wolf howls gradually faded.

He turned around and looked at the children.

"Rest early; we have to set out tomorrow."

The children answered, rose, and headed toward the guest room.

Zhu Xiongying walked at the rear, reached the doorway, and glanced back at his father.

"Dad, you should rest early too."

Zhu Biao nodded.

Zhu Xiongying closed the door, and his footsteps grew distant.

Zhu Biao stood by the window, looking at the night sky outside.

The stars were bright, far more than those over Yingtian Prefecture.

He suddenly recalled what his second brother had said.

"Brother, when the railway is completed, you can take the train, and I'll show you the Adriatic Sea coast."

The railway has been built to Lanzhou.

It is still far from Samarkand, and even farther from Constantinople.

But he knew that someday a train would come.

It would reach Samarkand, reach Constantinople, and reach the Adriatic Sea coast.

When that time comes, he'll return.

When that time comes, the second brother won't need to see him off.

Early the next morning, the party continued on the road.

Zhu Biao rode his horse at the front, Zhu Xiongying walked beside him, Zhu Qiong Jiong and Zhu Huanhuan followed behind, and Zhu Gaochi lagged at the rear.

After traveling for several days, they reached a small town a thousand li east of Samarkand.

The town was not large, but bustling; the streets were full of people, with stalls selling flatbread, roasted meat, silk, and spices.

Zhu Biao rested in the town for a day, changed horses and supplies, and continued eastward.

After a few more days, they arrived at a vast Grassland two thousand li east of Samarkand.

The grass had turned yellow, and when the wind blew, it rolled like Jin-colored sea waves.

In the distance, a few yellow goats grazed, occasionally lifting their heads to glance this way before lowering them again to eat.

Zhu Qiong Jiong spurred his horse and galloped out, chasing the goats far away, until Zhu Huanhuan called him back.

"Qiong Jiong, don't run too far."

Zhu Qiong Jiong held the reins, returning reluctantly.

"Sister, I was just looking."

"Even just looking isn't allowed; what if we get lost?"

Zhu Qiong Jiong pursed his lips and said nothing more.

The party kept moving east.