HNYWEF -Chapter 207 Bride Price

After Li Shimin’s fingers lifted from the book cover, he did not withdraw his hand.

He simply left it resting on the desk, beside the book, fingertips less than an inch from the page, as if hesitating whether to open it again.

The hall fell silent for a moment.

Zhou Xiong sat in the chair, one arm draped over the armrest, legs stretched out, watching Li Shimin.

Zhou Yi sat nearby, back straight, eyes fixed on his own knees, afraid to look around.

Candlelight flickered twice, shifting their shadows from the wall to the floor, then back from the floor to the wall again.

Li Shimin moved his hand.

He turned to the first page.

He had already seen “Distinguishing Water,” “Collecting Herbs,” and “Recognizing Roads.”

He flipped past those pages, then a few more, until he reached somewhere in the middle-back section and stopped.

The title of that page was—“Observing the Sky.”

Below it were lines written clearly and methodically:

If there are clouds in the west before sunrise, it will be sunny. If there are clouds in the east after sunset, it will rain. A halo around the moon brings wind; dampness at the base of pillars signals rain. A rainbow appearing in the east means fair weather; in the west, rain…

Line after line. Item after item.

It was not anything mystical or obscure. It was something visible, tangible—something that could be used.

When to harvest grain, when to march troops, when to set up camp—it was all written clearly.

Li Shimin’s gaze lingered on that page for a long time. His hand did not turn further; it simply pressed against the edge of the page, thumb holding the paper still.

He understood.

Not the relationship between weather and celestial signs—but why Zhou Xiong had written this book.

A man who writes down everything he knows, line by line, clearly, with diagrams and annotations—he is not jotting things casually. He is pulling knowledge out of himself.

To be able to pull it out meant those things no longer weighed on him.

To be able to write it down meant he was no longer afraid.

To be able to hand it over meant he had let go.

Li Shimin’s finger pressed lightly on the page, then lifted.

He looked up at Zhou Xiong.

“The weather’s good today. Good for travel.”

The same words that had started everything resurfaced in Li Shimin’s mind.

Zhou Xiong was still sitting in that chair, arm on the armrest, legs stretched out.

But his expression had changed. Not the lazy “guess what I’m thinking” look from before, nor the impatience from when he first entered—but a quiet, waiting expression.

Li Shimin looked at him for two breaths.

Then he spoke.

His voice was not loud, but it was clear.

“Brother Xiong, thank you.”

Zhou Xiong’s eyes shifted slightly.

Not a sudden brightness—but a “as expected” kind of shift, as if what he had been waiting for had finally arrived. Not surprising, yet still enough to make something in his chest tremble.

He looked at Li Shimin. Li Shimin looked back.

The hall fell silent again.

But this silence was different.

The previous silence had been one waiting for words. This silence was one after words had already been spoken—nothing more needed to be said.

Zhou Xiong stood up from the chair. His movement was unhurried, but steady.

He walked to the desk, glanced down at the open book, at the two characters “Observing the Sky,” then looked up at Li Shimin.

“The northeast region,” his voice was rough, unhurried, like he was talking about something ordinary, “you’re definitely interested.”

Li Shimin’s fingers twitched slightly.

Zhou Xiong continued:

“You’ve already missed it once. If you go again, don’t drag the soldiers into another pit.”

His tone remained even—neither heavy nor light—like speaking to a colleague at the Ministry of Works, or instructing an apprentice in a forge.

But the words “don’t drag the soldiers into another pit” carried a little more weight than the rest. Subtle, but undeniable.

He looked at Li Shimin and paused.

“Think of this as my betrothal gift.”

Zhou Yi suddenly looked up from behind, then quickly lowered his head again.

Zhou Xiong did not look at him.

He looked at Li Shimin, the corner of his mouth twitching—not quite a smile, more like indifference mixed with finality.

“Gold and silver? You don’t lack those, do you?”

He turned around and motioned for Zhou Yi.

Zhou Yi stood up and walked over, standing beside his father.

Zhou Xiong gave Li Shimin one last look, then stepped toward the door.

Zhou Yi followed behind him. After a few steps, he suddenly remembered something, turned back to bow to Li Shimin, then turned again and followed his father.

The two of them walked out of the Two Rituals Hall one after the other.

Their footsteps echoed along the corridor for a while, growing fainter, until they were swallowed by the wind.

The doors were left open.

Night wind poured into the hall, making the candlelight tremble.

Li Shimin sat behind the desk, staring at the open doorway.

Outside the door was the corridor, beyond that the courtyard, and beyond that, the moon.

The moon had already risen high—round and bright—casting light over the stone steps like a layer of frost.

He lowered his head and looked at the book on the desk.

It was still open to the page “Observing the Sky.” The wind passed over it, making the pages flutter slightly before settling again.

His hand was still on the book, thumb still pressing the edge of the page, unmoved since earlier.

“Northeast region.”

He repeated the words in his mind slowly.

The northeast. Goguryeo. A place where even Emperor Yang of Sui had suffered defeat.

Li Shimin closed the book carefully, placing it in the safest corner of the desk.

Then he stood up and walked to the doorway, standing under the corridor eaves, looking up at the moon.

The wind from the courtyard blew in, cool and faint, carrying the scent of osmanthus.

He stood there for a long time.

The lantern under the eaves swayed in the wind; shadows on the ground swayed with it, then steadied again.