In the first year of the Zhenguan era, the 22nd day of the seventh month.
An autumn wind seemed to be blowing, but the sun was still vicious.
The gate of the Zhou family iron shop was open. From inside came the steady rhythm of hammering.
“Clang.”
“Clang.”
“Clang.”
Li Shimin stood at the doorway, sweat sliding down his neck.
He had come again.
Alone again.
This time, he had even counted—his imperial father had fathered nineteen daughters in total. Twelve were still alive. Of those of suitable age and not yet betrothed, there were four.
More than enough for him to choose from.
He stepped over the threshold.
Zhou Sheng didn’t turn around.
The hammer kept falling.
“Clang.”
“Clang.”
Li Shimin walked to the long workbench and stopped.
He looked at Zhou Sheng’s profile. There was no expression on that face at all. Sweat ran down his temple, dripping onto his shoulder and darkening a small patch of cloth.
He spoke.
“I’ve come again.”
Zhou Sheng ignored him.
The hammer kept falling.
“Clang.”
“Clang.”
Li Shimin waited a breath.
Then he spoke again.
“This time, I’ve really figured it out.”
The hammer didn’t stop.
“Clang.”
Li Shimin continued, “Last time you said it wouldn’t work because of Fuji—I understand now.”
Still, the hammer didn’t stop.
“So this time I went around him.”
He clasped his hands behind his back and stood straighter.
“I’ve found you a wife. A princess of the imperial clan…”
Before he could finish, Zhou Sheng’s hammer suddenly froze in midair.
It stopped.
He slowly turned around.
And looked at Li Shimin.
There was mist in those eyes. Beneath the mist, something was moving.
He even let out a rare sigh first.
“Li Er.”
Two words.
Hoarse, flat, like saying, “It’s hot today.”
Li Shimin froze.
He stared at Zhou Sheng, momentarily unresponsive.
Li… Li Er?
He even wondered if he had misheard.
How many years had it been since anyone dared call him that?
Not since he became emperor.
Not since he was the King of Qin.
Not since—since when, exactly?
He couldn’t remember.
But before he could recover from the first shock, Zhou Sheng had already spoken again.
“You figured out shit!”
Li Shimin opened his mouth slightly.
Zhou Sheng didn’t give him time to speak.
“Do you fucking know why I’ve been alone for nine years?”
He slammed the hammer down onto the anvil.
Bang!
Li Shimin took half a step back.
Zhou Sheng stepped forward.
“You think I need you to pick a wife for me?! Hah?!”
Li Shimin said nothing.
Another step forward.
“Do you even know what I dream about every night?!”
Another half step back from Li Shimin.
Zhou Sheng stood there, staring at him.
“If I really wanted a wife, I’d have to trouble His Majesty personally to pick one for me? Pah!”
Li Shimin’s heartbeat quickened.
Not fear.
Just shock.
Utter shock.
That tone. That rhythm. Those words—he knew them too well.
Back in the Wagang years, this guy used to curse like that.
Cursing while stitching wounds, laughing right after, like a fool.
He thought he would never hear it again.
But now he had.
Right in front of him.
Being cursed at—pointing right at his nose.
Li Shimin suddenly didn’t know what to say.
He just stood there, looking at Zhou Sheng.
Zhou Sheng looked back at him.
The two of them stood like that.
The furnace crackled.
Time passed.
So long that Li Shimin’s legs began to ache.
Zhou Sheng moved first.
He turned back around and returned to the workbench.
Picked up the hammer.
“Clang.”
Li Shimin stood behind him, watching that back.
He wanted to say something.
Wanted to say he didn’t mean it like that.
Wanted to say it was goodwill.
Wanted to say—
But he said nothing.
Because right now, only one thought filled his mind:
This bastard’s way of cursing has come back.
He stood there, watching the back that kept striking iron, one hammer blow after another.
He watched for a long time.
Then he turned and walked out.
At the doorway, he stopped.
Didn’t look back.
He stood there for a breath.
Then he pushed the door open and left.
The sunlight outside was so bright it hurt his eyes.
He stood at the doorway, squinting.
After a while, he suddenly let out a laugh.
Very soft.
“Li Er…”
He muttered the name to himself.
Then he shook his head as he walked away.
The alley was long.
The sun was fierce.
He walked slowly.
But the corners of his mouth kept lifting.
He couldn’t suppress it.
It was as if that foolish, fearless man from back then—
had returned.
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