Ashes to Crown

Chapter 122: Chapter 78: Lately

As the night faded, a troop of seventeen or eighteen horsemen galloped forth, tearing through the last vestiges of darkness as pale dawn light spread across the land.

The man in the lead extinguished the torch in his hand.

He announced loudly, "There’s a teahouse up ahead! Not only do they have tea, but they’ve got food too. There’s even a teahouse beauty inside who makes delicious steamed buns. Let’s head over there to rest and regroup."

The soldiers behind him cheered in unison. Upon hearing this, their exhaustion began to melt away, and the atmosphere grew lively.

"Mr. Zhong, it’s been over a decade since you’ve been to the Capital City, right? Is that place even still there?" someone shouted. "Don’t get our hopes up for nothing."

Zhong Changrong glanced back at the lad and laughed heartily. "Things change, but some things never do. Even if that teahouse is gone, it’s not like we’ll die of thirst! What’s there to be afraid of? We’ll just keep riding."

"But you’re the one who gave us hope." "Mr. Zhong, you’ll have to treat us when we get there," the soldiers clamored.

These were all soldiers he had personally trained. They were so familiar with him they didn’t stand on ceremony, and Zhong Changrong didn’t mind.

He raised his horsewhip. "Alright! If even one of you can overtake me, I’ll treat you all to a round of drinks at the finest tavern in the Capital City."

The moment he finished speaking, a chorus of whoops erupted from behind him. With hooves flying, the once-weary soldiers romped ahead like a flock of sheep just let out of their pen.

Zhong Changrong roared with laughter, shouting, "You little rascals!" as he cracked his whip and spurred his horse in pursuit.

The morning light illuminated the land. Steam rose from a large cauldron of boiling water, shrouding the tea stall in a fog that made it look like a celestial paradise.

"Your tea, sirs," a hoarse voice called out. An old woman approached, carrying a teapot in each hand.

Seeing the old woman’s trembling state, the soldiers quickly stood up, rushing to take the pots from her. "Granny, we can get it ourselves."

The old woman chuckled and handed them the teapots. "Just you wait. I’ll go cook some noodles for you."

Watching the old woman hobble away, all the soldiers turned to look at Zhong Changrong.

"Mr. Zhong, is that the ’beauty’ you were talking about?"

"Mr. Zhong, you have... unique taste."

"Hey, don’t be like that. Even the greatest beauties get old."

The soldiers snickered. Zhong Changrong shot them a glare. "Stop your nonsense. The owners have obviously changed."

He glanced around. The tea stall was still the same old place, but the owners had changed. ’I wonder what happened to that young couple. I guess this is what they call ’things remaining while people change.’’

The tea stall was right by the main road and had plenty of customers. Before long, it was full, buzzing with accents from all corners of the land.

A few soldiers couldn’t help but stare around curiously, but Zhong Changrong stopped them with a hushed warning.

"We’re nearing the Capital City. There are too many eyes and ears here, so everyone be more cautious," he said. "This isn’t the Border County, where we can act as we please—especially since we’re the General’s men."

The soldiers quickly straightened up and averted their gazes.

One soldier couldn’t help but whisper, "Mr. Zhong, I heard the General was quite the figure in the Capital City back in the day—"

Zhong Changrong’s expression dimmed for a moment. "That was all in the past. It’s been over a decade. No one even remembers the General anymore—"

The moment he finished speaking, the voices of a laughing group at a table behind them suddenly grew louder.

"—so that’s how she won! The Third Prince himself invited her to the literary gathering—"

This comment stirred up an even greater clamor. Patrons at other tables started asking, "Really? She really won?" "How could she? She’s just a young woman."

Being questioned by so many people, the original speaker became even more smug. "Of course she won! The Heir of Zhongshan King delivered the invitation personally on behalf of the Third Prince."

The surrounding din grew louder. "Amazing." "These young women nowadays." "This literary gathering is going to be interesting."

Amid the lively chatter, Zhong Changrong’s table fell silent. The soldiers drank their tea quietly, their eyes darting around as they strained their ears to listen to all this talk of people and events they rarely heard about in the Border County—the Third Prince, the Heir of Zhongshan King, literary gatherings...

’The Third Prince is an actual Prince, and everyone’s talking about him so casually! The Capital City really is different from the Border County. Back home, the most talked-about person is the Prefectural Governor’s eldest son.’

’And listen to what they’re doing—a literary gathering! We don’t have anything like that in the Border County. All we have are the rowdy parties of the Prefectural Governor’s son and the Great General’s nephews—eating, drinking, making merry, and then ending the night with a brawl.’

’And the women—’

’So impressive, so lively. This really is the heart of the empire.’

The soldiers listened excitedly to the unfamiliar topics, until a certain name caught their ear.

"—Chu Ling, you know."

’Chu Ling? That name sounds a little familiar,’ the soldiers thought, pausing for a moment. ’But there are plenty of people with the same name in the world. It’s not surprising in a city as big as the Capital.’

’Besides, Mr. Zhong just said it’s been over a decade. Things have changed, and no one in the Capital City remembers the General anymore.’

They saw Mr. Zhong, seemingly unconcerned, calmly eating his noodles, downing half the bowl with a loud SLURP.

So everyone went back to drinking their tea or eating their noodles, all while keeping their ears pricked.

"—Of course she’s not ordinary! That’s General Wei, Chu Ling, we’re talking about! Back in his day, he caused a much bigger stir than any of these young ladies—"

PFFT! Zhong Changrong, who was in the middle of slurping his noodles, choked. He tried to cough but couldn’t, spraying broth and noodles from his mouth and nose. The soldiers at his table reacted quickly, grabbing their own bowls and dodging out of the way.

The commotion drew glances from all around. They saw a middle-aged man with a scar on his face, now covered in food. Some snickered, some looked on with contempt, and others, frightened by the scar, quickly averted their eyes. It was obvious he was a soldier from the Border County, a country bumpkin who had never seen the world, making such a fuss over a simple bowl of noodles with an egg.

The onlookers paid him no more mind and returned to their conversations.

Zhong Changrong grabbed a soldier’s sleeve and wiped his face. "You little rascals are quick to run."

The soldiers, both amused and astonished, huddled back together and asked in low voices, "Mr. Zhong, they’re talking about... the General, right?"

’There are plenty of people named Chu Ling. Could there really be another General Wei named Chu Ling in the world?’

Zhong Changrong gripped his chopsticks, but this time he didn’t shovel any more noodles into his mouth. His eyes were filled with shock and uncertainty.

The voices from the surrounding tables answered for him.

"—General Wei, Chu Ling! You haven’t heard of him? Has everyone forgotten? The first time he met His Majesty, he startled His Majesty right off his horse!"

"HAHAHA, he really was a brute, wasn’t he? Which is why it’s not at all surprising that his daughter is doing this sort of thing now."

"But Chu Ling’s reckless bravery won His Majesty’s favor. He was made a general and given command of troops at a young age."

"But Chu Ling was genuinely skilled, with a brilliant military record. If it weren’t for him, why would King Western Liang have ever bowed his head in submission and sent tribute every year?"

Listening to the name "Chu Ling" repeated over and over, and hearing about those past events, there was no doubt. It was absolutely, certainly their General, his big brother, General Wei, Chu Ling.

Zhong Changrong bit down on his chopsticks, the scar on his face twitching. His eyes were wide with disbelief. ’Didn’t I just say things had changed? The teahouse has new owners, so how is it that the whole Capital City is still talking about Chu Ling?’

He almost thought time had rewound, that he was back in the past, more than a decade ago!

’What in the hell!’

....

....

It wasn’t just the roadside tea stall outside the Capital City. In many places still far from the capital, people were also recounting the latest news from the city.

Once you entered the Central Plains, any random small city was more prosperous and lively than the Border County, filled with numerous exquisite taverns and teahouses.

In the most magnificent tavern in the city, customers came and went. One table was particularly crowded, with both old and young people. They looked like a family—grandmother, grandfather, son, and grandson were all there—but something about them seemed off.

This large family was dressed in an extremely opulent fashion. They wore the city’s most fashionable styles, made from the finest fabrics, and adorned with gold hairpins, silver bracelets, and pearls. Even a little boy of seven or eight had a heavy gold circlet hanging around his neck—

Even the servants standing behind them were magnificently dressed.

These were rich people. Very rich people.

"Some nouveau riche from the countryside, I’d wager." A waiter chatted in a low voice with a regular customer, jutting his chin toward the table. "The second they entered the city, they asked for the best tailor and goldsmith. Then the whole family flooded in, bought several chests’ worth of stuff, and put it all on at once."

"What are they trying to do, put on a show for their journey?" the regular asked, confused. "With a group of old and young like that, aren’t they afraid of getting robbed for showing off their wealth?"

The waiter laughed and shook his head. "Who knows? Maybe they’re used to a peaceful life in the countryside and aren’t afraid of anything."

As they were talking, they saw a young girl at that table wave them over.

The waiter immediately left the regular and called out loudly, "Coming, guest!" before hurrying over.

’These country folk are very generous. If I serve them well, I can get a hefty tip.’

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