After Transmigrating into a Novel, I Turned on Easy Mode - Chapter 27

Staring at the capital’s city gates, Wu Zhan felt strangely moved. This place called “home” was at once familiar and foreign.

He couldn’t help quickening his pace at the thought of seeing his daughter soon. Had that girl been taking proper care of herself?

Growing more anxious by the moment, he stopped lingering and headed inside.

City folk, spotting his return, broke into cheers—some even burst into tears. From their looks, a few seemed ready to kneel and kowtow to him on the spot.

Overwhelmed by their warmth, Wu Zhan was a little at a loss. At the frontier he could understand such enthusiasm—he lived among those people and helped them often. But why the capital? He was rarely here, yet every time, their fervor outstripped even the border towns’.

Unable to figure it out, he gave up pondering. Perhaps it was gratitude for his years guarding the borders.

He still had something more important to do. Forcing his way through the crowd, he made straight for the General’s Manor.

Only when his figure fully vanished did the onlookers dare voice their true thoughts.

A burly uncle, weeping, said, “General Wu’s finally back—thank goodness. We can have a few days of peace at last.”

Had Wu You been present, she would have recognized him as the same stall owner she’d frightened to tears before.

At that, heads all around nodded, eyes damp. Everyone knew the Little Tyrant feared her father; whenever he returned, she couldn’t run amok like usual.

Wu You sneezed. Instinct said someone was bad-mouthing her. She thought it through—she hadn’t offended anyone lately. If grudges were in question, the original her had plenty.

She hadn’t expected that after all this time, the capital still held the same impression of Wu You. A little wave of defeat washed over her.

I’m really not that smart, she thought, not like Zhao Qingzi. If she had even half of A-Zi’s cleverness, she’d be satisfied. No wonder she’s my favorite character.

Her mind offered up Zhao’s smile, and Wu You, chin in hands, found her own smile widening.

Wu Zhan returned to find his daughter wearing that dopey, blissed-out look—and his heart warmed. He’d asked Zhang Wenqi to send a letter ahead with his return date. He took that smile to be for him.

A lovely misunderstanding—and one that needed no correcting.

He stood at the door a moment longer, hoping she’d notice him herself. No use. The girl’s head was full of another woman; she was wholly immersed in missing her.

When she kept grinning to herself, Wu Zhan figured waiting wouldn’t change a thing. He stepped inside.

“Sanya! I’m home!”

Wu You jolted at the voice, looked up at him, and felt a flicker of panic. The original body’s father was back. She’d studied the father–daughter dynamic these past few days.

He usually called the original by her childhood name, Sanya. Her reply should be…

She rifled the memories, then answered several decibels louder than usual, “Stinky old man, you’re back!”

Hearing that, Wu Zhan laughed. “Your father’s not old. You call me that every time.”

He sat opposite her. Remembering what Zhang Wenqi had said of capital gossip, he asked, curious, “I hear you confessed to the Yongding Marquis’s daughter. Did she take a shine to you?”

Seriously? Is everyone in this world this nosy? Wu You glanced over him: a scar down his left cheek lent a hint of fierceness to an otherwise honest face. He didn’t look much like the original; she must have taken after her mother—except the memories held no mother at all.

She drifted off again. When she didn’t answer, Wu Zhan felt ants crawling under his skin. His girl was in love and he didn’t know the progress. Perhaps she was shy. He decided to let it slide, and shifted topics—speaking of the frontier’s ways and the Yao kingdom’s current state.

Wu You listened attentively, without the yearning that used to light the original’s eyes. Back then, she’d been proud of her father and longed for his life—admiration breeding imitation. She’d wanted to charge onto battlefields and become a famed general like him.

But Wu Zhan never wanted that for her.

Their biggest rows had always started there. Wu You herself wondered why he so strenuously barred the original from the army.

She stayed quiet. After a while, Wu Zhan sensed something was off. Too quiet. He’d been talking up the border’s hardships on purpose—to dampen her battle fever. It never worked. Usually she only yearned more, and they’d end in a shouting match.

He hesitated, then asked carefully, “Sanya, do you still want to go to war?”

Not even a little. Dropped in this world out of nowhere, all she wanted was a steady life, not extra trouble.

She shook her head. “No.”

Her expression rang true. Relief crashed over Wu Zhan; a boulder he’d carried for years thumped to the ground. He let out two booming laughs that made Wu You jump. Her feelings were mixed—hard to name. In the original book, he’d barely been a footnote.

“How long will you be staying this time, Father?” she asked, wondering how long she’d have to keep up the act.

He squirmed a bit. If he’d heard right, she’d called him Father, not “stinky old man.” He wrestled with it a second and moved on.

“Not long. Zhang the Grand Marshal pulled strings to get me here at all.”

Wu You secretly sighed in relief. Too long, and she’d risk slipping up. Still, a twinge of sadness rose.

How are they, my family from before? Is it the New Year for them too? She’d avoided such thoughts before. Now they stung, but didn’t unmoor her.

At least I have someone to lean toward here, don’t I?

Seeing her silent, Wu Zhan thought she was angry again and coaxed, helpless, “Sanya, try to understand. I’ll get you anything you want.”

Then, not reassured, he added, “Except weapons!”

Wu You couldn’t help laughing. He really did coax her like a child—silly and a bit adorable.

“I don’t have anything I want right now. But since you promised, let’s say you owe me a gift. When I figure it out, I’ll tell you.”

Her smile seemed genuine. He relaxed.

They chatted a while longer. Wu Zhan remembered the patch of field he’d opened in the manor grounds—now choked with weeds. He couldn’t sit still.

He told Wu You where he was going, hefted a hoe onto his shoulder, and headed out to turn the soil.

Wu You blinked. The vibe is… odd. She shook her head, amused. Strange man—but kind of cute.

As New Year’s Eve neared and families reunited across the city, the Marquis of Yongding also finally returned home.

When Zhao Qingzi heard it, her turning pages paused—then resumed. She acted as if she hadn’t heard.

Watching, Granny Yun sighed inwardly. The choice Her Highness had made all those years ago had been a dreadful one.

In the study, Marquis Zhao Cuo quizzed Zhao Qingshu on his studies. Head bowed, Qingshu answered item by item. Satisfied, Zhao Cuo waved him off.

Only once out of the study did Qingshu raise his head. There was no joy on his face.

He knew his father despised his mother. Qingshu shut his eyes.

Pity. He and his sister both wore their mother’s features.

He smiled bitterly. Fate’s little jokes. He knew it was wrong to think so—but he couldn’t help it.

He set off for his sister’s rooms.

When he arrived, she was still reading. She looked up and smiled.

He drew closer and saw the title: another medical text. His chest tightened. Would her legs ever have hope? It had been twelve years. They both knew the odds were slim, and neither would give up.

His eyes stung, but he kept steady for her. “Zier, tomorrow’s New Year’s Eve.”

She closed the book and had a maid put it back. “It is. Somehow, it’s this day again. He summoned you?”

“Yes. Same as always—asked a handful of meaningless things.”

His tone was flat; clear enough he didn’t want to speak of the man.

Which suited Zhao Qingzi perfectly. She changed the subject and asked about his progress with Li Yingying—and learned there was none.

She resisted the urge to facepalm, and felt a stab of guilt. These days she’d poured herself into Wu You and neglected her brother’s affairs.

Thinking of Wu You, her thoughts drifted again. A report said Wu Zhan had returned. She must be happy.

The thought brightened her mood.