C687 A Candle Flame

In the west wing, only the master bedroom was lit by a single candle. Hong Xiao sat at his desk, holding a book on military strategy, his thoughts drifting away.

He had returned that afternoon and collapsed right at the courtyard entrance. It was his servant who dragged him back to his room, cleaned him up, changed his clothes, and made him drink some sobering soup.

Once he was sober