[Marriage first, love later] She is happy after marrying a widower

Cui Jingshu also nodded in agreement, his eyes full of admiration: "Yanzhi, you are so thoughtful and flexible. During my years in the capital, I have seen many novel things, but none of them can compare to your original method of using water."

"Oh, if you keep praising me, I'm going to find a hole in the ground to crawl into."

Song Yanzhi lowered her head shyly and turned to look at Cui Jingshu. "By the way, Sister Cui, I came here to ask if you have finished writing the letter to General Xiao Chang so that I can send someone to deliver it to General Xiao Chang as soon as possible."

Cui Jingshu stood up and walked to the table beside her. She opened the drawer, took out a sealed letter, and handed it to Song Yanzhi: "It's written. I'll trouble you to worry about it, sister Yanzhi. This matter still depends on you to arrange it safely."

Song Yanzhi took the letter with both hands and said, "Don't worry, sister. This is my job." After saying that, she carefully put the letter away.

Xu Nian watched eagerly from the side, his eyes rolling non-stop, his heart was already beaming with joy: As long as General Xiao Chang sends someone to pick up Cui Jingshu, I will definitely try my best to follow him to the border, and then, by then, my rapid rise to prominence will be just around the corner!

The letter was carried by the guards, and the horse's hooves raised dust as they galloped into the vast unknown.

After sending it out, the days seemed to be stretched into a line with no end in sight, and everyone was trapped in the vortex of waiting.

When will the reply arrive, and whether the team to pick people up will show up, everything is unknown, just like looking at flowers in the fog, vague and elusive.

The world outside is now like a crumbling building, with wars breaking out everywhere, flames blazing in every direction, and the air filled with smoke that makes it hard to breathe.

It is extremely difficult for a letter to pass through the hail of bullets and across the rubble. No one can guarantee that Cui Jingshu's letter can be delivered to the recipient safely.

As winter turns to spring, time runs wild like a wild horse. In the blink of an eye, several months have passed silently.

The guard who went to deliver the letter seemed to have disappeared from the face of the earth. He was gone for several months and there was no news from him.

Every morning when Cui Jingshu woke up, the first thing he did was to push open the window and stare blankly towards the village entrance, his eyes full of anxiety and expectation. His fingers unconsciously twisted the handkerchief, hoping for a reply that would come at any time.

Xu Nian was as oblivious as her, while the other people in the house were extremely busy.

Han Heming and Dawa were so busy from morning to night that they had no time to rest.

At the beginning, the two of them brought the 2,000 bandits from Longhu Mountain back to Hongya Village. From then on, Han Heming trained these people according to the method of training soldiers given to them by Song Yanzhi.

From the beginning of the training, he and Da Wa plunged into the yard and focused on training these people.

It was still dawn and the morning mist had not yet dissipated, but the Han family compound was already bustling with activity.

The deafening sound of training broke the tranquility of the small village. Vigorous and powerful slogans rose one after another, "one, two, one, two, one", accompanied by the sound of uniform footsteps, which made the ground tremble, and even the branches and leaves of the old locust tree at the gate of the courtyard trembled slightly.

The children in the village were very curious. Early in the morning, without even having time to eat, they sneaked to the corner of the Han family compound, crouched down, stared with wide eyes, and looked inside through the crack in the door.

When adults passed by, they would unconsciously slow down their pace, pretending to tidy up farm tools while listening to the movements inside with their ears perked up, and whispering to each other from time to time.

On this day, the warm sun was high in the sky, and the yard of the old village chief's house was full of people. Everyone was talking to each other, and the atmosphere was as warm as boiling water.

A skinny villager frowned and broke the seemingly harmonious atmosphere, shouting at the top of his voice, "Village Chief, what's Han kid up to? He brought back so many old people, and every day his big yard is like a boiling pot of boiling water, making so much noise that you can hear it from miles away. What are they busy with?"

The old village chief sat on the somewhat worn armchair, holding his pipe tightly in his hand, puffing slowly. The smoke he exhaled swirled in the sunlight, blurring his face.

After a while, he slowly spoke, his voice filled with helplessness: "Who knows? Heming has been a determined kid since he was little. After so many years out there, he has his own way of doing things. He probably has it all figured out in his mind."

"I think it's not good!"

A burly villager nearby slapped his thigh and replied in a rough voice, with the flesh on his face shaking.

"With so many people making a commotion in the village all day long, disturbing everyone's peace, how can they be running a legitimate business? Who knows what bad things they might be up to!"

"Stop talking nonsense!"

A gray-haired old man in the crowd glared at the burly man and couldn't help but retort, "I've watched Heming grow up. He's been kind and righteous since he was young, and he has a sense of righteousness in his bones. He's definitely not someone who stirs up trouble or has bad intentions."

"That's hard to say!"

The burly villager stiffened his neck and blushed. "He's been gone for five or six years. Who knows what habits he's picked up, what bad habits he's picked up, what he's picked up, what he wants to do by bringing so many people back?"

Just as everyone was arguing fiercely, a slightly gloomy voice emerged from the corner: "Private soldiers, he is training private soldiers."

The sound was not loud, but it was like a sharp lightning that instantly struck the crowd and caused a stir in the yard of the old village chief's house.

"Third brother, what did you say?" The old village chief was so frightened that his hands trembled and his pipe almost fell to the ground. He stood up suddenly, widened his eyes, and looked at the person who spoke in disbelief.

The man called the third brother is Han Heming's half-brother.

He was thin, with a sallow complexion, and was wearing a washed-out gown. He stood there with an indescribable loneliness and gloom.

At this moment, facing everyone's burning gazes, he raised his chin slightly and repeated slowly, "I said, Han Heming is training private soldiers. This is a capital crime!"

As soon as these words were spoken, everyone gasped in surprise. The yard suddenly became so quiet that you could hear a pin drop. After a moment, a buzz of discussion broke out.

The old village chief's face suddenly became so gloomy that water seemed to drip out of it. He quickly walked up to Han Laosan, pointed at him with trembling fingers, and scolded him harshly.

"Third brother, you can't just say that! I know you brothers have had some disagreements in the past, but blood is thicker than water, and he's still your brother no matter what.

We are of the same clan, even if our bones are broken, our tendons are still connected. How can you just throw out the words of beheading without any evidence? What are you trying to do?"