After Li Ya left, the ancient castle became much quieter.
Not the kind of cold, desolate quiet, but a…
Feeling of something missing.
Rex couldn’t quite put it into words.
He sat at the dining table drinking tea, across from where someone who always stole glances at him but never dared to meet his eyes was now absent.
He walked to the ridge of the field to look at the wheat seedlings, and next to him, there was no voice occasionally asking, “What are you thinking?”
Even during meals, there was no more of that chatter that praised every dish.
“My Lord.”
Hilda’s voice came from beside him.
“Hmm?”
“You looked toward the door three times today.”
“Did I?”
“Yes.”
Rex didn’t respond.
He set down his cup and stood up to walk outside.
“I’ll go check the waterwheel.”
The waterwheel was running smoothly.
The sound of water striking the paddles was dull and rhythmic, like some ancient melody.
Rex stood by the waterwheel for a while, then reached out to touch the newly replaced crossbeam.
The wood surface was still rough, but sturdy.
He sat down on a rock by the riverbank, staring at the flowing water, his mind a mess.
Li Ya’s parting words, “Don’t you miss me,” and last night Hilda’s remark that “She needs someone to accompany her”—Rex himself really didn’t seem to know how to handle matters of the heart…
“Milord?”
A voice interrupted his thoughts.
Rex turned his head and saw the old woman standing at the edge of the field, holding a basket of eggs.
“Why are you sitting here, Milord? Aren’t you cold?”
“No, it’s already spring.”
The old woman smiled and nodded, then handed the basket over.
“Our hens have been laying a lot lately. Please take some to try, Milord. You’ve helped us so much, and we have nothing to repay you with…”
Rex took the basket and looked down.
The eggs were not large, but each was clean and perfectly round—clearly handpicked.
“Thank you. How is your family doing lately?”
“Much better, much better.”
The old woman’s face had a radiance Rex hadn’t seen when he first met her.
“The road is fixed, so it’s easier to go out. Sair’s child’s leg is healed, and he can walk on the ground now. And the house you had Mr. Ge Li Gao Er help us repair—it’s very comfortable to live in. We won’t fear the cold this winter.”
As she spoke, her eyes reddened.
“Milord, we’ve lived here for generations, and for the first time… we feel there’s hope for this place.”
Rex didn’t say any polite words.
He just nodded.
“That’s good.”
After the old woman left, Rex carried the eggs back.
When he reached the castle gate, he saw Hilda standing on the steps, holding the stack of letters delivered by the postman.
“My Lord, there are letters for you.”
Rex took the stack and flipped through them.
Most were business letters from the Merchant Guild on Li Ya’s behalf.
She had said she would help him keep an eye on the supplies needed in the North, so these should be related price lists and cargo manifests.
He casually opened one.
It was a handwritten note from Li Ya:
“I’ve already sent the tea. It should arrive in about three days. As for the supply list for the North, I’m having Victor organize it. I’ll send it along with the next batch. Don’t miss me. P.S. That was a joke.”
After reading it, Rex folded the note and did not put it together with the other letters.
Instead, he placed it separately into the inner pocket of his coat.
Days passed one after another.
The grass grew greener each day.
The river water rose, and the waterwheel spun more joyfully than ever.
Every morning, Rex first went to the fields to check on the wheat seedlings, then took a stroll around the waterwheel, and finally walked along the newly repaired road.
Grass was also beginning to grow on both sides of the road—tender green shoots emerging from the gaps between the gravel, full of vitality.
The rye and winterroot were growing better and better.
The tallest stalks had nearly reached his waist.
Rex crouched on the ridge of the field, holding the head of a rye stalk in his hand to examine it.
The head had begun to fill with grain, heavy and drooping.
“Another month or so, and it’ll be ready for harvest.”
Sair walked over from the waterwheel, carrying a hoe in his hand, a smile on his face.
“Milord, you’re really good at farming. When I was a kid, my grandpa told me that the North used to be able to grow crops, but that was decades ago.”
“What else did your grandpa say?”
Sair thought for a moment.
“Quite a bit. He said the North used to be very lively—there were markets, merchant caravans, and houses lining both sides of the road. Later…”
He paused.
“…later, it slowly faded away. People left, and the land went fallow.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
Sair shook his head.
“My grandpa couldn’t explain it clearly either. He just said ‘the higher-ups stopped caring,’ and then everyone left.”
Rex nodded and didn’t press further.
Sair shouldered his hoe and went to repair the irrigation ditch.
Rex crouched in the field, his fingers rolling a wheat head, his mind turning over Sair’s words.
“The higher-ups stopped caring.”
Three hundred years ago, the last Dragon Knight of the Klein family died in battle, and then the North and the family began to decline.
It didn’t seem like a coincidence.
That evening, Rex sat in front of the fireplace flipping through the novel he had borrowed from Li Ya’s house.
Hilda walked over with two cups of hot tea and sat down across from him.
“My Lord.”
“Hmm.”
“You seem to be in a good mood today.”
“Do I?”
“You were humming. Out on the field ridge.”
“I didn’t notice. Oh, Hilda.”
“Yes?”
“What do you think the North used to be like?”
“I don’t know. But from what you’ve told me about the history of this land, I can sense that the land here wasn’t barren.”
“What do you mean?”
“Dragon perception. The vitality underground is very strong, just suppressed for too long. It’s as if it’s sleeping.”
Rex looked at her.
“Sleeping?”
“Yes. It needs something to wake it up.”
Rex thought for a long time.
“Maybe my grandfather’s grandfather knew the answer. Too bad the family’s pages were torn out. What do you think those torn pages actually said?”
“Content that someone would go to the trouble of tearing out—it must hold a great secret they didn’t want outsiders to know.”
Rex nodded.
“Makes sense.”