The sun sank below the horizon, the western sky ablaze with fiery clouds, like a phoenix burning in nirvana.
The calm river shimmered with rippling waves, its winding waters flowing gently, a wooden bridge spanning its banks to connect north and south.
*Whoosh!*
A skyrocket shot up from the Zhejiang army camp across the river, whistling loudly as it pierced the sky, bursting into a shower of sparks.
Soon, a group of soldiers emerged from both camps, stopping in unison a hundred meters from the bridge. Then, four figures from each side slowly walked onto the bridge.
Zhu Ping’an gently supported Wang Zhi’s mother, Madam Wang, as they walked in the center, flanked by Liu Dadao on the left and Liu Dachui on the right.
Zhu Ping’an wore casual clothes, carrying no weapons, though for safety, he had a soft hedgehog armor under his attire. Naturally, a small concealed musket was tucked in his sleeve for emergencies.
Liu Dadao and Liu Dachui were fully armored, each with two muskets at their waists, one hand holding a shield, the other resting on their saber.
Ready to attack or defend.
The group slowly ascended the bridge.
Opposite, Mao Haifeng approached with three fierce pirates, clad in armor with a katana at his waist. The three accompanying pirates were also fully armored, carrying longbows, one hand on a shield, the other on their katana.
This time, Ootomo Sadakawa didn’t come.
They were wary that Zhu Ping’an might lure them onto the bridge to trap and eliminate them. If they were all captured, their pirate forces would collapse without a fight.
To guard against this, Ootomo Sadakawa stayed behind to hold the temporary pirate camp.
Mao Haifeng had to come, as he was the only one who could recognize Wang Zhi’s mother.
From a distance, Mao Haifeng spotted Madam Wang and instantly recognized her face, bearing a resemblance to Wang Zhi that he’d never forget. His heart surged with wild joy.
Fantastic!
This is fantastic! Prince Hui’s mother is alive—my adoptive father’s mother is alive! I’ve seized a heaven-sent merit!
“Godmother, Godmother, it’s really you! Your unfilial grandson has failed to rescue you!” Mao Haifeng wailed dramatically, running toward them and dropping to his knees three meters away, crying like the most devoted filial descendant.
“What’s with the wailing? Like you’re mourning—I’m not dead yet,” Madam Wang snapped, her face darkening at the sight of Mao Haifeng.
Truth be told, she had no fondness for these pirates. They were the ones who led her son astray.
Especially this Little Mao—she remembered him clearly. He was the only non-hometown pirate Wang Zhi brought home. Wang Zhi had even asked her opinion, saying Little Mao started as a smuggler, joined him, and was bold and ruthless, with plans to adopt him as a godson.
The words “bold and ruthless” repulsed her. Who was he fighting and killing? Their own people, of course.
But as a woman, even if she opposed Wang Zhi adopting Little Mao, there were still Little Bald, Little Black, and Little White to come, so she said nothing. Still, she remembered Little Mao and had no kind feelings toward him now.
“Your lesson is right, Godmother. Your grandson was just too excited seeing you and lost control,” Mao Haifeng said, kneeling and admitting his fault repeatedly. “The thought of you suffering in prison for so long, and my inability to rescue you, fills me with unbearable guilt and tears.”
Madam Wang snorted. “Wait for you to rescue me? I’d be a pile of bones by then. I never counted on you lot. Thanks to Governor Zhu’s compassion, we were specially released from prison, given a big house to live in, and provided with food, clothing, and shelter. That’s all due to the governor’s great kindness.”
“Greetings, Governor Zhu,” Mao Haifeng stood, clasping his fists. “Thank you for your kindness to my godmother and her family.”
Before Zhu Ping’an could respond, Madam Wang frowned. “Little Mao, is this how you greet Governor Zhu and show gratitude? Standing so tall to show off your height? Can’t you kneel to thank him?”
“Greetings, Governor Zhu.”
Mao Haifeng’s face stiffened, his expression conflicted, but he bowed to kneel and thank Zhu Ping’an.
“No need, no need for such formality,” Zhu Ping’an said with a smile, gesturing for him to rise.
“Thank you, Governor Zhu,” Mao Haifeng said, clasping his fists again, his sincerity noticeably greater.
“I’ve long heard of Leader Mao’s reputation. Meeting you today, you indeed have an extraordinary heroic aura,” Zhu Ping’an said with a smile.
“Hah, long heard my name? Heroic? Governor Zhu, you’re laying it on thick. I’m just a pirate—you’ve probably been itching to execute me,” Mao Haifeng replied with a sarcastic tone.
“How dare you disrespect the governor?!” Liu Dadao and Liu Dachui stepped forward, hands on their sabers, glaring.
“How dare you disrespect our leader?!” The three pirates behind Mao Haifeng stepped up, hands on their katanas, glaring back with equal intensity.
“We just fought a battle; some tempers are expected. Dadao, Dachui, stand down,” Zhu Ping’an said with a smile, waving them back.
“You lot, stand down too. No composure at all. Wait till we’re back—I’ll deal with you,” Mao Haifeng also waved his three pirates back, glancing at Liu Dadao and Liu Dachui with a pointed jab. “Some people…”
“Leader Mao, is our sincerity sufficient today?” Zhu Ping’an asked, smiling.
“Sufficient,” Mao Haifeng nodded, then added slowly, “But Governor Zhu, your words aren’t entirely honest. Saying you’ve long heard my name and calling me heroic—that’s a bit insincere, isn’t it?”
“Not at all,” Zhu Ping’an shook his head. “I meant it sincerely.”
“If you’ve long heard my name, then what’s my name?” Mao Haifeng asked, certain Zhu Ping’an was just being polite and didn’t know his real name.
“You’re Mao Haifeng,” Zhu Ping’an said with a smile.
Mao Haifeng chuckled, thinking, *See? Exposed. My real name isn’t Mao Haifeng.*
Before he could speak, Zhu Ping’an continued, “Originally named Mao Jing, started as a smuggler, later joined the pirates, decisive in battle, adopted by Wang Zhi as a godson, and given the name Wang Tao…”
Mao Haifeng’s eyes widened. He hadn’t expected Zhu Ping’an to know so much about him—his birth name, Mao Jing, his adoption by Prince Hui, and his bestowed name, Wang Tao. It wasn’t just empty talk.
