Chapter 56: Perfect for an Interlude

5 p.m., outside Starlight Kindergarten.

Lin Chuan stood among the crowd waiting to pick up their children, entirely inconspicuous. He wore the same outfit as usual: a baseball cap, a pair of sunglasses, a white T-shirt and jeans—nothing to distinguish him from an ordinary man.

Before long, the doors of the kindergarten building swung open, and children, some carrying backpacks, others holding exquisite little cloth bags, rushed out in a lively stream. Lin Yiyang was among them. As soon as he reached the entrance, he spotted Lin Chuan in the crowd, called out “Dad!” and dashed toward him.

“What did you learn today?” Lin Chuan picked up his son and asked with a smile.

“Teacher taught us to sing today, but I didn’t like it…” Lin Yiyang pouted, clearly unhappy.

“Why not?” Lin Chuan was puzzled.

“Because it didn’t sound as nice as when you sing, Dad. How about you teach me to sing when we get home?” The little boy’s eyes glimmered with anticipation.

Lin Chuan chuckled and nodded, “No problem. Whichever song you want to learn, Dad will teach you…”

As father and son chatted, several kindergarten teachers came out carrying toddlers who couldn’t yet walk. Lin Chuan glanced inside, his brows knitting slightly.

“Dad, are you looking for Miss Xiaoyue?” Lin Yiyang giggled.

“Ah, I wanted to say hello to her. Leaving without a word seems rude,” Lin Chuan quickly explained.

“No need, Miss Xiaoyue left earlier. An uncle picked her up in his car,” Lin Yiyang waved his small hand.

“An uncle? What kind of uncle?” Lin Chuan was taken aback.

“He was very handsome and came by car…” Lin Yiyang recalled.

Lin Chuan showed no sign of disappointment or any other emotion. He waited a while longer, and when he was certain Wang Yue was nowhere to be seen, he turned and left with Lin Yiyang.

…

After dinner, Lin Chuan sat on the bed, holding the script Mu Qing had given him.

It was a grand historical drama, centered on Marshal Han Zhongli of the Wei Kingdom and the Han family. The story encompassed father-son bonds, brotherly affection, and romance.

Han Zhongli had five sons. The eldest had gone into business early in life, becoming a prominent merchant in Wei. Yet all the wealth he earned was poured into supporting the Han family army—armor, weapons, horses, provisions—all supplied by the eldest.

The second brother was a physician who, from a young age, studied under a renowned doctor, returning to the Han family only upon adulthood. Whenever the Han army marched to war, the second brother accompanied them as an army doctor.

In times of peace, he stayed in the capital's medical hall, offering free consultations to ordinary citizens, never charging for treatment or medicine. For this, he was deeply loved by the people.

The third brother, in contrast, was hot-headed and brash. Unlike his elder siblings, he possessed a volatile temper and exceptional martial prowess, making him an indispensable general in the Han army.

His upright, impulsive nature meant even the emperor of Wei would not escape his wrath if found committing wrongful deeds—he would charge forward and deliver a few punishing blows without hesitation.

Marshal Han and Lady Han worried endlessly over their third son, but could do nothing to change him.

The fourth brother was a scholar, fond of literature and calligraphy. He spent most of his time secluded in his room reading books. Within the Han army, however, he played a crucial role.

Throughout Wei, it was well known that, despite his frail appearance, the fourth brother possessed a brilliant mind. He was well-versed in astronomy, geography, military strategy, and formations. In several dire battles, his schemes led the Han army to victory over forces several times their size, earning him the indispensable role of strategist.

Compared to his four brothers, the fifth was a carefree, aimless playboy. Blessed with striking looks, he mingled daily with the heiresses and noble ladies of the capital, accumulating a trail of romantic entanglements.

Nevertheless, the fifth brother was highly skilled in martial arts, having studied under a reclusive master. When he completed his training and descended the mountain, the Han army was besieged at Lone Hill. With reinforcements delayed, he rode alone into the enemy camp, slew their general, and broke the siege. From that day forward, he became the youngest and strongest young general in the Wei Kingdom.

Lin Chuan read the character introductions in the script with keen interest. Suddenly, a vivid scene unfolded in his mind.

A bustling city, its streets lined with crowds bidding farewell to the Han army. The emperor of Wei, accompanied by civil and military officials, stood at the city gate, sharing a parting drink with Marshal Han Zhongli.

“Marshal, I await the day the Han army crushes the enemy and returns triumphant,” the emperor said, gripping Han Zhongli’s hands, his eyes brimming with tears.

Around them, ministers raised their cups and shouted in unison, “May Marshal Han swiftly defeat the enemy and return in victory!”

Such scenes were rare in history, underscoring Han Zhongli’s importance to the emperor and the entire kingdom.

The vision shifted—among the mighty ranks of the Han army marched the second, third, and fourth brothers, but the fifth was nowhere to be seen.

Images flashed quickly: the second brother tending wounded soldiers, the third brother charging through enemy lines as if unopposed, the fourth brother overseeing strategy from the command tent.

As Lin Chuan read to the end of the script, another scene appeared.

It was the final battle between two armies, its outcome determining the fate of both nations. The Han army threw everything into the assault. As usual, the third brother led the charge, wielding a massive blade.

Oddly, the enemy fought differently than before, their combat strength weak. As soon as the battle began, they retreated in succession.

As an observer, Lin Chuan sensed something amiss—it was likely a trap.

The bloodthirsty third brother failed to notice. Seeing the enemy in retreat, he recklessly pursued.

At that moment, an arrow streaked through the air, piercing the third brother’s shoulder. Blood gushed from the wound. He raised his blade, smashed the arrow, and fought on.

The fourth brother and the old marshal, noticing the danger, urgently called for a retreat, but the third brother, blinded by rage, paid no heed.

Suddenly, a storm of arrows rained down, filling the sky and falling upon the Han army.

No matter how brave, the third brother could not survive such an onslaught. In an instant, dozens of arrows pierced him, his armor soaked in blood.

Witnessing this, Lin Chuan felt a sharp pang—a bold, straightforward general, brought down in his prime.

At that moment, a familiar melody sounded, and Lin Chuan sang softly.

Sword drawn, murderous intent surges
The battlefield, wind rises, moonless
Alone among thousands, fearless son
A heart of courage, a hero born

Love of children, debts from past lives
How can I forget your smile while living?
Beauty’s tears, heartbreak deep
Even rouge can claim a life

Farewell verses, two or three lines
Who will sing for me on the road to the underworld?
If I could die beside you
I’d never regret this journey through life

…

A song titled “Farewell Verses” slipped unconsciously from Lin Chuan’s lips.

There was no accompaniment, only the heart-wrenching scene in his mind and the sole audience, Lin Yiyang.

When the song ended, Lin Chuan set the script aside and saw his son, hands cupping his chin, watching him intently.

Lin Chuan scratched his head; swept up by the story, he’d sung the song instinctively. Yet as the theme for the drama, it seemed a little off. Still, it would make an excellent interlude.

“Dad, I didn’t quite understand that song,” Lin Yiyang said.

“Ha, then I’ll sing one you can understand. You asked me to teach you, right? Which song do you want to learn?” Lin Chuan stood up, smiling as he walked over.

“Hmm, Dad, do you know songs girls like?” Lin Yiyang frowned, thinking hard before suddenly asking.

Lin Chuan froze, his smile fading, and replied seriously, “Yangyang, you’re not dating already, are you? Let me tell you, you’re still too young…”

“Today… when teacher taught us to sing, Rongrong and the others laughed at me for singing badly, so I…” The little one’s head drooped, tears rolling down his cheeks.

Lin Chuan laughed, crouched down, and gently wiped his son’s tears. “It’s alright. Dad will teach you to sing. Tomorrow at kindergarten, Rongrong and her friends will praise you, and no one will ever say you sing badly again.”

“Really?” Lin Yiyang looked up, tearful.

“Of course. When have I ever lied to you? Come, Dad will sing a line, and you sing after me…”

“Okay!”

Lin Yiyang nodded vigorously, finally smiling.

So Lin Chuan carried his son to the bed. Father and son sat by the window, singing over and over, laughter occasionally echoing through the room.

(Tomorrow is Christmas Eve. I promised earlier to update more chapters, so tomorrow there will be three. If you have tickets, please vote generously, and any rewards would be fantastic—haha.)