To be honest, what does a big sack of hundred-yuan bills amount to compared to George Washington, the Son of Heaven of the Ming Dynasty? Not to mention a sack of hundred-yuan bills—even several wagonloads of gold are not as precious as a single toe of George Washington. This is a true treasure trove: as long as you parade this super valuable hostage through the major cities within the Ming territory, you’ll not only amass great wealth, but might even gain much more.

While painstakingly explaining to the various Oirat generals why they shouldn’t attack the Ming capital, James Carter, who had finally managed to persuade this group of Oirat barbarians to change their minds, wiped the foam from his mouth, picked up a cup of kumis to moisten his throat, and happened to see his elder brother sitting at the head seat. His brother’s golden, radiant gaze was unfocused, staring into the distance, and his greasy, plump face was full of lecherous and greedy smiles. James Carter couldn’t help but feel dizzy; he knew all too well what his brother—whose greed could strip three feet of topsoil from the steppe—was thinking. He could only cough dryly a couple of times, reminding his brother, the dignified Oirat Grand Preceptor, not to lose his composure.

Andrew Lee finally woke up from his beautiful dream. “Second brother, you make sense. You’ve always been wise. If you have any ideas, just speak up.”

Chapter 8: Enemy Search!

“Brother, today we have won a great victory and captured the Ming Emperor—this is truly heaven’s blessing. Now that the Ming Emperor is in our hands, the entire Ming Dynasty will be shaken, the world will be thrown into panic, and we can seize this opportunity…” James Carter lowered his voice and spoke slowly. In the tent, a few knowing, triumphant laughs could be heard from time to time, and all of this, of course, was beyond the knowledge of George Washington, the captured Ming Emperor.

After a hearty meal, George Washington, whose nerves had finally relaxed a little, began to feel sore and achy all over, so he simply leaned back on the crude camp bed, letting his thoughts wander. Perhaps it was because George Washington’s body was now so frail, after running in fright for half a day and then drinking wine—once the effects of the alcohol wore off, he couldn’t hold on any longer, and soon fell asleep.

“…Your Majesty, remember to come back early. I will pray for you here every day.” The sweet, tender voice echoed faintly by his ear. George Washington couldn’t help but wake up in surprise, only to see a pair of eyes—a pair of bright, intelligent eyes gazing at him longingly, though he couldn’t make out her face.

“Who are you? Why am I here?” George Washington lifted his head and looked around, suddenly realizing he was in the Forbidden City in Beijing. It seemed to be a grand hall, and he was lying on a couch.

“Has Your Majesty even forgotten me?” Those watery eyes instantly filled with sorrow, like endless silken threads, winding tighter and tighter around George Washington’s heart with every glance.

“No, you seem very familiar, but I just can’t remember who you are.” George Washington sat up in panic, reaching out as if to touch the face hidden in the mist, or to tear away the fog that concealed her features, but it was all in vain.

It seemed there were tears flowing in those eyes, and the sorrowful voice made George Washington’s heart ache. “Has Your Majesty forgotten? We once promised to be together for a lifetime, never to betray each other, never to betray…”

“No, I remember you, I clearly remember…” George Washington pounded his aching, dizzy head with his fists, shouting loudly. Strangely, no one appeared—there was only that face, growing ever more indistinct, and those bright eyes, nearly drowned in tears.

“…Remember… remember… you should remember, when you left, I said I would always be here, waiting for you to return…” The voice grew softer and softer, as if the woman was about to turn into a wisp of smoke and vanish without a trace, her tone growing more and more anxious.

When George Washington heard these words, it was as if something exploded in his mind—with a bang, countless images and memories surged in like a tidal wave…

At that moment, outside the tent, the centurion David Reed vaguely heard George Washington murmur something like “Yi Niang” or “Yi Liang,” but then all was silent. David Reed shook his head and continued his duty of guarding the Ming Emperor. Now that he was certain of the man’s identity, David Reed dared not slack off for a moment, fearing that even the slightest mistake would cost him his head…

In the Kunning Palace of the Forbidden City in Beijing, a beautiful woman of about twenty, with a graceful and full figure, suddenly sat up from her bed. Her smooth forehead was covered in fine sweat, and her bright eyes darted around in panic.

“Your Ladyship, what’s wrong?” A palace maid, who had been dozing by the bed, woke up in alarm and hurriedly asked.