“Deliver a letter? What letter?” The eldest child was quite interested and withdrew his wooden sword.

“The emperor is dead.”

The eldest child slapped the stone steps with his wooden sword. “Daring to tell such a lie is a capital offense.”

“It’s not a lie, I heard it from the adults. The Grand General has already entered the palace.” The children in the household were used to calling their father “Grand General,” with reverence and pride.

The children all stood up, a bit of confusion showing on their faces. Charles Carter also stood up, brushed the dust off his clothes, and guessed that he had escaped another disaster.

“The emperor… can die too?” one child asked.

“You can’t say ‘die,’ it’s ‘passed away.’” The eldest child corrected, scratching his head, his face lighting up with joy. “The Grand General has entered the palace, so he must be assisting the new emperor. Soon I’ll be able to become a real general.”

The other children also looked pleased, not one of them understanding the true impact of the emperor’s passing.

“You all will follow me as chief stewards, colonels, staff officers… but not you.” The eldest child pointed his sword at Charles Carter, racking his brains for the right word, and after a while added, “You are under restriction.”

“What does ‘restriction’ mean?” a child asked.

“Restriction means… it means you can never become an official in your whole life.” The eldest child gave a simple but accurate explanation. “When we grow up, we can all become officials, but he can’t.”

Charles Carter didn’t have any particular desire to become an official, but he couldn’t accept the word “can’t.” His face flushed red. “If I want to, I can!”

The eldest child burst out laughing. “You don’t even know what restriction is, do you? Haha, you’re the son of the Princess of Wu. The court made a rule that people like you can’t become officials, because people from Wu are the worst, so their children are bad too.”

“I’m not…” Charles Carter blushed again, but he wasn’t sure if he really was the Princess of Wu’s child, and didn’t want to get tangled up in this question, so he changed the subject: “You won’t become a general.”

The eldest child knocked Charles Carter on the head with his sword again. “I’m not the son of someone from Wu. If I want to be a general, I’ll be a general.”

Charles Carter took two steps back. “Our Lou family doesn’t lack generals. The Grand General is sending you to the best academy because he wants you to become a civil official.”

This time, it was the eldest child’s turn to flush red. In the eyes of the Lou family’s children, civil officials always carried a hint of cowardice; being a general was the best choice.

Taking advantage of his brothers’ distraction, Charles Carter slipped away, this time choosing a path through the bushes, trying his best to hide himself.

The argument ended there, and the other children chased after him, not caring about civil or military officials, simply enjoying the fun of the chase.

This day was the thirteenth of the sixth month in the fourteenth year of Yuanheng of the Dacheng dynasty. News of the emperor’s passing was rapidly spreading in all directions across the empire. The sun blazed overhead, and a group of children chased each other around the small garden, trampling countless flowers and grass, sweating profusely.

As evening approached, they hid their weapons, lined up, and left the small garden. Charles Carter brought up the rear, dirtier than the others, but having enjoyed himself just as much as his brothers.

Six

As soon as they returned to their quarters, all the children were gathered together, changed into ugly and uncomfortable clothes, and, without even having dinner, were sent to a room where the adults demanded they kneel and weep bitterly.

At first, everyone thought this was a punishment, but gradually, from the adults’ scattered words, they understood that the emperor had truly passed away.

A middle-aged woman took Charles Carter aside, wiped the dirt and tear stains from his face with a silk handkerchief, and said softly, “You should cry more. Jessica Bennett… has passed away.”

The hall was filled with the sound of weeping. Charles Carter sobbed as he stared blankly at the woman, not understanding her words at all.

“Jessica Bennett is the Princess of Wu, and also your birth mother. She’s dead. Madam thought you should know this.” The woman gently stroked the child’s head and picked off two pieces of grass. “Go and cry.”

Charles Carter still wore a blank expression. He returned to his brothers, knelt on the ground, but couldn’t cry no matter what—he had no more tears. He tried hard to recall what the Princess of Wu looked like during the day and what she had said. She was clearly a living person—how could she just die? But the harder he tried, the more his memories were crowded out by the scenes of chasing in the small garden, with the Princess of Wu fading into the background, becoming vague and ethereal.

From that day on, six-year-old Charles Carter neither cried nor spoke. No matter how much the adults scolded him or his brothers chased and hit him, he wouldn’t utter a word or shed a single tear. Basically, he only spoke at mealtimes, and the rest of the time he seemed absent-minded.

The adults in the household suspected the child had become mute, and his brothers called him “Little Brian.”

General was very busy. It wasn’t until half a year later that he noticed something was wrong. “Why don’t you speak? Speak up right now.”

Someone came over and quietly explained the situation. William Carter gave an “oh,” and suddenly remembered the Princess of Wu. “Sigh, your mother was a strange one. I didn’t say anything to her. The court wanted to deal with the people of Wu, but with me here, it wouldn’t have come to her, would it? Why was she so scared she killed herself? Foolish, truly foolish. A foolish mother begets a foolish son. You becoming mute might actually be a good thing—maybe you’ll get into less trouble because of it.”