Ye Zhongdao put down the letter, picked up the wine flask, calmly removed the wax seal. The wine was of a pure, flawless color, looking extremely enticing. Ye Buyi calmly poured himself a cup.
Zhou Xianping gave a carefree laugh: "A real man, able to campaign in all directions, to march on the plains, and in the end, die for his country— isn't that also a fine way to go?"
"Though as a subject one speaks of loyalty and duty."
"Yet in this world there is still a vast, upright righteousness— to give one's life for justice… and this is such a moment."
Zhou Xianping put down the secret letter left by the Emperor and poured himself a cup of wine. He sniffed it; this was precisely the fine wine once prepared for the Turkic Great Khan. Looking at Ye Zhongdao, commander of the Night Rider Cavalry opposite him, the two men raised their cups.
They had yet to drink, but it was as if they were already drunk.
