Zhao Junyan is inherently lonely, almost to the point of being a recluse.
The door to his heart remains tightly shut, only opening at specific moments to those he is familiar with.
After all these years, it is still the same!
He is slow to warm, reclusive, but once he trusts someone, he is willing to open up completely, even willing to give everything.
Zhao Junyao stands beside him.
His gaze falls on the distant, bustling palace buildings.
After a long silence, he finally remarks with a faint smile.
"Little Seventh, what you just said is inevitable!"
"With the country prosperous and at peace for so long, some in the army are starting to slack off; this is unavoidable!"
"Soldiers are not mere plants; they are living, breathing people, and as people, they have desires and emotions—joy, anger, sorrow, and happiness!"
"No matter how rigorous the army, it cannot train every soldier to be exactly alike!"
