Cannon Fire Arc

Wang Zhong was immersed in his memories, humming a tune while he reminisced about his war journey until the corners of his eyes began to moisten.

But as the saying goes, a man's tears don't fall lightly, so he abruptly stopped reminiscing.

He turned his head to look at Ludmila, only to find that the girl was already using a handkerchief to wipe her tears.

Wang Zhong felt awkward, "Uh... don't cry."

Ludmila: "I'm crying for you because I see you're so emotional, yet you can't let your tears out."

"I'm fine, actually," Wang Zhong scratched his head.

He tried to stand up from the windowsill but was pulled back by Ludmila.

The girl looked at him and said softly, "You can lean on me a little more. When I first arrived at Shostka, I immediately burst into tears when I heard the news of Uncle Connie's death. Later, Nelly told me that you walked to the end of the platform, looking like you might cry at any moment."

Wang Zhong laughed: "Nelly saw me like that at the time? I really got looked down upon."

However, Ludmila gently stroked his face with her hand: "No, I don't think Nelly looked down on you, because I felt the same. Alyosha, when it's time to let it out, let it out. After I cried last time, I felt completely different.

"After I came here, I sorted through Uncle Connie's study and found that he hid the drawings I made for him when I was a child on the bookshelf. Looking at that drawing, and then at Uncle Connie's portrait, I didn't cry again. It seems like the sadness had left with that crying, leaving only wonderful memories behind.

"I think you should try it."

Wang Zhong stared into Ludmila's eyes, reading concern and love from within them.

He suddenly realized that the girl might feel guilty for not being able to comfort him that day she received the bad news because she was too busy crying herself.

So Wang Zhong said, "Okay, but you have to let me borrow you for a while, just sit like this."

He pulled Ludmila onto a stool to sit down, then knelt in front of her and buried his face in her embrace.

Wang Zhong especially liked to have his character get a hug from the Sleepy Maiden when playing "Elden Ring."

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Actually, the benefits of a hug were negligible, but Wang Zhong just wanted a hug.

Ludmila was surprised at first, but soon she wrapped her arms around Wang Zhong's head and gently stroked his hair.

Wang Zhong felt elated, his long-held dream had finally come true.

Then Ludmila said, "So that's how it is, you did this to the princess in the morning."

...You still remember?

Ludmila: "It's my fault, from now on I'll wait for you to wake up before I get up, okay?"

Wang Zhong was silent for a few seconds, then answered: "Okay."

Ludmila: "You can cry now, I'll accept everything, and tears and snot and all can be wiped on my clothes, no one will know."

With Ludmila having said that, Wang Zhong really wanted to give it a try, but ultimately the man's pointless pride took over.

Wang Zhong heard a heavenly king singing in his ear: Men cry not because they are wrong...

But he just couldn't cry.

Wang Zhong heard Liu Xia giggling, not only giggling, but he could also feel her inhale through the chest as she laughed.

"Alyosha," she said, her chest resonance making her voice wrap around Wang Zhong, "My Alyosha, so stubborn and strong."

Wang Zhong raised his hand and wrapped it around Ludmila's waist.

Despite the intimate movement, Wang Zhong didn't have a single improper thought.

He suddenly recalled a saying, if you're holding a super beautiful and sexy girl and have no desire to X her, either you like men, or you're in love.

Wang Zhong seriously evaluated his feelings; he probably didn't like men, so he must be in love.

After who knows how long, he stood up: "Alright, alright, let's sleep."

Ludmila looked up at him: "You scolded the bandmaster tonight, who knows what snide remarks they'll write about you in the newspapers tomorrow."

Wang Zhong raised his eyebrows: "Surely not, isn't the church watching? Aren't they afraid of being labeled as spies by the church?"

Ludmila shrugged.

Wang Zhong threw off his clothes and lay down in bed ready to sleep.

Ludmila stood beside him, smiling: "Aren't you forgetting something?"

Wang Zhong frowned: "Look at the mood, do we really have to... No, let's sleep, sleep... What are you doing! Hey!"

————

The next morning, as soon as Wang Zhong opened his eyes, he instinctively reached out beside him and this time he touched someone.

"Awake?" Ludmila's voice came, "You've really enjoyed your lazy morning, I didn't even have time to do my morning routine!"

Wang Zhong: "Morning routine?"

"Yes, a little secret to staying beautiful. Well, do you want a hug?"

"Yes."

Just then Nelly walked in through the door.

She glanced, quietly left, and closed the door behind her.

Wang Zhong: "Nelly, come in, it's alright, we're done."

Nelly entered the room and frowned at Wang Zhong: "Are you preparing hedgehog meat?"

Wang Zhong: "Hedgehog meat? Why?"

Then he realized, in the perspective of traditional Chinese medicine, hedgehog meat is considered aphrodisiac, seeming to send some men into a nosebleed frenzy after consumption.

Wang Zhong: "Don't misunderstand! It's not 'that' kind of done we're talking about!"

Ludmila chimed in to help: "Yes, he's just fine. This morning was just about helping him bid farewell to his weaker self and become the unyielding admiral."

"Major General, Major General," Wang Zhong corrected her, "Being a Major General is quite good."

If he became the commander of Ye Fort, he could even become the president.

Nelly exclaimed "Ah," and went straight to the point: "This morning a cardinal from the church came by and brought a schedule, it's for the state funeral and national mourning. It lists the parts you need to attend, Wang Zhong, with details on when and where to go. Also…"

Ludmila suddenly laughed: "Nelly, when did you start doing the butler's job? Where is Mikhail?"

"He said he's the butler of Duke Rokossov, not the butler of Duke Charon. Your dukedom decree arrived this morning, but His Majesty the Tsar is unable to attend to matters, so the ennoblement ceremony can't take place for now, and hence it has not officially taken effect."

Nelly paused and then said: "You should find your own butler."

Wang Zhong: "This is troublesome."

Ludmila: "Not only do you need your own butler, but you also need a housemistress who's responsible for managing the female servants, and a housekeeper, among others..."

Wang Zhong: "Can't Nelly do it?"

Nelly: "I'm not even a maid, the housekeeper of a duke should at least be of the rank of a lady at court."

Wang Zhong: "To hell with ranks, if I say you are, then you are, that's settled. As for the butler... is Grigori an option?"

Nelly and Ludmila exclaimed in unison: "No, he cannot!"

Wang Zhong, holding his head, felt too overwhelmed, unable to cope with all this old society's bureaucracy.

Ludmila: "However, with the war ongoing, we can ignore these matters for now. Let's have Nelly take on the role temporarily, that should be fine."

Nelly: "Me?"

Wang Zhong, seeing the expression on Nelly's face and thinking it amusing, decided to tease her: "Yes, you. Tell me what else needs to be done today."

Nelly: "There's a medal ceremony, and since His Majesty the Tsar cannot attend to matters, the Grand Princess will be representing him. Also, there is an invitation for you to attend the music selection meeting for the state funeral."

Wang Zhong's eyebrows raised.

Ludmila also frowned deeply: "This invitation... perhaps you should decline. It seems they want to embarrass you, those musicians."

Wang Zhong: "No, I want to see what they're up to. The state funeral is for my good brother and my father, and the public memorial is for countless fallen soldiers, I can't allow these scoundrels' frivolous music to resonate at such an event! Not at all."

————

August 12th, noon, "Ante Modern Music" magazine office.

Oshanin, the editor-in-chief, was preparing for a noon rest, with plans to attend the public memorial music selection meeting in the afternoon.

He stepped down from his office and upon reaching the reception, the old man there said, "Your Excellency Editor-in-Chief, there's an express letter for you."

Oshanin stopped, looking inside: "Express? A delivery at noon?"

In Ante, mail was delivered only in the mornings and evenings; noon deliveries were virtually non-existent.

"Take a look, Your Excellency. The sender is a celebrity! Especially famous! He might even become a prince! That's why the postman was all flustered when he delivered it!"

Oshanin was shocked: "General Rokossovsky? He just berated the conductor of Ye Fort Chamber Orchestra last night, and now he is writing to a music magazine?"

The receptionist had already taken out the letter and placed it at the window.

Editor-in-Chief Oshanin picked up the letter: "Aleksei Konstantinovich Rokossovsky. Indeed, it's him... Hmm? Military mail? The postmark is from this morning, from Shostka? What's this about?

Isn't Rokossovsky in the capital? Last night he was cursing at the conductor, and the whole music world knows about it!"

The receptionist shrugged helplessly.

Editor-in-Chief Oshanin directly opened the letter.

The old man was surprised: "You're just going to open it like that? Without a letter opener?"

"There's no seal wax nor a family crest on it, it's okay," Editor-in-Chief Oshanin pulled out the letter and unfolded it, "Ah, it's a song. The conductor last night was really angry, although he wouldn't dare speak ill of a celebrity, but he was very clear in his stance! Let's see..."

With professional skill, Editor-in-Chief Oshanin began to hum the song by reading the sheet music, though he had to bring the letter nearly to his face due to his poor eyesight—

He stopped.

Receptionist old man: "What's wrong?"

"I'm not sure... let me look more closely." Editor-in-Chief Oshanin took out his glasses from his briefcase, put them on, and assumed the standard reading posture to read again.

The receptionist stretched his neck trying to see what the matter was.

Having finished reading the letter, Editor-in-Chief Oshanin flipped it over, found no words on the back, and flipped it to the front again.

Receptionist old man: "How is it?"

Oshanin turned around and shouted to the upstairs editorial department: "Hey! Editors who can play an instrument, go to the music room. Is Marusin there? Get him to the music room too."

Marusin stuck his head out from the second floor: "Editor-in-Chief, what's going on? Another submission from some arrogant youngster?"

"No, no, this is something fierce." Editor-in-Chief Oshanin looked at the song in his hand, "If you sing this song, you might make history."