After he finished speaking, he loosened his hand, covered Wolfgang with the quilt, and said softly, "Have a good rest, father."

"I will return to Salivia immediately after sending the Yan people out to sea. This is something that must be done. I have many things to consult the Emperor of Yan, and he is willing to advise me."

“This will be my time to communicate with them along the way.”

Wolfgang lay down again and looked at Dingle for a long time before he said, "Okay."

Dinger nodded: "Then I'll go first, we will set off early tomorrow morning, you don't have to come, just have a good sleep."

After saying this, Dingle said no more and turned to walk towards the door.

Just as the door was opened, Wolfgang's hoarse voice came from the room:

"son."

"Huh? What's wrong?"

Dinger, who had just opened the door, stopped and turned to look behind him. Wolfgang had already sat up from the bed.

Wolfgang's wrinkled face still had traces of tears, and his gray hair made him look even older. He opened his mouth but did not give an immediate answer.

"What's wrong, father? Is there anything else you want to tell me?"

"Um...no." Wolfgang shook his head.

Dinger looked at him puzzledly, and then said, "Okay, then you have a good rest, I'll leave first."

But as soon as he turned his head, "Sorry, son."

The voice behind him was very small, but Dingle still heard it, so he turned around and looked at his father in confusion: "Why do you say that?"

Wolfgang's lips trembled as he said, "I have done too many wrong things, to the country, to the people, and to you, I am not a competent father."

"Forgive me for the past..."

Before he could finish his words, Dinger had already turned around and strode towards Wolfgang. He walked to the bedside, leaned over, opened his arms, and hugged Wolfgang:

"Don't say such things, father. It's all over as you say."

"You don't have to apologize to me. I should apologize to you. Sorry, father. Please forgive me for my disrespect to you in the past."

Wolfgang, who had never been hugged by his son, was at a loss for a moment, but soon he reached out and hugged his son, tears gradually filling his eyes, sobbing and saying:

"well."

Dinger released his hand, wiped away the tears from Wolfgang's face, and said with a soothing smile:

"A man shouldn't cry and whine, especially you. You have to shoulder the responsibility of the country. You will be laughed at if you do this."

Hearing this, Wolfgang wiped his face and nodded, "This is the last time."

After that, he patted Dingle on the shoulder:

"Let's go, kid."

"Well, you should have a good rest."

Dinger agreed and turned to walk towards the open door. After he stepped out, he was about to close the door when he heard Wolfgang's instructions from inside:

"Come back soon, son. I'll be waiting for you."

"Okay, I'll be back as soon as possible, maybe in less than a month and a half."

Dingle replied, closed the door gently, and left.

-

The night is still long.

After leaving his father's room, Dingle did not go back to rest. He took a carriage and left the Royal Castle.

The carriage was driving on the wide street. Dingle lifted the curtain of the window and quietly looked at the night outside.

The black flags that had been flying along the road had been removed a few days ago, which made the view along the road appear much wider. The wind blowing in from the window was warm and cool, and even carried the fresh scent of grass and trees at night.

As the carriage drove away from the straight road outside the Royal Castle and entered the city, the outlines of buildings appeared on the roadside, and almost every house in sight had lights on.

Dingle looked at the dim yellow warm light and the faint smell of dinner drifting in from the window. He leaned back in his chair, slowly closed his eyes, and let out a long breath.

After a while, Dingle, who had been dozing off unknowingly, was gently awakened by the coachman:

"Colonel, we're at the bus stop."

"Um, are we there yet?"

"Yes, just arrived."

Dingle, still feeling sleepy, opened his sleepy eyes and took out his pocket watch out of habit. It was already seven o'clock in the evening.

He put away his pocket watch and stood up to get off the car, but the driver hesitated and said, "Colonel, if you want to go back to the Royal Castle, can you go back before eleven o'clock?"

Dingle looked at him puzzledly: "Hasn't the curfew been lifted?"

The driver had an apologetic smile on his face, scratched his head and said, "My wife and daughter want to wait for me to go home. Tonight is... um, it's okay. It doesn't matter if you're late."

"Sorry, just pretend I didn't say that..."

Before he finished speaking, Dingle nodded at him and interrupted, "Okay, I understand. I will be back before eleven o'clock."

"Perhaps not until eleven o'clock."

"Thank you!" The coachman bent down towards Dingle who got off the carriage and expressed his gratitude.

Dingle walked past him and headed for the bus stop, but before he took a few steps, two men standing at the door of the bus stop ran towards him and greeted him.

"Colonel!"

"Colonel, I haven't seen you for a long time. Why are you here?"

The people who came were Huffman and Pocker, the survivors of the Sixth Army who had been entrusted by General Dylan to escort Dingle all the way back to Salivia. They looked at Dingle with surprise.

Seeing them again, Dingle smiled: "I came here to find you."

"Looking for us?"

Both of them were confused, but Dingle smiled and said, "Where's Smeder? Call him over. I brought him something he really needs."

"Of course, you must need it too."

But after hearing this, Huffman sighed: "Smith, oh, this poor guy has encountered an unfortunate thing recently."

As soon as the words fell, the smile on Dingle's face suddenly froze, and he hurriedly asked: "What happened?"

Pocker also sighed and said, "Colonel, let's go over there and talk." He pointed to a bench nearby.

"What's going on?" Dingle followed the two of them. Just as he reached the bench, Poker suddenly chuckled:

"He was hit by a bullet."

Hearing this, Dinger's heart tightened, and he looked at Poker's smile in surprise: "Are you kidding?"

Huffman, who was standing by, patted the handle of the bench, motioned Dingle to sit down, and said, "Colonel, Smeder was really hit by a bullet."

"But even though he was hit by a bullet, it's not serious. Well... I can't say that, it should be quite serious."

Dingle was confused, but Poker pulled him to sit down and said:

"Colonel, don't be too nervous, let me explain it to you in detail."

"Smeder was indeed hit by a bullet, and the bullet happened to hit his buttocks. I don't know whether this was lucky or unlucky. If he didn't have a lot of flesh on his buttocks, or if the bullet hit somewhere else, he might have died."

"Anyway, his life was saved and his injuries were very minor, but you know, it was his butt that was injured...haha." Pocker said with a meaningful smile.

After hearing this explanation, Dinger felt relieved, but he still frowned:

"But why did he get shot?"

After the words fell, Huffman sat down next to Dingle, folded his arms and sighed:

"It was the day when the riots broke out in the Place Saint-Marlene, the day when the great... von Paalen gave his last speech."

"We all went there, but who knew what happened later, bullets were flying everywhere, and the three of us were separated."

Huffman was just talking about this when Poker shook his head and continued, "Speaking of which, we have to thank Smeder. In fact, we planned to go to Saint-Marie Square early in the morning that day so that we could get a good seat in the center of the square."

"It's just that Smeder slept too late the day before. We took a long time to wake him up in the morning. He dawdled and wasted a lot of time, causing us to set off late."

"When we were almost at the square, we saw quite a few people in front of us. We were all ready to squeeze in, but somehow Smeder struck up a conversation with a young girl who was traveling with him. You know, he's a chatterbox, very outgoing, and always likes to chat with people."

"The little girl came alone and she wanted to attend the rally."

Pockle paused for a moment, then said in a deep voice:

"Smeder promised her that he would take her into the square with him."