The brief moment of clarity before death perhaps granted this old man a sufficiently clear mind.

It allowed him not to naively believe that the person in front of him, Qiao Yan, was still the little granddaughter he once knew.

He had sacrificed one of his sons in maintaining law and order in Luoyang.

Another son had not received any help in his official career, as if he did not have a father in a high-ranking position, and he climbed the ranks purely based on his accumulated achievements.

But this did not mean that Qiao Xuan knew nothing about the situations of his sons and granddaughter.

The character “Yan” in his granddaughter Qiao Yan’s name was chosen by him.

During the rare times Qiao Yan lived in Luoyang, she was just a young child who could not even speak.

At that time, Qiao Xuan had imagined what this child would grow up to be like and had worried about her frail health.

Later, when Qiao Yu moved to Rencheng as an official, Qiao Yan never came back here, but Qiao Xuan and his son always maintained correspondence through letters.

His son was not as resolute in his actions as he was, nor did he have any extraordinary means, so reaching the position of carrying a silver seal and wearing a blue ribbon was already the highest he could achieve.

As for his granddaughter, though she was literate and well-read, she did not have exceptional talent.

Of course, he did not feel much regret about these things.

After all, everyone has their destiny, and being able to live peacefully in Yan Province was also a way of life.

Because of this understanding, when Qiao Xuan learned about what Qiao Yan had done and the marquis title she had received as a reward,

his first reaction upon regaining clarity was not to think that this was a great honor that brought glory to the Qiao family.”

This change could not be explained by the so-called mission in a time of crisis or the idea that hardships produce heroes.

A person’s actions are largely influenced by the education they received and the environment they grew up in.

With this understanding, he naturally did not believe that this Qiao Yan was still the same Qiao Yan.

It should be noted that his little granddaughter had previously shown no political acumen.

How could she now exhibit such shrewdness in maneuvering between various factions?

Qiao Xuan was not afraid to think the worst.

It was hard to say whether he had already prepared himself for the possibility of extremely bad news during the months his illness had worsened.

The rumors of the Yellow Turban Rebellion and the once chaotic atmosphere within Luoyang had also reached his ears.

Indeed, it was possible that Qiao Yu could have been delayed on the road.

But when he calculated the time Qiao Yu would have left Rencheng, it was hard not to think that the delay might not have been for the purpose of returning.

Returning to stabilize the situation in Rencheng would make it difficult for him to arrive as quickly as he had written in his previous letters.

Instead, it was likely that something unexpected had happened to him on the way.

What kind of situation would require the current Qiao Yan to carve out a path for herself amidst the chaos of the Yellow Turban Rebellion?

Perhaps there was only one explanation: Qiao Yu was no longer alive.

But in his current state, feeling a sudden strength in his limbs upon waking, Qiao Xuan knew his time was near, so why bother with those time-wasting thoughts?

At this moment, there was no need to mourn and weep for his son’s death.

Nor did he need to ponder whether his previous attempts to secure a future for his descendants through his actions in front of Liu Hong were now unnecessary.

And there was no need to delve into who had replaced his granddaughter.

As he pushed open the door and stepped into the sunlight, as if he had not done so for a long time, he saw the child now known as Qiao Yan squatting beside his vegetable patch.

And what he saw was a field of new green sprouts, a scene full of the promise of life.

Quelling the Yellow Turban Rebellion, fighting Zhang Jiao, commanding troops in Quzhou, strategizing in Luoyang—if one overlooks the factors that might constrain her, she seems almost like a pillar of the Han Dynasty’s loyal ministers.

When he instinctively uttered a remark, the hint of wariness that flashed across her face further confirmed for him that her previous successes were no coincidence—

because she truly had a keen mind.

So why should Qiao Xuan burden her with the suspicion of being “a demon” in these last moments?

Thus, Qiao Yan’s guard lasted only a moment before she heard Qiao Xuan say, “You haven’t answered my question yet. Can being a county marquis be as simple as growing vegetables?”

She met Qiao Xuan’s clear and understanding eyes, and in this tacit exchange, she understood his attitude.

This old man, now with few descendants, simply wanted to entrust a new hope.

Although she did not have the affection of a granddaughter towards him, she felt a poignant sadness in her heart at this moment.

“Governance is like cooking a small fish; managing a county is similar.

Skill comes with practice, achieving the right balance is key, and there’s always a process of trial and error,”

Qiao Yan carefully replied. “A novice doesn’t start with high heat and heavy oil, lest they get burned by boiling oil. Am I not doing the same now?”

She pointed to the vegetable patch in front of her. “Mustard greens are easy to grow; they don’t require much farming knowledge to thrive. Even if they don’t grow well, it won’t cause much harm.

Before planting, I had already plowed the land, turned the soil, and fertilized it to the best of my ability.

I extensively inquired about the requirements for growing mustard greens, so the probability of success is very high.

Next time, I can try expanding the scale and improving the quality.”

“Managing a county as a marquis is the same.”

Hearing her words, even the long-sick Qiao Xuan couldn’t help but show a slight smile on his somewhat wooden face.

She was right.

Just as farming was somewhat unfamiliar to her, being a county marquis and governing a county was also new territory for her.

But mustard greens are easy to grow; with thorough preparation, the losses would not be significant.

So when managing a county, why couldn’t she start small and gradually improve?

For someone who could grasp the various political stances upon arriving in Luoyang, this kind of learning clearly shouldn’t be difficult.

Qiao Xuan looked at her with more of a warm, elder’s affection.

His days were numbered, and since she had excellent qualities and capabilities, why shouldn’t he provide her with a bit more support?

From where Cheng Li and the old Qiao family servant stood, they couldn’t hear the specific content of the conversation between the grandfather and granddaughter.

They could only roughly make out that most of the conversation consisted of Qiao Xuan speaking while Qiao Yan listened.

The old man, who initially could still speak in complete sentences, gradually began to speak in a more fragmented manner.

In the snippets carried by the wind, names like Suiyang, Hanyang, and Wuyuan border defense were mentioned, followed by Luoyang…

The old servant, who had been particularly silent since Qiao Yan and the others moved in, suddenly spoke up. “This… this is Lord Qiao’s path of promotion.”

Cheng Li turned his head to look at him upon hearing this, just in time to see the elderly servant wiping tears from the corners of his eyes with his sleeve.

The old servant had clearly recognized that Qiao Xuan was entrusting his final wishes as he neared the end of his life.

For a renowned minister and military strategist who had served as a high-ranking official, what could be more valuable than recounting the experiences of his distinguished career?

Even when he was still serving as the Gongcao of Suiyang County, pursuing the charges against Chen Guoxiang Yang Chang, he was then still young and inexperienced in his methods.

But now, allowing the person involved to reflect from a more mature perspective, analyzing his mindset at the time, was undoubtedly an invaluable lesson.

This was not something he would share with just anyone.

Now, sitting in the courtyard with his granddaughter, who was just beginning to show her potential, he was embedding all his wishes and advice into this straightforward narrative as they faced a plot of newly sprouted greens.

As the sun was about to set, Qiao Xuan’s voice gradually became as faint as the buzzing of a mosquito.

Qiao Yan leaned in closer.

Qiao Yan leaned closer, finally hearing him clearly ask, “Can you promise me one thing?”

With Qiao Yan leaning in, he was able to grasp her hand.

This brought his face closer to Qiao Yan’s.

On his emaciated face, a sharp, almost blade-like aura flickered in his eyes, but it quickly turned into a nearly earnest expression.

“Can you promise me… if the Han dynasty does not betray Qiao Yan, Qiao Yan will not betray the Han dynasty?”

Qiao Yan was momentarily speechless but soon squeezed his already cooling hand and replied, “I promise you.”

Upon receiving this reply, Qiao Xuan’s fingers finally lost their strength.

Now he truly could not hold on any longer.

During his serious illness, because he had not formed any factions, this humble courtyard had remained relatively quiet, with few visitors except for the one deliberate visit from Liu Hong to bestow rewards upon Qiao Yan.

On the day he was to pass away, the scene was particularly subdued.

Only Qiao Yan kept vigil by his bedside for another night.

As the final burst of energy faded from his body, she, along with the family servant, moved him back to the sickbed inside the house.

Perhaps it was because of Qiao Yan’s promise, or perhaps because, as his spirit once again faded, he heard Qiao Yan slowly reciting the lessons she had learned from his previous experiences.

This sense of legacy continuing provided him with a deep satisfaction, making his expression particularly peaceful as he passed away.

He vaguely recalled the evaluation he had given to a promising young man many years ago: “The world is about to fall into chaos; only those with extraordinary talent can save it.”

Perhaps this child, who had taken on his granddaughter’s identity, was also such a talent.

It was a pity that he would not be able to witness the world at peace.

At dawn, he lay on his sickbed and breathed his last breath.

It was the sixth day of the sixth month in the seventh year of the Guanghe era.