"Our King Jiji, are you accustomed to living in Huaqiu City?"
Charles VIII leaned on the scepter of civilization, stepping onto the ancient city walls of Huaqiu City.
This king, who had just returned from the battlefield at Windmill Land, compared to the past, had a face that had been stripped of youthfulness, adorned now with a touch of majesty and wear.
Beside him, Prime Minister Lorenzo smiled gracefully: "He is very satisfied, has acquired several new lovers, and says Falan is too delightful, he has already forgotten Leia."
"Tsk," Charles VIII clicked his tongue lightly, "He still harbors thoughts, must keep a close eye on him."
"I know this."
The morning breeze carrying a coolness stirred Charles VIII's cropped hair, mingling with the river mist and the clamor of the citizens' cooking smoke.
Stopping his steps, Charles turned his head towards the city as if gazing upon his entire kingdom.
After fifty years, Windmill Land returns to my grasp.
