I Have A Terminally Ill Duke As My Husband (1 Chapters Left to Complete) - Chapter 125

“You really look happy. Especially the way you’re holding this child—your expression looks as if you own the whole world. It seems Luan’s parents truly loved him. Oh my, Luan was quite the little troublemaker when he was young! Hehe, I rather enjoy climbing trees myself, so I guess Luan liked it too?”

Mercian smiled at the sight of young Luan climbing a tree, and Luan, standing behind her, wrapped his arms around her and spoke.

“I don’t remember clearly, but it wasn’t so much that I liked it as I liked challenges. My aunt said that from a young age, whenever someone told me, ‘You’re still too little to do that,’ I’d try my absolute best to accomplish it by the next day.”

Luan pointed to a picture with his finger—the image showed him standing proudly atop a tree.

“This picture here was taken the very first time I ever climbed a tree. According to my aunt, there was a squirrel in the tree that I wanted to catch, but they told me, ‘You’re too young—you can’t climb trees yet.’ So I secretly dragged over a ladder when no adults were watching and tried climbing up… only to fall off.”

“Oh dear! Were you badly hurt?”

“Of course—I broke my leg and had to stay in bed for four months.”

“You probably didn’t climb trees again for a while after that, right?”

“Not at all. The moment I got out of bed, I went straight back to climbing trees. Naturally, I fell again. Being only six years old and quite short, I suppose it was difficult for me to manage the ladder properly. Still, the second time, I spent about two months confined to bed.”

“You didn’t climb trees again after that, did you? Wait—oh! Looking at this picture, you’re smiling joyfully up in the tree. So you finally succeeded?”

“Naturally—I succeeded on my fourth attempt.”

“That’s incredible perseverance. Most people, after falling from a tree once, wouldn’t go near one again for a long time.”

“It’s less about perseverance and more about hating to lose. And this portrait was painted when I was seven—the first time I ever held a sword. I’m not trying to brag, but within less than three years of starting sword training, I was already far beyond most children my age in swordsmanship. And this one…”

The paintings in the small room—his enrollment at the academy, his first deployment to war, and more—each seemed to narrate a chapter of Luan’s life. Holding Mercian’s hand, Luan pointed to each portrait of himself and explained them in careful detail.

As Mercian gazed at the many portraits of Luan, she noticed something odd and spoke up.

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