Since all the tents were full, the two brothers lay in the carriage that night, chatting and holding their bedding.
"Why is the northern border region so poor?" Zheng Ruqian voiced his doubts. "You are fighting for the country, shouldn't you provide strong support?"
The aristocratic families of Fengjing sang and danced, spending hundreds of taels of silver on a single meal. Converted to ordinary pork, that would be enough to feed the entire Fifth Squad for three days.
“Because the wealthy are the aristocratic families, not the national treasury.” Fang Heng rested his head on his arms. “The late emperor was tyrannical in his wars, and the national treasury was empty for many years. It was good enough to provide enough food for the soldiers, how could there be meat at every meal?”
"Moreover, the northern Xinjiang region is so remote that ordinary pork would spoil if it couldn't be transported there."
The Jiangnan region is rich, and Fengjing is rich, but this wealth does not extend to the border regions.
Fang Heng sighed deeply, parted the carriage curtain, looked at the twinkling stars outside, and chuckled, "Second Brother, we're looking at the same starry sky as our eldest brother, younger brothers, and sisters."
I wonder what they're doing, or if they're thinking about him.
Zheng Ruqian did not answer, but stared blankly at the top of the carriage.
After a long while, Fang Heng's breathing gradually slowed down; he must have fallen asleep from exhaustion.
Zheng Ruqian tucked him in as if he were in a dilapidated temple, then smoothed his long hair to one side before lying down on the other side and drifting off to sleep.
In their dreams, they possessed incredibly fast means of transportation, enabling them to reach the frontier in just a few days and even transport pork from Fengjing.
Trips and trips continued until the vehicle broke down completely, making clanging noises.
Zheng Ruqian had no time to grieve. He sat up abruptly and found that the bedding beside him was already empty. The sound of clashing knives came from outside, accompanied by the boy's powerful shouts, forming the most beautiful sound in the cold winter.
He pushed open the door and saw that the soldiers, who had been somewhat lazy yesterday, were now all wearing the thinnest clothes, with the most resolute eyes, wielding the most ruthless swords.
Fang Heng led by example, standing at the very front. Although he was still a slender young man, every muscle in his body was full of explosive power.
He demonstrated the Fang family's knife techniques again and again, without holding anything back, and taught the key points.
Six guards will assist with instruction to help you correct your movements.
Not wanting to disturb them, Zheng Ruqian crouched down and scurried to the water vat, scooped out a ladle of water, and used fine salt to clean his mouth.
The cook who took away the cured meat yesterday walked over with a simple smile and brought out a bowl of rice that had been kept warm. "The team leader told us to save this for you."
It was yesterday's stewed cabbage with cured pork. After being repeatedly heated, the cabbage had become so soft and mushy that it looked awful.
But once you put it in your mouth, it tastes even better, and you can even slide it down your stomach without much chewing.
Perhaps it was because he was starving, or perhaps he had figured things out, but Zheng Ruqian ate a bowl of cabbage and cured meat clean, just like the bowl at the entrance of the second courtyard that was often licked by stray cats and dogs.
After washing the dishes, he strode to the tent where people from northern Xinjiang were being sheltered. He lifted the tent flap, and inside were several men exercising.
Because of their weak physical condition or inability to practice martial arts, they were assigned to wash vegetables, knead dough, and make beds with the women.
Some accepted it calmly, while others felt intensely resentful.
These unwilling people would secretly hide in their tents to exercise after finishing their work. They longed to become stronger, to pick up a long knife, to fight on the battlefield, and even more so, to avenge their fathers and fellow villagers who had died tragically.
In order to become part of the military, they encouraged each other and made progress together.
Unfortunately, it still didn't work.
After collapsing to the ground, panting heavily, a boy curled up in pain, crying, "Why am I so useless? Why can't I fight on the battlefield? I'm such a piece of trash."
As soon as he relaxed, the others, who were either upside down or lying flat, also lost their spirit and sadly closed their eyes.
"Big brother, is it that we can't avenge our parents?" the boy choked up. "I'm so useless. I can't even fight on the battlefield. I deserve to die. I should die with our parents."
The others lay there in despair, and no one spoke.
It was at this moment that Zheng Ruqian lifted the tent flap, and cold air and sunlight simultaneously rushed into the tent, causing the sobbing people to shiver.
"Are you cold?" Master Zheng looked down at them. "It's right that you're cold. There are many ways in this world to prove yourself useful, but death is the most useless thing."
"If you can't be the one fighting on the front lines, then be the one supporting them from behind. Whatever you do is better than dying a cowardly death."
An older man struggled to sit up and shouted angrily, "Don't talk nonsense. We don't need a few of us to wash vegetables and make dough. We just want to do something useful. What's wrong with that?"
“You are not wrong.” Zheng Ruqian remained cold. “You may not like chopping vegetables and making dough, but you cannot look down on the people who chop vegetables and make dough. Without them, you wouldn’t even be able to eat, and you would starve to death.”
The older man was speechless and lowered his head in shame.
“But we don’t really need to chop vegetables or make noodles.” The boy struggled to get up. “We don’t know how to do it either. Look at my hands, I can cut myself three times just by chopping a radish.”
In the end, after getting injured and recovering, he became someone who just ate for free again.
They didn't want to.
With his back to the rising sun, Zheng Ruqian, wearing a dirty padded jacket, smiled, like a god bathed in sunlight, or an all-powerful mountain spirit. "Since you don't want to chop vegetables or knead dough, and you can't practice martial arts, then come with me to transport things."
Everyone inside was shocked.
The boy asked in surprise, "Transport, transport what?"
“Transporting supplies from Fengjing to the frontier might involve encountering Tartars and enduring much hardship,” Zheng Ruqian said slowly. “But the things you bring can provide extra food for the soldiers, ensure they eat and sleep well, and help their wounds heal faster. Are you willing?”
If you can't be the one who goes to the battlefield, then be the one who supports them from behind as they fight the enemy.
It wasn't about chopping vegetables or making dough; it was about bringing back real, life-saving supplies.
The people inside the tent lit up, and one by one they got up from the ground, eagerly agreeing, "Okay, I'll go."
"I am willing, even if I encounter the Tartars."
"I can drive a carriage, take me, take me."
“I know the way well, I have a great memory, I want to go too.”
An empty treasury or a tense war situation are not a big deal. What matters is that the people of the whole country work together to fight against external threats.
Zheng Ruqian turned around and saw Fang Heng walking over with his bare arms. The boy had many scars, big and small, but his eyes were always bright and resolute. Only when he heard the strange noise from the tent did he show a little doubt.
He curled the corners of his mouth and showed his younger brother through his actions: Silly boy, your second brother will be with you and get through all the difficulties together.
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