Even while walking, he was pondering the allocation of soldiers for the siege. Not wanting to disturb him, I could only signal to others to prepare another tent for me at the new camp when we broke camp again. After returning, I lazed around in his tent, exhausted and sleepy. He held many important military matters in other tents to discuss with his generals, and I wondered where he rested when he was tired. What will the soldiers say about this? Has the Emperor of Jiugao been deceived by sorcery?
Ordinary people are condemned by the world for their extravagance and debauchery, but Ji Mo Dongli, the first ruler of Jiugao, is unique because of his sorcery.
Fu Xi handed me a letter from who-knows-where. It was a thin sheet of paper with only a few lines of text, briefly mentioning that Qingqiu Mountain was located in the south; the rest was urging us to go there as soon as possible. He kept saying that there was no time left, no time left. I didn't know what his standard of timekeeping was, but his urging made me anxious too. However, I knew that without capturing Pingjing and completely destroying Fuqi, Jimo would not leave easily.
There are no ice cellars like those in the palace on the battlefield. Ji Mo had promised to end everything before the weather warmed up, but how easy is that? Fu Qi has lived for over a hundred years, and although the emperor's extravagance emptied the national treasury, he still has a breath left. Not all members of the royal family are纨绔子弟 (spoiled brats). It is said that he has recently encountered a formidable enemy, and they have fought back and forth many times, neither winning nor losing, neither advancing nor retreating, which is making everyone restless and irritable.
He was the one least likely to be agitated, and every day he would sit outside his tent, lost in thought, the cold wind blowing. That day, I caught a glimpse of him as I served him tea; in the bleak north wind, he stared blankly at his right arm. Was he thinking that if he still had his right arm, if he could still go to the battlefield, there wouldn't be all these troubles, and he wouldn't need this kind of sorrow?
His face was expressionless. In front of others, he always appeared dignified. In the eyes of the soldiers, he had to be a pillar of strength, someone who, even after losing his most vital arm, could remain calm and find his place. But these people didn't understand. From the very beginning, when he raised his army and pursued the Gui Fang, he had always been at the forefront, wielding his sword. The highest commander was also the one who risked his life the most. After ascending the throne, he naturally wouldn't be like that anymore, always surrounded by a retinue wherever he went. But on the battlefield, he would personally go, and no matter how many people protected him, he would always remain the same as before, thus maintaining the morale of the army. After losing his arm, he couldn't go to the battlefield, and he didn't know what the people in the camp would say or think. Sympathy? Disdain? Contempt? Lamentation? Fear? None of these were what he wanted. He wanted to be a normal person, a normal version of himself, but no one knew.
He's weathered all of this on his own. He has nothing to be upset about anymore.
But looking at his expression, a question suddenly arose in my mind: perhaps it would be better to go to Qingqiu Mountain first?
I didn't dare ask him, afraid he would be too sensitive about my arm, afraid his rejection would be too decisive, as if he were hiding something.
Later, he led his troops to conquer the same formidable foe. He commanded his army for three days and three nights without rest. I watched as battle reports were delivered to him and orders were relayed to the battlefield. For three days, no one, inside or outside the camp, had a moment's rest. This time, the battle was finally decided.
He lost.
Under everyone's gaze, he remained indifferent, turned around, and went into the tent.
I followed him and stood silently in the tent. He stood there, unable to go to the battlefield, yet his armor remained. Now, it seemed as if without those sturdy, straight armors, he would collapse before me.
I remembered that dream, the dream in which he turned into blood and dust before my eyes. Suddenly, the dream and reality overlapped, and the illusion made my heart tremble.
I rushed over to support him, but found that he was standing perfectly fine, showing no signs of falling over.
Thankfully, it was just a dream.
He turned his head after a long while, forcing a weak smile, the ugliest smile ever: "Liao Yan."
He hadn't slept for three days, his eyes were frighteningly red, and the repeated military orders had hoarse his throat; his rough voice seemed to be grinding against my eardrums.
At that moment, for some reason, I felt that I had to say something. His gaze was fixed on my face, as if he would collapse in an instant if I didn't say something.
“…I’m here.” I responded softly, a completely meaningless remark that startled him again.
“I know.” He smiled again. “Don’t worry, victory and defeat are common in war. I’m not that easy to break down.”
Indeed, victory and defeat are common occurrences in war, but no one wants to lose a war that lasts three days and three nights, where everything is poured in. The more troops, time, and energy he invests, the smaller the chance of winning back after a crushing defeat.
“Fuchi hasn’t had such a capable general in a long time.” His words were devoid of tone.
I watched him quietly.
"Wouldn't it be better if I had a right hand?" His voice held a hint of caution and uncertainty, as if he were asking me or himself.
I just nodded vigorously.
If he could personally go to the battlefield, there would be no possibility of military intelligence being missed, and the morale of the troops would be much higher than it is now.
He lowered his head, looking at his right arm, and remained silent.
I grasped his left arm and gently shook it. He looked up and shifted his gaze. I took the letter from Fu Xi from my sleeve and handed it to him. He had read it; Mr. Xu's letter would naturally reach him immediately. But after reading it, he said nothing. At that time, he was unwilling to leave the battlefield.
But now, he just stared blankly at the envelope, not even opening it. He knew what was inside and didn't want to look at it again.
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