We must take the wine cup! Even if it means going all in!
A gust of cold wind blew in, and I turned around to see a north wind whipping up the tent flaps, chilling my legs and feet. I rubbed my hands together; my already cold constitution made them even colder. He was still clad in his iron armor, cold and hard to touch, the candlelight flickering, casting a chilling light.
I gently took out an outer robe and slowly draped it over his shoulders. He looked up abruptly, his eyes widening in surprise before softening. He pressed my hand on his shoulder with his left hand and asked in a low, hoarse voice, "Are you cold?"
I withdrew my hand and shook my head.
"It's late, you should go back and rest."
I didn't answer, just stared at the tea on the table. The tea had gone cold; it must have been bitter. I wondered if he would even take a sip if I called someone to get him a fresh cup.
Suddenly, as if by instinct, he stretched out his right arm, the position of his sleeve hanging down so abruptly from the distance to the teacup. I recognized that distance; if his hand were still there, he could grasp the teacup right now. Not too far, not too close.
His gaze dimmed like ashes for a moment. But it was only for a moment. The next instant, he released my hand, held the cup in his left hand, tilted his head back, and drank it all in one gulp.
"Go and rest." He raised the corners of his lips, but I couldn't tell if it was a smile.
I nodded. At times like this, I didn't know what to say or do. Saying anything would be superfluous, and doing anything would seem like pity. I understood that what he needed was peace and quiet, to vent his feelings alone. He wanted to bear it all himself, and I wouldn't force him. The best thing would be for me to be there for him when he was tired. At this moment, all I could do was respect his wishes. After all, he was a man, and in a woman's eyes, he had to appear strong and capable. I understood, so I didn't point it out, and I put away my teacup and left.
He lost his right hand not overnight, but it was a habit of over twenty years—how could it be easily changed? As an emperor, he should indeed sit behind thousands, strategizing and commanding, but more so because of his right arm. Now, even if he went to the battlefield and charged at the forefront, he would only be a burden, just like me. Rather than causing others worry and concern, it was better to remain calm. After all, this was a battlefield; a moment of distraction could mean the difference between life and death. I understood, and he understood even better.
Give him time to adapt gradually and let him retain his masculine pride.
I lowered the tent flap and took one last look at him, trying to keep the north wind out.
It's very cold.
That night, he suddenly woke up, his body covered in sticky, cold sweat. Looking down at his palms, they were icy and trembling, still reeling from the dream, too weak to clench. Yet, what had happened in that dream, so much like the night he returned from the capital? An inexplicable palpitation, and then, he lost an arm. Was this moment a premonition of something?
Without time to think, he slipped on his shoes and went out. In his tent, there was still a faint light, and the only other people around were patrolling guards. It was as quiet as an ordinary night.
Perhaps I'm overthinking it.
Witnessing life and death every day, it's no surprise that I have nightmares.
Back in bed, I couldn't fall asleep again; my hands and feet were ice-cold and wouldn't warm up by midnight. My heart was filled with unease, longing for dawn, but that night seemed far too long.
Until the outside world was bustling with noise, all I could see was darkness.
What's going on with the weather?
Someone called out in a sharp voice. I rolled off the bed and hurriedly lifted the curtain; it was Jimo. Hearing the sound, he glanced back at me indifferently, and after a short while, raised his left arm and pointed to the sky.
Looking up, the sky was covered with inky black clouds, and lightning flashed down from time to time, shaking the earth.
There was no downpour, just this oppressive and eerie scene. It was as if the clouds were right above us, within reach.
"Are you scared?" he asked in a low voice.
I shook my head. The sight might indeed be terrifying, but it was still much better than the day lightning struck right in front of the horse.
"Your Majesty," Hairy Legs leaned closer, lowering his shrill voice, "If you ask me anything more, doesn't this look like sorcery?"
witchcraft.
"Look at these clouds and this wind, they're clearly coming from the south. Could it be that the auspicious omen they're talking about is actually a demon?"
"If you're talking nonsense, go find a doctor to prescribe some medicine." His words were calm and even, yet they gave one a clear sense of reassurance and peace of mind.
Hairy-legged pursed his lips and said nothing more.
Suddenly, a bright light appeared on the horizon. A bolt of lightning, skimming the sky, stretched across the horizon in an instant. All around fell silent.
The lightning bolt looked exactly like a real dragon.
I froze for a moment, then my heart suddenly tightened.
He suddenly reached out and grabbed me, and I was startled to realize that I was swaying violently.
“Going back to the tent is no big deal,” he said casually.
No, for some reason, I was so certain in my heart that I couldn't go back, I couldn't hide. The fleeting dragon shape on the horizon lashed at my heart like a whip, and all I could do was watch.
At this moment, perhaps only Fu Xi can provide an answer.
Fuqi's auspicious omens, the shimmering dragon shadow in the south. I refuse to believe that such an extravagant court could possibly summon a true dragon to descend and sing its praises. Could it be that in this world, there is truly no justice, no righteous path?
"Your Majesty, should we withdraw the troops or..." A general cautiously approached and asked in a low voice. In this kind of weather, everyone was filled with unease.
"We absolutely cannot retreat!" he said with absolute certainty. Right now, the morale of the army was low and it was difficult to advance south, but if they retreated, all the lives of the soldiers who had died in the nearly one year of fighting, and his right hand, would have been wasted.
"emperor……"
"I want to see what a true dragon looks like! What the Heavenly Dao looks like!" He stood with his hands behind his back, his posture tall and imposing, his expression solemn and arrogant. In an instant, that murderous aura swept across the heavens and earth, even more so than the dragon shape on the horizon just now.
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