I ran off as fast as I could, not caring about anything else, running for my life. My dark sleeves billowed in the wind, making a loud rustling sound, and I dared not stop.
The heavy thud of the palace gates rattled my ears, and before my eyes flashed a dazzling silver light. It was the iron armor of soldiers! He hadn't left yet!
In the distance, there was a figure, cold and tall, sitting upright on his horse, sword in his left hand. He seemed to be about to turn around and give the order to set off, and his slightly parted lips were frozen in that instant.
"Liao Yan, come here." His voice was soft, yet it landed beside me clearly, even through millions of soldiers.
The army immediately parted to make way, and I rushed forward, lifting my skirt. His figure gradually became clearer in my eyes, and I realized how much I loathed those eyes that could never see things clearly. But suddenly, there was something about that silhouette. Something was off, just like the off-putting feeling from three days ago, as if something was missing.
What's missing?
As I drew closer, the details became clearer. Suddenly, I stopped abruptly in front of his horse. He bowed, lifted me high with one arm, and proclaimed to the army, "This is a divinely ordained auspicious sign! Heaven blesses my land!"
He actually dared to say such things in front of the entire army. But now, I no longer have the mind to think about how unrealistic those words were. I just stare at his right arm, and at this moment, I wish that my eyes were playing tricks on me and that what I was seeing was just an illusion.
But that wasn't it; everything that had happened recently had been explained.
Why did he smash the medicine bowl without restraint? Why did he yell at the physician out of character? Why did he place me to his left? Why did he put his arm around me?
His right sleeve was missing a section.
That day, I grabbed his sleeve, thinking I had only missed his hand because of the wide sleeve. It turns out, I could no longer hold his hand.
The hard armor outlined his figure so abruptly.
His right arm was cut off halfway down his forearm; the hand that had supported me time and time again was nowhere to be seen.
In the palace, he always wore wide sleeves to conceal his true identity; why did it take me so long to notice?
The vows of thousands of soldiers shook heaven and earth. I held his shoulders, forcing myself not to let my tears fall.
Why didn't he tell me? Why did he keep quiet about it the night he came back? It was so dark, and I didn't even notice.
"Wait for me to come back, and I'll marry you," he whispered in my ear, looking up at me.
I bent down and buried my head in his neck, my hands gripping his armor tightly. Hard, cold.
"You can't bear to part with it?" he chuckled softly.
I nodded.
I really can't bear to see him injured like this. He's right-handed, how can he go to the battlefield now?
"Want to come together?"
His words didn't sound like a joke. But could I go? To him, I would only be a burden. Yet, I couldn't bring myself to say that I didn't want to go.
He raised the corners of his lips and declared loudly, "With divine protection, this battle will surely be a great victory! Let's go!"
Suddenly, the warhorse beneath me reared up and galloped south; it was too late for me to say anything more.
He straightened me up and whispered in my ear, "Hold the reins tight. This horse is fast, don't fall off. I'm afraid I won't be able to hold you."
That last sentence was tinged with helplessness.
He'd endured this alone for half a month; how much pain must it have taken? He was a man who had once humbled himself, all for the glory and respect he now enjoyed. Yet, in gaining this position, he lost his most powerful arm. He used that arm to wield his sword, to fight, to conquer the world. Now, he had an empty sleeve. How could he bear it?
I could only nod. Being by his side, there was nothing else I could do to help; protecting myself and not making him worry was the greatest help I could offer.
It's been a long time since I've experienced such a bumpy journey. Even when I accompanied him on his marches, we weren't in such a rush, and everyone always treated me with exceptional care. Now, with the sun rising higher and higher, he's carrying me ahead of the main army, unable to stop for even a moment. Any talk of care would be superfluous. The thousands of soldiers behind me are no longer the brothers I once knew, like those with thick legs and big legs. They fight for him, perhaps with seven parts loyalty, the other three parts maintained only by money and provisions. After all, the world is so vast; some will always stay for various reasons. I only hope that my presence won't diminish that loyalty any further.
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