As for those barbarians gossiping, saying things like "it's against the natural order for women to command troops" and "a hen crowing at dawn will surely cause chaos in the heavens," I'm too lazy to argue.
Last year, the Western Qiang sent an envoy to negotiate peace. The envoy was an old man with a big beard, wearing a mink coat and a jeweled hat.
When they saw me, they acted all hostile and refused to drink from their teacups.
The implication was clear: "Tianxuan has no one to command the army; what kind of system is this? I'm afraid it won't last more than a few years before it's destroyed by our Western Qiang."
I laughed and drew my gun. The tip of the gun "whooshed" into the gold brick at his feet. The sparks that flew up startled him so much that his legs went weak and he almost fell off his chair.
The gun barrel shook the ground, and the candlelight in the hall flickered, making his face appear deathly pale.
"The envoy might as well go and take a look at the newly built Yanmen Pass," I said, gripping the gun barrel. My voice wasn't loud, but it silenced everyone in the hall.
"Among the heads of the Western Qiang people hanging on the city wall, which one could I, Mu Yunxi, not kill with a single spear thrust?"
Your barbarian customs are none of General Tianxuan's business.
My spear, Mu Yunxi's weapon, can defend our territory and protect our people; therefore, I am worthy to wield this military tally.
The envoy's face turned ashen, and the teacup in his hand crashed to the ground and shattered. He could barely speak.
He could only nod and bow, saying, "Yes, yes, yes! General is right! I misspoke! I misspoke!"
The generals of Tianxuan do not discriminate based on gender, but only on whether they can carry a gun, defend the territory, and ensure that the people can sleep peacefully.
My spear, Mu Yunxi's, has pierced the heads of barbarians, protected the mountains and rivers of Tianxuan, touched the snow of Yanmen Pass, and drunk the wine of the Western Qiang royal court.
From now on, this spear will still be stuck in the city wall of Yanmen Pass, and this military tally will still be in my hands, to guard the land where my parents died in battle, and to protect the country that the emperor cherishes.
To shield the people of this world from the cold north wind, to guard them until the end of time, until the barbarians dare not invade again.
A breeze blew in from the window, causing the tassels on the gun on the table to sway gently, and the copper bells on the shoulder armor to ring again, clear and bright.
It was like my parents were whispering in my ear, "Yunxi, you did a good job. You didn't bring shame to the Mu family."
The year I met Qin Qianluo, I had been serving as the General of Zhenxi for two years and had just turned seventeen.
The gilded bronze crane wings of the Golden Palace were still glistening with the light of the morning mist, and the wind chimes on the eaves were covered with frost. When the wind blew, the chimes rang clearly.
My knuckles, resting on the sword "Broken Snow" at my waist, were still gripped by the chill brought back from Yanmen Pass.
A few days ago, when the prisoners of war were escorted back to Beijing, the ice crystals frozen in the seams of their armor only thawed completely last night by the charcoal brazier in the general's mansion.
When your fingertips touch the leather cord wrapped around the scabbard for five years, you can still feel the roughness from the northwest winds and sand.
But amidst the solemnity of the hall filled with officials bowing their heads to receive instruction, I glanced down the steps and stumbled upon that strikingly fair skin.
Like the first magnolia tree covered in dew that sprouts in a snow-covered, frozen landscape.
Standing beside Prime Minister Qin was a little girl, only eleven years old, dressed in a moon-white ruqun embroidered with magnolias, with extremely fine silver thread trimmed around the collar and sleeves.
A breeze slipped in through the palace gate, making the magnolia petals on the hem of the skirt seem to float away.
She stood gracefully beside the vermilion palace pillar, like a new branch just touched by the morning dew, but her bright black eyes were restless, turning like two black grapes soaked in honey.
They could see clearly the brackets on the roof, the dragon carvings on the pillars, and even the patterns on the caissons hanging between the beams.
Qin Xiang quietly tugged at her sleeve to signal her to behave. His fingertips had just touched the cuff of her sleeve, which was embroidered with magnolias, when she twitched away to the side without even noticing.
The little head was still staring at the horns of the bronze beast head next to the throne, the tip of its nose slightly wrinkled.
It's like counting the teeth on the animal heads; even the silver bead earrings hanging from the ear tips sway and shatter.
I had heard before that the Qin couple had their youngest daughter in their middle age, and they doted on her so much that she was practically soft-hearted.
In the small kitchen of the Prime Minister's residence, her favorite almond milk was kept warm all year round, and the silver kettle on the stove was always hot.
The birdcage hanging under the eaves only houses the injured sparrows she picked up from the street, and she has to feed them herself.
Even the Xuan paper she used for practicing calligraphy was Xuelang paper, a tribute from Jiangnan, cut into squares and folded neatly.
Rumors circulated in the capital that this girl had been frail since childhood and had to be kept alive with ginseng soup made from old ginseng from Changbai Mountain. She was even afraid of getting her hands on the morning dew in the back garden of the Prime Minister's residence, let alone being allowed to enter the palace to meet the emperor.
It was only later that I learned that eight out of ten of these rumors were exaggerated.
She is truly favored, but her frail and weak appearance is a lie.
Just by looking around so boldly in the Golden Palace, with the embroidered soles of her shoes making a very soft "rustling" sound as they brushed against the gold bricks, one could tell that she was quite daring.
At first, I couldn't really say I liked or disliked her.
After all, when I was eleven, I was already able to carry a long sword that was half a head taller than myself, and hide behind the fence of the military training ground to secretly learn how the old soldiers wielded spears and sticks.
The calluses on the back of his hands, rubbed by the scabbard, were so thick that a layer of skin could be scraped off.
He was hit on the leg by the gun barrel while practicing shooting, and his leg was covered in bruises. He couldn't sleep at night because of the pain, but he just gritted his teeth and refused to cry, afraid that the veterans would laugh at him for being a "spoiled little kid".
At her age, Qin Qianluo seemed far too delicate to me; her slender arms and legs resembled newly sprouted willow branches, and her fingertips were as tender as freshly peeled bamboo shoots.
Her fingernails were pinkish, as if I could push her a few steps if I raised my hand even slightly.
But she was so beautiful, like a porcelain doll sculpted by a craftsman with painstaking effort, bathed in moonlight, with even the downy hairs on her eyebrows glowing with a lustrous light.
Even the tiny shadows cast under her eyes by her eyelashes when she lowers her gaze are like sprinkles of fine sugar, carrying a soft and adorable quality that makes one's eyes linger on her, unable to look away.
Back then, the Emperor would always keep me after court. On the stone table in the Imperial Garden, there were candied fruits and tea snacks. The Longjing tea was pre-Qingming, and the tea smoke curled around his dragon-patterned brocade robe.
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