Chapter 33
After giving instructions to the army, Mo Yinghuo stood at the entrance of the tent, coldly gazing at the sky above Dongliang. Ever since she heard Shu Rong say that Gongliang Zhong had gone to pursue Xiang Niangzi, she had felt a vague sense of unease.
This unease wasn't a feeling that arose out of nowhere. Mo Yinghuo knew that those who had been on the battlefield for a long time, living with death every day, would have an extraordinary sensitivity to danger. As the commander of the Yunzhao Army, her senses were even more profound than those of her soldiers.
"Zhao Shu," Mo Yinghuo called out, frowning.
No one answered.
She turned around and found the tent empty. She then remembered that Zhao Shu had said he had something to attend to and would be leaving for a while. Could it be that he had also sensed danger on Gongliang Zhong's side?
"Guards!" Mo Yinghuo grabbed his silver spear and was about to lead a group of men when a soldier suddenly rushed in, his voice trembling with fear, "General, Deputy General Gongliang and the others..."
Before he could finish speaking, he called two or three patrolling soldiers to help a soldier covered in blood into the room.
The soldier, covered in blood and clutching a wooden box, stared blankly at Mo Yinghuo. His legs buckled and he collapsed to his knees with a thud.
He seemed to have exhausted all his strength to reach Mo Yinghuo's tent. Now that he saw the general, he could finally release all the energy he had been holding on to. However, he still gripped the box in his arms tightly, as if afraid that if he loosened his grip even slightly, the box would fall.
Mo Yinghuo glanced at the box, then his gaze fell coldly on the soldier, revealing no emotion. He simply asked, "Where is Deputy General Gongliang?"
The soldier slowly regained his senses, but spoke incoherently, "Tens of thousands of Xiongnu, ambushed in Dongliang, suddenly attacked, all wearing... black armor, fought for three days and three nights, and the entire army... was wiped out."
Mo Yinghuo seemed to have expected this. His eyes were fixed on the box that the soldier was holding tightly in front of him. There were faint traces of blood in the gaps of the box, and the black and red color was faintly mixed with the strong smell of rust. His voice was unusually calm. "Open the box."
The soldier's hands trembled as he opened the box.
Mo Yinghuo slowly turned around. Her expression was calm as still water, but her hands were clenched into fists, and a pair of dark, unfathomable abyssal mists swirled around them, creating a stark contrast against her delicate face.
The soldiers standing to the side looked at the general who remained completely unmoved, but for some reason, they dared not look at him any longer.
"Princess." A weak and cautious voice drifted into Mo Yinghuo's ears.
She did not turn around.
Everything happened so suddenly, just like what happened with General Long. It's begun, isn't it? Mo Yinghuo seemed to see that old, waiting figure.
Shu Rong stood at the entrance of the tent, not daring to go in. Seeing that Mo Yinghuo did not respond, he called out softly again.
"The Eldest Princess."
The voice was so cautious, filled with endless pleading and expectation, yet it only took a slight press of a straw to easily plunge it into an abyss of no return.
"Mo Yinghuo." Shu Rong stood at the tent entrance the whole time. His voice was a little sobbing and trembling, but he never dared to despair.
Mo Yinghuo finally turned around. She walked step by step to Shu Rong's side, gently patted his shoulder, and solemnly said in a general's tone, "Deputy General Shu, take care of Deputy General Gongliang's funeral arrangements."
After saying that, she walked out of the tent.
The night was dark and there was no wind.
Mo Yinghuo quietly looked up at the night sky where only Venus was faintly visible. Like the late emperor, she stood with her hands behind her back, her eyes as deep as water, as if imprisoning her in this shallow and deep place.
After years of fighting, it was finally over, but she also knew that everything was just beginning.
However, she still harbored a sliver of hope. At least she, Gongliang Zhong, and Shurong were prepared, and they could at least go back to the capital and have a few more drinks at Yanxi Tower. She smelled the fragrant aroma of bone broth noodles, and her heart skipped a beat. She slowly walked to the rear kitchen tent.
"General," the soldier said hurriedly, bowing, and quickly opened the tent door.
Four bowls of longevity noodles were neatly arranged on the table, with a few slices of white meat, a few pieces of green vegetables, and the aroma of the bone broth wafting through the air. The cooks exchanged glances, clearly aware of the murder of Deputy General Gongliang. The four bowls of longevity noodles had been cooked not long ago, but they dared not deliver them to the general's tent as Shurong had instructed, nor did they dare to throw them away, nor did they dare to eat them themselves.
Although the cooks don't usually go to the battlefield and are mainly responsible for feeding the soldiers, they are still a logistical force in the Yunzhao Army. In fact, they are the ones who spend the most time with the soldiers. Although Deputy General Gongliang usually has a stern face and seems a bit nervous, perhaps because of their similar backgrounds, he is also very friendly to the soldiers, and over the years, the soldiers have developed a brotherly bond with him.
At this moment, the cooks were carrying one table of sorrow and grief, and another table of bewilderment. When the general entered, they immediately noticed the four bowls of longevity noodles on the table, and in their sadness and distress, they picked up the other table in a panic.
Mo Yinghuo, oblivious to the complex emotions of the cooks, simply sat down quietly, picked up a pair of chopsticks from the table, pointed to several bowls of longevity noodles, and said softly, "This princess has not eaten yet. Bring the noodles over, I'll eat them."
The head cook was tall and thin, looking like a chopstick. He quickly gave the other cooks a signal and they tidied up the mess of fruits, vegetables, meats, and other things on the table. Military life was already a matter of sometimes being hungry and sometimes full, and food was used to its fullest extent, with no room for waste. It was nothing like the life of an ordinary family.
Compared to the kitchen, the cooks' tents were large, but otherwise shabby. Since the surrender of Dongliang, the people of Chencheng had sent some cured meat and fruits to the army, which had improved the cooks' table setting. Hearing that the general had returned today with another great victory, they had intended to prepare something delicious, but unexpectedly…
The cooks managed to make room for Mo Yinghuo.
Mo Yinghuo said nothing, but carefully used his chopsticks to pick up the longevity noodles, and soon finished the bowl of noodles.
Then, she picked up the second bowl of noodles.
...
The third bowl.
...
The cooks standing nearby didn't dare to make a sound; the tent was so quiet that only the sound of Mo Yinghuo eating noodles could be heard.
As she was about to pick up the fourth bowl, a long, strong hand suddenly took it. When Mo Yinghuo saw that hand, she immediately knew that Zhao Shu had arrived. She didn't look up, but her voice was unusually soft yet clear, her right hand still tightly gripping the chopsticks, "Don't waste it. Life in the army is very tough."
Zhao Shu quietly watched Mo Yinghuo, whose eyes were lowered. Even with his exceptionally keen senses, he couldn't detect any emotion in Mo Yinghuo's voice—no sadness, no anger, no hatred. How many ups and downs must a person endure to be able to so calmly and naturally express such grief before being overwhelmed with sorrow, a composure that evoked such pity?
He didn't say a word, but carefully took the chopsticks from Mo Yinghuo's hand, picked up the bowl of longevity noodles, ate without speaking, and slowly and carefully finished the bowl of noodles, soup and all.
After he finished eating, Mo Yinghuo slowly stood up and walked out of the cooks' tent without saying a word. Zhao Shu put down his chopsticks, nodded slightly to the cooks, and followed Mo Yinghuo out.
After the two men stepped out of the tent, a cook with a face as flat as a plate looked up and leaned close to their officer, who was as thin as a chopstick, and asked in bewilderment, "General, was she that hungry? She ate three bowls in one go."
Officer Chopsticks shook his head, also looking bewildered. "Young Master Zhao seems quite hungry as well. Why are these two fighting over a bowl of noodles?"
...
Mo Yinghuo slowly walked back to his tent. In Yun Zhao's camp, everything was as usual, except that tonight seemed quieter than usual. The tents were empty; Shu Rong and the soldiers had all left.
Zhao Shu walked quietly behind him, and after a moment, he awkwardly squeezed out a short sentence, "General, please accept my condolences."
Mo Yinghuo sighed. She realized that only when she and Zhao Shu were together would she unconsciously let a crack appear in the deep-seated emotions and desires she had long taken for granted, allowing a little breath of fresh air to escape the suffocation.
“Zhao Shu, do you know that in the first year, when I led troops to attack the Southern Jin, I was mistakenly caught in an enemy trap. Ten thousand soldiers fought desperately to carve a bloody path for me. In the end, out of the ten thousand, only Gongliang Zhong and I survived. At that time, Gongliang Zhong carried me, covered in blood, and charged out of the enemy lines, stepping over the corpses of the Yunxiu soldiers. Ironically, in my bloodlust, I even wanted to rush back to save them.”
Zhao Shu listened quietly.
"At that time, Gongliang Zhong simply said, 'General, once you're on the battlefield, you not only have to be prepared to die at any moment, but you also have to get used to the fact that the soldiers around you might suddenly die in front of you or never appear in front of you again.'"
“I think I’ve gotten used to it. The Yunxiu Kingdom’s court always receives reports of the Princess’s invincibility and the Yunzhao Army’s unstoppable victories. But who knows that the Princess’s life was protected by the blood and bones of countless comrades? And how many souls of Yunxiu Kingdom’s soldiers have been taken by the title of Yunzhao Army?”
“Zhao Shu, I suddenly feel like I’ve been fighting a war my whole life, for a very, very long time, but it also feels like it’s been a short time, just a few years.”
Mo Yinghuo kept saying that she didn't seem to need any response, and she knew that Zhao Shu wouldn't say much. He had only come to help destroy the Stone Spirit Kingdom; compared to that, the lives and complaints of others were indeed insignificant. However, just hearing him listen made Mo Yinghuo feel that all her sorrow had finally found a tiny outlet.
For years, Mo Yinghuo felt lost and confused. All around her, everything seemed geared towards preparing for the annihilation of the Shiling Kingdom. Sometimes, she was haunted by nightmares, wondering if the five years of war would truly be nothing more than a fleeting memory once she truly ventured into the northern frontier. The court and the people awaited a radiant and accomplished princess, and the Yunzhao army relied on a shrewd and decisive general. Only she herself endured the deep-seated fear and waited day and night.
Indeed, it began. He silently pulled off her left arm without giving her any chance to struggle.
“Zhao Shu, do you know that some people have suffered far too much, but if someone shows them even a little respect, they will follow them to the death.”
"Zhao Shu, have you always wondered why the person Father Emperor asked you to find wasn't the Emperor of Yunxiu Kingdom, and why the Eldest Princess became a general? It's not because the Eldest Princess is so capable. When the Emperor ascended the throne, countless eyes were watching from the court. The world was in turmoil. If I didn't go to war, could I have stabilized the court? The more enemies the Emperor's elder sister kills on the battlefield, the more secure his position becomes. If the court is unstable and the surrounding people are not convinced, how can we fight against Shiling Kingdom?"
"My brother often writes that the civil and military officials are constantly scheming against each other, weighing the various factions every day, and are already exhausted. How could I not know that after several years of this kind of fighting, the national treasury has been almost emptied. My brother has used all the money in his private treasury for the war, not wanting the soldiers to suffer or the people to be impoverished. I think it is because of his hard work and dedication that Yunxiu Kingdom has enough food in the rear and the court is gradually becoming peaceful. In terms of the art of emperorship and the governance of the country, I admit that I am far inferior to him..."
Mo Yinghuo didn't know how long she talked or how many words she said; it was as if she wanted to vomit out all the bitterness of the past five years.
“Zhao Shu, you may not know, but ever since you arrived, for nearly a month, a fire has been burning within me, a burning, fervent desire to reach the very depths of the Stone Spirit Kingdom and see what is it that fills my father with such fear and unease. But just now, I suddenly…”
Mo Yinghuo didn't continue; she had said enough. Anyone could grieve, but a general could not grieve too much.
"At least, we'll get through today."
...
Mo Yinghuo lowered her eyes slightly and asked softly, "Zhao Shu, are you still there?"
"I am here."
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