Qin Mo's collar was grabbed, and his feet were pulled off the ground. A dark, sallow face stood in front of him, spitting wildly.
"Why didn't you report the effects of this strong liquor sooner? How much military strategy have you delayed? How many Han soldiers have you caused to die? Hmm...?"
“Nephew… I did this to you when Uncle first invited me to dinner. It was because Uncle thought it was too expensive that he never came to buy it. You can’t blame me.”
Looking at the worried soldiers and the general's personal guards covering their mouths and chuckling, Qin Mo had no choice but to offer an explanation.
Zhao Qirui was stunned for a moment. After thinking about it carefully, it seemed that Qin Mo had indeed done this, but he thought that Qin Mo was taking the opportunity to resell alcohol, so he put it out of his mind.
Zhao Qirui, the dignified General Who Conquers the North, could not allow Qin Mo to ruin his lifelong reputation. He shouted, "We are all comrades of the empire, do you still want money?"
Qin Mo's eyes started rolling back, not from being pinched by Zhao Qirui, but from anger.
“Dayuan is located in a remote area, where people are poor and the land is barren. My nephew went north to be recruited and has already incurred a huge debt. You don’t want the money? ... That’s impossible.”
Qin Mo struggled fiercely, trying to pry open the large hand gripping her collar. She declared that without money, nothing could be discussed, not even her uncle, but even the emperor had to pay for his drinks.
Zhao Qirui flung Qin Mo far away and said disdainfully, "You're in debt? Don't think I don't know how big your sea salt business is. You're rolling in money."
"That's not my own money. So many uncles and elders followed my father their whole lives, and they couldn't even afford a decent coffin..." Qin Mo straightened her collar and muttered.
Zhao Qirui's eyes dimmed considerably. He ignored Qin Mo and went to the relief tent to observe it carefully.
A newly-adult recruit had his arm pierced by an arrow. Two Japanese women, even older than him, were treating his wound. A wooden stick was stuffed into his mouth, and his limbs were tied to the bed.
The female soldier comforted the new recruit, deftly cut the arrow shaft, wrapped gauze with a copper rod, soaked it in alcohol, and inserted it into the wound on the recruit's arm. Sweat immediately streamed down the recruit's forehead.
The female soldier was still young, but tears were already welling up in her eyes. Her hands remained steady as she cleaned the wound inside and out, deftly stitching it up with absorbable sutures. The wounded soldier was also in pain; his lip hair had just started to grow, but he didn't utter a single scream. Only the tears welling in his eyes betrayed his suffering.
Zhao Qirui stepped forward and patted the wounded soldier on the shoulder, saying, "Not bad, lad." Then he turned to Qin Mo and said fiercely, "I'll take this strong liquor. Name your price!"
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