The night outside the window was as dark as ink, so thick it seemed impossible to see through.
Xu Zhuohua was curled up in the quilt, breathing evenly and deeply, already fast asleep, with a smile on her face.
But Cheng Muyun sat alone by the window.
His heart felt as if it were being pulled by two forces. On one end was burning joy—when Xu Zhuohua looked at him, the light in her eyes was pure and intense, an unreserved affection, the most secure harbor in the chaotic world, allowing him to taste a bit of sweetness even amidst the clash of swords.
On the other end, however, lies a heavy sense of panic.
She valued this relationship so much that it felt like she was placing the weight of her entire life on him.
Cheng Muyun dared not think too deeply about what would happen if one day he really fell under the enemy's gun, or if he never came back from an ambush. How would this girl, who regarded him as her whole world, go on?
He has witnessed firsthand the pain of losing a loved one.
He had experienced the emptiness of having a piece of his heart ripped out, the despair that gnawed at him day and night, and he never wanted her to be tainted by it again.
But given the current situation, he can't even guarantee his own life.
The road ahead is fraught with thorns, and every step could be a precipice. We must be fully prepared for failure, even if that preparation contains the cruelest assumptions.
“This country will become very, very good…” Xu Zhuohua said, her eyes sparkling like tiny stars, as if she were painting a picture that was within reach.
Cheng Muyun took a deep breath and gazed at the bright moon.
Yes, she has to survive.
She is knowledgeable and insightful; even without him, she can still live a vibrant and fulfilling life in that "very, very good" world.
This thought brought him some comfort, yet it also carried a bittersweet feeling that was hard to describe.
The cool moonlight streamed in and fell on his tightly pursed lips.
The bright moonlight illuminated the night sky, but it couldn't illuminate the fog leading to the road ahead.
Suddenly, Nanjing sent people without a word, not even revealing their names. Are they friend or foe? Are they testing us, or delivering an ultimatum? Who exactly are they? What tricks are hidden in this move, and how can we prepare in advance?
The hundreds of thousands of brothers in the Dongzhou Army had followed him through countless life-and-death struggles for so many years, abandoning their families and homes, entrusting their lives to him. What would their fate be? Would they die on the battlefield, or would they be able to await a peaceful end? Cheng Muyun's fist slowly clenched at his side, his knuckles turning white.
"Xiao Wuxin is hope, is the future." Xu Zhuohua's words rang in my ears again, filled with an undeniable certainty.
Cheng Muyun gazed at the bright moon on the horizon, and an idea gradually formed in his mind. Perhaps, he should send a letter to Xiao Wuxin.
Without beating around the bush, ask him directly what his plans are, and whether the hundreds of thousands of brothers in the Dongzhou Army can follow him to find a way to survive.
As Cheng Muyun stood under the moonlight, pondering the wording of his letter, a low rumble of an engine suddenly came from afar.
The sound was extremely soft, yet in the quiet night it was like a fine needle, unexpectedly piercing the surrounding tranquility.
He raised an eyebrow and turned to look out the window—in the shadows of the street corner, a black sedan was parked silently, its headlights flashing twice quickly, like a secret signal delivered in the dark.
It is Chen Hede.
A knowing glint flashed in Cheng Muyun's eyes. He quietly closed the window, the glass blocking out the moonlight and concealing the noise outside.
He glanced back at the bed. Xu Zhuohua turned over, her brows furrowing slightly as if she were about to wake up, but she quickly relaxed, her breathing remaining even.
After making sure she wasn't disturbed, he picked up his coat and deliberately slowed down his movements when closing the door, leaving only a very soft "click" sound.
Most of the streetlights at the alley entrance had long since broken, and the only remaining one flickered, casting Chen Hede's shadow long and thin against the mottled wall, like a crumpled silhouette.
He stood motionless by the car, a cigarette between his fingers, the embers flickering with each breath, casting a dark shadow over his eyes.
"I could smell it from far away." Cheng Muyun walked over, turned his head to the side in disgust, and unconsciously twitched his nose. "You put out your cigarette when you come to talk to me. It's making my head hurt."
Chen Hede seemed not to hear, his fingers holding the cigarette trembling slightly as he let the gray ash fall onto his shoes.
Smoke billowed from his lips, blurring the expression in his eyes. He spoke in a hoarse voice, as if his voice had been sanded: "It was translated by Lan Qing."
"What?" Cheng Muyun was about to say something when he suddenly stopped, wondering if he had misheard.
The night wind carried the smell of smoke, but he didn't flinch. He just stared at Chen Hede's face and said, "Say that again?"
Chen Hede finally looked up, and the light from the streetlamp fell right into his eyes, reflecting a terrifying red, like a gambler who had been up for days and nights, or a trapped beast driven to the brink of despair.
He suddenly raised his voice, each word carrying a desperate, do-or-die determination: "The man sent from Nanjing! It's Lan Qingyi! Lan Qingyi, the secretary of the Military Commission! Cheng Muyun, you're finished!"
With a "buzz," Cheng Muyun felt as if his brain had been hit by a heavy hammer, and his once clear thoughts instantly turned into a mess.
My heart felt like it was being gripped tightly by something, sinking heavily downwards, making it hard to breathe.
How could he not know Lan Qing's translation?
When Zhou Minhai led his troops, he was as ruthless as a demon seeking death, but when it came to manipulating events, Lan Qingyi was the Yama hiding in the shadows.
He was a man whose every inch of his being was cunning; he never shed blood, yet he could make countless people lose their lives while he was talking and laughing.
His arrival in Xinhai City wasn't a summons; he was clearly there with imperial authority to suppress them.
Chen Hede's statement, "You're finished," was not unfounded.
This chapter is not finished yet. Please click on the next page to continue reading the exciting content!
Continue read on readnovelmtl.com
