106 The Final Battle (End)
◎Wei Qing: Being young is good, you can fall asleep as soon as you lie down.◎
Jiaodong is close to the sea, and the air is filled with the unique salty smell of the sea breeze.
As Du Zhou finished speaking, the clatter of armor and the muffled call to arms were faintly heard. Soldiers and crossbowmen converged on the entrance to Wang's courtyard. The gatekeeper, already pale with fear, cowered behind the door, not daring to emerge. Du Zhou's gaze swept across the tightly closed vermilion lacquer gate. His face expressionless, he said, "Lieutenant, seize the moment! Break through!"
Wei Bu said nothing, but silently led the elite soldiers of the county to break the goal with skillful movements like a well-oiled machine.
The sound of the armor plates swaying with the movement was like a raging wave in the silent night. This mighty torrent rushed towards the Wang family's villa built by the sea, which looked like a giant beast, causing panic among people.
The air in Jiaodong is full of moisture, stuffy and humid, as if it is pinning people to the ground and making them unable to move.
The tall black lacquered building of the villa groaned under the impact of the professional ramming of the county soldiers and finally collapsed!
The moment the door fell to the ground, no one dared to move.
The doorman, who had been frightened by the attack, went to inform his master but could not find him and had to come back in a hurry. When he came back and saw the fallen door, he immediately collapsed and knelt where the door had fallen.
"Don't kill me!" He kowtowed to the ground, the sound of his kowtow drowned out by the sound of horse hooves. He watched the soldiers, led by a scribe, walk in. Then he was blinded by the dust that kicked up.
The towering rammed earth watchtowers flanking the gatehouse resembled the dead skeletons of enormous beasts. Du Zhou stood in its immense shadow. This behemoth, entrenched outside Jiaodong County, cast an indistinct gloom in its eyes under the pale moonlight.
The eternal lamp made of mermaid ointment is as bright as daylight, and the fragrance of agarwood is truly captivating.
Du Zhou looked around. In his eyes, every brick and stone, every beam was a handle and evidence.
His dark brown official uniform almost blended into the night. He said softly, "It's time to tell Prime Minister Sima to go back."
Wei Bu nodded. His soldiers, shouting for Prime Minister Sima, surged silently and swiftly into the vast lair of powerful officials like a black tide. The clang of armor, short shouts, and the terrified cries of servants instantly pierced the melodious sounds of pine and bamboo and the gurgling water deep within the courtyard.
The whole court was in chaos, and Du Zhouwei sighed.
"Alas," he played with the jade token in his hand like an ordinary young man, "I used to offend Sima Qian for no reason, but now I've offended Marquis Huo. This is really difficult to deal with."
Later, Wei Bu, who lamented that the Jiaodong nobles were as wealthy as A Yan, fell silent again.
Could it be that Lord Huo is A Yan?
Your Ayan and my Ayan seem different.
At this time, a room in the basement of the mansion was also brightly lit.
The imprisoned Sima Qian was suddenly forced to drink far more wine than he could handle. He now had a splitting headache and a limp body, pinned down to the cold mat by two of Wang's sturdy servants. He had been there for half a day, his official robes ripped eight times, each time by a different person, until they were already wrinkled.
His face was flushed with alcohol, his head hung, and he was dragged forward like a rag.
Sitting in the main seat was none other than Wang Badan, the patriarch of the Wang family and the chief of the powerful people in Jiaodong.
He was about fifty, well-maintained, dressed in a brocade robe. He appeared elegant, but his eyes held a venomous, sinister look. Sitting beside him were several local officials affiliated with the Wang family, along with several powerful clan heads and elders. Under the flickering light, their shadows suddenly magnified like evil spirits breaking free from their shackles.
"Sir Sima," Wang Badan spoke slowly, his voice carrying the unique tone of Jiaodong, "the government-run salt and iron industry is a major national policy. Sir Sima has not abandoned us and has come to discuss this matter. How dare we, the common people, disobey? However, Jiaodong is a land of sparse land and impoverished people. The profits from sea salt are the foundation of the livelihoods of thousands of households. If the imperial court suddenly seizes everything, it would be like severing our livelihoods! Why don't you sympathize with the people and speak a few good words on behalf of the people of Jiaodong to Minister Sang, Marquis Huo, and even Your Majesty? Could you slow down this policy and perhaps leave some room for maneuver?"
As he spoke, he winked. A nearby elder, with unruly hair and beard and a face thick with flesh, shouted angrily, "Sima! Don't be so shameless! The prince is giving you a way out with his kind words! Do you really think Jiaodong is Chang'an City, where you can dictate things? Destroying someone's financial resources is like killing their parents! You have to write this memorial today, whether you want to or not!"
The furious shouting made Sima Qian's head buzz. The remnants of alcohol, mixed with humiliation and anger, surged in his chest. He jerked his head up, his thin face filled with stubbornness. He strained to straighten his back, shattered by alcohol and exhaustion, and then he took two steps on his knees, pressing closer and closer. "You've illegally set up salt stoves, exploited salt workers, hoarded salt, and driven the price of salt skyrocketing, causing public outrage! The evidence is overwhelming, and the Prime Minister has been imprisoned! The law is clear, and how can you be so presumptuous!"
His voice was hoarse, yet it carried the stubbornness and hardness characteristic of a scholar. He had the bones of a scholar, but what could he do? He wouldn't even use his power to threaten anyone. Laws were worth less than dirt in the eyes of these people.
Sure enough, after hearing this, the elder let out a sinister laugh and shouted at the two strong servants who were holding Sima Qian down, "What are you still standing there for? Why don't you help Master Sima sober up and pick up the pen!"
The two servants, each as strong as an iron tower, received the order and suddenly increased their strength! One of them roughly grabbed Sima Qian's disheveled hair and yanked it back fiercely! Sima Qian groaned in pain, his neck forced back, exposing his fragile throat. The other held down his struggling shoulders with such force that it nearly crushed his shoulder blades. He was pinned face up on the cold mat in an extremely humiliating position.
"Ah--!" The severe pain from his scalp made Sima Qian's vision go black.
"Brush and ink!" Wang Badan's voice was still slow and measured.
Sima Qian struggled desperately, but was held down again.
"Tomorrow, I will submit a petition to impeach you all!"
"Submit a memorial?" Tian Ben slammed the table. "Sima! I'm giving you the honor to call you Sir! Do you really think Jiaodong is Chang'an, where you can dictate things? Cutting off someone's financial resources is like killing their parents! You're drunk today, but when you wake up tomorrow, I'm afraid you won't even be able to hold a pen!"
A servant who looked like a steward came forward carrying a lacquered tray. On the tray was an unfolded silk scroll, and next to it was a brush dipped in thick ink.
The elder grabbed the brush and roughly thrust it into Sima Qian's forcibly pried open, still slightly trembling right hand. The brush was cold and slippery, and ink dripped down, staining the front of Sima Qian's already stained official robes and splattering on the back of his pale hand.
Wang Badan laughed. "Please, Lord Sima. Just write what you saw with your own eyes. Jiaodong is overwhelmed and the new policy should be slowed down!"
There was a hint of pride in his final tone.
"You...what do you want to do?" Sima Qian's heart trembled, and he shouted with all his might, "Imprisoning an official appointed by the imperial court is tantamount to treason!"
"Treason?" Wang Badan sneered, his eyes suddenly sharp. "Lord Sima was drunk and had lost his composure, so he was recuperating at my residence. He accidentally fell and was unable to manage affairs. To protect the safety of important officials of the court, we had no choice but to keep him in our residence for care. How could we imprison him? As for the charge of treason."
He paused, unable to suppress a smile, "The people of Jiaodong are all tied to the salt profits. If I were to act arbitrarily and provoke a popular uprising, that would be a real disaster!"
This was their intention, to place him under house arrest under the pretext of "drunkenness" and "protecting his safety." They also spread rumors, blaming any possible rebellion or chaos on Sima Qian's "strictness," even resorting to inciting civil unrest to coerce the court!
They had deep roots in the area, and many local officials had been infiltrated or intimidated by their power. They also knew Wei Bu's gentle character was too good to be bothered by them. By delaying Sima Qian, confusing the public, and buying time, they could operate within the court and even incite greater local resistance to the new salt and iron laws.
Sima Qian sneered. His hand was tightly gripped by his strong servant, his knuckles white. The pen seemed to weigh more than a thousand pounds. He could feel the heavy ink dripping from the tip of the pen. But even if he died, he would never betray his duty, betray the suffering of the salt workers he had witnessed with his own eyes, and betray his conscience!
He couldn't do it, being an accomplice to the evil and covering up the truth!
"Don't... even think about it..." He squeezed out two words from between his teeth, using all his strength to resist the hand that was pressing him down. The tip of the pen trembled violently above the silk scroll, and the ink dripped, spreading a small stain, but it never fell.
"Sir," Wang Badan took two steps forward and pinched Sima Qian's chin, "Write it down. I'll give you whatever you want."
This gentle and soft word was met with a response from Sima Qian: "Then you go die first!"
"My lord, you're so stubborn!" Wang Badan's eyes flashed with a fierce light. He said softly to the servant who was holding Sima Qian's hair, "Wake up!"
The strong servant laughed grimly and, with his free palm-leaf fan hand, clamped down on Sima Qian's jaw, forcing him to open his mouth. Another servant immediately grabbed a bronze wine jar still on the table, which was filled with turbid wine, and without further ado, poured it down Sima Qian's forced mouth.
“Ugh…Gu…cough cough cough——!”
The liquid, like a knife, plunged violently into his throat and nasal cavity. Sima Qian coughed violently, tears and snot pouring out uncontrollably, his body twisting and twitching in agony under the grip of his strong servant. The cold liquor, mixed with tears of humiliation, flowed down his jaw and neck, into the collar of his already tattered official robe. The robe, a symbol of the imperial majesty, was now torn and twisted, stained with wine, ink, and dust, a picture of his current plight, a disgrace.
"Go to hell! Even if I die, Lord Huo will never let you go!"
The more embarrassed he became, the more stubborn he became. Stars flashed before his eyes, his stomach churned, and violent coughs tore at his chest. Every breath was filled with burning pain and the strong smell of alcohol. His consciousness, suffocating in pain, was like a candle in a strong wind, dwindling and about to go out.
If A Yan were here, what would he say?
"I'm scared," Sima Qian spat out a mouthful of blood-stained wine and approached them. "Kill me if you dare. Everyone in the world knows that I, Sima Qian, am a friend of Marquis Huo. Do you dare to endure his wrath?"
He finished, coughing and laughing wildly.
The moment he mentioned Huo Yan, Wang Badan's almost icy face betrayed a hint of fear. He leaned forward slightly, his well-maintained, seemingly elegant face cast a shadow under the dim, flickering light, like the mask of a demon. "Since my lord has written, I will respectfully escort you back to rest."
He drawled out his words, his eyes sweeping over the two fierce servants, "You too, why don't you let go of my lord and continue the feast."
The two men wanted to get drunk again.
Sima Qian was so angry that he was shaking all over and glared at Wang Ben's hypocritical face.
Just when Wang Ben thought he had a good plan and was about to order people to carry the "drunk and unconscious" Sima Qian away and "take good care of him."
"Boom!!!" With a loud noise, moonlight fell in.
Immediately afterwards, two feathered arrows pierced the air, striking the two servants restraining Sima Qian squarely in the head. Blood splattered, and they collapsed to the ground. The light from the torches poured in like a tide, instantly illuminating the dim basement as bright as day! Outside the door, a sea of soldiers, helmeted and armored, wielding sharp blades, their crossbows drawn, flashing with cold light, surrounded the basement, impenetrable. A chilling, murderous aura washed over them.
Wei Bu stood at the front of the battle formation, bow drawn, looking at the disheveled Sima Qian. His face was ashen, his eyes no longer as gentle as usual. Du Zhou, dressed in a dark brown official uniform, stepped in under the bright firelight. His gaze, like cold lightning, shot directly at Wang Badan and the others who stood up in shock in the hall.
Sima Qian couldn't believe his eyes and tears flew out in an instant.
"Du Changshi, Lieutenant of the Guards."
He rushed forward, more like rolling than walking, after all, he was drunk, stumbling every two steps. When he couldn't move any further, he just stood there and cried, "You guys are just here!"
He lay there motionless. Wang Badan and his men tried to take him hostage, but a crossbow from Wei Bu shot him through the hand. Du Zhou took off his coat and put it on Sima Qian, saying, "Thank you, Prime Minister, for your hard work."
As soon as these words were spoken, Sima Qian burst into tears and became as fat as a 200-pound man. He made accusations one by one in a sobbing voice.
"They...they pretended to treat me to a banquet and forced me to drink, intending to put me under house arrest and prevent me from submitting my memorial! Look, they beat me."
Du Zhou's face grew colder as he listened. After hearing the accusation, he turned to Sima Qian and lowered his voice, "Prime Minister, this place is filthy and foul, and blood is boiling. You should not stay here for long. I have ordered carriages and horses to be prepared. Please move to the post station to rest. I and the Lieutenant of the Guards will take care of all the affairs here."
"Clean it up?" Sima Qian's heart skipped a beat. He looked at Du Zhou's eyes, deep as ancient wells in the flickering firelight, then at the murderous soldiers surrounding him and the trembling Wang family members pinned to the ground. A chill ran down his spine, instantly overcoming the alcohol and anger. "What are your intentions, Lord Du? The evidence against Wang is irrefutable. Didn't you say you'd escort him to Chang'an and hand him over to the Supreme Court?"
"The situation in Jiaodong is as precarious as an egg, changing rapidly." Du Zhou's voice remained steady, but it cut like a blunt knife. "The new salt and iron laws are deeply ingrained. The Wang family is the most powerful of Jiaodong. If we can't immediately establish our authority after tonight's incident and use the force of thunder to deter all those with ulterior motives, the seven counties of Jiaodong will be ablaze with flames when the sun rises tomorrow. If the Prime Minister wishes to impeach me, I will present the evidence and the head of the deceased. But at this moment, Prime Minister, please return."
Sima Qian gasped. He understood what Du Zhou meant by "cleaning up"—execution on the spot! Kill without mercy! This wasn't simple law enforcement; it was naked slaughter and intimidation! He opened his mouth, wanting to refute this brutal measure, but looking at Du Zhou's impassive face, feeling the thick murderous intent in the air, and hearing the faint clamor and sporadic screams of soldiers breaking down doors and searching in the distance, all the words stuck in his throat. Du Zhou was the swiftest knife, the coldest iron, that Ah Yan used to deal with the mad dog.
Sima Qian sighed and said, "Don't hurt innocent people."
"Of course." Du Zhou bowed slightly again, his attitude respectful. "Marquis Huo only ordered the execution of the criminal and his accomplices."
Sima Qian calmed down, then walked away with red eyes without even looking back.
As soon as he left, "Du... Du Zhou? Lieutenant Wei? You... what do you mean by this?" Wang Badan and the others forced composure and laughed, "What do you intend by surrounding my residence so late at night and disturbing Lord Sima's rest?"
Du Zhou raised his lips in a cold arc. He stretched out his finger and placed it on his slightly raised lips. "Be quiet."
The voice is not loud.
"Here is Marquis Huo's token! If your Majesty is here in person!" Du Zhou took out the token and raised his voice, "Guard your steps!"
Wei Bu knelt on one knee and said, "I am here!"
"The Wang family has disobeyed the imperial order and conspired to imprison the imperial envoy. They are plotting something treacherous! Immediately arrest all the responsible individuals in the palace! Anyone who dares to resist will be killed without mercy!" Du Zhou's voice was firm and murderous. "Anyone else from the other palaces who is implicated will be killed on the spot to uphold the law!"
"Yes!" Wei Bu stood up without hesitation. There was no hesitation in his eyes, only anger. "Look at the fight we've given Sima Qian. If they hadn't come, Sima Qian would have died here." "All soldiers, listen to my orders! Archers, be on guard! Soldiers, follow me and capture him!"
The soldiers, fierce and ferocious like wolves and tigers, rushed in instantly, their armor clanging and their swords unsheathed, flashing with cold light. The Wang family's retainers and guards were like chickens and clay dogs before these battle-hardened soldiers from the prefectures and states. With the slightest resistance, they were disarmed and subdued, their cries for mercy filling the air.
Wang Badan's face was ashen as death. He pointed at Du Zhou, his lips trembling and unable to utter a complete sentence: "You...you...Huo...Huo Hou...you are so cruel..."
He understood that Du Zhou's actions were not simply a rescue, but a pretext for using the most brutal means to eliminate these powerful people who dared to oppose the salt and iron official camp! This Chief Secretary and the token were here to kill them.
Du Zhou smiled coldly, his eyes swept over Wang Badan and others who were pinned to the ground by the soldiers and had pale faces, as if he was looking at a group of livestock waiting to be slaughtered.
"You guys are too impatient. He almost didn't expect it. But luckily, I'm here."
He chuckled and walked out unsteadily under the protection of two personal soldiers. Behind him, he heard the desperate, shrill and abrupt curses of Wang Badan and others, as well as several dull and heart-pounding sounds of sharp blades entering flesh.
Du Zhou stood in the moonlight, a lifeless stone statue. His gaunt figure stretched immensely, casting a distorted and massive shadow on the vast bluestone-paved courtyard. He calmly watched Wei Bu direct his men as they treated each bloody head with a simple lime treatment before placing it into wooden boxes. The air was filled with the stench of blood, mingling with earth, pine resin, and the lingering aroma of alcohol, creating a sickly sweetness.
It's all the same when people die.
"The main culprits, seventy-eight in total, have all been executed. The treasury is being counted, and gold, silver, copper coins, and cloth are piled high like mountains. There are also thousands of stones of illegally confiscated salt and a number of illegally forged weapons and armor."
Wei Bu strode over with a strong smell of blood on his body. He was a warrior, so seeing blood was normal for him. He pretended not to notice Du Zhou's disgust.
"Very good." Du Zhou's voice was indistinguishable from emotion. "Hang the heads at the county gate for three days. Post a notice. These people defied the imperial order and conspired for treason, imprisoning the prime minister. The evidence is irrefutable, and the principal offender must be executed. The rest of the coerced followers will be forgiven. However, those who secretly hoard salt and iron and resist the government will serve as a warning!"
"Hey!" Wei Bu responded, then lowered his voice, "I'm afraid Prime Minister Sima won't be able to see this man's head!"
"He's a scholar, soft-hearted, and he can't stand the sight of blood." Du Zhou interrupted him, his tone indifferent, "But he also understands that extraordinary times call for extraordinary measures. Jiaodong is a rotten piece of meat. If we don't cut out the rotten flesh with a sharp knife, it will only rot deeper and drag down the whole body. What Marquis Huo wants is not lukewarm water, but a decisive result."
He paused, his eyes speechless. But as he scanned the luxurious prison that was silent in the blood, he sighed again, "Can you wipe the blood off? I'm a scholar too!"
Wei Bu was silent for a moment, then laughed for no apparent reason. Du Zhou was so angry that his face turned red.
"After cleaning up, seal this place. All account books and correspondence, especially those with foreign contacts and those connected to Chang'an, must be searched out and sealed separately. I want to personally review them."
"The Chief Secretary is suspicious..." Wei Bu's eyes narrowed.
"Wang called out to the Prime Minister before she died." The cold arc of Du Zhou's mouth reappeared, "The policy of salt and iron is the thorn in everyone's side. Everyone wants a piece of it!"
Wei Bu's heart sank, and he immediately understood the sinister political power dynamics behind this seemingly local rebellion suppression operation. Du Zhou's scheming was far deeper than he had imagined.
However, he had been the uncle of Huo Yan, a child with a whimsical mind like a hornet's nest, for many years, and he was quite fond of him when he first saw him. So one of his uncles said, "Marquis Huo is Ah Yan, right? You are of the same generation as Ah Yan, so you should follow Sima Qian and call me uncle."
Du Zhou was speechless. He gazed into the depths of the courtyard. Dark red blood had not yet dried on the bluestone slabs. A huge stone beast, looking particularly ferocious in the firelight. Mottled murals depicting carriages and horses prowling along the corridors, showcasing the majesty of their masters. The air was thick with the scent of agarwood, now mingled with the smell of blood, making it pungent.
He sighed and said to Wei Buqing, "It will probably take more than ten days for the news to reach Jiaodong. Marquis Huo is not in Chang'an right now, so we should be cautious. Let's submit a general memorial first and wait for him to come back. We will then follow his instructions."
Wei Bu nodded, "Thank you for your hard work."
He curled his lips, and the almond-shaped eyes that were the hallmark of the Wei family also curved slightly.
"I still have the floating light I brought from Chang'an."
Du Zhou's eyes lit up and he urged him to go back.
Having the moon, wine and good friends is already perfect.
At this moment, Huo Yan, who was being talked about, limped and sat in front of Cao Xiang's bed to visit him.
"Hey, Marquis Pingyang, is he dead?"
As soon as he opened his mouth, he said nothing nice. "It would be better if you died. It would save my sister from getting upset."
The dusk of the Mobei steppe bathed the triumphant camp in a warm golden glow. In the distance, the clamor of soldiers returning home gurgled like boiling water: a continuous stream of unrestrained singing, the neighing of war horses, the crackling of bonfires, and the clanging of metal as armor was removed and returned to camp. The joy of victory, like the rich aroma of wine, permeated every tent and every exhausted yet excited face.
However, the noise and jubilation were strictly isolated outside the tent of Pingyang Marquis Cao Xiang by a thick cowhide curtain stained with the dust of the northern desert.
The tent was dimly lit, its illumination sustained only by a tiny vent in the ceiling and a few rays of fading sunlight filtering through the crevices of the curtains. The air was thick with the bitter, indissoluble aroma of herbs, mingled with the faint scent of blood from wounds. On the camp couch, Cao Xiang lay frozen, like a clay statue with its soul drained away. His eyes, wide and hollow, seemed to pierce through the low felt ceiling, fixed on a horrifying void woven of blood and screams, visible only to him. His hands unconsciously clenched the rough felt beneath him, his knuckles turning pale from the strain, the subtle trembling betraying the uncontrollable turmoil within. Every faint, distorted cheer from outside the tent lashed like a whip against his tense nerves, causing him to flinch and his pupils to dilate with fear.
Huo Yan, however, acted as if he hadn't seen him. He trudged in, and a twilight breeze, carrying the scent of green grass, campfire smoke, and the distant clamor of waves, suddenly filled the stagnant space. The golden afterglow of the setting sun, like a searchlight, briefly cast a bright streak of light across the ground.
Huo Yan poured himself a cup of freshly brewed goat milk tea and sipped it. It was now just the two of them, the air thick with the aroma of herbs and the oppressive silence broken. Cao Xiang, who had been lying on a simple camp couch, turned pale as paper upon hearing this, and the bandage wrapped around his forehead was bleeding. His eyes moved slightly, and when he saw Huo Yan, his lips trembled, as if he wanted to roll his eyes, but it turned into a bitter twitch. He quickly averted his gaze and returned to the tent ceiling. His hands at his sides unconsciously clenched the felt beneath him, his knuckles turning white.
Huo Yan didn't know what was so good about that junky thing. He poured another cup, motioned to Cao Xiang if he wanted to drink it, and said with a click of his tongue, "What do you think of Sang Qian?"
Cao Xiang ignored him, so he kept counting the young talents in Chang'an City. At the end, he said in a servile manner, "Why don't you say anything?"
Cao Xiang finally couldn't help but roll his eyes at him. Huo Yan smiled and leaned closer to him. He had a shallow scar on the side of his face, which was still covered with medicine. As soon as he got close, Cao Xiang's head tilted away. Huo Yan had a shoulder injury, so his hand was not strong enough. He said, "A Xiang, turn your head around! We are all alive! Back to Chang'an!"
He patted his friend's hand, and the warmth was exactly the same as when Huo Qubing first met Cao Xiang in the Weiyang Palace as a child and Huo Yan took his hand. "I'm going to Pingyang, you must know!"
"We're going horse racing and night hunting," Huo Yan paused, his voice bright and lively. "This year I'm also having a boat banquet, and we're having big carp."
The same tone as when I was young!
Cao Xiang's face was covered with traces of tears as he turned his back.
He has nightmares all the time.
A forest of long spears pierced through flesh and blood, brain matter splattered everywhere, the horses cried out in agony, the Xiongnu's faces were twisted and hideous, and the cold, sticky breath of death almost swallowed him...
The wounds on his body began to heal under the care of the military doctor, but the tremors in his soul gnawed at him like a malignant tumor, gnawing at him day and night. Whenever he closed his eyes, the bloody images came back like a nightmare, leaving him covered in cold sweats and trembling with fear. The young man who had once been a splendid young man in Chang'an, full of vigor and ambition, was now only a shell hollowed out by fear.
But Ayan was talking about his youth, he is like this anyway!
"I can't sleep."
After a long while, he said to his friend.
Huo Yan finally understood why Cao Xiang died young, and felt sad.
He raised the corners of his lips and pretended to be nonchalant, "Then I'll give you some calming incense."
Cao Xiang turned his head and looked at Huo Yan. His friend was smiling.
He said, "Oh, it's a nightmare, isn't it? I know, it's not the first time someone kills someone."
His friend took out a piece of shoulder armor from his bosom. The shoulder armor was not big, and the cold iron piece felt chilly in his hand, freezing his fingers. But Cao Xiang suddenly felt relieved, for some reason.
Huo Yan chuckled and held his hand tightly. "Axiang, you are holding the shoulder armor of the Champion Marquis. With him here, you don't have to be afraid of the Xiongnu."
Cao Xiang pursed his lips tightly.
"Ah Xiang, our lives were worth it!" Huo Yan continued. "He earned the Chanyu's capitulation and the fall of the royal court! Ten years of peace in Mobei. He earned the peace of Chang'an, the city we long for. He earned the safety of the people along the Han border. He earned the right to sit here and discuss this damned terror, rather than having our homes trampled to pieces by the Xiongnu's horses, their scimitars pressed to the necks of women and children."
Huo Yan's voice wasn't passionate; it was gentle, so gentle that Cao Xiang felt as if she were meeting him for the first time. Cao Xiang's grip on the shoulder armor tightened unconsciously.
"The ability to feel pain is proof of being alive." Huo Yan's gaze fell back on Cao Xiang's hands, which were tightly gripping his shoulder armor until their knuckles turned white. "A Xiang, we did it. The damn Xiongnu are dead!"
Cao Xiang listened unconsciously, his hollow eyes etched with the faint light from the vents in the tent ceiling finally glimmering through a crack, revealing a faint yet real glimmer. In the chaotic shimmer of memory, he roared, hacking down Huns who had leaped upon the wounded, and used his body to block the enemy who attempted to chop down the army flag... These blurred yet real fragments struggled to emerge from the sea of blood and terror.
The Huns are dead.
He is still alive.
Huo Yan's hand remained steady, resting firmly on Cao Xiang's cold, trembling hand, which was gripping his shoulder armor. His palm held a reassuring warmth, as if it could dispel the chill in his bones.
"Oh, Xiang, the sun is setting."
He tidied himself up and stood up, calling out, "Uncle, Cao Xiang is up. He's watching the sunset!"
Wei Qing, who had been guarding the tent, came in, looking delighted. Cao Xiang, faced with the same almond-shaped eyes as his stepfather and his best friend, coughed and then struggled to lean against Huo Yan. Huo Yan groaned and supported him, and the two of them staggered, supporting each other as they walked out.
Wei Qing looked at their backs and smiled.
Outside the tent, the golden glow of the setting sun had transformed into a vibrant purple, tinting the vast grassland and the endless rows of tents with a warm hue. Soldiers gathered around a campfire, the aroma of barbecue and the rough singing wafting through even more clearly and warmly, brimming with vibrant vitality. Huo Yan took a deep breath of the air, mingled with the scent of grass, fireworks, freedom, and victory. He raised an eyebrow and said, "Don't die, or I won't be able to find a place to stay in Pingyang."
Cao Xiang's cheeks were slightly sunken and he chuckled.
He laughed loudly on the grass, as if making up for what he had lost in the past few days.
Huo Yan thought he was stupid and was too embarrassed to stand with him, so he strolled back to sleep.
Until I was awakened by a nightmare again.
He wrapped himself in his leopard-fur quilt, rubbing the leopard fur expressionlessly, as if he was worried about the person who gave it to him and made him worried and unable to sleep.
The comments asked him why he wasn't sleeping yet, and after he fooled them for a few words, they went back to sleep foolishly.
Huo Yan looked at the comments from people who sounded more and more like those he was familiar with. He was too tired to complain and just let them be.
Never mind, he lay down in the pile of leopard fur, thinking, I don't know where Huo Qubing has gone off to again, maybe Siberia? Siberia? Then he can dig potatoes for me, that would be good too, haha.
When Huo Qubing returned, few lights were on in the Han army's tents. He calmly arranged for his men to set up camp, then washed himself casually and went straight to find Huo Yan.
Huo Yan should have gone to bed long ago, as it was pitch black. However, Huo Qubing had very good night vision and moved quickly without disturbing the night watchman outside. He tiptoed into his tent and was about to reach out to pull the quilt for his brother in the moonlight outside the window when he made eye contact with Huo Yan, who couldn't sleep.
"Ah Yan, did you expect me to come back today and wait for me on purpose?"
Huo Qubing was not at all aware of disturbing others by entering the tent so late at night, and said in surprise.
As time went by, Huo Yan was more familiar with Huo Qubing's footsteps than his own, and was not panicked at all. He lit the small lamp on the bedside, held the oil lamp in his hand, and looked Huo Qubing up and down.
Huo Qubing showed off and let him look at him, even spinning around in circles to cooperate.
It was not until Huo Yan stood up and the wound on his face was exposed to his sight that he retracted his little fangs.
"Why is Ah Yan injured?"
He never took his injuries seriously no matter how serious they were, and would not allow his family members to even get a scratch. Huo Yan and Wei Qing were the most seriously injured, but Wei Qing was a general, so Huo Yan became the only one who was taken care of. Huo Qubing's worry almost overflowed from his eyes, and he touched Huo Yan's body with his cold fingers.
Huo Yan shuddered violently, "Cold!"
Huo Qubing then gently shook the corner of his robe and softened his voice, "Then Ah Yan, tell me why you were injured so badly."
Long illness makes one a doctor, and no one can see Huo Yan's injury better than Huo Qubing.
Huo Yan chose not to speak. There was no other way. He couldn't tell his brother, "Brother, because I want to play you, so many people poke me." He believed that if he dared to say this, his brother would feel guilty and then whip his corpse.
He sighed, then stared at Huo Qubing for a long time, and suddenly put his arm around his waist.
"Brother." He leaned against Huo Qubing. Although he had grown up, in Huo Qubing's eyes, he still had the fragility of a child. He could vaguely feel his bones. People often say that people are thin-skinned but strong-boned. This was probably the case with the two of them. But when Huo Qubing touched him, he and Ah Yan were both soft, dull, and abrupt. He could taste the dependence on each other from the embrace. Huo Yan rested his head on his chest, "You're back. I'm so happy."
It was as if he had generated strength out of thin air, and he had a lot to rely on.
Huo Yan's eyes felt a little sore. He blinked hard a few times, and a tear quietly slipped down the corner of his eye, but no one noticed.
"Brother," he said nothing else, just hugged Huo Qubing tightly, "Brother."
Huo Qubing lost the ability to interrogate, and instead told his whole experience, not forgetting to mention that the Huns' holy land was very cold.
Huo Yan was satisfied. His brother had just returned from a trip to Lake Baikal and was in good health. His uncle was also in good health. Everyone was fine, and Cao Xiang could still survive.
He felt inexpressibly satisfied and fell asleep.
Huo Qubing was waiting for his younger brother to continue acting coquettishly, but his younger brother fell asleep.
He pinched Huo Yan's pretty face lightly as if to vent his anger, but he didn't dare to use any strength, so there wasn't even a mark. He was so angry that he went to disturb Wei Qing angrily.
Wei Qing was disturbed late at night. When he saw that it was his own child, he hit him on the head.
Huo Qubing became even more angry and then forcibly occupied the big bed in the general's tent.
Wei Qing looked at his nephew who had fallen asleep, and pinched Huo Qubing's pretty face lightly as if to vent his anger. He didn't dare to use much strength, so there wasn't even a mark.
Huo Qubing slept soundly.
I'm too lazy to set up my own tent.
【Author’s words】
A Yan is outside, and Huo Hou is a scheming guy.
Including A Yan, they are all spoiled brats who avoid the important issues and focus on the trivial matters.
I really hate Beijing, goodbye, I will go there again later, I am a fool, twelve hours of train, bye!
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