109 Chang'an has wind
◎ Author: The following words are a mess and can be blocked. ◎
Spring in the northern desert arrives slowly and with little gust. A leaden sky hangs low, and a bitter north wind sweeps across the vast grasslands, a patchwork of withered yellow and scattered patches of fresh green. It whimpers, occasionally stirring up fine grains of sand that whip against the low felt tents.
The Xiongnu royal court, once commanding hundreds of thousands of troops and causing unrest among the Han emperors, now lay in ruins and a pervasive atmosphere of decay. Chanyu Yizhixie surrendered, and the royal family clashed for the throne, embroiled in internal conflict. Han commander Wei Qing held the rear like a rock, while the young general Huo Qubing, like a ghost, frequently led his cavalry across the grasslands' edge. Every clatter of hooves was a death-beating drumbeat, hammering at the hearts of the surviving Xiongnu nobles. Under such pressure, the behemoth that had dominated the grasslands for centuries finally began to crack from within. Some believed they should surrender to the Han, while others, led by Chanyu Yanshi, made a decision that betrayed their ancestors: to migrate north!
Ever since Maodun Chanyu trapped Liu Bang on Mount Baideng, the Xiongnu and the Han dynasty had been locked in conflict for centuries. During this period, the Xiongnu also gradually took in neighboring tribes such as the Donghu and Yuezhi. In a more precise calculation, the steppe tribes had been united under the Chanyu's banner for centuries. However, now, this vast nomadic empire, stretching from Liaodong in the east to the Western Regions in the west, was in tatters.
The differences between the tribes that surrendered and those that migrated north became increasingly greater.
A felt tent in the Xiongnu territory.
The days were naturally short and the nights long in Xiongnu territory, and given their current plight, their dwellings were poorly lit. In this tent, the Xiongnu nobles sat around an oil lamp. The light inside was dim, provided only by a single, coarse clay lamp in the center. The wick crackled softly, and the dancing flames cast distorted shadows of the seated Xiongnu nobles on the rough felt walls.
The air was turbid, mixed with a strong smell of sheep, leather, and lingering blood.
The debate had been going on for a long time. On one side were the "surrender faction," those who advocated surrender to the Han Dynasty. Their voices were weary, their eyes filled with longing for the prosperity of Chang'an and fear of continued war and a life of scarcity. On the other side were those determined to move north and not become slaves of the Han Dynasty.
Zhang Qian, the Han envoy, dressed in his official Han envoy uniform and holding the banner symbolizing the nation's prestige, sat quietly beside the surrendering faction. His face was serene, and compared to the surrounding Xiongnu nobles, whose faces were wrinkled by wind and frost and worn rough by hardship, he seemed too "white," like a dusty pearl dropped into a pile of gravel, incongruous yet striking.
Another fierce argument erupted, each side arguing in rapid-fire Xiongnu language, spit flying. Zhang Qian remained motionless, his gaze lowered at the yak tail tied to the banner in his hand. Amidst the clamor, his keen ears caught the sound of footsteps approaching from outside the tent. Steady, vigorous, each step imbued with power. The footsteps stopped in front of the tent, and from outside came a chorus of subdued, awe-inspiring greetings.
Here it comes, Zhang Qian thought to himself.
The curtain was suddenly lifted!
A northerly wind, swirling with icy dust, blew into the tent. The already feeble flame of the oil lamp flickered violently, suddenly shrinking to the size of a bean. The tent instantly plunged into even deeper darkness, nearly pitch-black. Everyone's quarreling abruptly ceased, and their gazes all turned toward the door.
A figure stood at the doorway, defying the pale light of the sky outside. She was not tall, even rather thin, wrapped in a washed-white wolfskin cloak with frayed edges. The Chanyu clan was a prominent clan, almost royalty. And this woman before them, Wumuzhu, the wife of Yizhixie, possessed her own tribe, vast pastures, and herds of cattle and sheep. She was the true she-wolf wielding power on the grasslands. It was she who had proposed the move north, quickly gathering a group of followers unwilling to submit.
When she appeared, both those who wanted to surrender and those who were hesitant in the tent subconsciously and with awe gave her a simple and solemn Hun salute.
Zhang Qian's grip on the banner unconsciously tightened, his knuckles turning slightly white. He tilted his head slightly and glanced at the figure out of the corner of his eye.
This glance, even the knowledgeable and experienced Marquis Bowang, could not help but feel a ripple of astonishment in his heart.
He never expected that at this critical moment when the Huns were facing life and death, the person who could stand up, rally the people, and advocate the migration of the entire tribe to the north was actually a woman!
I heard the Xiongnu nobles call this woman Da Yanshi.
She was Yizhixie's wife, no, she should be called Wumuzhu.
Wu Muzhu walked in. The curtains fell, blocking out the cold wind, and the oil lamps lit up instantly. Her men had added more lamps, perhaps to maintain the last bit of Xiongnu respectability. The lamps were especially numerous and bright, illuminating her no longer young face. Like the Xiongnu nobles, it was rough, wrinkled, and tired, but her eyes were still clear. It was as if all her energy and spirit were concentrated in those eyes, so fierce that it seemed as if it could tear a piece of flesh off.
A trapped beast will still fight.
Zhang Qian clenched his hands.
Wu Muzhu's gaze, like a cold blade, slowly swept across the crowd, each with their own different expressions, finally landing on Zhang Qian. Her lips curled up in an extremely stiff, unsmiling arc as she spoke in a heavily accented, yet unusually clear Chinese, each word clearly emphasized.
"You uninvited guest from afar, you sinister Han Chinese, leave my grassland and get out of my tent."
The voice was not loud, but it carried an unquestionable meaning of expulsion.
Zhang Qian slowly rose. He held the banner in his hand, his expression calm and composed. He responded in fluent, standard Xiongnu dialect. His voice was low, yet clear to everyone's ears. "The Xiongnu have been defeated, and the Chanyu has surrendered. Our lord, the Emperor, is benevolent and will not take your past acts of meanness as an offense. We are willing to treat you with courtesy. You will retain your property and relocate your entire family to Chang'an, the most prosperous and peaceful place in the world. Madam, you are ignorant of the times and stubbornly unyielding. Therefore, we have abandoned the matter of surrender. Madam, please make your own way."
After saying this, he stopped looking at Ebony Pearl and ignored the sudden change in the atmosphere in the tent. He turned around with an attitude full of arrogance and disdain, and was about to leave with a flick of his sleeves.
Wu Muzhu let him do as he pleased, but the people below were furious.
“Wait!”
A panicked cry shattered the frozen air. An old Xiongnu nobleman, seated at the head of the table, abruptly stood up. His hand, covered in age spots and deep wrinkles, clutched Zhang Qian's sleeve like a withered branch. His cloudy old eyes were filled with fear and a yearning that bordered on humble.
Wu Muzhu's toughness doesn't mean that others are tough too. Their momentary passion and determination to fight to the death only left three points when they saw their beloved son lying in a pool of blood. The fear of starvation and the lack of supplies in the colder place made them almost terrified.
The grief over his son's death in battle lingered, but the fear of starvation and scarcity in the bitter cold further north completely overwhelmed his remaining so-called "spirit." He was frightened by the defeat, yet also deeply tempted by the legendary prosperity and stability of Chang'an.
Zhang Qian paused, not turning back. With his free hand, he slowly but firmly brushed the old nobleman's withered fingers away from his sleeve, one by one. His gesture was tinged with condescending indifference, and he spoke clearly in Xiongnu language, as if issuing a verdict, "I, the Champion Marquis of the Han Dynasty, look forward to meeting you again."
After saying this, he didn't linger any longer and strode out of the tent, leaving behind the dead silence inside the tent and the faces filled with different expressions of fear and hesitation.
As soon as he left, the old nobleman seemed to have lost all his strength and slumped back onto his wolfskin mat. Then, a surge of grief, anger, and despair washed over him. He abruptly stood up again, staring intently at the ebony bead with his bloodshot eyes, and roared in Xiongnu with all his might.
"Ebony Pearl! Your husband! That greedy Yizhixie! He drained the blood and flesh of our tribe, filling the hole of his insatiable ambition! Now, he's dead, buried among the bones of countless of our children! My son! My most beloved son! He died because of his insatiable ambition!"
Turbid tears rolled down his wrinkled cheeks. In the dim light of the oil lamp, his face was distorted like a demon.
"Now! You! You're going to take the rest of us, the old, weak, and sick, to the barren and cold north! Do you want us all to freeze to death on the ice? Starve to death in the snow?! Huh?!"
His accusation was like a hammer, hammering down on the hearts of many nobles. A timid yearning for Chang'an, intertwined with a desperate desire to survive, overwhelmed his attachment to the grasslands. He practically climbed to his feet, stumbling, and recklessly rushed out of the tent in the direction Zhang Qian had left!
There was a moment of dead silence in the tent, and then it was like an explosion. Several nobles who had already been shaken looked at each other, lowered their heads, and hurried out without looking back.
The tent was brightly lit, yet it seemed even more empty and silent.
"Anything else?"
Wu Muzhu's voice rang out, eerily calm. She remained standing, motionless, only the bulging veins on the back of her hands betraying the rage and pain swirling within her. She spoke slowly, her voice piercingly cold.
"Can a wolf still be called a wolf if it leaves the grassland?" she said slowly. "Is a wolf still a wolf if it leaves the grassland? With Wei Qing and Huo Qubing in the Han army, does the Han Dynasty still need a guard dog?"
"Go further north, there's a wider world! There are cowardly people from the Western Regions! There are lush pastures! Only by picking up our scimitars and robbing! Only by robbing! Can we survive! Only then will we have a chance to become wolves again! Plunder the people of the Western Regions and you'll live, go to Chang'an and you'll die."
Her words were like poisoned ice spikes, piercing the remaining people and making them feel cold all over. There was a sound of people sucking in their breaths in shock, and the tent was terribly silent.
The lights flickered. Wu Muzhu slowly raised her head, her eyes sweeping over the nobles, each with their own hidden agenda. Seeing some of them thoughtful, some trembling with fear, and some hesitant, she stood up, her eyes burning like an unquenchable fire. "Cowards, you've already been frightened by the sound of Han Chinese horses' hooves! Forget that you have wolf blood running through your veins! Just follow the Han Chinese! The Han dogs will never return home! The wolves of the grasslands will never forget their hatred! They will never abandon their homeland! As long as we breathe, we will return! One day we will return!"
With great force.
There was a long moment of dead silence, with only the crackling of the burning oil lamp and the whistling of the wind outside the tent.
"I!" A burly young Xiongnu noble with a scar on his face suddenly stood up and pounded his left chest with his right hand, making a dull sound. "I will follow you! Yanshi! My scimitar and my life are in your hands!"
"I'll go with you too!"
"And me!"
"A wolf on the grassland will die in the grassland wind!"
…
As soon as the leader came out, many indignant people followed suit.
"To prevent a surprise attack by the Han cavalry, all tribes must act immediately! Before dawn tomorrow, count all your troops, gather any cattle, sheep, and horses you can still take away, abandon your baggage, and travel light."
Wu Muzhu spoke each word clearly, suppressing the sob in his throat and the bitterness in his eyes, and his voice returned to its cold and decisive tone.
"North, move!"
The Han Dynasty had invincible generals, and the Xiongnu also had leaders who stood up in desperate situations and would rather die than bend!
The moment Wu Muzhu appeared at the tent door, Zhang Qian knew that persuading them to surrender was impossible. He rode his horse through the night, braving the biting cold wind, to bring the news of the Xiongnu's division and Wu Muzhu's determination to move north to Huo Qubing, who was nearby to intimidate him.
Huo Qubing listened to Zhang Qian's report, his silver armor gleaming coldly in the cool moonlight. He stared at the twinkling lights of fire in the direction of the Xiongnu camp, fiddling with the knife in his palm without saying anything.
The Xiongnu had long intended to migrate north, and their constant harassment and surrendering of tribes had taken away a large number of horses, cattle, and sheep. The remaining remnants probably had very few livestock left to take with them.
"Seize it back?" Huo Qubing muttered to himself, then sneered with a hint of disdain, "It's a waste of food."
Feeding captives required food, as did raising cattle and sheep. This little scrap wasn't worth wasting precious military rations on. He nodded slightly to Zhang Qian, acknowledging his assignment. Then, he personally went out to "meet" the Xiongnu nobles who had followed the old nobles in surrendering.
In the gazes of those who surrendered, which were a mixture of awe, fear and a hint of expectation, the young Sima Huo Qubing looked arrogant and distant. He only said a few words to comfort them and then waved his hand to give orders.
"Send them to Chang'an."
The tone was as calm as if he was dealing with a batch of insignificant goods.
As for whether these people would be kept in captivity, sold, or dealt with in some other way once they arrived in Chang'an, that was a matter for Sang Hongyang and A Yan, the calculating and managing rations and money. As the Grand Marshal, he was only concerned with fighting the war, not dealing with the aftermath.
That is under the charge of his younger brother.
He doesn't care.
The young Sima thought as he turned his horse around and led his men back to Chang'an.
The next day, dark clouds gathered.
Across the vast Mobei steppe, countless yurts were dismantled, their heavy wooden frames and tattered felt blankets abandoned. Ragged nomads, carrying the elderly and children, herded sparse, emaciated herds of cattle, sheep, and horses, forming gray streams that, like wounded ants, silently and arduously crawled toward the unknown lands further north. A cold wind whipped up dust, whipping their thin clothes. Cries, the wailing of livestock, and the crack of whips mingled.
"If I lose Mount Qilian, my livestock will not reproduce; if I lose Mount Yanzhi, my bride will lose face."
The Huns sang endless lamentations.
Wu Muzhu, riding on an equally frail old horse, pulled the reins and cast one last glance back at the grassland behind her, newly sprouting green, yet about to be abandoned. The withered, yellow grass rippled in the wind, as if silently holding back. Her husband, Yizhixie, had died in battle somewhere on this grassland, his remains nowhere to be found. Her homeland, the land where her ancestors had lived and multiplied for generations... A warmth welled up in the corners of her eyes, but it was quickly dried by the cold wind.
In the spring of the third year of Yuanshou, the Huns moved north and disappeared from history.
The smoke of war in the northern desert has dissipated, and the Xiongnu royal court's banners have fallen. For the first time since Emperor Gaozu's siege at Baideng, the northern borders of the Han Empire have experienced true peace. The vast, fertile grasslands, a gift from heaven, have become the Han's possession. The news spread like wildfire, instantly igniting ecstasy throughout the empire! The taverns of Chang'an bustled all night, the aroma of floating lights lingering. Operas in the theaters recounted the calmness of General Wei Qing, like a towering mountain and a deep pool; the bravery of General Huo Qubing, like a wolf descended from the sky; and the heroic spirit of Tai'an Marquis Huo Yan, who arrived in time to annihilate the Xiongnu. The names of Wei and Huo were no longer mere ministers, but rather gods descended from the heavens! With a single battle, they ploughed the fields and swept the ground, surpassing the achievements of six generations of emperors. This was the will of heaven, and the prosperity of the nation!
Chang'an, Weiyang Palace.
The chill of early spring had not yet subsided, and the bronze beast censer within the palace, emitting warm sandalwood incense, could not dispel the burning anticipation within Emperor Liu Che's heart. He let the chilly spring breeze caress his face, but far from feeling cold, his heart surged with excitement.
He didn't mind the cold at all, insisting on bringing everyone to take his treasures home, even Liu Ju, who was only nine years old, three-quarters of a human form still undeveloped, but seven-quarters of a dog's form already fully developed. He dragged Huo Guang along, who was originally unqualified. But Liu Ju already had Huo Yan's character. With a quick glance, he locked eyes with the younger Wei Kang standing by. Wei Kang was fair-skinned, gentle, and innocent, a stark resemblance to his father, and he always took his cousin, the Crown Prince, at his word.
"Kang'er!" Liu Ju leaned over and whispered, "Go tell my mother to bring little Shan'er over too! Just sit next to me and give him a seat!"
Wei Kang had no doubts and ran to the Pepper Room to report to Empress Wei Zifu. Wei Zifu was very smart. She was stunned at first, but then she realized that Liu Ju was trying to bully Huo Guang into the front row. After all, if a baby was to be carried, an extra seat would be needed. But he also didn't want Huo Guang to be so young.
Wei Zifu was both angry and amused. She accurately grabbed Liu Ju's pink ear with her slender jade fingers and twisted it gently.
"Ouch! Mother, be gentle!" Liu Ju immediately started to whimper exaggeratedly, his face wrinkled. Wei Zifu let go of his hand and nodded helplessly at his forehead, "Xiaoguang can go, but you are not allowed to take Shan'er with you. If you dare to make trouble, I will punish you!"
Despite this, Liu Ju achieved his goal—Huo Guang was able to stand in the front row of the welcoming procession. Afterwards, Huo Guang learned that the prince had "sacrificed" his ear for him, and he even brought the plaster Huo Yan had given him to visit him. As a result, Liu Ju curled his lips, not wanting to take any loss.
"I've taken the medicine, A-Guang. As for the policy paper that the Grand Tutor left me the other day... hey, I'll trouble you with it."
Huo Guang looked at the Crown Prince in front of him with an expressionless face and a confused heart: ... Crown Prince, can I withdraw?
Of course, playfulness aside, as the return of the Wei and Huo armies approached, the entire city of Chang'an was in an unprecedented frenzy. Wei Ai directed the servants to sweep Wei Qing's residence and Huo Qubing's courtyard, leaving the windows spotless and even the door thresholds polished to a mirror-like reflection. Even the infant Huo Shan, held in Wei Shao'er's arms, was dressed by Zhuo Wenjun in a brand new brocade jacket and trousers, a heavy, glittering golden longevity lock, and a small, pearl-studded hat, looking like a golden boy from a New Year's picture.
The streets of Chang'an were deserted, all eagerly looking north. But Huo Yan, still in the rear army on his way home, was completely oblivious to all this. He had only one obsession: to pester his uncle Wei Qing into changing his surname from "Huo" to "Wei" as soon as possible! Wei Qing, driven to his limit by his beloved nephew and unable to physically tie him up, resorted to a tactic of "diverting the trouble eastward." With a wave of his hand, he "exiled" Huo Yan to the rear army, under the pretext of assisting Li Guang, Marquis of Milu, in handling logistics matters.
Now, since Li Guang was granted the title of Marquis of Milu because of Huo Yan, he's practically treated Huo Yan like his adopted parent! This flying general is a man of his guts, a man of his own mind. His love and hate are written all over his face, and they're incredibly intense. When he hates someone, he's ready to eat their flesh and sleep on their skin; when he loves someone, he's ready to pour his heart out. Right now, he's in that heartfelt, "I love you to death" phase with Huo Yan.
Huo Yan was forced to endure Li Guang's overwhelming enthusiasm. Being a soft-hearted person, Huo Yan had no real options for dealing with Li Guang, a tough guy who wouldn't fight back, wouldn't respond, and even seemed to laugh. Besides occasionally lashing out when annoyed, Huo Yan had no real options. But Li Guang, with his tough skin and a strong will, treated the lashes like a tickle, even thinking it was a sign of "the Marquis of Tai'an showing respect to me." He rose to the occasion, serving him with unwavering attentiveness.
One day, on the edge of the Mobei grassland, the rear army advanced slowly. The wind was still chilly, stirring up the withered grass. Li Guang, on horseback, approached Huo Yan's horse again, grinning broadly and calling affectionately, "Ah Yan!"
Huo Yan, who was riding his horse forward, didn't even raise his eyelids. He shook his wrist, and with a crisp "snap" sound, the whip was like a poisonous snake spitting out its tongue, accurately lashing towards Li Guang's old face.
You can also call me Ayan.
Li Guang was a veteran of the battlefield after all, so his reaction was extremely fast. He shrank his neck and dodged nimbly, grinning and rubbing his hands. "Oh, Chunhe, don't be angry, don't be angry! I'm just trying to get close to you!"
Huo Yan had a forced smile on his face, and in his arms was a lazily dozing tiger cub he'd gotten from who knows where. His tone was chilling, "Just call me Marquis of Tai'an."
Li Guang looked at Huo Yan's "kind" smile and scratched his head. He didn't understand the warning in it at all and continued to smile cheerfully, "Chunhe, look at the weather..."
“Bang!”
Another whip!
Li Gan, who was following behind, covered his face in pain, wailing in his heart, "Dad! Can you please be quiet? Marquis Tai'an, that's not my dad!"
Thirty miles away from Chang'an, the Changting Pavilion is in sight.
In this chaotic atmosphere of the rear army, a burst of rapid thunderous horse hooves suddenly rang out on the official road ahead! The sound came from far away and approached at a rapid speed, carrying with it an indomitable spirit!
It turned out that Huo Qubing had finished his work and urged his horse along the way, and successfully met up with the main force thirty miles away from Chang'an.
The Marquis of Guanjun was quite flamboyant, his newly forged silver armor gleaming in the sun, his hair high and black. He said something to Zhao Po Nu, who was acting as a personal guard behind him, with a slight smile on his lips. Then he gave his horse a hard kick, and the warhorse neighed and leaped off.
Then, the beautiful woman with almond eyes, red lips and a lively appearance met Huo Yan face to face.
The horse raised its front hooves high, then stomped down heavily, stirring up a cloud of dust, and stopped in front of Huo Yan.
The beautiful woman controlled the reins with one hand, leaning forward, and with her other hand brushed away the willow branches that were in the way. She said in a low voice, "Chunhe."
Huo Yan's heart was pounding. Anyone who saw this beauty would have their heart beat faster. The barrage of comments had gone crazy, and Li Guang was stunned. He probably didn't know that Li Guang was stunned because of him. Li Guang never thought that Huo Yan's almond eyes, which always had a distant and sarcastic look, as if they had no interest in everything in the world, could burst into such a bright smile in an instant, like the melting ice in spring!
The name Chunhe that Your Majesty took is not false.
Huo Yan himself hadn't noticed that the corners of his lips had already raised high, and the corners of his eyebrows and eyes were soaked with real warmth. The spring breeze blew through the willow branches. Huo Yan's voice was clear and joyful, with undisguised joy, "Brother is back!"
"I raided the Xiongnu king's tent a while ago and brought you something interesting. Come here." Huo Qubing turned his horse to ride alongside him. Huo Yan tilted his head. Huo Qubing leaned slightly to the side and reached into the leather bag hanging beside the saddle, pulling out a peculiarly shaped short knife. It was small, slightly longer than a dagger, with a slightly curved tip and a beautiful notch on the side. The scabbard was made entirely of silver, inlaid with numerous pearls and jades of various sizes.
Gorgeous, ferocious.
"What a good sword." Huo Yan praised sincerely, his slender fingers carefully stroking the blade and scabbard, and then he saw the words "Chunhe" at the end of the scabbard.
He chuckled and held it in his arms with great care.
Very beautiful knife.
Very suitable for self-defense.
Whenever Huo Qubing went out, whether for military training or a major expedition, no matter how far or near, or what he was doing, he would always bring Huo Yan a handy little gadget. Huo Yan had seen all sorts of goodies, but he still loved his thoughtfulness. These were the best things.
He naturally enjoyed his brother's favor.
Huo Qubing watched him carefully retract his movements, a smile spreading across his eyes like the surface of a lake after a stone was dropped. He added calmly, "This was a handy item used by Xiongnu nobles. It was handy for fighting wild beasts and ripping bones and tendons. The original old iron blade was as brittle as a dead branch, making it less effective at killing. I had the veteran army craftsman reforge it for you with new steel and sharpen the edge. Now it's passable." He then said to Huo Yan, "Keep it for self-defense or enjoy it in your spare time. It's up to you."
"Thank you, brother." Huo Yan smiled with his eyebrows curved, and his fingertips unconsciously stroked the cold hilt of the knife at his waist.
Huo Qubing said no more and held the reins steadily. In front of him, the towering outline of Chang'an City was clearly visible on the horizon.
The Han soldiers returned to Chang'an. The willow branches at Baqiao had just sprouted, but the wind was a little cold.
【Author’s words】
Um, warning! Huge abuse later, cough cough cough.
Big abuse!!!
Of course it’s not that my brother is dead. He will not die.
Hehe, this knife will accompany Chunhe for a long time. It also has a nice name, Chunhe.
Of course, he will have another name in the future, Han Tai'an Hou Short Knife.
My friend asked me why the leader of the Xiongnu's northward migration was set to be a woman. Why? Because women hold up half the sky!
Don't tell me women had a low status during the Xiongnu era. No, no, no, women in grassland tribes have always had a high status. Ever since the Qing Dynasty, the wives of Emperor Huang Taiji all had their own cattle, sheep, and land. Their relationship was more like that of a partnership. So, her presence was very appropriate.
In addition, there have been outstanding women from ancient times to the present who have held power and, when faced with danger, have led the entire nation to make the right choices in a timely manner.
As the article says, the Han Dynasty had Wei Huo, and the Xiongnu, who allowed the Han Dynasty to fight for so long, should also have had the courage to remain unyielding.
My enemy was strong, I defeated him, I drove him out. Am I not stronger then?
Some time ago, my friend asked me if Ayan was an INFJ, an idealistic good baby.
Me: Does he prioritize values? No, he prioritizes logic. He's an INTJ most of the time, but that's not a given. Sometimes he's a cute INFJ, which becomes especially apparent in the later chapters. Being too emotional is the beginning of tragedy.
Youyou: You, ahhh! I knew you'd researched this a long time ago. Tell me, what is "removing illness"? I'm falling in love with it!
Me: Of course you will fall in love with him, because this is Ah Yan’s perspective. Ah Yan loves him.
Me: ENTP. I think in action, value possible patterns, prioritize logic, and use flexible tactics. I'm outgoing and lively.
Youyou: How do you say he’s extroverted? He hardly talks! Damn it!
Me: Does he have control over the situation? Does he understand the art of communication?
Youyou: Ah Yan can’t do that? Ah Yan is really good at deceiving people.
Me: He is not happy, he just treats it as a task.
Youyou: Are you happy to get rid of your illness?
Me: He is happy, he lives for war. My Ah Yan may plot, but he is not born for plotting.
Friends: How can they get along with each other like this? Double T, cold violence! ENTPs are easily angered and scold INTJs for procrastinating, while INTJs despise ENTPs for being reckless.
Me: They have been together for a long time and they both know each other.
Youyou: Speechless, what about my uncle? iSFj?
Me: Wrong, esFp, happy puppy. Little angel.
Youyou: Is my uncle a P person?
Me: Yeah, I'm easygoing with everyone. Perfect social skills.
Youyou: That pig, entj
Me: Yeah, you perverted control freak who follows my plan!
Youyou: You scolded A Zheng! You are not allowed to scold my best A Zheng! A Zheng and Qu Bing are both super good brothers!!!
I:……
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