As Xiao Che carried the chamber pot toward the well in the backyard of the camp, Zhang San roared from behind, his voice now hoarse with rage: "Clean it up properly! If there's even the slightest trace of smell left, you can forget about eating today!"
His voice was filled with embarrassment and anger.
Xiao Che's lips curled into an almost imperceptible cold smile.
Not eating?
This is perhaps exactly what he wants.
He drew a bucket of icy well water and began washing with meticulous care. The stench of filth that would make most people vomit was, to him, nothing more than ordinary dust in the air. His movements were steady and slow, carrying a composure incongruous with this lowly work, as if he were cleaning not a filthy toilet, but a glass vase in the imperial garden.
Half an hour later, when he had neatly arranged dozens of toilets that had been cleaned until they were spotless and even the wood grain was clearly visible, the entire barracks of the third team fell into an eerie silence.
The new recruits looked at the toilets that were cleaner than their own bowls, and then at "Xiao Shisan" who was still neatly dressed and indifferent. At the same time, a thought popped into their minds: This guy... does he have some kind of special fetish?
Zhang San was dumbfounded. He circled the toilet twice, even bringing his nose close to smell it, but apart from a faint soapy scent, there was no other odor whatsoever. The hundred nitpicking remarks he had prepared were forced to remain stuck in his throat.
"Hmph! You're smart to know what's good for you!" In the end, he could only squeeze out this sentence through gritted teeth before turning away dejectedly.
Just then, the sound of a gong signaling the start of dinner came from the kitchen.
"Clang! Clang! Clang!"
The sound was like a command of liberation, and the once lifeless barracks instantly came alive. The recruits, like wolves that hadn't eaten for three days, their eyes gleaming, grabbed their rough porcelain bowls and rushed towards the mess hall like madmen, even the clanging of their armor sounding unusually urgent.
Xiao Che stood still, looking at the group of people who were risking their lives for "pig feed," his eyes deep and unfathomable.
He slowly picked up his chipped bowl from the corner and followed at the back of the crowd, walking unhurriedly towards the kitchen.
The military camp's mess hall was more like a huge shed than a canteen. Several enormous iron pots were steaming, and the air was filled with a strange smell that was hard to describe as either fragrant or sour.
The new recruits lined up, craning their necks, looking nervously and expectantly at the cook in charge of the cooking.
The cook was a fat man with a face full of scars. He wielded a huge iron ladle, which seemed more like handing out charity than serving food. With each scoop, a sticky, grayish, unidentified object was flung into the bowl, splashing soup and water everywhere.
When it was Xiao Che's turn, he handed over the bowl.
"Bang!"
The cook slammed a spoon into his bowl, and the rough porcelain bowl groaned under the weight.
Xiao Che lowered his eyes to look.
What was in the bowl could hardly be called "rice." It was a bowl of rice water so thin it could be used as a mirror, with a few lonely grains of rice that had long since become moldy, black, and swollen. Even more nauseating was that among those grains of rice were visible, shimmering particles of sand.
Is this what the soldiers at Zhenbeiguan eat?
Is this the military rations that Meng Wei mentioned, "Thanks entirely to Your Majesty's divine might, we now have ample supplies"?
Xiao Che's body stiffened for a moment.
In the palace, even the tea used for rinsing one's mouth had to be freshly picked that very morning, and the water used to brew it had to be morning dew transported from Yuquan Mountain. For him, tea left overnight was an intolerable act of disrespect.
And now, the stuff in his bowl is not even as good as the swill of the lowest-ranking criminal slaves in the palace.
He held the bowl, not leaving immediately, but quietly watching the cook.
The cook felt uncomfortable under his gaze and yelled gruffly, "What are you looking at! Next!"
Xiao Che ignored him and slowly scanned his surroundings.
He saw that the recruits who had been pouncing like hungry wolves were now squatting in the corner, wolfing down the same "pig feed" in their bowls with an almost pious posture. They ate quickly and hurriedly, as if afraid that if they were a second too slow, the food in their bowls would fly away. Some people got sand stuck in their teeth, but they just frowned, spat the sand on the ground, and continued to eat with their heads down.
For them, this wasn't pig feed; it was the only source of sustenance that allowed them to survive.
It's not that they don't care, it's that they dare not care. It's not that they aren't angry, it's that they dare not be angry.
An unprecedented rage surged from the deepest recesses of Xiao Che's heart, like magma rising slowly and steadily. This rage was greater than when he witnessed the Gao family's disregard for human life in Jiangnan, and even more intense than when he learned that Qian Canjun had embezzled martyrs' pensions!
That was an insult to the entire empire and the greatest mockery of him as emperor!
Just then, that familiar yet annoying voice rang out.
"What's wrong, 'Xiao Shisan'? You can't get used to the food?"
Squad leader Zhang San swaggered over, carrying a distinctive wooden tray. His bowl was piled high with white rice, topped with a golden fried egg, and several pieces of glistening braised pork lay beside it. It formed a stark and jarring contrast to the gray, watery porridge of the other recruits.
This is what is known as "special treatment".
Zhang San walked straight up to Xiao Che, deliberately brought the bowl to his nose, and took a smug look as he inhaled the aroma of the meat, smacking his lips exaggeratedly: "Oh my, this stewed meat is so fragrant! It's a pity that some delicate young masters probably won't have this kind of luck."
He glanced sideways at the sand porridge in Xiao Che's bowl with utter contempt, his sarcasm almost overflowing: "What's wrong? Does this food look a bit like the feed you give your pigs? Hahaha!"
Hearing this blatant humiliation, the other recruits all lowered their heads even further, afraid of getting caught in the crossfire. They ate even faster, as if that would shut them out of everything else.
Xiao Che's face was as cold as the iron on a winter night at the border. He didn't look at Zhang San, or even at the meat in Zhang San's bowl; his gaze remained fixed on the few pitiful grains of moldy rice and sand in his own bowl.
Seeing his "disheartened" appearance, Zhang San was extremely pleased.
Serves you right for acting all high and mighty! You were cleaning my toilet and you acted all nonchalant! Now you know how powerful you are, right? In Team Three, I'm the boss! If I tell you to eat shit, you'd better swallow it!
He deliberately picked up a piece of braised pork with alternating layers of fat and lean meat with his chopsticks, waved it in front of Xiao Che, and said in a teasing tone like a cat playing with a mouse, "If you don't like it, then get lost! We don't keep good-for-nothings here!"
After saying that, he prepared to turn around and find a place to enjoy his lunch properly, and to see whether this "connected person" would angrily smash the bowl or humiliatingly throw away the bowl of pig feed.
However, neither of the two scenarios he anticipated occurred.
Under everyone's watchful eyes, and in Zhang San's incredulous gaze, Xiao Che slowly picked up the bowl of sand porridge that even pigs wouldn't touch.
He was expressionless, yet his movements were even somewhat elegant as he brought the bowl to his lips.
Then, he took a sip.
"Gulp."
A clear swallowing sound rang out.
He drank the rice water, which smelled of sand, mold, and dishwater.
Time seemed to stand still at that moment.
All the new recruits who were secretly observing this area stopped eating, staring in disbelief as if they had witnessed some kind of miracle.
The smug smile on Zhang San's face froze completely. The braised pork in his hand fell to the ground, covered in dust, but he was completely unaware.
This...this guy, he...he actually ate it?!
How dare he?! How could he possibly?!
Xiao Che put down his bowl, his expression still calm, but a storm was brewing in his dark eyes. He didn't look at anyone, picked up his chopsticks, and slowly, bite by bite, ate the bowl of sand porridge clean, leaving not a single grain of sand behind.
After finishing his meal, he stood up, holding the empty bowl, and walked past Zhang San, who was as stiff as a stone statue, under the stunned gazes of everyone, and put the bowl back in the sink.
He remained silent throughout.
But the atmosphere in the kitchen was more oppressive than any person's desperate roar.
An invisible, chilling killing intent emanated from the silent recruit.
Zhang San shivered violently, and when he came to his senses, he felt a chill run from the soles of his feet to the top of his head. When he looked at the back of "Xiao Shisan" again, fear appeared in his eyes for the first time.
That's not an easy target, that's not a fool... that's a madman sharpening his claws!
In the unseen void, above Xiao Che's head, the pixelated emoji had quietly changed.
That was no longer the composure of "Very good, you have successfully caught my attention.jpg".
Instead, it was a small, expressionless figure sitting in front of a whetstone, slowly and forcefully sharpening a long, gleaming knife.
【Little person.gif】
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