*

The next morning, the entire army assembled on the grassland.

When they had just left Yanmen County, Qu Yunmie, according to Xiao Rong’s plan, had issued every soldier a strip of white cloth, and even delivered an impromptu speech. At that time Xiao Rong hadn’t witnessed it himself, he only learned of it from a letter. The whole army was impassioned and eager to immediately slay some Xianbei people to raise morale.

This time, there were no more white cloth strips to hand out. Apart from bringing himself, Xiao Rong had brought nothing, but he didn’t need to worry about morale.

As he passed among the assembled soldiers, he saw that many of them already had strips tied around their wrists—some white, some blue, some black.

Some had washed and re-tied the strips Qu Yunmie had given them before. Some had lost theirs and torn a piece of cloth themselves as a substitute. Others wore the relics of fallen comrades.

In one month of campaigning, the Northern Army had lost thirty thousand, and reinforcements had lost eight thousand. On average, one out of every ten men now lay forever buried in these grasslands.

Except for generals, whose bodies could be sent home, the rest were simply buried where they fell. The remnants of ancient battlefields always contained pits of a thousand or ten thousand corpses. Year after year, flowers bloomed atop piles of bones. Who knew if the long-slumbering dead could still smell that fragrance?

…

Xiao Rong rode his horse to Qu Yunmie’s side and asked, “Where were the soldiers who died before, buried?”

Hearing this, Qu Yunmie pointed in a direction behind them. “At the foot of White Wolf Slope, east of a ravine. The terrain there is high, and it is outside the pass of the Cairn Ravine. Buried there, they rest a little closer to home, and can still keep watch over this grassland—witnessing the moment when the Xianbei edifice collapses.”

Xiao Rong turned to look back, but his eyesight wasn’t as sharp as Qu Yunmie’s. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t see the place Qu Yunmie spoke of.

Even so, he knew of that place. The Cairn Ravine, also called Canhe Ravine, had a history that was only a little shorter than Yanmen Pass. It was also one of the famous passes in the history of the Central Plains. Foreign enemies of the Central Plains had never ceased. Every pass bore its own tragic and heroic story. It wasn’t a good place for eternal sleep, but it was the most fitting resting place for heroic souls. Above ground stretched the Great Wall for thousands of miles. Beneath the ground lay the bones of tens of thousands of martyrs, watching future soldiers rush out through the pass, carrying on generation after generation the mission of defending their homeland.

The Great Wall wasn’t built by one dynasty alone. It was built through the continued efforts of many dynasties until it took its later shape. At present, the Cairn Ravine wasn’t part of the Wall. It was merely a natural pass formed by the terrain itself.

As Xiao Rong gazed toward a place he couldn’t even see, a sudden thought arose in his heart. He wanted to build the Great Wall too.

…

To build it farther, outward, extending all the way to the edge of the desert.

This was not something that could be decided on a whim. At present, the map of the Central Plains was relatively small. Some dynasties had expanded to more than twice this size. Yet some rulers hadn’t done so—not because they lacked ambition, but because the people of the grasslands were simply impossible to trust. If the grasslands were included, then the Wall could only serve to defend against countries and tribes even farther north. Once these grassland tribes turned hostile, the Central Plains in times of weakness couldn’t resist.

Therefore, if one wanted to build the Great Wall, one had to first resolve the hostility between the grasslands and the Central Plains.

Xiao Rong lowered his eyes, putting away the thought in his heart. He could think about the future slowly. For now, it was time to send the soldiers off to campaign.

The first time they marched, Qu Yunmie had declared three hundred and sixty thousand troops, but in fact, even counting logistics and the servants brought by nobles, they only had about three hundred sixty to three hundred seventy thousand—the soldiers accounted for maybe three hundred forty thousand. Now, after so many deaths, in theory he should’ve reduced the count further, but he didn’t. He still claimed three hundred and sixty thousand.

…

If asked, he would still righteously reply, “Hadn’t Chenliu sent men? Xiao Rong and the Buddha’s son—those two alone counted as newly added thousands of troops”.

Xiao Rong: “…”

The Buddha’s Child: “…”

Don’t look at this poor monk. In the King’s heart, this poor monk was merely a thousand troops, not worthy of being ten thousand horses.

Once the assembly was complete, the more than three hundred thousand soldiers marched toward the place where the two armies were to confront each other. The Xianbei were already fully prepared. Their great general sat upon his horse, clutching his horse-slaying saber tightly. Xiao Rong also came to the front line, though he was heavily guarded in the rear. These days, strategists who accompanied the army into battle all received this kind of treatment. At most, the Xianbei could recognize him as a strategist, but they couldn’t see anything else about him.

At this moment, Xiao Rong somewhat missed Song Shuo. If Song Shuo had been in the camp, he surely would have come to join the fun, unlike the Buddha’s Child, who, since he was of no use on the battlefield, simply chose not to come at all. He stayed in the camp chanting sutras, waiting for the battle to end so that he could go out and pray for souls.

…

Still, one had to admit it was good to have him there. At the very least, when he chanted, those soldiers grieving bitterly over the loss of comrades felt some small measure of comfort.

In such a situation, Xiao Rong didn’t spoil the mood by pondering whether this would increase the number of believers in the Northern Army. Staying alive was what mattered most—who cared what anyone believed in?

With no one to talk to, as Yu Shaoxie had gone off to see Yu Shaocheng, Xiao Rong found himself surrounded by guards he barely knew. He could only crane his neck, straining to observe how the Xianbei were dressed.

He had always thought the Xianbei looked similar to the Qiang, wearing hairstyles that seemed bizarre to Central Plains eyes. Yet this group of Xianbei appeared to have nothing too outlandish. Apart from some features in their clothing that revealed their Donghu lineage, their hairstyles were almost the same as those of the Central Plains.

This was still the age of the Murong clan. The Murong revered Central Plains culture. From the first day they rose to power, they had strived to integrate into the Central Plains. Of course, the next step after “integration” was to swallow the Central Plains whole.

Whatever the case, at least they looked far more pleasing to the eye than the Yuwen. The Murong could still pretend to be beasts in human clothing, but when the Yuwen appeared, in the eyes of the Central Plains people, only one word remained—beasts.

Glancing over the enemy troops, whose ethnic distinctions were nearly impossible for Central Plains eyes to discern, Xiao Rong fixed his gaze on the burly general in the front, who held a massive saber.

Xiao Rong blinked silently. He felt the weapon must have been two meters long—one meter for the blade, another for the hilt.

Long and heavy weapons always carried a powerful sense of oppression. Qu Yunmie’s Snow-Drinking Vengeance Spear did so, and so too did this general’s horse-slaying saber.

So this was the great general of the Xianbei—a Murong noble who, from his teenage years, had constantly ridden south to plunder. Not only could he fight, but he was also absurdly lucky. Xianbei nobles liked to go into battle themselves, so their casualty rates were far higher than those of Central Plains nobles. Others died, he lived on. If that wasn’t luck, what was?

…

Xiao Rong looked at the man’s head, then lowered his eyes.

Too big. Even less desirable.

…

There were no more challenges shouted, no more speeches. The two sides glared at one another for a while, then Qu Yunmie and Murong Kui simultaneously gave the order to charge. Hooves crushed countless dry grass, while the roars of hundreds of thousands of men rolled like a tidal wave.

Guards hurriedly pulled Xiao Rong backward. At first, he could still see Qu Yunmie and the other generals fighting in the melee. Later, he saw nothing at all, for Qu Yunmie had already driven his troops far forward.

Xiao Rong: “…”

Liar.

On the first day, they pushed forward one meter, terrifying the Xianbei emperor to the point where he almost agreed to his cowardly nobles’ suggestion of fleeing outright.

On the second day, the Northern Army only pushed forward 0.25 meters, for Qu Yunmie was injured again. He toppled from his horse, and many rushed to save him. The Xianbei even heard his cry of agony, “No, let me go! I will kill them all!!!”

No one listened. With the King of North injured again, the army had to sound the gong for retreat. The Xianbei, upon hearing the news, regained their confidence.

Qu Yunmie hadn’t died, but his fighting strength was much diminished. Excellent—they still had hope!

…

As the army moved forward, so too did the camps. Xiao Rong sat beside the brazier warming his hands. When they were hot, he lifted his eyelids to glance at Qu Yunmie.

The latter sat sharpening his sword, scraping at the blade over and over. While feigning illness, he couldn’t go outside, so this was the only way he could vent his energy.

Xiao Rong: “…”

It was a pity there was no DNA testing in this era. Otherwise, Xiao Rong would certainly have tried to draw Qu Yunmie’s blood and check how much of his genetic sequence still belonged to a human being.

After spending so long with Qu Yunmie, Xiao Rong even began to doubt himself. Clearly, he had a well-proportioned, healthy body, but compared to Qu Yunmie, his frame looked like nothing but thin arms and legs.

When such doubts arose, Xiao Rong went to look in the mirror. Seeing his reflection, he smiled faintly. Yes—it was indeed a misunderstanding.

…

He said to Qu Yunmie, “The Kumo Xi people kept their word. Yesterday, none of the enemy soldiers on the battlefield were Kumo Xi. Their men were transferred to guard the defense lines. I wonder how their general convinced the Xianbei to agree to that.”

Qu Yunmie, unconcerned, said, “That is their affair, not the Northern Army’s.”

That was true enough. Xiao Rong looked at him, said no more of the Kumo Xi, and added, “I heard General Yuan was startled on the battlefield today. His horse had its leg chopped off, though fortunately he himself was unharmed.”

Qu Yunmie continued sharpening his sword, not even raising his head. “Yuan Baifu has been off these days.”

Xiao Rong froze. Before he could ask, Qu Yunmie stopped sharpening, frowned, and lifted his head. “He seemed distracted by something. On the battlefield, he couldn’t focus fully. That is courting death.”

Xiao Rong asked, “You don’t speak this way in front of other generals, do you? My lord, have you ever heard the saying, ‘a sharp tongue but a soft heart’?”

Qu Yunmie turned his head, blinking. “Soft bean curd? You mean the recipe Yu Shaoxie brought back from Jinling? That white, tasteless, mushy block?”

Xiao Rong gave a quiet “mm”. “That phrase means someone whose words are sharp, piercing straight into others’ hearts, but whose true intentions are kind, never wishing to harm.”

Qu Yunmie paused slightly, pressed his lips, seeming to understand why Xiao Rong said this.

He said to Xiao Rong, “You need not say that about yourself. In my eyes, you don’t have a sharp tongue.”

Xiao Rong: “…”

He flared up. “I know I don’t. I said you do!”

Qu Yunmie took a second to react, then instantly changed his words. “You don’t?! You should count yourself lucky I cannot carve out my heart, or I would hold it before you and tell you when every hole in it was made!”

Xiao Rong: “…”

After a while, Xiao Rong asked, “Then would you resent me?”

Qu Yunmie was still angry, but looking at Xiao Rong, he replied unwillingly, “If only I could resent you.”

Hearing this, Xiao Rong gave a short laugh. Yet immediately afterward, he sobered. “That’s the difference. The people you offend won’t be as tolerant of you as you are of me. They won’t take those words lightly. They will remember. You cannot expect everyone to be so magnanimous, can you?”

Qu Yunmie only heard what he wanted. To him, the key point was different. Narrowing his eyes, he said, “So you do know that I treat you with special tolerance and generosity.”

Xiao Rong laughed softly, utterly unafraid. In fact, his gaze carried a hint of arrogance. “I’m so clever. Of course I know. In the end, it is you, my Lord, who gave me the chance to offend you. Since I don’t need to pay any price, why should I not be bolder?”

Qu Yunmie: “…”

He gave a furious laugh. “You truly are frank, but dancing with wolves is not a good habit. Everyone knows wolves are the quickest to turn on you.”

Xiao Rong said, “Indeed, dancing with wolves is perilous, but the one dancing with me isn’t a wolf, is he? My Lord isn’t a wolf. My Lord wouldn’t turn on me.”

Qu Yunmie gazed at him, smiling faintly with unreadable meaning. “So certain? Xiao Rong, do you remember what you first said to me? That the human heart is unfathomable.”

Xiao Rong nodded. “I still believe the human heart is unfathomable, but you…”

He hesitated, then slowly closed his mouth. He looked at Qu Yunmie, who likewise stared at him.

Even Xiao Rong himself didn’t know what he had meant to say next, but Qu Yunmie seemed to understand. Lowering his eyes, he didn’t press Xiao Rong to finish. Instead, he picked up his sword again, set it against the whetstone, and, before continuing, paused. “If I return this time without a scratch, can I have another gift?”

Xiao Rong glanced at the sword in his hand and reminded him, “The sword is gone. You cannot have a sword dance.”

Of course, he could’ve used another blunted sword, but Xiao Rong bore grudges. For now, he didn’t want to dance for Qu Yunmie again.

Qu Yunmie, however, wasn’t picky. “No matter, something else will do.”

He waited for Xiao Rong’s answer. Xiao Rong meant to refuse. Yet when he looked into Qu Yunmie’s eyes, he couldn’t bring himself to say no.

He knew that if he refused, Qu Yunmie wouldn’t pester him. It was precisely this attitude—whether given or not, it was all the same—that softened Xiao Rong’s heart.

Closing his eyes briefly, he exhaled, helplessly compromising. “Fine. If you come back without a scratch.”

Qu Yunmie’s eyes brightened. He smiled, lowered his head, and sharpened the blade with even greater vigor.

Watching him throw himself into the work, Xiao Rong smiled silently.

So it wasn’t only Qu Yunmie who had become more magnanimous, but he himself as well.

When he exploited Qu Yunmie’s indulgence to compel him into actions he wouldn’t do otherwise, he failed to see that the one being coerced was never just one person, but both of them.

He was a bad man—but a bad man who, with every misdeed, sank a little further. If one day he pushed Qu Yunmie off a cliff, what he would see wouldn’t be Qu Yunmie’s fall, but his arms opening in midair to catch him.

…

Where did the road ahead lead? It wasn’t so much that Xiao Rong didn’t know, but that he didn’t want to know. He was the type who liked sweet dreams, yet couldn’t truly enjoy them. The moment he realized it was only a dream, he had already awakened.

So he truly didn’t want to know. How wonderful if guesses could remain guesses forever. Alas, the dream was beautiful only because there was another person in it—someone caring for him, indulging him, protecting him. He could deceive himself, but not that other person.

How unwilling.

What use was unwillingness? He couldn’t forget what he truly cared about. After so much effort, after paying such a price, what was it all for?

After repeating this to himself twice, Xiao Rong looked at Qu Yunmie again. The latter carefully studied the marks on this sword, then began to grind the other side. Watching quietly for a while, Xiao Rong finally turned and left.

 

Edited by: Antiope

 

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