Looks Can Be Deceiving

Then, she laid out her plan. All who heard it straightened up instinctively, including He Lingchuan, though confusion was written across nearly every face. Only General Nan Ke cried out, "Good, good! I think it's brilliant!" Wen Daolun could not help smiling. "A magnificent scheme, General!" General Nan Ke gave a thumbs-up. "This way, we won't need to wait for that bird-brained ruler's decree—we can leave whenever we want. General Red is right; whatever choices they offer us, we reject them all!" Zhong Shengguang glanced at him, a trace of amusement flickering in his eyes. "It is indeed a sound approach, worthy of careful consideration." Zhao Xianhe could not help speaking up. "Wait a moment. Didn't General Red maintain that we must hold the wasteland and cannot return to our homeland?" What was the meaning of this now? Ling Zhongshui had always clashed with him, and now sneered sarcastically, "So does Lord Zhao wish to stay, or do you wish to return?" "Whether I stay or leave is entirely up to Commander Zhong." Zhao Xianhe raised his long eyebrows, paused, and continued, "The capital sent me a secret order urging me to volunteer to lead troops back east along the Jinxi Corridor. Once there, I would be granted rank, promotions, and great honors. I have already reported this to Commander Zhong." Ling Zhongshui was furious. "That ruler wants to replay his old tricks—stripping us of another Vice Commander and tens of thousands of elite troops?!" The other generals were equally indignant. The king had no intention of allowing Zhong Shengguang to return, yet he coveted the elite troops tempered on the Northwest Wasteland to stabilize his own throne, which was why he had dispatched the secret letter to Zhao Xianhe. As the officers clamored in condemnation, Zhong Shengguang tapped on the table and said solemnly, "Enough. My mind is made up." Once those four words left his lips, everyone fell silent. No one here could shake a decision once Commander Zhong had made it. No matter how many doubts they harbored, they could only swallow them. "We proceed according to General Red's strategy." With the direction set, the generals gathered their wits and began hashing out every detail. It was truly an exhaustive array, leaving nothing unexamined. Listening attentively from the side, He Lingchuan only then realized just how much preparation went into waging a war. It was complex beyond imagination. War was an account ledger. Moreover, no matter how thorough the preparations seemed, they were never truly enough. To say nothing of the fact that Zhong Shengguang's mobilization this time was an impromptu decision, swift and urgent. The moment to test Panlong City had arrived once more. By the time everything was ironed out, more than two hours had passed. Zhong Shengguang gulped down an entire cup of hot tea to moisten his throat, then let out a breath. "In short, this is an immense opportunity. Next, let us assign the tasks." Not until the sun sank in the west did the lamps in Gange Hall finally go out. After the meeting adjourned, the officials hurried off, some to begin preparations, others to return home for dinner. Everyone attached great importance to the pre-campaign meal, usually laying out a lavish spread. Wen Daolun was among those heading home to eat. As he reached the doorway, he smiled at He Lingchuan. "Thank you for your hard work, standing with us old men all day." He Lingchuan shook his head. "It was eye-opening." He had virtually no experience commanding troops in war; listening from the side had been immensely beneficial. He observed Wen Daolun closely. This counselor relied upon by Zhong Shengguang smiled warmly, appearing as though he had walked out from the grief of losing his son—yet the crow's feet at the corners of his eyes were slightly deeper, his gaze a touch cloudier, and a few more silver strands laced his temples. "At this hour, is there anyone waiting at home to eat with you?" He Lingchuan answered honestly, "No. I originally intended to go to Wenxuan Pavilion, but General Red summoned me for guard duty." "Is that so? That shows you are highly valued." Wen Daolun patted his arm. "Keep up the good work, young man. I think highly of you." For a closed-door council of this caliber, only personal guards most trusted by Zhong Shengguang and General Red were qualified to watch the door. Otherwise, a single leaked word would stir up an uproar. Just then, Zhao Xianhe walked over and called Wen Daolun to leave together. The latter said to He Lingchuan, "I shall take my leave first." Zhao Xianhe's gaze also swept over He Lingchuan without lingering. After Wen Daolun departed, He Lingchuan's gaze naturally fell onto Zhong Shengguang and General Red, who were passing behind him. Having experienced the illusion at the ruins of the Yuan Kingdom, he felt more and more that Zhong Shengguang was shrouded in mystery, and his connection to the god Mitian was enigmatic and murky. Where had Commander Zhong hidden the Dafang Pot now? Did the consequences of every deity blood sacrifice turn out so complicated? Sensing his gaze, General Red suddenly asked, "What are you looking at?" Even through her mask, He Lingchuan could feel her eyes fixed on him. Most of the people in Gange Hall had already dispersed, so he replied directly, "If things proceed according to your plan, yet the king still issues the resettlement decree, what then?" Hearing this, Zhong Shengguang and General Red exchanged a glance, realizing he had grasped their train of thought. General Red gave what sounded like a soft laugh. "What is so bad about resettlement?" "Clearing a path all the way back east will not be easy," He Lingchuan said candidly. "Otherwise, we could have returned long ago. Why wait until now?" Zhong Shengguang stared at him. "You think General Red's proposal is unwise?" "What if things do not go as hoped?" "The worst outcome is returning empty-handed without achievement. Why should that be intolerable?" Zhong Shengguang smiled. "Do you think we have never tasted defeat?" "Military situations have no constant form; the greatest danger is chasing perfection." He enunciated each word, "There are no such unblemished matters under heaven." He Lingchuan bowed his head. "I stand corrected." "Go on back. Spend tonight with your family," Zhong Shengguang said. "We will march soon. This battle is of paramount importance." "Yes, Commander." By the time he left Gange Hall, darkness had fallen. Wenxuan Pavilion had already closed, so He Lingchuan had no choice but to head back carrying two books. On the way, he made a detour to South Gate Square to check on the Juluo tree. The little tree was flourishing, glossy and vibrant green. A sparrow's nest had appeared in its crown, and a new branch had sprouted along its trunk. Compared to its sudden, inexplicable emergence, its current demeanor was far too ordinary, seemingly no different from any common tree. Why did the Dafang Pot want a Juluo tree? He Lingchuan could never puzzle it out. Since he was already here, he decided to have a hearty dinner at Frost River Tavern. The place was bustling as usual, patrons laughing and drinking freely, completely oblivious that a new grand campaign was about to commence. And this time, it was Panlong City taking the initiative. Partway through, several comrades-in-arms came over to share drinks, one of whom was Duan Xinyu, who had explored the flesh-and-blood fortress with He Lingchuan. Duan Xinyu was now married. His new bride was none other than the young woman who had stormed off in a rage after He Lingchuan called her "either stupid or obtuse." Duan Xinyu's married life was exceptionally happy. Whenever his lovely wife brought up He Lingchuan, she would gnash her teeth, which brought Duan Xinyu immense satisfaction. Seeing He Lingchuan now, he was exceedingly warm, grabbing him and thanking him repeatedly. A few toasts from him, a few toasts from others, and He Lingchuan's dinner was stretched to nearly four hours. After all, he knew well that after the coming long-distance raid, some among them might never return. When he arrived home and pushed open the gate, he caught sight of light filtering over the low dividing wall: The neighboring house was lit. Sun Fuling was back? He Lingchuan quickly drew fresh water to wash his face and rinse his mouth, smoothed his wind-tousled hair, then leaned over the low wall and tapped the tiles. "Is Teacher Sun home?" "Not home." "..." With a creak, Sun Fuling pushed open her door and walked out, clad in white, her long hair damp and loose. She looked up at He Lingchuan. The moonlight fell across her delicate face like lustrous mutton-fat jade, radiant in a hazy glow. He Lingchuan was instantly reminded of the moonlight that night at the ruins of the Yuan Kingdom, just as vividly suffused with radiance. "What is it?" Sun Fuling asked after waiting for him to speak for quite a while. "I thought you wouldn't be back tonight." "I was supposed to be on duty at Shumin Academy tonight, but an order came from the Commander at dusk granting the academy a temporary recess, so I returned." Sun Fuling sighed. "Is there going to be another battle? Before every major war, students are sent home to be with their families." He Lingchuan nodded. "When are you leaving?" "Very soon. Perhaps tomorrow, or in a couple of days." He Lingchuan scratched his head. "It depends on Commander Zhong's order." Silence fell over the wall. After a long pause, Sun Fuling murmured, "So soon?" "Yes." He Lingchuan looked straight at her. "How about seeing me off?" He pointed toward the wine jars in the corner of his courtyard. Sun Fuling shook her head. "You reek of liquor. Be careful not to drink so much you can't get out of bed tomorrow. Let us substitute tea for wine." With that, she returned to her room, retrieved tea leaves and an iron kettle, and vaulted straight over the wall. "A student gave me this. Her family are tea farmers in Chipa White Garden, and she brought me the first spring harvest from this year's crop." He Lingchuan moved the brazier into the courtyard and set the water to boil. "You must have heard plenty of rumors about the resettlement decree around the city these past few days, haven't you?" "Yes, everyone is talking about it." Sun Fuling sat down. "I never imagined the King would rather take the risk of accepting foreign aid. It clearly hasn't reached the point of utter desperation yet." "Hasn't it?" "Not yet. Near the capital, there are at least two armies to protect the throne, as well as the Imperial Guard." Sun Fuling said indifferently, "Boasted to be peerless in combat, yet I doubt they amount to much. Otherwise, why haven't they been deployed by now?" "It is the capital, after all. Those forces are meant to guard the capital fortress; they can't actively march out to suppress the enemy, can they?" "Those troops haven't fought a battle in twenty or thirty years. Who knows if they can fight at all." He Lingchuan knew that Panlong's residents, including her, felt bitterly disappointed by their motherland's ineptitude, so he quickly changed the subject, picking out everyday anecdotes to share. Sun Fuling also shared daily happenings from Shumin Academy. As they talked, the night deepened. The street preaching had ended long ago, and the thoroughfares outside were quiet, with not a single footstep passing by for a long time. Right then, strange sounds came from the neighboring house. The commoners' single-story houses were tiny, with poor soundproofing, allowing the noise to reach their ears without missing a single detail. He Lingchuan recalled the vocal mimicry performance he had heard in Shihuan City—even that seemed less intense than this. The neighbor's bed wasn't of great quality either, creaking and groaning at the top of its lungs. Sun Fuling's smile gradually faded. Creak, squeak. The two sat in silence, at a total loss for words. Creak, squeak. Why pick tonight of all nights? He Lingchuan listened closely for a few moments—that fellow next door actually possessed considerable stamina in his hips; he wasn't as short and pathetic as he appeared on the surface. Looks can be deceiving.