341.
Report — The Day After the Meeting**
Zhang Shicheng's main camp lay buried beneath low, gray clouds.
Rain had fallen in scattered sheets all day, and the damp air clung to the canvas roofs, weighing them down.
The smell of wet earth soaked into the entire encampment.
Human breath, the sweat of soaked horses, damp silk and leather—all of it mixed together into the heavy, clinging atmosphere unique to a camp that survives by endurance.
Wei Jin stepped inside, shrugging off his wet cloak.
Water dripped steadily, soaking into the straw on the ground.
Inside the tent, it was quieter.
Zhang Shicheng sat before a low table, surrounded by several generals and civil officials.
No one spoke first.
All eyes were on Wei Jin.
Waiting clung to their gazes.
"I've returned," Wei Jin said briefly.
On Zhang Shicheng's face, anxiety and expectation were intertwined.
It was not the expectation of certainty, but the impatience of someone who wanted uncertainty to end.
"What did Yoon Dam say?" Zhang Shicheng asked.
Wei Jin took his seat and spoke with measured clarity, as though even the order of his words had been calculated.
"The same persuasion as before.
They ask that we attack Yingtian from the east, targeting Zhu Yuanzhang."
"They said—"
Wei Jin lifted a finger and traced an invisible line in the air, building the sentence piece by piece.
"If we stop, Zhu Yuanzhang will take the world.
Chen Youliang is broad-minded and accepts those who submit sincerely.
If you extend your hand first, you will live; if not, you will be swept away by the current of the realm.
And once Zhu Yuanzhang claims the world, can you truly believe he will spare you?"
The air inside the tent grew thin.
A few scholars wiped their mouths with wet sleeves.
Zhang Shicheng let out a short laugh.
The laugh was light, but his eyes were heavy.
"Hah. Sweet words.
Who can know what comes after?
Misfortune tends to arrive in bundles."
Wei Jin bowed his head just slightly.
Why did such a small angle feel so weighty?
"There is a blade hidden behind that sweetness."
At the word blade, the tent fell silent.
Only the sound of rain striking the soaked canvas remained.
Zhang Shicheng asked slowly,
"And how did you see it?"
Wei Jin replied without lifting his head.
His voice did not waver.
"Yoon Dam was sincere.
But sincerity does not lead directly to victory.
If we move now, we step into the fire before Chen Youliang's battle is even finished."
At that moment, a general rose to his feet.
His wet sword scabbard brushed his thigh with a dull sound.
"What does that mean?" he demanded.
"When Chen Youliang's army crosses the river, Zhu Yuanzhang will be pushed back.
Is this not the opportunity?"
He was one of Zhang Shicheng's veteran commanders, a leading figure of the conciliatory faction.
They preferred survival through alliances and compromise rather than all-out war.
Survival did not bring glory—but death left nothing behind.
They were men who had learned that truth far too early.
Opposite them sat the civil officials—
the conservative faction that controlled Zhang Shicheng's finances and trade.
One of them toyed with a damp sheet of paper and spoke.
"You speak of war like a merchant.
Chen Youliang will soon proclaim himself emperor.
He will be arrogant and violent.
Joining hands with him is like offering your neck.
If we take Yingtian together, he will absorb us once Zhu Yuanzhang is defeated.
The path to survival is waiting."
The conciliatory general clenched his fist, veins standing out on the back of his hand.
"Waiting?
Zhu Yuanzhang already controls the southern grain and silver.
If he wins, do you think he will leave us untouched?
Stopping only delays death."
Before he finished, another scholar muttered with a sneer,
"Death isn't delayed. It's chosen."
The conciliatory faction turned.
The conservatives met their glare.
Words pressed against faces like blows.
Without their lord present, fists might already have been thrown.
The air inside the tent grew even heavier.
Wei Jin listened silently to both sides, then placed his hand on the table.
Thud.
The sound echoed through the tent like a tremor in the ground.
Every voice stopped.
Wei Jin's voice was low and firm.
"Enough."
He slowly raised his head.
His eyes were cold as water, clear as steel.
"Chen Youliang is a tiger north of the river.
Zhu Yuanzhang is a snake in the south."
Silence passed through the tent.
"The tiger can be seen.
The snake cannot.
If we move now, we are meat thrown before the tiger.
But if we stop, we walk straight into the snake's jaws."
He cut to the conclusion.
"Either way, it is death."
The air turned icy.
Someone inhaled—and froze mid-breath.
Wei Jin tilted his head slightly and delivered the answer as if it had been decided long ago.
"The solution is simple.
Wait until the two bleed each other dry.
When that blood seeps into the river, we drink from it.
We wait for mutual destruction."
The conciliatory general ground his teeth.
"Are you calculating the survival of the state on an abacus?"
Wei Jin did not blink.
"Survival is decided by numbers.
You cannot protect the realm with righteousness alone."
Zhang Shicheng listened in silence.
There was no anger on his face, no smile.
It was not the face of a man ignoring others—
it was the face of someone whose own fears were being reread by every word spoken.
After a long while, Zhang Shicheng slowly lifted his cup.
The wine had already gone cold.
"Wei Jin is right," he said.
His voice was dry and firm.
"Chen Youliang is still unstable.
Zhu Yuanzhang is not yet complete.
If we enter the fight now, we lose to both sides."
He brushed the map on the table with his fingertips.
The river lines looked as though they had bled into the ink.
"Hold the lines—but do not move."
Zhang Shicheng paused for a single beat.
That pause was the decision.
"If Yoon Dam comes again, tell him only that we are watching."
The conciliatory general leapt up in fury.
"My lord—that is cowardice!"
Zhang Shicheng's eyes flashed.
He drained his cup and said,
"It is not cowardice. It is survival.
No one has ever protected a nation through righteousness alone.
Everyone waits for opportunity."
He lifted his gaze to the tent ceiling.
Rain was still falling.
The falling rain neither scolded nor comforted.
It simply fell.
"We are waiting for that opportunity."
After everyone withdrew, only Wei Jin remained before Zhang Shicheng.
As the noise outside faded beyond the thin walls, the silence between the two thickened.
Wei Jin spoke quietly.
"My lord. Chen Youliang will not break his promise."
Zhang Shicheng set down his cup without looking away.
"Perhaps.
But if we do not move, he will someday call us traitors."
Zhang Shicheng turned his gaze outside.
Nightlight from across the river hung at the window.
The water flowed. The light trembled.
His voice was calm, but fatigue and fear flickered in his eyes.
"When that time comes, we will talk our way out of it."
Wei Jin said nothing more.
The difficulty of serving a lord who would not decide weighed on that silence.
In Zhang Shicheng's gaze, he read the look of someone whose doubt had already become a decision.
Doubt is a way of choosing a path while avoiding responsibility.
Outside, the rain continued.
From somewhere across the river came the faint sound of a horn—
from Chen Youliang's camp at Taiping.
Listening to it, Wei Jin murmured inwardly,
"Even those who avoid battle are still inside the battle.
Choosing not to move always becomes someone else's advantage.
This stillness now flows toward aiding Zhu Yuanzhang, who was pushed back at Taiping."
He never spoke those thoughts aloud.
He remained seated, wrapped in silen