His expression was wooden, his tone allowed no doubt, just like that day when he captured her, never changing.
Miss Jun bit into the piece of meat presented to her mouth, looking at him.
The meat was different from the soup; it needed to be chewed properly.
She slowly sank her teeth into it, bit by bit.
Lu Yunqi's hand near her mouth let go, gently stroking her head.
Miss Jun swallowed the meat.
"You're wrong," she said, "It's not the weapon that injures, it's the person."
Lu Yunqi looked at her, but Miss Jun no longer looked at him, her gaze turning away indifferently.
Lu Yunqi turned and continued to slowly slice the mutton, the room quiet with the occasional sizzle of hot oil dripping onto the charcoal fire.
Amidst the dense sound of firecrackers, the New Year arrived.
In the capital, lights blazed like a celestial realm, in the imperial palace, the emperor and empress dowager sat together, watching the concubines and children playing and laughing joyfully. Regardless of wealth, the common people also gathered happily, from north to south, a scene of prosperity and bustle.
Even the distant Junzi Pass in Hejian Prefecture was surrounded by the intermittent sound of firecrackers, distant towns and villages lit up like stars, adding a touch of warmth to this winter night.
But soon, the snow danced wildly in the raging wind, and even hiding indoors seemed to offer no warmth.
Nevertheless, seven or eight people squeezed into the earth house beneath the fortress, among the soldiers in old military uniforms, there was a rotund middle-aged man wrapped in a large fur coat.
Despite wearing the thickest clothing in the room, he almost stuck his hands and feet into the fire basin, seemingly only the burning pain made him feel any warmth.
"Why is it so cold here?" he said, his voice trembling, making his already unfamiliar northern accent unable to hide his southern tone.
Several soldiers laughed.
"It's always been this cold," one said, handing him a wine jug, "I bet you, a wealthy old master, have never suffered like this."
The middle-aged man shook his head repeatedly, accepted the jug from the soldier, took a sip, and immediately coughed and spluttered, snot and tears streaming down.
This embarrassment made the soldiers in the room laugh again, but soon they handed him a bowl of hot tea.
"Don't think we're teasing you; here you have to drink this wine," said a silent middle-aged soldier, "Traveling or scouting in the winter night, without this drink, if you fall and close your eyes for a moment, you'll never open them again."
The middle-aged man appeared grateful and admired.
"Chief Dong, the soldiers are truly hardworking," he said, "I sincerely admire you. I never came here before and didn't know, but after this trip to the northern lands, even without fighting, it's already tough."
With that, he raised the wine jug that had just been handed to him.
"Come, let me toast you all."
He said and took a large gulp.
This time, though not as embarrassing as before, his face quickly flushed, with tears welling up.
For a pampered, wealthy businessman to be so polite to them, the soldiers present could not hide their joy and lifted their own wine jugs in thanks.
The room's atmosphere was lively, dispelling the cold.
But Chief Dong did not drink, his expression somewhat grim as he looked at the man.
"I don't know why the squad leader allowed you to rest here overnight," he said, "According to our usual protocol, you wouldn't be allowed to step into this pass even if you froze to death on the road."
The words were indeed not polite, but the businessman had a good temper and was not offended.
"Yes, we realize it's against protocol too," he said earnestly, "We got lost because we weren't familiar with the area, delayed our journey. If not for the squad leader and you treating us as your own, we surely couldn't survive."
Chief Dong raised his hand to stop him.
"Oh, no need to mention me; I don't dare claim to treat the people as my own," he said, "I only love those who follow protocol."
He looked at the businessman.
"I've arranged a place for you to stay; from now on, you're not allowed to step out. If we discover that you or your followers wander, we'll execute without question."
The businessman nodded repeatedly.
"Understood, understood," he said sincerely, "Don't worry, don't worry, we won't dare wander. If the wind blows us to Jurchen Territory, it'll be terrible."
A soldier grinned but quickly closed his mouth.
"Rest assured, as long as we don't open the fortress gate, no matter how strong the wind, no one can reach Jurchen Territory. Likewise, the Jurchen can't cross over," Chief Dong said, waving to the businessman, "Alright, it's late, we don't have much entertainment here, Old Master Fu should retire early."
The businessman responded quickly, bowed to the soldiers in the room.
"Happy New Year to everyone," he said.
The soldiers returned the bow, watching as the businessman walked out accompanied by a soldier.
Rather than accompanied, it was more like watched, ensuring he walked out.
"This businessman, what's the use of earning so much money, suffering during the New Year?" the soldiers laughed and discussed.
Chief Dong took a sip of wine.
"That's why His Grace the Duke said not to underestimate this businessman; he's quite ruthless," he said.
Mentioning the Duke made the soldiers present momentarily somber.
Chief Dong stood up.
"Be vigilant at night; we don't differentiate New Year or not," he said, "His Grace the Duke said, for us soldiers, as long as we're alive, every day is New Year."
The soldiers stood up in unison with a loud response.
.......
.......
The night deepened, the snow had stopped, but the fierce wind remained, making the sound of firecrackers in the distance waver.
The footsteps of the soldiers became almost inaudible, only the passing torches allowed everyone to see one another.
"Sleep well."
The soldiers coming on shift said to those finishing their patrol.
This was the simplest yet most precious blessing.
The two sides briefly converged and then parted, one team of torches headed towards the fort's barracks, while another headed along the fortress walls, vigilantly watching the pitch-black fields in the wind.
This was their monotonous life repeated day after day, but even in the deepest night when the wind nearly tore their eyelids away, they always kept their eyes wide open without so much as a blink.
Footsteps echoed across the city gate, and the one standing below seemed to feel the falling dust.
It was a soldier with a lantern, while others climbed up the city wall, he stayed behind to inspect the gate.
In truth, there was no need to look; the door was heavy, with three bolts, and even two battering rams couldn't smash it open from outside.
But could the sand on the gate truly be so unstable?
The soldier instinctively looked up, and as he did, he heard a thud by his ear.
This was the sound of an arrow piercing flesh.
Before the arrow struck, there would have been a whistling sound, but the wind tonight was too strong, that sound was unheard.
The soldier had this final thought as he collapsed, the lantern shattering on the ground, a feathered arrow in his neck blossomed into a spray of blood in the lantern's oil-ignited firelight, then extinguished.
The torches mounted on the gate were knocked down, and seven or eight figures dashed in from the night, covering the torches with cloth, revealing among them a chubby middle-aged man in a fur coat.
His face showed some unease, but his brows finally took on a trace of ruthlessness; he stepped on the torch, plunging the gateway into darkness in a few swift moves.
A creaking sound lingered in the night wind, followed by soft footsteps; the pitch-black night appeared as a giant worm wriggling.
Torches came descending from the city wall.
"Slow." Just as they were about to step down from the wall, the leading soldier suddenly stopped, looking at the pitch-black gate, "Why have the gate lights gone out?"
"Blown out by the wind?" someone suggested.
It was a common occurrence.
The leading soldier gave a nod, drew his waist knife with one hand.
Though feeling it was unnecessary, the other soldiers followed his lead immediately.
"San Jin?" the leading soldier called, "San Jin?"
No response, the silence was unsettling.
The leading soldier halted his steps, suddenly raising his hand to throw a torch forward.
A strange cry broke out in the night, with the torchlight, the soldiers saw a person hopping up from the ground not far away.
The torch hit him on the head, and his thick unhelmeted hair combusted instantly, illuminating his twisted, terrifying face.
The face of the leading soldier instantly twisted as well.
"Jin..." he opened his mouth to shout.
But a feathered arrow already pierced his forehead, taking him straight down, and buzzing filled the air from all directions as countless feathered arrows pierced through the gale like rain.
Screams were quickly drowned out by the wind; fallen torches ignited people, making the whole gate bright, revealing the densely packed figures before it.
They grasped bows, wore long knives on their backs, short axes at their waists, their faces were grim and fierce in the flickering light, like beasts descending a mountain staring ahead.
........
.......
At the same time, the New Year arrived, and the sound of firecrackers erupted densely across the land. In the distance, the villagers keeping vigil seemed to hear sharp horn sounds amidst the deafening firecrackers, tearing through the night sky with their shrill urgency.
They instinctively looked this way, seeing what appeared to be a great fire breaking out on the horizon, coloring half the night sky red.
The firelight surged, smoke billowed.
......
.......
Across the Hutuo River, a spark flickered bright on the north ground, then like a wildfire on the prairie, it spread rapidly, illuminating the whole earth.
From the high vantage point of a vehicle, the entire Hutuo River region was filled with troops ready for action.
"The time has come."
The fierce wind blew back the hood of a man's face, none other than Yu Chihai, who had once appeared in the capital, his face showing no humility or meekness now, only arrogance and zeal.
"Sons, the prosperous land of the Zhou People has opened its gates for us."
He raised his hand, pointing southward.
"Go."
The countless horses neighed in unison, thundering upon the ground, crashing through the frozen river, charging forward like clouds.
....
....
(Three shifts and eight thousand three hundred words, wishing everyone a Merry Christmas, heavy fog)