The night wind in the capital in February still carries a chill, but this doesn't stop the night market from being lively.
The daytime restaurants and tea houses have closed, but the nighttime venues are brightly lit. The whole street is filled with the aroma of wine and cosmetics, along with the occasional alluring laughter of women.
Street vendors are everywhere, with steaming fires and flickering lanterns. Even close to midnight, many people linger around.
Tipsy patrons from the restaurants sit at the street-side lamb soup stalls, enjoying the hot soup while the night breeze helps sober them up, feeling quite cozy.
"Brother Zhao, Brother Zhao." Someone passed by him, stopped and asked, "How's the battle up north going?"
The northern lands conflict that started in January, after more than a month, is no longer the focus of the capital's people, who sometimes even forget there's a war happening.
Called Brother Zhao, a feudal authority clerk responded with a sound, as if he seriously thought about it before remembering.
"Nothing much, just a stalemate with the Jurchen people at the border," he said, carrying an air of indifference as if understanding the world too well, "This Great Jin and Great Zhou seem to be like this forever, neither can do anything to the other, just causing some fuss at the border annually."
A nearby diner holding lamb soup nodded in agreement.
"Exactly," he said, "Although back then the Jurchen people once trampled the Central Plains, our Great Zhou is ultimately different from Great Qi. That wild little place, comparable to Great Jin, it's no surprise they got wiped out, but with our vast land in Great Zhou, though caught off guard for a while, we still have the power to fight back."
"Indeed, we've raised these soldiers and generals for over a decade; they're not just fed for nothing," many people nodded along, appearing relaxed, "We personally saw Duke of Chengguo's fine troops when they came to the capital."
The mention of Duke of Chengguo made the atmosphere tense.
It's said that Duke of Chengguo has defected to the land of the Jurchen people and might lead them to attack.
Praising Duke of Chengguo for being outstanding, isn't that praising the Jurchen people for being strong?
This indeed causes unease.
"The soldier is a soldier, the general is a general." The clerk named Zhao said slowly with a smile of knowing more than others, "Duke of Chengguo's fame is also due to the brave soldiers. He ran away, but the soldiers didn't, without soldiers, he's nothing."
Exactly, everyone nodded quickly.
"Moreover, isn't Uncle Qinghe still around?" The lamb soup seller said while stirring the large pot with a ladle, "You youngsters only know Duke of Chengguo, don't forget Uncle Qinghe was also renowned once, just staying in the south where people pay little attention."
This comforted everyone more.
"Never mind those things; we don't need to worry," someone laughed, drunkenly picking up a bowl of lamb soup, "The grown-ups will handle it; why should we be concerned when the Emperor isn't worried? We're at the Emperor's feet, the safest place."
As for other places, they don't care.
Everyone started laughing, suddenly a commotion arose nearby.
"Come quickly, Sister Xiao is having a night river tour."
Sister Xiao is the current popular girl from the Royal Academy, attracting countless young masters who spend generously for her smile, rarely seen by ordinary people like them.
Hearing she's on a flower boat for a night tour, the street bubbled like boiling water, people rushed to both riverbanks.
The river was full of colorful boats, women adorned with jewelry, singing and dancing like a celestial mountain. People along the river packed tightly, occasionally pushing someone into the river causing laughter, some even threw silk flowers and fruits onto the colorful boats.
Eventually, a wealthy person simply tossed a basket of money into the river, causing a frenzy as people jumped in to grab it, nearly obstructing the flower boat's route. The screams of joy and commotion from the boats intoxicated everyone, making them forget the time and place.
In contrast, the inner city where the imperial palace resided had fallen into a tranquil nighttime, like two different worlds.
Yet inside Qingzheng Hall, lights shone brightly.
"Your Majesty, Your Majesty."
An official rushed in.
Within the hall, Huang Cheng and the five cabinet ministers couldn't help but step forward, the Emperor rose from the throne.
"How is it? Any news?" he asked eagerly.
The official, sweating profusely on this cold night—either from rushing or anxiety—responded.
"Yes, yes." He gasped, "The five routes reinforcements have reached Puyin, nearly ten thousand troops."
Huang Cheng and others sighed with relief.
"This is good."
"Very timely, very timely."
"Enough to counter, enough to counter." Everyone said, the Emperor also sighed relaxing into his chair.
"What about Uncle Qinghe?" He asked, remembering.
The official hesitated.
"No new news regarding Uncle Qinghe," he said.
The previous news was silence, meaning unknown fate.
No new news? Meaning still unknown life or death?
All present felt uneasy.
"However, Your Majesty needn't worry," the official hurriedly said, "When Uncle Qinghe issued the order for troops and fire, he arranged how others should assist in the attack. The forces are now in place."
That's good, even if Uncle Qinghe can't be rescued, this battle will make the Jurchen people pay.
They are greedy but cowardly; scare them with force, offer some benefits, and they can be dealt with.
The Emperor looked at Huang Cheng.
"Have the Jurchen envoys been contacted?" he asked.
Huang Cheng bowed and answered affirmatively.
"They've been contacted, waiting for a reply," he said confidently.
The Emperor nodded.
"Whatever they say, agree first, then negotiate," he said.
Agreeing to any conditions? This seemed too compromising. Some officials frowned.
"Your Majesty," one couldn't help but speak.
The Emperor, however, impatiently interrupted him.
"It's not agreeing to everything, just placating them first to spare the people suffering," he said.
Due to the sudden war, anxiety and tension led the Emperor to be more dictatorial, unkind to dissenting officials, punishing them without hesitation.
Oh well, let's first see how Uncle Qinghe's siege unfolds, the officials bowed in agreement.
The Emperor gazed at the hall's ministers.
"Furthermore, keep Uncle Qinghe's siege a secret," he said, "Only you know; it mustn't spread."
Officials exchanged looks.
Hide such a significant matter?
"It's crucial this news doesn't spread now, to prevent disturbing morale and unsettling the people, lest it gives the Jurchen an opportunity," the Emperor said.
More importantly, Uncle Qinghe was appointed by him, rendered useless in battle; he'd inevitably be blamed as incompetent too.
"Indeed." He sighed, "In the new year, scaring the people like this makes me feel guilty."
It makes some sense, but sometimes a scare can serve as a warning.
The officials' expressions were complicated, Huang Cheng already bowed respectfully.
"Your Majesty is wise." He said, glancing at the young person standing by.
In such a crucial situation, one shouldn't be here; nonetheless, this time he didn't first praise the Emperor's wisdom, but attentively listened and recorded.
But the Emperor wasn't interested in being wise or not at this moment. Not a glorious affair, no one was foolish enough to think wisdom mattered now.
He glared at Huang Cheng with slight annoyance.
"It's just an unavoidable makeshift." He said.
The other officials couldn't say anything more and bowed in agreement.
Ning Yunzhao paused his writing, slightly lowered his head, hiding the mockery and heaviness in his eyes.
......
......
The land near the Capital City was much warmer than the northern lands; small grasses timidly tested their way out in the dim morning light, cautiously spreading their tender green forms.
Sturdy hooves trampled over, leaving a hole, dust rising, and the green grass crushed.
The rider suddenly pulled the reins, and the horse stopped with a whinny, the armor on his body clattering with a clashing sound.
These were two soldiers dressed as scouts, who were now looking ahead with surprised expressions.
This was a country path, and in the light morning mist, there was a person lying on the ground with a basket on their back.
They were familiar with this place, not far was Luo Family Village, the person on the ground was curled up though his face couldn't be seen, but the basket and the pitchfork that had fallen by the side they had already recognized.
"Isn't that Lamp Luo?" one scout said, with a bit of jest, "Why is he lying on the ground? Did he find gold instead of cow dung this time?"
He raised his voice as he spoke, but the person on the ground remained still, seemingly asleep.
Something was wrong, the two scouts hurriedly rode forward.
"Lamp Luo, are you sick?" they asked as they approached, just barely nearing before they reined in their horses with a low cry.
The person lying on the ground wasn't curled up; he was missing a head altogether.
What was happening?
The two sentries jumped off their horses, visibly shocked.
"The head." one sentry shouted, pointing to the large tree beside them.
On the dry branches was a head, appearing to have been casually thrown up there.
Such an act was too cruel.
Who would have such a grudge against a crippled villager who picked cow dung?
"Scythe cut." a sentry kneels halfway to the ground, looking at Luo's neck, and said softly, swallowing before looking up, "A single slice, this kind of sharpness in a scythe is rare..."
Indeed, even in their army, they didn't use such a scythe, though they had seen this kind before.
The faces of the two scouts turned pale.
Jurchen Cavalry.
.....
.....
The village ahead lay sleeping in the thin mist, utterly silent.
The clip-clopping of hooves sounded exceptionally loud.
"Slow down." a sentry halted his horse, "Something's not right."
He dismounted, took various weapons off his horse, and hung them on himself.
It's true, villages were unlike towns; villagers would get up early to work and couldn't sleep to broad daylight, not to mention, there wasn't a sound of cocks crowing or dogs barking.
The two scouts swallowed nervously, dismounted, gripping their long spears tightly as they slowly moved into the village.
The village was deathly quiet.
The nearest household's door was wide open, the two scouts entered.
"Seven Luo." They called out, instinctively lowering their voices.
Even lowered, the voice could be heard inside the house.
But no one responded; the two scouts exchanged a look, edged to the doorway, one standing by the door, the other kicked it.
The door swung open just on touch, the scout nearly fell but managed to steady himself, and at a glance, saw the prone body on the ground inside the house.
Spattered with blood.
Not only on the ground but on the bed too, a woman holding two children, stacked together, blood soaked through the bedding.
Something had happened!
Footsteps echoed in the village, doors were opened one after another, and without exception, all they saw were the dead.
Some were in the courtyards, others inside the houses, everywhere.
In a single night, the entire village had been massacred.
The two sentries stood in the village, their legs trembling slightly, faces white as sheets.
They had seen the dead before, but such a terrifying scene was a first.
What was going on?
"Was it bandits?" one sentry muttered.
The other turned.
"Whatever it is, quickly report to the authority." he said.
An entire village slaughtered in this manner couldn't be reported just to the feudal authority; even the local garrison needed to be involved.
He had just turned when he saw a person in his view.
The sentry gasped in shock.
Anyone would be startled by a sudden living person after half a village full of dead.
This was someone emerging from an alley.
Was there a survivor?
The sentry heaved a sigh of relief.
"Fellow, what's happened..." he hurriedly called out.
Just as the words left his mouth, the sentry beside him grabbed his arm, and the sound of his companion's teeth chattering also reached his ears.
"Jurchen... Jurchen..."
Jurchen what?
The sentry's view cleared to the person standing before them.
This person was stocky, wearing copper-nail cotton armor, holding a fine iron scythe in his hand, the face under the iron armor showing a strange smile.
Jurchen Cavalry!
Was he dreaming?
How could Jurchen Cavalry be here?
The sentry's eyes widened, instinctively reaching for the bow and arrow on his back, but it was too late, with a flash of cold light before him, the Jurchen had already lunged, the long scythe slashing straight towards him.
Blood splattered.
.......
......
(Today's update.)