When Xiao Yuan returned to Linbei City, the sky was already beginning to lighten.
The wind and snow, however, still showed no intention of stopping, the fine snowflakes falling with a soft, needle-like rustling sound.
The supplies he had brought back from Returning Dust Studio were not many, only enough to fill four handcarts.
Compressed biscuits, a small amount of fever-reducing medicine, several packets of oral rehydration salts, and two boxes of masks.
The Gate had limited capacity. Even though the handcarts could now carry more weight at once than before, he still did not dare to be greedy.
The boxes were stored in the rear warehouse of the prefectural government office, locked up and guarded by his personal guards. They were not opened in haste.
He had not slept all night, but he did not immediately lie down to rest.
The charcoal fire inside Xia Lanshi’s tent was still burning. The faint glow shone through the tent cloth, spreading a thin layer of warmth across the snow.
Xiao Yuan stood outside the tent for a moment. After confirming that the person inside was still awake, he lifted the tent curtain and walked in.
In the outer room, he removed his snow-covered cloak and hung it on the rack before walking toward the bed in the inner tent.
Xia Lanshi was half leaning against the headboard, a moon-white outer robe draped over his shoulders, a scroll of account books held in his hands.
His complexion was still pale, almost the same color as the snow.
But his eyes were more alert than last night. Only the crease between his brows was deeply furrowed, as though he were calculating an account that simply could not be balanced no matter how he worked it out.
Xiao Yuan exchanged no pleasantries. He took the letter from inside his robes and handed it to him.
“Su Muchen gave this to you.”
Xia Lanshi’s gaze fell upon the envelope, and his fingertips paused slightly.
Inside that letter was the answer he wanted to confirm.
He straightened, pulled out the letter paper, and Su Muchen’s handwriting came into view.
The morning light seeped through the gaps in the tent and fell upon the paper.
The first sentence was very short, like a statement of an unchangeable fact.
“—Confirmed. There is no mark or scar on his back.”
Xia Lanshi’s breathing stopped for a brief moment.
He lowered his head and stared at those words without looking away, as though he needed time to let the sentence truly sink into his heart.
All those nights when he had repeatedly pondered over it and tossed and turned unable to sleep, all those questions he had hidden deep inside and dared not reveal to anyone, had now been condensed into a single short line.
There was no flower-shaped mark, and no knife scar.
Everything he had guessed was ultimately only a guess.
The person who had saved him when he was young was not Xiao.
At least, there was no such mark on Xiao’s back.
He read it once more before continuing downward.
The handwriting on the second line was slightly looser than the first, as though the person writing the letter had hesitated for a moment after finishing the main text before adding it:
“Take your medicine on time. Stay up less. Do not sit for too long.”
There was another line added at the very end. The ink was slightly lighter than the rest, clearly added last:
“If your coughing worsens, keep warm. You do not have to personally handle everything. You should also let others share the burden.”
Xia Lanshi looked at those lines for a long time in silence.
He placed the letter paper on his lap, his fingertips gently brushing along the edges of those words.
He had thought he would be sad.
He had waited so long, written a letter to test the waters, gone through others to pass it along, and even while ill, he had still been unable to stop worrying about this matter.
If the result came to nothing, he should have been disappointed.
Yet at this moment, he was unexpectedly calm.
It was as though he had finally set down a stone that had remained suspended for a long time.
He gently exhaled.
It was not quite relief, but more like the confirmation of a lingering mystery that ought to have ended, finally drawing its period.
He folded the letter, placed it back into the envelope, and did so more slowly than before.
Then he put the letter into the hidden pocket close to his body, together with Xiao’s reply.
The two letters lay side by side.
One letter carried a denial, while the other carried confirmation.
Each carried its own weight, yet both were kept in the same place.
Although Xiao Yuan did not know what was written in the letter, he could infer seven or eight parts of it from the changes in Xia Lanshi’s expression.
“Have you let it go?” he asked.
Xia Lanshi’s reaction was calmer than Xiao Yuan had expected.
It was as though he had crossed some threshold. Looking back afterward, he realized that the threshold had not actually been as high as he had imagined.
“Mm.”
He answered softly, his voice so low that it sounded as though he were speaking to himself.
What belonged to the past could finally remain in the past.
He no longer needed to ask who the person in that snowy night had been. He no longer needed to guess what lay hidden behind Xiao’s silence.
If fate intended to keep certain secrets, then he would no longer insist on getting to the bottom of everything.
Some clues perhaps were never meant to be straightened out.
Some answers perhaps were gentler when left unspoken.
He was still Xia Lanshi, and Xiao was still Xiao.
That would not change.
Outside the tent came the footsteps of soldiers moving about. A new day in Linbei City was beginning, but at least one thing had already come to an end.
Xiao Yuan did not leave immediately. He stood in the tent for a moment, as though organizing his thoughts.
Xia Lanshi raised his eyes.
“Does Your Highness have something else?”
Xiao Yuan glanced at him. Only after a moment did he speak.
“Before I left, Xiao mentioned something.”
He took out the layout map of Linbei City that Xia Lanshi had drawn while ill and pointed to the southeastern corner of the city.
Xia Lanshi followed the direction of his finger. With only one glance, he remembered what was there.
“The First Military City of the Northern Frontier was established more than four hundred years ago. Before the city was formally built, this place was once a small settlement built around an ancient shrine.”
Xia Lanshi’s voice was still hoarse from the fever, but it carried an unmistakable certainty.
“The place Your Highness is pointing to is precisely where that ancient shrine stood. It has long since been unmanaged and has endured years of warfare. Now, only a ruin remains. The shrine gate is damaged, most of the buildings have collapsed, and weeds and dead trees have grown everywhere. It is nothing but wasteland.”
This was not the first time they had come to this city.
Xiao Yuan had been dispatched to the Northern Frontier several times to quell disturbances and had traveled through most areas within the city, yet he had never paid particular attention to the abandoned ancient shrine in the southeast corner.
Or rather, it was impossible to make anyone pay attention to it.
It was too small and too dilapidated. It had no military value and was not worth a second glance.
Xia Lanshi had followed Xiao Yuan here several times and had once looked at it from a distance, but that was all.
“What did Young Master Xiao say?”
“He said that we could go there and ‘take a walk.’”
Xiao Yuan repeated those words exactly as Xiao had said them.
He had not asked what “taking a walk” meant.
He had not known Xiao for very long, but it was already long enough for him to understand that the man never said anything meaningless.
Every word Xiao spoke, no matter how casually it sounded, concealed a thread behind it.
When the words “take a walk” came from Xiao, they absolutely could not mean only their literal meaning.
Xia Lanshi’s gaze fell upon the map, and his expression tightened slightly.
“This matter is certainly not simple.”
His tone was more serious than before.
“Young Master Xiao does not often come to Great Sheng, yet he knows there is something there.”
Xia Lanshi secretly speculated that if Xiao could frequently travel between the two worlds, Su Muchen would have entrusted him with transporting supplies long ago. There would be no need to wait for Xiao Yuan every time.
Clearly, Xiao should not be able to travel freely between the two worlds as Xiao Yuan could.
Then how exactly did he know that the ancient shrine existed?
Xiao Yuan nodded.
He had thought about this question as well.
He had never described the internal structure of Linbei City to Xiao in detail, much less mentioned the abandoned ancient shrine.
Yet Xiao had been able to precisely point out a location on that rough, almost carelessly drawn layout map—a location that even Xiao Yuan himself had already forgotten.
“There is another matter.”
Xiao Yuan said, “When we were discussing supplies, Su Muchen planned to purchase a large amount of goods under another name, but Returning Dust Studio does not have enough room in its warehouse to store so many things. Yet Xiao said that he had already rented a warehouse, as though he had made preparations long ago.”
He had told Su Muchen that it was simply a matter of “being prepared for unforeseen circumstances,” but Returning Dust Studio was still in debt and could not possibly have rented a large warehouse in advance for no reason.
Su Muchen believed him.
But Xiao Yuan did not.
Xia Lanshi lowered his eyes, his fingertip gently tracing across the map.
“He seems to be paving the way. It is just that, for now, we cannot determine where this road leads.”
This man knew too much and hid too deeply.
If he were in Great Sheng, he would be an extremely dangerous person.
Yet he happened to be Su Muchen’s distant relative, and no harmful actions could be seen from him.
There was no malice, but there was also no explanation.
He merely passed clues to them one by one from the shadows, waiting for them to pull on the threads themselves.
“This matter must be carried out secretly,” Xia Lanshi said.
“I’ll send the hidden guards to investigate.”
Xiao Yuan nodded in agreement.
They could not mobilize people from the military, because there were spies belonging to the Emperor and Crown Prince inside Linbei City.
Xiao Yuan’s hidden guards were commanded by Chi Banyue. They were not listed in the military register and were not part of the regular establishment.
Although there were not many of them, they were highly skilled and never showed themselves openly.
If they changed into ordinary coarse-cloth clothing and passed through the ruins separately in the early morning or at dusk, no one would pay attention to them.
Xia Lanshi slowly nodded.
“The buildings above ground were already examined many years ago. There was nothing unusual. If there is still something there, it can only be underground.”
Xiao Yuan raised his eyes toward him.
Xia Lanshi looked up.
“I already surveyed the structure of the entire city back then. I remember all the records. But sometimes, the places that are overlooked are precisely the ones that attract the least attention.”
He paused, his voice lowering further.
“If there really is something there…”
He did not finish.
Xiao Yuan nevertheless knew what he wanted to say.
Xiao would not have passed this thread to them for no reason. There must be some purpose behind it.
They simply did not yet know what that purpose was.
For now, they could only follow the direction the other party had given them and move forward step by step.
At the thought of this, Xia Lanshi became somewhat restless and wanted to order someone to bring over the old city records for examination.
Before he could say anything, a hand gently pressed down on him.
“Doctor Su said that when you have a fever, you need to rest more.”
Xiao Yuan’s tone was not harsh, but there was no room for negotiation.
Xia Lanshi raised his eyes and frowned slightly.
“I only need to look through the old records. It won’t take much effort.”
“Whether it takes effort or not isn’t for you to decide.”
Xiao Yuan raised an eyebrow and glanced at him.
Xia Lanshi instantly fell silent.
In the past, Xiao Yuan had never stopped him.
Because Xiao Yuan himself was the sort of person who would ride out of the city even before an injury had fully healed.
He never advised others to rest because he himself did not know what resting meant.
But things were different now.
Xiao Yuan had begun stopping him.
He had begun taking away the documents that Xia Lanshi should have handled himself.
He had begun lightening his footsteps whenever he passed outside Xia Lanshi’s tent while making his rounds late at night.
Xia Lanshi did not know how to define this change.
He only knew that the way Xiao Yuan looked at him was somewhat different from before.
“Your Highness.”
He spoke softly.
Xiao Yuan turned his head toward him.
Xia Lanshi turned the words around in his heart several times before finally saying only one sentence.
“You haven’t slept for two nights, have you?”
Xiao Yuan did not answer.
He walked to the tent entrance, lifted the thick felt curtain, glanced at the gray-white sky outside, then lowered the curtain and returned to the bedside.
“Go to sleep.”
Xia Lanshi looked at his face, clearly carrying traces of exhaustion, yet still stubbornly insisting on standing here.
In the end, he did not argue anymore.
“All right.”
Xiao Yuan did not leave immediately.
Only after Xia Lanshi closed his eyes and his breathing gradually became steady did he turn and walk out of the tent.
He stood outside the tent entrance.
The morning wind came straight toward him, and the icy air temporarily drove the sleepiness away by an inch.
Xia Lanshi was his Chief Adviser, the aide he had trusted most for many years.
Over these years, Xia Lanshi had taken blades for him, blocked hidden arrows in the imperial court for him, and endured countless nights when military affairs kept him from closing his eyes.
He had never imagined what that person could be besides his “Chief Adviser.”
Until Xia Lanshi revealed that secret—
The same blood flowed through his veins as through Xiao Yuan’s.
He was his younger half-brother.
No one knew.
There was no formal status.
Even Xia Lanshi himself did not dare to be completely certain.
But Xiao Yuan knew clearly.
If Xia Lanshi wished, he could investigate the Xia and Sheng families, find evidence proving his identity, and reclaim the power and position that belonged to him.
Yet he had not done so.
Instead, he had chosen to remain in the Prince Su’s Residence and continue being his Chief Adviser.
He had said:
He was still Xia Changshi of the Prince Su’s Residence, and that would never change.
Those words had already clearly expressed his firm position.
Over these years, everything Xia Lanshi had done for him had long exceeded what an adviser owed his lord.
That could not be explained by loyalty alone.
At first, Xia Lanshi needed a person of status to protect himself, so he followed him.
And Xiao Yuan needed a loyal adviser, so he kept Xia Lanshi.
Now, that relationship had quietly changed, like an invisible thread.
Before either of them had noticed, it had already tied the two of them together.
Xiao Yuan had no intention of exposing Xia Lanshi’s identity.
As long as Xia Lanshi wanted to maintain the current situation, he would say nothing more.
Some relationships did not need to be spoken aloud to become deeper than blood ties.
He withdrew his gaze, turned around, and walked toward the council hall.
The new day in Linbei City still had too many things waiting for him.
◇◆◇◆◇
At the hour of Chen, inside the council hall.
Xiao Yuan sat in the seat of honor, several newly reorganized registers spread out before him.
Pei Yi sat to his left, his left arm freshly bandaged, his complexion somewhat better than the previous night.
Chi Banyue sat on his right. Her long hair was tied up, and she had changed into a neat set of martial attire. On the table before her lay Su Muchen’s emergency manual.
The military clerk, grain official, and chief craftsmen sat in order, with a list placed before each of them.
Xiao Yuan exchanged no pleasantries and spoke directly.
“Today we will discuss five matters.”
He pushed the registers forward.
“Recount the current situation of Linbei City.”
The grain official was the first to stand. His voice was somewhat tense.
“Your Highness, the grain currently stored in the city, including the military provisions Your Highness brought, can still last thirteen days at the minimum ration.”
The grain official’s voice echoed through the council hall like a stone falling into stagnant water.
The hall fell silent for a brief moment.
Xiao Yuan did not speak immediately.
His gaze fell upon the grain register, and he remained silent for a moment.
Everyone in the hall looked at him.
Thirteen days was too short.
So short that transporting grain from the capital would not be enough.
Xiao Yuan knew clearly that this was not because the grain official had neglected his duties.
Linbei City simply had no grain.
Those numbers had not been written by the grain official.
They had been forced out by this barren land of the Northern Frontier.
The snow disaster ravaging the Northern Frontier had made land that was already poor even more desolate.
The grain shortage had become an issue that could no longer wait.
Although they had already searched the city’s grain stores and found some privately hidden grain, there was only so much they could find in an area that was already impoverished.
Even if they requested provisions from the imperial court and exercised his authority as Northern Frontier Inspector, the Crown Prince would certainly interfere.
They would inevitably have difficulty obtaining the grain.
For now, they could only temporarily implement the same system that had been carried out in Hanchuan and use it here first.
Xiao Yuan finally spoke.
“Thirteen days is enough.”
He closed the grain register.
His voice was not loud, yet everyone in the hall fell silent.
He understood Linbei City’s situation.
He also understood that neither the Crown Prince nor the imperial court would help him.
Therefore, he had no intention of waiting for anyone to offer charity.
He intended to do it himself.
“First matter, continue searching the city and complete it within three days. Second matter, search outside the city and begin immediately. Send people to investigate within a radius of thirty li. Record everything edible—wild vegetables, tree bark, game, livestock that froze to death. Third matter, open porridge stations. Chi Banyue will be responsible.”
He paused, his gaze sweeping across the generals.
“Fourth matter, requisition grain from Linzhou.”
Pei Yi frowned.
“The Prefect of Linzhou may not be willing to give it.”
Xiao Yuan glanced at him.
“Zhou Jin is dead. Linzhou currently has no chief official. For now, this prince will assume responsibility for Linzhou’s administration.”
From the moment Zhou Jin poisoned him, Zhou Jin had been doomed to die.
It was Xiao Yuan himself who had placed the knife into Xia Lanshi’s hand.
Linzhou Prefect Zhou Jin had been charged with multiple crimes, including embezzling disaster relief grain, hoarding grain for profit, and poisoning a court official.
The evidence was conclusive.
But the person who had truly killed him was the Crown Prince.
Now, Linzhou’s new prefect had yet to be appointed, while the Northern Frontier had already descended into chaos.
During this power vacuum, even if the Emperor and Crown Prince were unwilling, they could only allow him to temporarily administer Linzhou.
This was something Xia Lanshi had exchanged his life for.
He had to make use of it.
Now that he wanted grain, Linzhou had no choice but to provide it.
If everything went smoothly, the first batch of relief grain could arrive within seven days.
The discussion of grain ended there.
Xiao Yuan continued.
“City defenses.”
Pei Yi stood and pointed to the simple map of Linbei City hanging behind him.
“The city gates need to be reinforced. The breaches will first be filled with timber. Three arrow towers need to be rebuilt. As for manpower, I have already organized the able-bodied men in the city into construction teams and assigned them shifts to work around the clock. We expect to complete the initial repairs within seven days.”
Xiao Yuan glanced at the map.
“Seven days is too long. The Northern Di will not wait for us to repair the walls before coming.”
Pei Yi fell silent for a moment.
“Five days. I will do my best.”
Xiao Yuan nodded.
Then he asked, “The epidemic?”
Chi Banyue opened the manual.
Her voice was calm and decisive.
“According to Doctor Su’s manual, effective immediately, those with fevers and those with external injuries will be housed in separate areas. Three old wells within the city will be sealed, leaving only two water collection points, guarded by soldiers. All corpses must be recorded before being buried collectively and deeply. They must not be buried arbitrarily.”
When she reached this point, she paused and looked toward Xiao Yuan.
“We are short on manpower.”
“Draw people from the army,” Xiao Yuan said.
Chi Banyue said nothing more and lowered her head to write it down.
“Wounded soldiers.”
The military clerk said, “The register of seriously wounded soldiers will be checked again. Those with minor injuries who can return to duty will return to duty. Those who cannot will be transferred to logistics or the construction teams. As for medicinal supplies…”
He paused and looked toward Xiao Yuan.
“Distribute the existing supplies in batches,” Xiao Yuan said.
The military clerk lowered his head and acknowledged the order.
“Military farms.”
The hall fell silent for a moment.
Xiao Yuan did not explain much.
He merely said, “Beginning today, reorganize the military farms outside the city. Before spring arrives, complete the land surveying, water-source investigation, and seed reserves. Chief Adviser Xia has already prepared the details.”
He spoke very briefly.
But everyone in the hall realized one thing.
—Prince Su intended to stay here for a long time.
Not to garrison the city.
Not to inspect it.
But to put down roots.
Silence briefly filled the council hall.
Pei Yi spoke first.
“This general accepts the order.”
Chi Banyue followed.
“Understood.”
The military clerk and grain official also responded one after another.
Xiao Yuan said nothing more. He rose and walked out of the council hall.
The generals followed behind him, each dispersing in different directions.
The morning of Linbei City began amid orders and the sound of footsteps.
◇◆◇◆◇
Xiao Yuan walked out of the prefectural government office.
He walked along Linbei City’s main street.
There were no guards and no attendants, only himself and a pair of eyes that had seen far too much of the Northern Frontier.
The granary was still empty inside, with only some old grain piled in a corner.
The grain official was directing soldiers at the entrance as they counted the supplies. When he saw Xiao Yuan passing by, he hurriedly bowed.
Xiao Yuan did not stop.
He merely nodded and continued forward.
The wounded soldiers’ camp was in the western part of the city.
There were several more tents than a few days ago, but the smell remained heavy.
Some soldiers were sitting outside the shelters tending to their wounds.
The bandages were new, made from the gauze he had brought.
When they saw Xiao Yuan, their movements paused for a moment.
Then someone quietly said,
“Your Highness.”
Not “His Highness Prince Su.”
Just “Your Highness.”
The title was shortened, yet somehow felt closer.
Xiao Yuan did not stop to speak with them.
He merely walked past them and nodded, allowing everyone to see that he was here.
The civilians’ gathering area was in the eastern part of the city.
In front of several rows of crude shelters, several children crouched on the ground playing with pebbles.
Their faces were dirty, but there was something in their eyes that had not been there before.
It was not fear, nor numbness.
It was a light that was still observing.
An old woman sat at the entrance of a shelter, holding a piece of flatbread. She broke it into two halves and handed one to the child beside her.
Xiao Yuan stood at the street entrance, watching the piece of bread being divided.
That bread should have been part of the morning ration.
There was not much of it, but at least there was something to divide.
He did not walk inside.
He simply stood there and watched for a while before turning and leaving.
The construction site at the city walls was the loudest place.
The sounds of timber being struck, soldiers shouting, and stones being moved and scraped against one another mixed together, like the city was learning how to breathe again.
The city gate had already been removed, and the craftsmen were inspecting the hinges.
Most of the breaches had been filled with timber.
Although crude, it could at least temporarily block the Northern Di cavalry.
Xiao Yuan stood atop the city wall, looking at the vast wilderness outside, covered in snow.
The wind came from the north, carrying an even deeper chill, as though reminding him that the Northern Di was still there.
He did not remain for long.
He turned around, walked down from the city wall, and headed toward the prefectural government office.
In the afternoon, Xiao Yuan returned to the rear courtyard of the prefectural government office.
The warehouse door was locked, and his personal guards stood outside.
Seeing him arrive, one quietly said,
“Your Highness, all the supplies are inside. No one has touched them.”
Xiao Yuan nodded, unlocked the door, and pushed it open.
Several wooden boxes were neatly stacked in the corner.
There were no markings whatsoever on the outside.
He crouched down and opened the first box.
Inside were neatly stacked masks, gloves, adhesive wound closures, rolls of gauze, and bottles of povidone-iodine.
He picked up a box of masks, squeezed the edge, then put it back.
He did not immediately call anyone to move them.
Instead, he sat on the floor, leaned against the wall, and closed his eyes for a moment.
The warehouse was very quiet.
Only the faint sound of wind seeped through the cracks in the door.
After traveling for days and going two nights without sleep, exhaustion surged over him like a tide, surrounding him from every direction.
But he allowed himself to rest only for a moment.
After that moment, he stood and summoned Pei Yi.
When Pei Yi entered the warehouse, the first thing he saw was an opened wooden box.
He walked over and looked down.
Inside were some things he had never seen before.
Thin, translucent pieces of cloth with two fine strings along the edges.
They were stacked neatly one after another, carrying an extremely faint scent that was difficult to describe, like the smell of cleanliness taken to some extreme.
He reached out and picked up one.
He turned it over and over, his fingertips pinching the cloth that was so light it seemed to have almost no weight, as though confirming that it truly existed.
“Your Highness, this is…”
“A mask.”
Xiao Yuan’s tone was ordinary, as though he were introducing the most common military supply.
“Wear it over the face to cover the nose and mouth. It can reduce the spread of infectious diseases. It must be worn when coming into contact with patients.”
Pei Yi silently looked at the thin cloth.
He did not know how it had been made, nor did he know why it could resist disease.
He only knew that this light, weightless piece of cloth in his hand might perhaps protect Linbei City better than a blade.
He carefully returned the mask to the box.
Then he picked up another item beside it—a transparent glove, so thin it was almost weightless.
“This is…”
“Medical gloves,” Xiao Yuan said. “Wear them when treating wounded soldiers. Prevent dirt on your hands from getting into the wounds.”
Pei Yi turned the glove over and then back again.
He did not know what to say.
He could only gently put it back.
Then he picked up a box of adhesive wound closures.
He opened the lid.
Inside were thin, light-colored adhesive strips, arranged so neatly that he almost did not dare touch them, afraid that a little force would damage them.
All these things had one thing in common.
Two characters were printed on them:
“Returning Dust.”
“Your Highness.”
He finally could not hold back.
“These things…”
Xiao Yuan looked at him.
“I know what you want to ask.”
Pei Yi fell silent.
Xiao Yuan said, “They came from Doctor Su of the Returning Dust Medical Sect.”
When Pei Yi heard the three words “Doctor Su,” he did not ask any further.
He had already seen too many inexplicable things.
Over the past few days, the people who had come from Hanchuan had been talking about the deeds of the Returning Dust Medical Sect and Doctor Su.
He had thought they were probably exaggerating somewhat.
But after seeing these things with his own eyes, he had no choice but to believe them.
“This general understands,” he said.
Xiao Yuan did not explain any further.
He took a compressed biscuit from another box and handed it to Pei Yi.
“Try it.”
Pei Yi accepted it.
Looking at the square, rough-surfaced object, he bit into it somewhat suspiciously.
The instant he bit down, his expression changed.
It was not because it tasted bad.
Although its flavor indeed resembled nothing he had ever eaten before, the reason was that it was simply too substantial.
A small piece, yet incredibly dense, as though an entire bowl of rice had been compressed into a square the size of his palm.
That solid feeling was beyond his expectations.
He could even feel his stomach already reacting.
“This…”
“Military rations,” Xiao Yuan said. “Small in size and easy to store. Large quantities can be carried during light marches.”
Pei Yi took another bite.
He chewed for a long time before swallowing.
His expression went through confusion, shock, acceptance, and then silence in a short period of time.
In the end, he said only one sentence.
His voice was very soft, almost as though he were talking to himself.
“With these, the Northern Frontier… perhaps really can make it through.”
Xiao Yuan did not answer.
He glanced at the remaining boxes in the corner of the warehouse.
His hand unconsciously moved toward his chest.
The mechanical pocket watch Su Muchen had given him was lying there, against his chest.
When everything was extremely quiet, he could hear its faint ticking.
Regular.
Steady.
Like a rhythm that did not belong to this era.
Pei Yi was still standing there, holding the compressed biscuit in his hand as though he were holding something of tremendous weight.
“Take these to the wounded soldiers’ camp first,” Xiao Yuan said.
“The masks, gloves, adhesive wound closures, and medicine go to the medical soldiers. Use them according to the manual. If you don’t understand something, ask the military physician or Chi Banyue. Keep the grain for now. Distribute it only after the rationing system has stabilized.”
After saying this, he placed one hand on Pei Yi’s shoulder.
“Linbei City is no longer merely the First Military City of the Northern Frontier.”
Those words fell into the wind and snow of the Northern Frontier like a seed falling into the snow.
No one knew whether it would sprout.
But at least someone had planted it.
Pei Yi looked at Xiao Yuan, knowing that the time had come.
He saw the light in Xiao Yuan’s eyes, exhaustion and clarity intertwined within them.
That was not the gaze of someone who merely intended to defend the frontier.
It was the expression of someone prepared to change everything.
“This general will definitely follow you!”
Xiao Yuan nodded.
There was no need to say anything more.
They had fought side by side many times, driving back the Northern Di again and again, building a trust between blood and snow that ran deeper than words.
Pei Yi also understood that what Xiao Yuan intended to deal with was not merely the Northern Di.
There were blades in the north and a net in the south.
And the man standing before him was right between the two, with one foot planted in the snow and the other stepping toward an unknown direction.
Afterward, Pei Yi carried the boxes out of the warehouse.
Although those things were not heavy, he understood that their origins were not simple and that they had to be entrusted to people he trusted.
His footsteps were heavier than when he had entered, as though another invisible weight had been added to his shoulders.