Chapter 364: Be careful with flames when you wake up, let’s check even the extinguished ones again (7)

“General, all one hundred members of the Great Order dispatch unit have assembled, and the rest have begun their withdrawal.”

At the adjutant’s report, the general frowned.

“One hundred? Didn’t I say thirty?”

“They were all insisting on staying behind, so a fight was about to break out. You can’t have comrades throwing punches at each other.”

“Hah, stupid bastards.”

“They’re not stepping into a place to die, General. How can you criticize the loyalty of those who stay with you and return a little late?”

A place to die.

At those words, the general’s expression stiffened.

Who the hell would risk their life guarding a wildfire like that?

Especially when the lives of a hundred blood brothers are on the line.

“This is no place to die. Yes, watching a wildfire spread and then getting swept away by the flames—that’s the dumbest kind of death there is. The Northern Army protecting the north dying meaninglessly would be the height of ingratitude.”

The Mandate of Heaven is to be carried out exactly as it is given.

To try to interpret it is to risk turning loyalty into convenience, using it as one pleases.

That’s why, even if the order is to leap into the inferno, it must be followed as is.

So what this general is saying now is exactly breaking that Mandate.

“What about the Golden Guards?”

“They were the first to run.”

“When the last withdrawal team leaves, we depart immediately after. We were told to watch until the flames come—haven’t we watched enough by now?”

“You speak wisely. Then, soaking our clothes would only get in the way, wouldn’t it?”

“Right. Gear up properly, too—we might run into bandits on the way back.”

“Bandits, huh? Understood! Yes, sir!”

If anyone finds out we’re withdrawing earlier than scheduled, we’ll have to silence them for good.

The adjutant understood immediately, snapping to a military salute.

****

The warriors wore only their underpants and warmed themselves by sipping tea.

It seemed Makseok hated the sight, because with a loud bang! he smashed the innocent wall, then slipped along the neighboring wall and disappeared.

The warriors frowned but thought it worked out well.

Closing the door to keep out cold air, then punching a hole in the wall—only to sneak back in through the door because he didn’t like that hole.

What a petty bastard, not even a grain of common sense.

A man who’s a member of the Eight Banners acting so petty and childish?

But men grow more sensitive with age, and that sensitivity only makes them more childish.

Even in Qing’s hometown, one can easily spot “bosses” who get sulky for any reason, leaving doors open or turning off air conditioners to save electricity, doing petty stunts like that.

One of them gathered rubble from the broken wall and lit a big roaring fire.

Then—

“Anyone wanna do a quick round and check? Who knows—maybe among the remaining villagers there’s a woman. If lucky, might even have some fun.”

“What? Why? Such a pain.”

“That bastard’s starting again. Got a hard-on?”

“You guys don’t get it. In this godforsaken countryside, the most stunning beauty might be hiding. A village girl who doesn’t even know she’s a beauty.”

The adjutant clicked his tongue.

“Village girls look like village girls. They look like cows, chickens, or pigs. And those who ran off didn’t even put out the fire. Don’t you think they took the women with them?”

“Then, maybe there’s treasure or something. Those country hicks might have no idea what’s valuable and just left stuff around.”

“Village idiots have eyes too. Once they get treasure, they all run off to the city, red-eyed to stop being country hicks. These closed clans have nothing worth taking except a handful of grain.”

“Still, you never know.”

“Well, if you’re that desperate, I won’t stop you. But if you bring back dried tea leaves, at least bring me a cup of tea since you’re the leader. Don’t come back with dried radish leaves again like last time. If you bring radish leaves, bring soy sauce and rice grains too.”

Laughter erupted in a burst.

“Well, it was pretty tasty, wasn’t it? You even picked out the bits. You must’ve been hungry—I'll check it out.”

One guy got up jokingly.

“So, anyone heading out to find treasure?”

“Good luck. If you find a woman, don’t eat her all by yourself.”

“The Golden Guards’ loyalty is dead for real. Watch this—I’m bringing back the seventh concubine, a goddess.”

And so, the frivolous Golden Guard threw on his barely dried golden winter uniform and stepped outside.

No one imagined that would be his last appearance.

This was the limit of primitive, ancient, uncivilized Central Plains.

Had the Central Plains’ leisure culture revolutionized earlier, inventing things like cinema, no man would dare go out alone.

The first target of any killer is always the woman who washes first; if no women, then the most frivolous man is chosen.

****

Old people with marriageable children can’t help but unconsciously judge potential mates their children meet.

A mild elder would see a decent person and think, “If our son/daughter-in-law were like that, they’d suit our kid well.”

The opposite, seeing a bad one, they just hope their kid never brings such a monster home.

Then they laugh it off, saying they’re just fussing.

But a more meddlesome, childish elder gives scores to every detail and fusses like mad.

In truth, Yeon Pa wasn’t impressed with Qing.

For good reason: besides a decent face and a plump ass that looked made for birthing, there was nothing else that satisfied.

Of course, even that was enough to raise expectations. “Our royal child must be so lovely, and with so many of them, no need to look further—our royal household is paradise,” he thought.

He gave Qing’s face and body a +5 score.

But with such looks comes responsibility, yet the woman behaved as if men were nothing special, shamelessly pushing around without care.

And what about that [N O V E L I G H T] melon-sized chest?

A serious disqualification as the main wife.

Everyone knows that big-breasted women are naturally lascivious, vulgar, evil, and even stupid.

Of course, Qing was different, but who would know that?

Everyone would click their tongues and point fingers, saying, “How could they bring such a monster as the main wife?”

He deducted 10 points from Qing’s face and body score.

Still, if the prince has feelings, it can’t be helped. She’ll have to be taught hard enough to have her habits properly broken so tears dry up later.

One positive was loyalty.

At Tang’s house, she was the kind who caused a ruckus to protect friends; a woman who treasures friends would cherish her husband even more.

Qing gets a +5 loyalty score.

Adding and subtracting, the total was zero.

Actually, not even zero.

Her tone was loud and harsh; she carried herself like a general; she showed no respect to the prince; and was clearly uneducated in just a few words.

So her score fell far below zero.

But now, huge loyalty points: if expressed numerically, 100 out of 10, or 10,000 out of 100.

Who else in this world would devote themselves to save a friend even as their own body rots?

Yeon Pa saw Qing’s side already pierced by serious spears, rotting inside.

If Qing knew, she’d say, Huh, me?

What’s worse, instead of whining about pain, she stubbornly pretends to be cheerful.

Isn’t that consideration to hide her pain, not to cause worry?

Now that he thought about it, no other woman was better suited as a match.

Loyal for a thousand years, living harmoniously, and just the fact they met again in danger and saved each other’s lives—wasn’t that a fate decreed by Heaven?

One cannot go against Heaven’s will.

So Qing deserves a thousand points—no, no.

How dare a lowly servant score our precious princess, the lady of the royal household?

If Qing knew, she’d pour broth over the kimchi jar and gulp it down, that’s how over-the-top she’d be.

“I’ll check the grain stores. At this time, there might be lots of sweet potatoes. Roasted sweet potatoes, wow, roasted sweet potatoes—crazy, crazy. I’ll be right back.”

Why roasted sweet potatoes were “crazy” was unknown.

But if the princess said it, then it was crazy, no doubt.

“Stay here. I’ll go myself.”

Yeon Pa stopped Qing.

“No, rest. Your wounds have burst—you need to circulate your energy again.”

“My body’s no better. It’s better to damage this old worn-out woman’s body than to waste it.”

“That’s a strategic decision. A master must save strength for dangerous moments.”

“...You only talk pretty but have the stubbornness of steel wire. A woman with such stubbornness. Hmph. Still better than a spineless woman.”

Minus 5 points, but plus 10!

That’s almost a “half full” kind of interpretation.

“Friend, rest a bit. You like sweet potatoes, huh? Since the prince is strong and clear-headed, he’ll come and bring some for you.”

“How thoughtful the prince is. Yes, if he comes himself, won’t he rest less, though? But prince, do you know what kind of crop sweet potatoes are? They’re long and flat with a dull purple color.”

“Sweet potatoes are purple? Not yellow?”

Jayu felt a huge dissonance.

After all, Yeon Pa was the one pushing him.

But the shock at the truth about sweet potatoes was even greater.

Purple?

How could such an auspicious-colored crop exist among common folk?

Does it lose its color when cooked and turn yellow?

Qing shook her head slightly.

A complete novice to the world.

How could she send him alone?

“Jayu, rest too. I appreciate it, but honestly, you might lose even if you fought a wild dog, heck, you’d definitely lose.”

Yeon Pa’s expression grew fierce.

How dare he speak to the prince with such insolence?

But how lucky it is to have someone who tells you the harsh truth.

Bitter medicine tastes good.

Yeon Pa’s expression softened again.

“Humph, even wild dogs are one thing.”

“What? You look down on wild dogs? Even a grown man runs from wild dogs. If bitten, you can get rabies and die. Rabies has no cure. You know rabies can’t be cured, right?”

“Wild dogs really are that dangerous?”

“Watch your tone.”

“I didn’t know wild dogs were so dangerous.”

“Rest more if you’re tired. I’m a master, and Yeon Pa is a super master, but you’re not.”

“...Understood.”

In fact, the two didn’t even need to search the warehouse for sweet potatoes—they had already seen the gigantic sweet potato sprouting grotesquely from Qing’s side.

The color and shape were exactly like a sweet potato, only the size was that of a pumpkin.

Here she was, lugging around a rotting pumpkin on her side and still insisting on working.

But Qing had a point.

Usually, she spewed nonsense every time she opened her mouth, but only at times like this did she speak the unvarnished truth.

Qing had already started imagining roasted sweet potatoes.

No matter what had burst open her side, she thought, she might as well at least get a whiff of some sweet potatoes.

It was now December, and the chances that the sweet potatoes harvested in November and December were still filling the warehouse were pretty high.

Even if they took grain on the escape route, sweet potatoes would be the last thing to be packed—so there should still be some left.

But did the Central Plains even have aluminum foil?

If you just throw them in the fire, they’d end up as burnt sweet potatoes, not roasted.

Was there some substitute?

Maybe she should cook them with less water like boiling potatoes and shake them violently?

With these happy troubles, drooling a bit, Qing headed to the grain warehouse.

And so, with her heart swollen with anticipation—well, “swollen” was an understatement given how seriously excited she was—Qing flung open the grain warehouse door.

But at that very instant, the wide-open wound on her side lashed out like a vengeful five-pronged spear, forcing her to shudder and gasp briefly.

And then—sweet potatoes, are there any?

There are!

Qing’s expression bloomed with joy.

She deduced the sweet potatoes just by the season and managed to find them.

Had she not become a thoroughly seasoned warrior by now?

Only the most experienced warriors of the martial world can steal sweet potatoes from someone else’s warehouse.

Who am I? Shintu. Who is Shintu? Ximen Qing.

The great achievement befitting Shintu: the sweet potato theft!

If Cheon Yuhak, preparing for the spring term in Taiyuan, knew about this, he would surely burst with rage and collapse from frustration.

As Qing gathered the sacks of sweet potatoes and casually checked some other things—

What’s this? Taro? Is it taro? Isn’t this taro a bit too tall? Some kind of wild variety? Let’s see.

Ugh, uh, ptooey, ptooey, gahk, ptooey! Bitter, bitter!

Damn, why are they storing Heavenly Demon root in the granary?

Confusing us with useless, inedible Heavenly Demon root.

Qing trembled at the atrociously bitter, sour, sharp, astringent, almost ginger-like burning taste of the Heavenly Demon root.

According to the Huangdi Neijing, all the world’s terrible flavors are contained in it, and it’s considered the most tasteless medicinal herb on Earth.

As Qing tasted the Heavenly Demon root, she gagged and scowled.

Then came the slow, measured footsteps of a loafer.

What, Jayu? I told you to rest, and you still insisted on coming to help?

Qing turned toward him.