The General’s Quarters

“Gentlemen, as is customary, I, Long Yan, must inspect the camp defenses again tonight. Therefore, I must excuse myself. Please rest assured and make yourselves comfortable in the camp.”

The General-in-Chief, having reached the middle of the carpeted path, turned to face her two guests. Her smiling, friendly eyes held the watchful gaze of a lion.

At this moment, Jiang Buwei and Yan Bai, even if they had something to say, found themselves without a suitable way or opportunity to speak.

Despite their acquaintance, their status remained that of mere guests. They were not familiar enough to casually dampen the General’s spirits without consequence.

Moreover, if they were to ask for a reason, they would be hard-pressed to come up with a good excuse themselves.

Seeing their momentary silence, Long Yan merely took it as a polite gesture.

“Don’t be strangers, you two~”

She placed her hands on her hips, then instructed the guards outside the tent,

“Han Jue, ensure that our guests, Boss Jiang and Brother Yan, are properly attended to.”

“—As you command.”

Han Jue, having received the order, motioned for several honor guards to lead the two guests away, saying, “Gentlemen, this way, please.”

“Eh…”

Xia Qian stared blankly, her mouth agape.

Wait, if they’re leaving, and I’m the only one left, what about me?

She watched as Jiang Buwei’s fingertips, beneath her wide cloak, subtly curled and then relaxed. Yan Bai’s hanging sleeves seemed to stir as if to rise, though there was no breeze, before finally settling into stillness.

The business empress’s jade plaque, fastened to her waist, swayed gently with each step. Just as she was about to exit the tent, she suddenly looked back. Xia Qian distinctly saw her lips part as if to speak, but Han Jue swiftly stepped halfway across, blocking her path.

“The General has given her order, Young Master. The General’s tent awaits you.”

Before Xia Qian could make sense of it, Han Jue was standing before him once more.

This time, the stern General politely made a ‘please’ gesture.

The sudden turn of events surpassed her expectations, leaving her momentarily bewildered. She couldn’t even manage a bitter smile.

The figures of the two who had gone ahead were swallowed by the cowhide tent flap.

Xia Qian’s Adam’s apple bobbed with difficulty.

The mere thought of what was about to transpire caused her tongue, pressed against the roof of her mouth, to inexplicably taste a metallic, astringent flavor, like rust.

This is the first time I’ve been called ‘Young Master,’ yet it seems to carry the same implication as a ‘lady’ in the red-light district.

Stepping out, Xia Qian, with no other choice, followed Han Jue through the camp, which was dotted with flickering lights.

Torches along the path flickered erratically in the night wind.

Night-duty female soldiers were feeding the warhorses their third round of fodder, the clatter of iron armor mingling with the snorts of horses.

As they bypassed the medical tent, which carried the scent of herbs, Xia Qian glimpsed two young soldiers using wooden basins to collect boiled linen, the rising steam condensing into white mist in the cold autumn night.

“We’ve arrived.”

Han Jue suddenly stopped after they had rounded the main army camp.

This was a quieter corner within the encampment. The military tent before them wasn’t as spacious or grand as the commander’s main tent; it was only slightly larger than a common soldier’s felt sleeping quarters.

However, its tent flaps were clean and refined, edged with indigo brocade, and three carved tiger-patterned flagstones secured its corners.

“‘—General Han Jue!’”

Upon seeing Han Jue, the two female guards, armed with halberds, straightened their backs and chests, their iron helmets frosted over. They struck the ground with their halberd shafts, producing a dull thud. Just like the soldiers they had encountered along the way, they saluted the female General with utmost discipline.

Han Jue nodded in acknowledgment.

Her voice, punctuated by white puffs of breath that drifted past Xia Qian’s ear, carried the crisp chill unique to the northern lands as she quietly commanded her subordinates:

“Withdraw. Tonight, I, the General, will personally stand guard. Furthermore, relay this message: no one is to approach without the General-in-Chief’s order.”

“‘Yes!’”

The two halberd-wielding guards responded in unison, shouldering their long weapons and marching away.

Xia Qian, of course, understood the meaning behind this. A tent, being made of cloth, offered poor sound insulation.

To prevent the soldiers from overhearing the General-in-Chief’s intimate affairs with the male branch of the brothel tonight—and out of consideration for her superior’s dignity—the sentries were temporarily withdrawn, and Han Jue herself would stand guard for her leader.

What a loyal and considerate subordinate, she thought. Ah, no, it’s me who’s about to be forced by your leader!

In the biting autumn wind, sweat beaded on Xia Qian’s forehead. No matter what, I have to try and salvage this situation, somehow, right?

Perhaps I could invent another excuse, claiming that according to custom, one cannot serve in bed after music has been played tonight?

“Um, I say, General… Eh, ah, ah, ah?!”

No matter how eloquently Xia Qian tried to speak, she couldn’t finish her sentence. Han Jue, completely ignoring her, had no intention of engaging in conversation. The impeccable female General simply and decisively commanded, “Enter,” then grabbed Xia Qian and pushed her into the tent.

Xia Qian rubbed her aching shoulder blade, drawing in a sharp breath. The scent of ink and pine resin immediately assailed her.

She looked around.

For the rough and audacious General’s personal quarters, the space was surprisingly neat and simple. A high-necked bronze tree lamp illuminated the curtains, and a prominent black long table stretched across the center.

Despite being a military commander, there were no visible weapons or armor; instead, piles of bamboo slips and silk scrolls formed small mountains. If not for a small bed on one side and a simple clothes rack by the window holding civilian clothes and discarded light armor, one might have thought it was the study of a scholarly advisor attached to the army.

Driven by curiosity, Xia Qian approached for a closer look.

So many bamboo slips… Does this world’s current era not have papermaking technology? Or has papermaking technology simply not spread to this region yet?

Piles of bound slips leaned precariously, almost collapsing the corner of the table. A wolf-hair brush, its tip long since hardened, was haphazardly stuck into a cracked pottery jar, its ink not yet dry.

She casually picked up a roll of bamboo slips resting on the table, feeling its smooth back. The grass-rope binding wasn’t tied, and with a slight shake, the slips unrolled, revealing ink-stained characters.

The characters written on them were even more complex than some traditional Chinese characters, not even appearing to follow conventional strokes. Yet, for some unknown reason, they could be clearly associated with ‘Chinese characters’ and were not difficult to decipher.

“‘The border city lacks three thousand shi of provisions; grain and fodder are nearly depleted. The Western Huan magistrate must raise funds himself…’”

“‘The eastern Xiao beacon has been lit; the Xianyun Tribe is assailing the pass. Dispatch three hundred sets of rhinoceros armor and four hundred twenty fine blades from Liangqu to reinforce…’”

…

The few bamboo slips she casually perused were, without exception, military reports concerning supplies. Furthermore, judging by the existing seals and the corresponding blank spaces where seals were missing, they seemed to be documents awaiting the General’s approval and seal.

Returning the bamboo slips to their original place, Xia Qian lowered her gaze and noticed a long, half-rolled silk cloth laid out on the tabletop. Curved lines and various sized dots were depicted on the fabric. Upon closer inspection, Xia Qian realized it was a map.

In the very center, the characters ‘Liangqu’ were prominently written, seemingly related to the northern border defenses.

“So this place is called ‘Liangqu’… Oh, it seems to be an inland, northwestern border fortress… No wonder it looks so desolate, with garrisoned troops and curfews…”

Xia Qian pondered carefully, trying to discern the actual geographical situation from the simple topographical descriptions.

Suddenly, the already dim tabletop was overshadowed by a shadow from above.

“Uh?”

Before Xia Qian could fully react or even look up, she heard a boisterous, cold laugh, like the low growl of a dragon, seeping into her ears:

“Well, young man? Do you think this General’s drawing is quite good?”