Chapter 260: Send Qiu Chengyun's Head

Ma Xianglin let out a thunderous roar, his spear striking like a dragon. Another soldier among the boat trackers took the spear through the throat, blood spraying like water leaking from a kettle, and the man crumpled to the ground in an instant.

The boat trackers were stunned by the bloody scene, frozen in a daze.

The rest of the White Pole Soldiers charged out from the woods, scattering the trackers, grabbing the tow ropes, and hauling the boats toward the shore.

In a single exchange, the entire grain convoy's soldiers were killed to the last man.

Only then did the trackers snap out of it, scrambling away on hands and knees. From afar, they heard the trackers shouting warnings at the top of their lungs: "Government troops are coming! Government troops are coming!" His subordinates dragged the guide over—the man's face had already taken two punches, and he looked utterly deflated.

Ma Xianglin demanded angrily: "Why did you tip off the rebels?"

The guide could only beg for mercy.

Ma Xianglin raised his spear to kill the man, but Qin Liangyu stopped him: "Let the man go."

"Let this dog of a man go, and he might very well ruin things for us."

Qin Liangyu said: "The trackers already saw us—one more man won't make a difference. Besides, we are not the court's hunting hounds; we do not slaughter common folk." Ma Xianglin had his men release the guide, then snarled: "Count yourself lucky."

Qin Liangyu ordered her men to pull the grain boats to shore, unload the grain, load stones onto the boats, then scuttle them and sink them into the river, fashioning a simple water barrier.

That evening, Ma Xianglin pried open a crate of military grain, pulled out a sesame candy stick, and said in surprise: "Mother, the rebels eat this well?" Qin Liangyu took the candy stick, silent and wordless.

Ma Xianglin punched a tree trunk, shaking the tree so hard its leaves rustled.

"The rebels outside the city have plenty of grain, and even sweets and pastries. Meanwhile we're in Guilin City, eating one meal and starving the next, enduring it all—what a humiliating defeat!" "Not just pastries—there's cured meat too..." Another subordinate opened a crate and pulled out a sausage.

"And pickled vegetables." Another new discovery—the man who spoke took a taste and was nearly choked by the salt, forcing himself to swallow.

This pickled vegetable was meant for cooking porridge and soup—it served as seasoning and also supplied vitamins.

Fujian and Guangdong were major salt-producing provinces, and military grain had to keep well, so naturally they salted it to death.

The White Pole Soldiers were initially delighted by their haul, but when they remembered how many of their brothers had died without ever eating a full meal, morale gradually sank. Qin Liangyu soothed the soldiers, urging them to rest early—tomorrow would still be a hard fight. In silence, the White Pole Soldiers finished their meal of victory.

Over the following days, the White Pole Soldiers moved from riverbank to riverbank, intercepting grain shipments.

The Li River stretched four to five hundred li—there was no way cannon ships could guard every grain shipment. Moreover, the flood season had arrived, the current ran swift, and the cannon ships found navigation increasingly difficult. Ma Xianglin complained repeatedly that if the Prince of Jingjiang had listened to his mother's advice earlier and adopted this strategy of raiding the grain supply lines, the rebel bandits would likely have collapsed on their own by now. As it stood, the White Pole Soldiers numbered barely a hundred, capable only of small-scale harassment, and after every successful strike they had to hide in the mountains.

He also noticed that the rebel troops sent to hunt them down pinpointed their position with uncanny accuracy every time—as if a traitor were leaking information.

Only after repeated encounters did he realize that the ones leading the rebels to hunt them were none other than the common folk of nearby villages.

However careful the White Pole Soldiers were, they could evade the rebels' sentry boats and scout cavalry—but they could never evade the hunters and fishermen.

That day, Qin Liangyu led her men through the mountains, evading the Nan'ao forces' encirclement, when she suddenly spotted movement in a valley below and quickly signaled the soldiers to halt.

Peering through the leaves, she saw a grain transport convoy in the valley—some carried loads on oxen and mules, some used handcarts, and some simply carried burdens by hand or on their shoulders—roughly two to three hundred people in all.

Looking more carefully, all the grain carriers were common folk, with only a dozen or so rebel soldiers escorting them.

Ma Xianglin said: "The rebels have abandoned the waterways and switched to overland routes—no wonder we haven't intercepted anyone on the river lately. Mother, let's make our move."

Qin Liangyu weighed the situation: this convoy had only ten soldiers, all on dry land—she could take them in an instant, with no worry of anyone escaping.

They were already seven or eight days from Guilin—this was the perfect chance to gather intelligence.

So she said to Ma Xianglin: "You and I will change into plain clothes and slip over."

Ma Xianglin agreed. The two dropped their weapons, removed their armor, and concealed only daggers at their waists.

Qin Liangyu took up her great bow, drew, and shot a wild hare dead on the spot. Mother and son disguised themselves as hunters and walked toward the grain convoy.

It happened to be midday, and the transport team had stopped to light fires and cook.

When the escorting soldiers saw Qin Liangyu and her son approaching, they came forward cautiously to question them.

Qin Liangyu put on a frightened expression and offered up the hare: "Honored soldier, we're from a nearby village. We got lost in the mountains by accident. Please forgive our intrusion—please accept this wild hare as our apology."

Having campaigned for years in the southwest, she had encountered people from every province in the ranks and could speak a bit of every provincial dialect—her accent raised no suspicion.

The soldiers searched the two, finding only daggers, rope, and a hunting bow, and relaxed: "Keep the hare for yourselves. Which village are you from?"

Qin Liangyu was deeply surprised—there existed an army in this world that refused a gift delivered right to its door?

Even the White Pole Soldiers could only claim to refrain from actively looting.

"Baisha Village." Based on the convoy's route, Qin Liangyu named a village they would pass by.

The soldier replied: "Convenient—we're heading that way anyway. You two can follow along behind."

Qin Liangyu pulled her son along and thanked the soldier profusely: "Thank you, honored soldier. Thank you, honored soldier."

"Don't call me 'honored soldier'—just call me 'soldier,'" the man corrected.

Qin Liangyu, not understanding why, nodded in agreement and led her son to sit among the civilian laborers cooking the meal, offering up the hare. The laborers warmly invited mother and son to eat with them. While tending the campfire, Qin Liangyu pretended to ask casually: "Elder, how much longer do you have on your corvée service?"

The old man fanned the fire as he spoke: "What corvée? Once the Nan'ao army came, even my taxes were waived, heh heh. Our village walked dozens of li through the mountains to surrender—got a full three years of tax exemption in one go! Good days are coming!"

Ma Xianglin was thoroughly confused: "So you were forcibly conscripted to haul grain?"

"Why would they need to force anyone? One haul pays fifty copper coins per person—and not the counterfeit coins the Prince of Jingjiang minted, but genuine brass." Whoosh—the campfire caught, and the old man coughed twice from the smoke before hurrying his companions to set up the pot.

The old man said: "You two have been in the mountains half a day now, and all you got was one hare? Let me tell you, you'd earn more helping the Nan'ao army haul grain." Another laborer dumped rice into the pot: "Hauling grain for the Nan'ao army even gets you fed on the road! Just don't run into any government troops."

"Government troops?" Ma Xianglin asked, knowing full well.

The laborer lowered his voice and scanned the surrounding woods: "There's a band of Ming chieftain troops around here, escaped from Guilin—they specialize in murder and robbery." Hearing his men slandered, Ma Xianglin couldn't help but argue: "I've heard that chieftain army left the city specifically to raid the rebels' grain supply lines—they're no deserters, and as far as I know they haven't killed any civilians either?"

"Rubbish about raiding supply lines—pretty words for ugly deeds, a pack of beasts!" The old man tending the fire flew into a rage and chopped the hare's head off with one stroke of his knife.

A laborer nearby lamented: "Hey now, old brother, curse all you want, but don't take it out on the hare! You've cut rabbit fur right into the meat!"

The old man at the fire realized his mistake and apologized profusely.

He said to Qin Liangyu and her son: "The Nan'ao army waived our taxes, killed the corrupt officials, and arrested the wicked prince—they are the masters of Guangxi! As for these chieftain troops, these government soldiers—they'd better pray this old man never lays eyes on them, or I'll kill every one I see!"

A laborer nearby teased him for boasting.

Qin Liangyu, however, seized on the key detail: "The Prince of Jingjiang has been arrested?"

"That's right—you didn't know? The Nan'ao army is interrogating him in Guilin right now. Anyone with a grievance can go plead their case, and I hear they're even going to distribute the prince's estates." "Guilin has fallen?" Qin Liangyu couldn't believe it. Even after the White Pole Soldiers' disastrous defeat, Guilin still had three thousand defenders—how could it fall in seven days? Even if you penned three thousand pigs in Guilin and gave the rebels seven days to catch them, they couldn't finish the job!

The hare meat had been chopped into pieces and added to the pot. Smelling the meaty aroma, the laborers laughed that mother and son must have just come down from some sacred mountain. The old man at the fire said: "The city fell long ago. These past days the Nan'ao army has been shipping troops south along the Li River. I hear that prince, even with death staring him in the face, refused to give up his treasures—loaded over a hundred carts with them and got caught red-handed right outside the city..."

Then the old man recounted the story of the city's fall as he had heard it.

Naturally, he heaped abuse on the Prince of Jingjiang and sang the praises of the Nan'ao army with plenty of embellishment.

Among them, Qin Liangyu and the White Pole Troops naturally did not count as righteous characters either—they were depicted as cowardly soldiers who feared death, opened the city gates and fled, seized roads to rule as bandits, and robbed homes and households.

Ma Xianglin rose in fury: "Nonsense, utter rubbish! General Qin has served the country with utmost loyalty, as clear as the sun and moon! The White Pole Troops are strictly disciplined—they have only ever suppressed rebellions and slain bandits. When have they ever done the things you speak of?"

The old man was startled, staring blankly without a word.

Qin Liangyu pulled her son back to his seat and apologized to the militiamen.

Taking advantage of no one watching, Ma Xianglin whispered, "Mother, let's make our move."

But Qin Liangyu shook her head: "Guilin has fallen; cutting off their grain route is useless now. Let's return to Shizhu..."

Ma Xianglin said urgently, "Then what of our brothers... Fengyi, she... did they die for nothing?"

Qin Liangyu's expression was bleak: "The Prince of Jingjiang was cruel and foolish; we aided a tyrant in his evil deeds and deserve this retribution. This war we cannot win—let's return to Shizhu." The two ate their rabbit porridge in silence, and on the road, when no one was watching, they slipped away from the militia column and headed north that very night.

After the old cook saw that Qin Liangyu and her son had vanished, the more he thought about it, the more something seemed wrong, so he reported the matter up the chain.

In the end, the report made its way up through the ranks to Lei Sanxiang.

Lei Sanxiang had been racking his brains over Qin Liangyu cutting off the grain route along the Li River; he had previously sent men several times to hunt her down, but each time she slipped away because they were unfamiliar with the mountain terrain. As it happened, after Guilin fell, many Miao and Yao chieftains in the surrounding area surrendered at the sight of the wind, and the wolf soldiers under these men knew the terrain well and were ferocious and fond of fighting.

He therefore ordered the chieftains to dispatch troops to go and capture her.

Qin Liangyu's party dared not take the main roads and could only feel their way forward through the mountain forests northwest of Guilin.

The entire route was lined with Miao and Yao tribal stockades—once Qin Liangyu went into those mountains, it was like walking into a net spread from heaven to earth.

The Miao and Yao chieftains had just pledged themselves to the Nan'ao forces, and receiving their first assignment, they threw themselves into it with exceptional vigor, vying to distinguish themselves.

No matter how divinely brave Qin Liangyu and Ma Xianglin were, they could not hold out against the endless native soldiers and traps, and finally, after several days, they were captured and dragged by the chieftains to the Nan'ao army's main camp.

As it happened, the Prince of Jingjiang and his treasures were to be shipped to Nan'ao Island, so they simply loaded Qin Liangyu's whole family onto the ship as well, to be delivered to the helmsman.

In the ship's hold, Qin Liangyu and her son were pleasantly surprised to see that Zhang Fengyi was still alive, but thinking that all three of them had become prisoners about to be sent to the bandits' lair for execution, they could not help but feel grief welling up.

Qin Liangyu forced herself to sound spirited: "At least we die together as one family, spilling our hot blood—that counts as being worthy of the Great Ming."

Zhang Fengyi gestured with her eyes toward the adjacent cell and said, "If before we die we could drag the one in the next cabin down with us, that would be even better."

In the cabin next door was none other than Zhu Lühu. He had been curled up on the floor pretending to be dead, but upon hearing Zhang Fengyi's intention to drag him down with them, he immediately put on a fierce front while trembling inside: "How dare you! How dare you show such disrespect to this prince! You you you... you dare!!"

The two cells were separated by a single watertight bulkhead—they could hear each other but not see.

This prison ship was built in the Guangdong junk style, with solid materials—the entire hull was made of ironwood, and the cabin walls were as hard as steel. There was absolutely no way to break through the hull by ramming it with brute force.

All three of them—Qin Liangyu and the others—were bound hand and foot; they could not even kill themselves, let alone kill Zhu Lühu in the next cabin.

But even if they could not kill him, scaring him with words was always possible.

While in Guilin city, the three of them had been repeatedly obstructed and humiliated by Zhu Lühu, and for the sake of the greater picture, they had endured it all in silence.

Now that death was at hand, what was there left to worry about?

Ma Xianglin immediately put on an act and said, "Fengyi, where's my spear? I'll stab through and skewer him dead!"

Zhu Lühu scrambled with hands and feet, moving far away from the cabin wall to press himself against the opposite side, not daring to breathe loudly.

Zhang Fengyi said with a wicked grin, "Just stabbing him dead is too easy. If you ask me, let's just light a fire and burn him to death!"

Cold sweat poured down Zhu Lühu, and his single eye darted wildly around the cabin, searching for smoke and flames.

Qin Liangyu could not help but say, "If we light a fire, won't we burn ourselves too? Let's blow some of our Shizhu kudzu and skullcap powder in there—that medicine treats diarrhea, but if you inhale too much of it, a person can't relieve himself and swells up until he bursts!"

Zhang Fengyi: "Excellent, excellent! I'll go find some right now..."

Zhu Lühu was weak and frail to begin with, and with his nasal bone and collarbone fractured, they had not bound him. He assumed Qin Liangyu and the other two could move about freely as well, and upon hearing this, he was scared out of his wits, kowtowing and begging for mercy.

Several days later, the prison ship arrived at Nan'ao Island.

At Qianjiang Bay wharf, Lin Qian, surrounded by the Nan'ao military and civil dignitaries, came to admire the spoils.

After the ship came to a halt, chests of gold, silver, and treasure were carried up the gangplank one after another, flowing like water, endless and inexhaustible.

From the way the men carried the chests, Lin Qian could tell that every single one was packed to the brim.

As the treasures were unloaded one after another, the Guangdong junk's draft steadily rose.

At last, the Prince of Jingjiang was also led out of the cabin by the sailors and brought before Lin Qian.

Lin Qian looked him up and down. The man was thin and dark, with a dejected air and a foul stench about him—he did not look like a prince at all. Change his clothes and drop him into a crowd, and you would never pick him out.

"So you're the Prince of Jingjiang?" Lin Qian's tone was indifferent.

Zhu Lühu squeezed out a feeble smile: "The general is wise and martial, having breached Guilin and taken Guangxi. This humble prince admires you greatly. To meet the general today, this humble prince is overwhelmed with trepidation..."

Lin Qian asked the soldiers on either side: "How did he end up in this state?"

The soldier said with a aggrieved look: "After this old thing came aboard, something got into him—no matter what, he refused to eat anything. Every day he demanded three dou of cold water to drink, and he's shat himself into this condition..."

Lin Qian did not know whether to laugh or cry, and gave orders: "Take the man below and find a physician to look at him. Don't accidentally let him die."

Even as he was being led away, Zhu Lühu kept babbling: "The people next door want to kill me... General, you must do right by this humble prince! Your Majesty! This humble prince is the current Emperor's royal uncle! Spare this humble prince's life, and His Majesty will surely..."

Lin Qian let out a soft laugh. The only reason he was keeping Zhu Lühu alive was out of respect for the Emperor.

Though not the Tianqi Emperor—rather, the next emperor.

Over the past few months, news from the capital had been arriving at Nan'ao nearly every day.

The Tianqi Emperor's body was growing weaker by the day; he was bedridden, no longer receiving court officials, and barely even summoning the imperial physicians. Each day he survived on rice gruel, euphemistically called "spirit dew drink"—almost exactly matching how he looked before his death in history.

Wei Zhongxian held sway over everything both inside and outside the palace, and the situation in the capital was extremely tense.

Lin Qian could not guarantee that history would follow its original course, with Prince Xin, Zhu Youjian, ascending the throne.

But no matter who ascended, the new emperor would always bear the surname Zhu, so keeping the Prince of Jingjiang alive would make them think twice before acting rashly.

And even if it proved useless, killing him later would not be too late.

After Zhu Lühu was led away, Qin Liangyu and the other two were dragged out of the ship's hold.

These three were visibly in far better spirits than Zhu Lühu, glaring at Lin Qian with fury.

Regardless of anything else, Qin Liangyu was a hero of the Battle of Hun River. Lin Qian clasped his hands in salute: "General Qin, I have long admired you."

Qin Liangyu said, "This old woman has fallen into the hands of rebels and asks only for death. Enough idle talk—strike quickly."

"General Qin has been loyal to the Great Ming all her life. After the disastrous defeat at Guilin, to be slandered by villains as having surrendered to the enemy—surely you wish to die to clear your name? Very well." Lin Qian gave the order, "Set up the execution platform. Three days from now, I will personally honor General Qin's loyalty and righteousness."

"Yes!" Geng Wu acknowledged.

Many civil officials wanted to counsel against it, but Lin Qian raised a hand to stop them.

Lin Qian added: "Geng Wu, bring the gift."

A moment later, Geng Wu carried over a brocade box and opened the lid. Inside lay a salt-preserved human head.

Qin Liangyu glanced at it. The head had already rotted and oozed pus, the face unrecognizable. She said coldly: "What is the meaning of this?"

Lin Qian said: "What's the matter, General Qin? Have you endured so long that you no longer recognize your husband's murderer?"

Qin Liangyu's breath caught, her heart violently shaken. She stared at the head — the chin was smooth and beardless, with triangular eyes, a bulbous nose, and a hairy mole beside the mouth.

It was indeed the mine inspector who had killed her husband!

Back then, Qin Liangyu had followed her husband Ma Qiancheng to pacify the Bozhou Rebellion. They had marched back in triumph to Shizhu, a hero and his wife deserving of merit — yet they offended the mine inspector Qiu Chengyun for "receiving him without proper courtesy."

Qiu Chengyun fabricated charges and had Ma Qiancheng thrown into prison.

Ma Qiancheng's battle wounds had not healed. Denied treatment in prison, he died of his injuries and illness.

A man of merit who had suppressed rebellion for the court — dead because his battle wounds went untreated. The irony was bitter.

Qiu Chengyun was a close attendant of the Emperor. Even governors-general and grand coordinators could not interrogate him, let alone Qin Liangyu, a mere native chieftain.

Later, the Wanli Emperor and the Taichang Emperor died in succession, and Qiu Chengyun attached himself to Wei Zhongxian, strutting arrogantly and surviving all the way to this day.

His life ended over ten thousand taels of silver and one light remark from Lin Qian.

"Send Qiu Chengyun's head over."

At a time when the court situation was so treacherous, how would Wei Zhongxian dare offend Lin Qian? He obediently complied — not only promptly presenting the head, but also declining the ten thousand taels of silver, and even gifting Lin Qian an additional twenty thousand taels.

After Ma Qiancheng's death, Qin Liangyu was heartbroken and utterly despondent. She wanted to avenge her late husband, but palace attendants represented imperial authority and could only be dealt with by the Emperor. The mine inspector in particular had enjoyed Wanli's favor — it was impossible to make a great stir over a mere native chieftain.

For the sake of the greater good, for the just-stabilized situation in the southwest, and for the loyalty to her sovereign in her heart, Qin Liangyu swallowed her hatred — like swallowing a needle that pricked her heart with pain every night.

This endurance lasted sixteen years.

Today, captured by the enemy and about to die alongside her son and daughter-in-law, she unexpectedly beheld her enemy's head. Her husband's great vengeance was fulfilled, one of her life's greatest regrets resolved — how could she maintain her composure under such surging emotion?

Qin Liangyu's figure swayed. She could not stand steady and nearly collapsed to the ground.

"Mother!"

Her son and daughter-in-law behind her hurriedly braced her with their shoulders.

Qin Liangyu looked up at the sky, tears streaming silently. After a long while, she came back to herself, looked at Lin Qian, and knelt solemnly to kowtow: "Benefactor has avenged my late husband. For this great kindness, Liangyu can only repay it in the next life!"

Behind her, her son and daughter-in-law knelt and kowtowed as well.

Lin Qian asked them to rise, then ordered his subordinates: "Find a large house. For these three days, treat General Qin well. Remove all the ropes." "Helmsman!" The military officers around him tried to dissuade him one after another.

But Lin Qian raised a hand to stop them.

Qin Liangyu gave Lin Qian a long, deep look, then was led away.

An officer said: "Helmsman, these three are highly skilled in martial arts. Removing their ropes and keeping them on the island seems rather inadvisable."

Lin Qian said: "No matter. Geng Wu, are there any bows on the island?"

Geng Wu shook his head: "No."

"Not even one?"

"No."

Lin Qian felt even more at ease.

Qin Liangyu was a person of extreme moral conviction. The martial clan ethos and Confucian thought were ingrained in her bones — her entire life, she valued honor and integrity above all.

If word got out that she and her son and daughter-in-law had been captured and then escaped by despicable means, exploiting the enemy's trust — what would the world think?

Guilin already had rumors of Qin Liangyu colluding with the enemy. If she just inexplicably ran back from Nan'ao, what would the Ming court think?

Moreover, Qin Liangyu's reputation was too good, and she was a native chieftain besides. Lin Qian had never wanted to kill her — otherwise he would not have transported the dead eunuch's head over such a great distance. If Qin Liangyu could come around within these three days, her defection would of course be welcome.

If she could not...

And escape... that was absolutely impossible.

Not to mention that these three did not know how to sail — even if they seized a vessel, the hawk ships would catch up.

Nan'ao Island had already been turned into a military fortress by Lin Qian. No matter how skilled in martial arts, three people were still mortal flesh and blood — they still feared bayonets.

Fighting one's way out from amidst ten thousand troops was something only possible in wuxia novels.

"Helmsman." Zheng Hongkui stepped forward and saluted.

"So, how is it? First time as a fleet captain — adjusting well?" Lin Qian asked amiably.

Zheng Hongkui smiled: "It's my first time giving orders, but I've imagined it countless times. Standing on the ship's deck feels wonderful. It's just that transporting prisoners isn't much fun. I was thinking — Nanning, Qingyuan, and those places haven't been fully pacified yet. Could you send me back there?"

Lin Qian invited Zheng Hongkui to his residence for tea, saying as they walked: "Qingyuan is already finished."

"That fast?"

Lin Qian said: "Across all of Guangxi, the court's power is very weak. What's strong are the native chieftains — and the chieftains are all in the mountains. Once the major cities fell, there was no more use for the navy."

Zheng Hongkui's face was full of regret.

Lin Qian consoled him: "In less than half a year, three cruising ships and five shark ships will be launched. When that time comes, there will be more fighting in the South China Sea. This time it will be a major operation, involving the Strait of Malacca and the Sultanate of Aceh — more than enough for you to show your skill."

Zheng Hongkui's worry turned to joy. Arriving at the main hall of the residence, before drinking tea, he took a list from his breast and first reported on official matters: "Helmsman, in the Guilin campaign, from the various mansions of the Prince of Jingjiang and from the baggage trains, we collected countless treasures of every kind...

Among them, the land was distributed equally to the common people as you instructed.

The trading houses, properties, and slaves cannot be easily appraised for now.

The remaining movable goods — gold, silver, jewelry, antiques, calligraphy, paintings, and the like — when converted to value, come to roughly one million two hundred thousand taels of silver.

The property of the various imperial clansmen, converted to value, comes to one hundred fifty thousand taels of silver.

Additionally, there are twenty thousand dan of grain in the official granaries, and three hundred thousand dan in the prince's private granaries — most of which has already been used to relieve disaster victims in northern Guangxi.

There are also salt, cloth, silk, and other miscellaneous goods — far too many to tally at the moment."

In recent years, the regions north of Guangxi had suffered repeated severe droughts. The land lay barren, and the starving dead filled the fields.

Under such circumstances, the prince's private granary actually held three hundred thousand dan of grain.

Rotting to such a degree—shocking to the ears and eyes.

Lin Qian sighed: "Impoverishing all of Guangxi, to enrich a single clan! From this day forward, such folly shall never happen again!"

Just then, a sudden commotion erupted outside the mansion gates.

Someone outside the gates asked urgently: "Is the helmsman at the mansion?... I'm from the Southern Route Army for Pacifying Guangxi, delivering a military dispatch... a dispatch from Nanning!" After the announcement, Lin Qian saw the messenger hurry in anxiously. The man moved with great speed, and his clothes were stained with large patches of blood—clearly he had just withdrawn from the front lines.

Yahei

Pink Round

Pen