Chapter 1448: The Winter of the Seventh Year of Great Han

The snow had finally stopped.

This snowstorm of the seventh year of Great Han had been falling continuously for two days. The snow from earlier was still there, and the fresh fall added another layer to the white blanket covering the ground.

Beneath the cover of that thick white blanket, the originally heavily fortified camp had gained a touch of softness. Yet the grim-faced soldiers ceaselessly patrolling inside the main camp swept every trace of that softness clean away.

This camp, located on the outskirts of Beijing, covered an immense area and housed a large number of troops. They trained and rested here, ready at any moment to fight for their emperor, to set out without complaint on any campaign to any place he designated.

And this emperor, relying on them, had carved out a vast territory, spreading his prestige and might across the entire land of Huaxia.

Even inside the camp, the formations of these constantly patrolling soldiers were arranged with perfect symmetry according to their past training. Their black armor was polished to a gleam, and the sharp edges of their spearheads glittered against the white snow. The cold wind swept all around, but it left no trace on those rock-like faces. They patrolled proudly through the wind and snow, as if nothing could block their steps.

They were His Majesty's Imperial Guard, an elite force selected through rigorous screening, the strongest army under heaven with no equal in the world — this conviction had long been deeply rooted in their hearts and had become the glory they took the greatest pride in.

Led by the imperial guards, Zhao Song slowly trod through the snow along the corridor left between the camp's palisades and protective walls. The snow rustled under his steps, blending with the uniform crunch of the other guards' boots into a rhythmic chorus.

The guards along the way also saluted him with their eyes. Although they clearly knew he posed no threat, most soldiers still watched him with a gaze as if facing a formidable enemy, as if using this method to warn anyone going to see His Majesty not to entertain any thought of disrespect toward him.

The officers leading the patrols were slightly different. Zhao Song had a great and renowned name in the army and had previously served at His Majesty's side, so the officers with long years of service in the Imperial Guard all knew him. However, because they were currently leading patrols, they did not greet him. Most merely fixed their eyes on him for a moment, offered a faint smile, and then led their men past him like the wind.

Although he was there on urgent business, years of experience leading troops still made Zhao Song stop in his tracks and carefully scrutinize the passing Imperial Guards.

These men were strong and vigorous, their spirits high, and their ranks extremely orderly. It was clear they had undergone rigorous training and had become fine soldier material. But after all, having been stationed at His Majesty's side for so long, they had few opportunities to see blood, so that pride was still only floating on the surface. They still needed considerable tempering.

He suddenly thought of the unit he had led for many years. That was a silent, battle-hardened unit. Because they often had to crawl and fight through the white mountains and black waters, their clothes were often filthy, and the beards on their faces were very unkempt. Yet that unit was his pride. He knew almost every man in it. He had led them in bloody battle after bloody battle on Pi Island, in Liaodong, in Shenyang, seizing victory time and again. Those victories had forged his illustrious reputation and had rooted true pride in the hearts of those soldiers.

Where, he wondered, would they go to find new victories this time?

"Brigade Commander Zhao, His Majesty is still waiting!" Just as he stopped to ponder, a reminder suddenly came from the aide-de-camp leading the way beside him.

"Sorry, sorry..." Zhao Song immediately came back to his senses, then smiled at him and continued following behind.

They were His Majesty's aides-de-camp, all of distinguished backgrounds with extremely secure futures. And being at His Majesty's side, they were naturally accustomed to seeing grand spectacles — what high officials and noble personages had they not seen?

Had it not been for the fact that he was His Majesty's distant paternal cousin, this guiding aide-de-camp's tone likely would not have been so mild.

The deeper they walked into the camp, the fewer the buildings and palisades became, until finally it slowly turned into a vast expanse of white emptiness. In the distance of that open space stood a very large building — that was his destination.

This open area had been deliberately set up to guard against intruders, so very few people passed through it, and the accumulated snow was all the thicker. When his boots stepped through the snow, it nearly submerged the tops of his feet.

This year's winter seemed a few degrees colder than in previous years.

If this were the previous dynasty, a snowfall like this would probably have added quite a few more wronged souls frozen or starved to death across the land...

Gazing at the thick snow on the ground, Zhao Song suddenly had a strange thought flash through his mind.

Ever since he was a child, he had seen all kinds of chaos and turmoil of war, and had also seen the miserable scenes of every winter. His feelings had gone from initial worry and fear to later numbness, and finally even to a secret sense of relief — relief that he himself had not become one of those who died of hunger and cold.

However, he could be certain that this year's winter was much better than those terrifying days in his memory. There would not be so many people freezing or starving to death anymore.

Because ever since the new dynasty had settled the realm, every year when winter or famine arrived, large quantities of grain were transported by the court from the south via sea routes to various northern ports, and then distributed by the local garrisons to the hungry people everywhere. At the same time, because the properties of many convicted officials of the previous dynasty had been confiscated, many places now had additional locations to care for refugees and spare them from hunger and cold.

The grain shipped in and the houses sealed were limited, after all, and could not save everyone. But merely accomplishing this much had already won His Majesty the hearts of the people. Who knew how many refugees had been saved by His Majesty, preserving their hope of starting life anew.

Now that the realm had been roughly stabilized, their hope would surely soon become reality.

"Brigade Commander Zhao, we have arrived." When they reached the front door of this large building, the aide-de-camp stopped, and Zhao Song also halted.

Two aides-de-camp walked toward him. Their expressions were extremely solemn, betraying no emotion whatsoever.

"Brigade Commander Zhao, pardon us." As they said this, Zhao Song obediently raised his arms.

The realm was only roughly pacified now; those harboring disloyal intentions had not been purged, and there had even been several plots to assassinate His Majesty. Under such circumstances, His Majesty's security could not be relaxed in the slightest. Everyone who came to visit His Majesty, except for those few most trusted and favored high ministers and veteran generals, was subject to a body search without exception. It was not directed at him personally, so Zhao Song cooperated fully with their duty.

The body search was over very quickly.

"Brigade Commander Zhao, please." The guiding aide-de-camp pointed to the way in. "His Majesty handles ten thousand matters daily, so do not delay his time."

Zhao Song raised his head and looked beyond the door. It was very deep inside, so it was pitch black and he could not make out much of the layout, only sensing an air of unfathomable mystery. Although he had met His Majesty quite a few times, his sense of awe toward His Majesty had never diminished. In recent years, with the founding of this dynasty, that awe had actually grown even deeper.

The might of heaven is inscrutable — the ancients spoke too truly. Even an ordinary emperor's heavenly might was already inscrutable, let alone that of such a world-founding, heroic sovereign. One could not help but be awed.

Although he was His Majesty's younger cousin, Zhao Song had long ceased to regard himself as a relative on equal footing with the imperial family. He knew exactly what his own place was. He was merely His Majesty's subject, not some relative. He also knew that only by understanding proper conduct could he earn His Majesty's trust and important assignments.

"Many thanks." Zhao Song nodded lightly, then strode in proudly alongside the guards.

Although this building was very large, the furnishings inside were extremely simple and plain, making it feel somewhat empty. The cold wind echoed all around within, bringing little warmth.

In every respect, this house situated amid layers of military camps was completely unsuited to the status of an emperor. An emperor who had already founded a new dynasty and ruled over all lands in the four directions should have been seated solemnly in a lofty, magnificent hall, receiving the homage of his civil and military courtiers — and yet, even after crushing nearly all hostile forces and basically pacifying the entire realm, His Majesty was still, as before, often residing within military camps. He had not moved into that magnificent palace in the capital that surpassed the imagination of the vast majority of people. Even his wives, concubines, and children did not live in the imperial palace in the capital or the luxurious mansions scattered everywhere; they had merely found some simple, plain courtyards near the military camp as temporary residences and settled there. The reason for this was that His Majesty said a ruler must value forging ahead and must not become too tainted by comfort, wealth, and nobility. Thus, he deliberately sought to maintain the steady, unadorned character of their founding days.

From this alone, one could see how far His Majesty's bearing surpassed that of ordinary men. At the very least, Zhao Song knew he himself could not do it.

Without taking many turns, Zhao Song was led before a large door. Every few steps he took, there were guards on both sides.

"His Majesty is just inside," the attendant whispered a reminder.

A feeling of extreme nervousness suddenly surged in Zhao Song's heart. His legs went weak, and he nearly could not stand steady. With great difficulty, he regained his composure, then lowered his head and examined himself. His military uniform of black cotton cloth was impeccably tailored and had been kept spotless, making him look full of martial vigor.

Even for an audience with His Majesty, this could not be considered disrespectful... With a trace of unease, he held his head high and puffed out his chest, standing at the doorway.

The two attendants standing guard at the door simultaneously placed their hands on the door handles, then pulled the doors open with combined force.

A wave of hot air rushed straight at Zhao Song at the doorway, making him feel as if he had stepped into another world.

Select charcoal burned in braziers on stands on both sides. The flames flickered but produced no smoke, diffusing their heat unreservedly through the air, sealing out the cold outside and making the interior as warm as spring.

And deep within the great hall, there was a small platform raised above the ground. A person stood upon it. The air was slightly blurred from being filled with hot drafts, so he could not see the specific details on the platform clearly. He could only see that the person had his back to him, facing the map on the wall above the platform.