This sudden question took Guan Changliang by surprise, and his eyes flickered slightly: "The Young General must be joking..."
Had he let something show on his face just now that the boy had seen?
Guan Changliang couldn't help but look at Qi Shuo.
What he saw was a profile with hard, sharp lines; it was difficult to gauge the meaning of the words from the expression on the other's face.
The youth, still staring at the campfire, did not look back at him, as if the fire were some peerless beauty, firmly capturing his gaze.
In this boisterous and indulgent environment, Guan Changliang almost felt that he had just suffered an auditory hallucination.
Just then, the youth, his expression grim, spoke: "I feel stifled."
As he spoke, he picked up a random piece of withered branch and tossed it toward the campfire.
From this distance, it naturally couldn't reach, and judging by the way he suddenly turned his face toward Guan Changliang, he clearly didn't care.
Guan Changliang saw a pair of startlingly bright eyes, brighter than the campfire itself, fueled by burning rage.
For some reason, Guan Changliang's heart began to beat rapidly, realizing that the opportunity to get closer to the youth before him had arrived.
He needed such an opportunity.
As a surrendered general, he had nowhere to retreat; his only option was to bind himself firmly to Northern Qi.
But General Wu Ye did not trust him, and he didn't know how long it would take to slowly win the man's confidence. Once Northern Qi destroyed Great Zhou, if he had achieved no merit and lacked support, how could he, a foreign defector, find a footing?
Wu Ye valued this nephew above all else; building a good relationship with Woli would bring a hundred benefits and no harm.
After this internal deliberation, Guan Changliang did not dare speak rashly, instead observing the other's expression more cautiously.
Compared to the indifference he usually saw, this face—which could be called handsome—looked much softer under the reflection of the night fire.
Guan Changliang curled his lips slightly, his voice very soft: "Why does the Young General say such a thing?"
As he asked, he lifted the wine jar by his side and filled Qi Shuo's bowl.
Qi Shuo grabbed the bowl and gulped it down, slamming the bowl heavily onto the ground. His raspy voice carried anger: "Being captured was my misfortune, but if I had known my uncle traded seven hundred warhorses for me, I would rather have died at the hands of the enemy than watch them respect me to my face while mocking me in their eyes!"
Upon hearing this, Guan Changliang immediately understood why the Young General, who had not given him a single friendly look during the day, had changed his attitude.
He felt that they shared a similar plight.
Indeed, a favored son of heaven like Woli had never suffered such a setback.
Setting aside the fact that among so many Northern Qi soldiers, some would inevitably lose control and show a hint of ridicule toward a noble youth traded for four Zhou generals and seven hundred horses—even if the look in their eyes was concern, this Young General, whose pride was wounded and who was exceptionally sensitive, would interpret it as something else.
"The Young General should not mind these things. Once you show your divine prowess on the battlefield, those people will naturally not dare. In my eyes, how could the Young General's value be compared to a mere few hundred warhorses? They are simply too short-sighted." Guan Changliang filled the empty wine bowl again.
He certainly wasn't foolish enough to speak up for those people; what he wanted wasn't for the boy to resolve his inner conflict, but for him to maintain this feeling of shared plight. To achieve this, he had to subtly reinforce the boy's sensitivity.
"I am wholeheartedly devoted to our state of Qi, but these past few days... to say I feel stifled, my heart truly feels uneasy..." Unknowingly, it had become Guan Changliang speaking and Qi Shuo listening.
Looking at the youth listening quietly, Guan Changliang felt very satisfied.
Looking at the traitor talking incessantly, Qi Shuo also felt very satisfied.
Over the next few days, whenever the two met in camp, they were able to exchange a few words.
Their relationship underwent a subtle change, unnoticed by others.
When Wu Ye led the army to attack again, he no longer refused Qi Shuo's request to enter the battlefield.
It was true that Wu Ye doted on his nephew, but by the standards of the Qi people, the braver a child was, the more promising their future; he could not let him become a little lamb. Now that his nephew had recovered his vitality, he naturally should go and kill the enemy.
As the horn of attack sounded, Qi Shuo raised his blade and charged straight toward a Great Zhou vice-general.
The vice-general also held a long blade; when the two blades clashed, they produced a loud ringing sound.
In the instant the two warhorses carried their respective masters past each other, a letter passed from Qi Shuo's hand to the Great Zhou vice-general's hand, undetected.
"Capture the brat Woli alive, and trade another seven hundred warhorses back!" Some Great Zhou soldier shouted, and immediately, many people surged toward Qi Shuo.
Wu Ye's expression changed drastically upon hearing this, and he shouted, "Woli, do not linger in battle, retreat!"
Qi Shuo was glad he didn't have to harm his own people and quickly spurred his horse away from the Zhou army, who looked at him with gleaming eyes as if he were a mountain of gold, his face a mask of aggrieved anger.
The slaughter ended, and many more fell forever; those who survived returned, dragging with them exhaustion and the scent of blood.
On the Great Zhou side, many soldiers expressed regret.
"We should have surrounded him from the start; it's a pity that brat escaped."
"Indeed, seven hundred warhorses!"
Prince Jing scolded them with a dark face: "How can you focus on shearing the wool from just one person? You must not do this in the future!"
If they sheared him bald only to find out it was his son, he'd be finished!
The Great Zhou generals knew this Prince had a decent temper, so someone ventured to say, "Your Highness, those were seven hundred warhorses!"
Prince Jing glared at him: "If it happened again, would that old dog Wu Ye still be willing to part with seven hundred horses? He'd be more likely to kill his nephew with his own hands!"
"I see..." The mid-to-low level generals felt some regret after hearing Prince Jing's words.
"Naturally, if I were in his position, I would do the same." Prince Jing's booming voice fooled the generals, but in his heart, he was filled with regret.
If it were really Woli, he would have personally led people to shear the wool—shear him, let him go, then shear him again...
After the crowd dispersed, the vice-general who had clashed with Qi Shuo quietly approached Prince Jing and presented a letter.
Prince Jing opened it, and his expression immediately became incredibly solemn.
Inside the letter was a map of the Qi army camp distribution, the shift change times and patrol route frequencies, as well as a plan to eliminate the traitor Guan Changliang.
The hand Prince Jing used to hold the letter tightened involuntarily.
Why was there another plan?
His first reaction was disapproval.
Eliminating Wu Ye was already a gamble within a gamble; one wrong step would cost a life, so how could he add an extra complication?
An extra complication—Prince Jing read the contents of the letter again, unable to control the temptation.
It seemed very promising!
When it came to hatred for Northern Qi, the people of Zhou could speak for three days and three nights, but there was something more hateful than the Qi army: the traitors who stabbed their own people in the back.
Toward such beasts, one truly wished to eat their flesh raw.
If they could kill Guan Changliang and then kill the old dog Wu Ye, perhaps they could secure a temporary ceasefire...
Prince Jing looked at the letter once more and let out a long sigh.
Even without these benefits, he had no choice but to cooperate; the time was already set in the letter, and even if he wanted to stop it, he had no way to send the message. Not cooperating would be more likely to cause trouble.
This kid really knows how to calculate.
Prince Jing complained, but the blood in his veins was boiling.
Then, let's take the gamble!
(End of Chapter)