Chapter 357: Chapter 347: Meeting on the Battlefield
Fang Chuning regretted bringing up these matters. The warm couch and the bed were separated only by a folding screen, and he could only see Xie Jue’s shadow through the screen. His emotions were deeply conflicted.
Fever had ravaged him, leaving his mind in a haze, and he drifted off, unable to endure the discomfort. In his heavy sleep, it seemed that someone approached him and touched his cheek. Fang Chuning, utterly exhausted, fell into a dazed and disoriented slumber. His fevered, burning-hot face pressed against a cool hand, bringing him some semblance of relief.
In the deep of night, his fever subsided, yet his coughing intensified. Half-asleep and half-awake, he began to ramble incoherently. It seemed he dreamed of Xie Jue, calling his name over and over, giggling foolishly as he did so.
Xie Jue sat at the bedside, twisting a towel to wipe his sweat, unable to suppress a chuckle. "Fool!"
It was fortunate the high fever had receded; otherwise, there was genuine concern it would harm his mind. There was a twelve-year-old boy living near the Marquis Zhenbei Mansion who had suffered brain damage due to a prolonged high fever, becoming simple-minded and dull. The boy had been performing well in his studies at the Imperial College before catching a cold that ruined his life. Since that incident, the Marchioness and the two concubines had repeatedly admonished their three children to take colds seriously.
When Fang Chuning woke, his fever had broken, but his throat ached more than ever and the coughing persisted. The deputy general had already gone to the camp to request leave for him. General Chen Ming had been tirelessly sending men to search for Xie Jue, but there were currently no pressing matters. Fang Chuning was relieved to remain at home to keep an eye on Xie Jue, lest he throw himself into reckless ventures again.
After an unpleasant conversation, the two intuitively agreed not to bring it up again, as though the disagreement had never occurred. The cold war dissolved naturally, yet Fang Chuning was still unhappy. When the physician came to examine him, he stubbornly grabbed the physician to have a look at Xie Jue’s eyes.
The physician awkwardly said, "I am merely a humble doctor, not skilled in such specialties."
His expertise was in treating colds, not ailments of the eye.
"Isn’t medicine supposed to be interconnected?"
The physician remained silent, visibly uncomfortable.
Xie Jue intervened, "Don’t trouble the physician."
"From what I see, Master’s vital energy seems fine. The redness in the whites of his eyes is likely due to fatigue. He must take proper care of his eyes and avoid using them after sunset." The physician could prescribe no treatment, for specialists in Ningzhou handled such cases. Xie Jue didn’t allow the physician to linger unnecessarily.
Fang Chuning stated firmly, "After dark, no using your eyes, understood?"
"I didn’t hear you."
Fang Chuning retorted, "Keep that up and you’ll be blind in a few years."
Though his words were merely intended to scare him, Fang Chuning couldn’t help but feel distressed.
Silence ensued.
Xie Jue didn’t argue further. It was unlikely he could refrain from using his eyes after nightfall, given his workload. His time in Zhongzhou was the most leisurely he’d had in ages; back in Ningzhou, he worked relentlessly, wishing there were more hours in a day.
After a day and night of torrential rain, the storm finally ceased.
Wrapped in his cloak, Fang Chuning sat on the warm couch and played chess with Xie Jue. Both knew that the moment of separation was near, yet with countless emotions bottled up, they found no words to say and chose silence instead.
Fang Chuning could not leave Zhongzhou unless summoned by formal decree.
Xie Jue would not come to Zhongzhou unless absolutely necessary. If they wished to meet again, the battlefield might be their only chance.
"Winter has arrived," Fang Chuning remarked. "How will the Twelve Provinces fare? The grain you bought in Zhongzhou is just a drop in the ocean, and Salt City has been stockpiling provisions since July, yet it likely won’t suffice. Aside from Jinzhou, only West Continent can sustain itself. What of the other cities?"
"We’ll have to ration carefully," Xie Jue replied, "I’ll think of something."
"Grain cannot be conjured out of thin air. If there isn’t enough, there just isn’t enough," Fang Chuning countered. "Did Miss Feng San procure any for you? You don’t seem the least bit worried."
"The rainy season hindered harvesting in Jiangnan, so there isn’t much surplus there either," Xie Jue said. "Though Jinzhou has some reserves, it isn’t abundant. We’ll have to take things step by step; it’s true, I can’t summon grain out of nowhere."
A clever housewife can’t cook without rice!
"The wars between Beiman and Yanyang are fundamentally caused by the harsh, prolonged winters and dire living conditions in the north, driving them to plunder Yanyang’s resources. Even within Yanyang territory, it’s the same. Every winter, Beiman people migrate south, and in spring and summer, they return north. The fertile lands in the south provide prosperity; as long as there are no natural disasters or political unrest, survival isn’t an issue. But the north is different. That’s why every year, the south has to send grain northward—if the populace cannot eat or stay warm, chaos and banditry are inevitable. Just like the rampant banditry before the Twelve Provinces unified to suppress them. Ting Feng, a starving populace is impossible to control."
"I know!" Xie Jue placed a chess piece. "Don’t worry."
Fang Chuning wondered to himself, was Ting Feng so confident because he had secured enough grain? Yet all the grain in the world had a limit; how could it magically appear to feed millions through winter?
"Ting Feng..."
"You hope I’ll agree to my cousin’s terms, defend Ningzhou with Xie Xun, and avoid civil war, don’t you?" Xie Jue glanced up at him.
Fang Chuning shook his head. "What I think isn’t important. Do what you want to do. I know you too well—once you’ve made up your mind, no one can dissuade you."
"If you don’t try, how can you know it won’t work?"
Fang Chuning stared at the chessboard, then placed a piece. "I don’t want to try."
The idea was fundamentally against his conscience—what was the point in testing it?
Xie Jue chuckled softly. The physician prepared a mild, throat-soothing tonic for Fang Chuning, and Xie Jue drank some as well. Its light taste slid coolly down his throat, bringing refreshing relief.
"One day, we’ll meet again on the battlefield," Xie Jue said, lifting his gaze to Fang Chuning. For the first time, he spoke plainly of their opposing identities.
No matter how close they were as children, nor how deep their bond ran.
Their paths could no longer return to what they once were.
A bittersweet ache filled Fang Chuning’s heart. Ting Feng had mentioned his hatred for every member of the Yuwen family—what else was left for him to understand? Yet no matter how clearly he understood, the pain lingered. "I know."