"So, what are you trying to say?"
"Nothing. Next time My lord goes out, I should accompany him."
"You think if I go with My lord, it will..."
"Bring bad luck." For origınal chapters go to 𝗻𝗼𝘷𝗲𝗹•𝓯𝓲𝓻𝓮•𝕟𝕖𝕥
Blind Bei didn’t dwell on this matter. Instead, he said, "That young fellow from the Zuo Family is here too."
"Well, My lord brought him back. No commanders dared to take him."
"This Zuo Jiqian, it seems like ever since he got acquainted with our lord, he’s been having bad luck."
"But eventually, he ended up in our fortress, didn’t he?"
"Blind man, your way of thinking is really hard to resonate with."
"In one’s life, it’s quite possible to take ninety-nine wrong steps, but if you take just one right step, the whole scenario and structure will be completely different."
"Alright then," A Ming conceded. "It’s up to him if he can seize the opportunity."
"You continue to watch. I’ll go and lie down for a while. When you’re ready to lay your cards on the table after My lord has rested, call me."
"In the icehouse behind the cellar’s hidden door, there’s the blood of a fleeing convict killed the day before yesterday."
With so many convicts being sent to Yinlang County, it was hard to guarantee that a few wouldn’t try to escape.
"Tsk, how particular," A Ming said, very satisfied.
"Go on." Blind Bei waved his hand as if swatting a fly.
Out of respect for the chilled fresh blood and for caring for the disabled, A Ming didn’t hold a grudge against Blind Bei and turned around, walking into the fortress.
The people who had finished their meal were led by Xiao Yibo and his men into a hall in the barracks specifically for bathing.
These were indeed high-quality individuals. Most were pleased and even enthusiastic at the sight of a bath, and quite proactive about it.
Xiao Yibo inwardly mused, Truly the scions of our Great Yan’s prestigious families. They understand hygiene much better than those desert savages.
But what exactly is ’hygiene’? I don’t really know, he admitted to himself. I’ve only heard the word from a few of the masters, but I can generally grasp what it implies.
Once the bathhouse was so crowded people were pressed chest to back and had begun to wash, Xiao Yibo, leading his subordinates, started excitedly tossing soap in. "Three people share one bar! Make sure you all wash thoroughly!" he bellowed.
The men bathing inside were stunned when they picked up the soap.
They naturally knew what it was; their families had used it before. But they were also aware of how expensive this stuff was. How could Green Willow Fortress possibly throw in so much soap for convicts like us to bathe with?
In the distance, Xue Three and Liang Cheng stood together.
"These people can’t be fooled like the Barbarians," Xue Three remarked.
Barbarians were cruel and violent, like hungry wolves, but their worldview was quite simple. Others might be afraid to dance with wolves, but in the eyes of the demon lords, Barbarian soldiers seemed like extremely innocent darlings.
"But these men," Xue Three continued, "are all from prestigious families. They’re intelligent, experienced, and harbor resentment. How should we handle them?"
"The methods may be different, but the result will be the same," Liang Cheng said.
"No demonstration of power tonight?"
"Tsk..." Xue Three sounded a bit disappointed. He had thought he might get to carve another skull wine bowl tonight. He always felt he was an artist whose career as an assassin had tragically sidetracked him.
"My lord, would you like some more hot water?"
"No, the water temperature is just right."
"It’s gotten a little lukewarm, though."
"My lord, let this slave scrub your back."
"No need, Siniang. You’re tired too. Go and rest."
Siniang left Zheng Fan’s room.
Inside, Zheng Fan sat alone in the bathtub, slowly closing his eyes.
Every time he returned from a long journey, he especially enjoyed the sensation of soaking in a bath. Even in his previous life, he liked to fill the not-so-large bathtub at home and immerse himself completely.
Psychologically speaking, many people enjoy this because it allows them to recapture the feeling of being in the womb, thus gaining a profound sense of inner security.
DRIP. DRIP. DRIP. DRIP.
The wet, sticky dripping sound was not crisp.
Feeling a little drowsy, Zheng Fan opened his eyes to find himself lying on a table. Around the table, countless people were laughing and making a commotion, wine glasses in hand, their faces alight with excitement and anticipation.
However, despite the apparent revelry, no sound reached him. Besides that persistent dripping in his ears, there was nothing else. This rendered the scene eerily silent.
Moreover, the people’s faces were subtly, intentionally elongated, creating an effect similar to viewing them through a convex lens.
As a former comic creator, I naturally understand this technique, Zheng Fan thought. I often used it myself. Stretching faces slightly, combined with the plot and subtle hints, can significantly enhance the visual impact of a scene.
Zheng Fan sat up, crossing his hands over his knees.
This has to be a dream. I’m dreaming. The scene... it feels vaguely familiar. This is... the Elegant Garden!
Zheng Fan lifted his head and looked upward.
Hanging from a ceiling beam above was a small baby.
The baby’s face bore a pure, innocent smile.
A rope was tied around the baby’s legs, so it hung upside down, facing Zheng Fan. Blood dripped continuously from its body—the only sound in the otherwise silent room.
"Mo Wan?" Zheng Fan called out.
Slowly, the baby began to descend, its face drawing ever closer to his.