Chapter Thirty-Two: Reflections in Tranquility

These past few days, Qin Cheng had been recuperating in the medical hall, spending his time either eating and sleeping, or sleeping and eating. If he was in the mood, he would wander around the medical hall with the boy Xiaolou, who held his medicine in a dog’s food bowl, taking in the scenery and breathing the fresh air. The days were leisurely and unhurried. This was the most relaxed period Qin Cheng had enjoyed since arriving in this era.

Through these days together, Xiaolou’s initial fear and wariness toward Qin Cheng had gradually faded. Perhaps he had realized that the man who beheaded the Huns’ Zuogu Duchou was, during his convalescence, just an ordinary person—a man who ate when hungry, slept when tired, and teased him for amusement. He was not some monster with three heads and six arms. If Xiaolou ever met Li Guang, whom he revered as a god, and saw that this great man was merely an eight-foot-tall figure with nothing out of the ordinary, he would understand that the ancient tales he’d heard as a child were mostly just fanciful stories meant to entertain children.

With little to occupy them, Qin Cheng would often amuse Xiaolou. In this age of limited information, the simplicity of a child's inner world amazed him. Occasionally, when the fancy struck, he would tell Xiaolou the fairy tales from his own childhood, making the boy’s eyes grow wide with wonder, utterly enthralled. Sometimes, he would use the demons and monsters from Journey to the West to frighten the boy, laughing heartily at Xiaolou’s pale face. Life had become simple and peaceful for Qin Cheng—less bloodshed, fewer plots and schemes.

The old physician, watching them enjoy each other’s company, would often smile to himself as he worked on Qin Cheng’s medicine. This elderly doctor, personally assigned to Qin Cheng by Li Guang, always bore an air of tranquility. Qin Cheng suspected this was due to the influence of contemporary Daoist and Huang-Lao philosophy, but did not dwell on it. In the early years of Emperor Wu’s reign, Confucianism had only just established its dominance, and had little influence among the common folk. Instead, the Huang-Lao school, adopted as national policy since the founding of the Han dynasty, held undisputed sway over people’s minds.

Half a month passed, and Qin Cheng’s injuries were largely healed. In his leisure, he could already perform a complete set of boxing forms.

One day, after practicing his boxing, Qin Cheng sat on a small mound of yellow earth, lost in thought.

“These days, just focus on your recovery here. If you feel better and wish to return home, you may do so. I heard your sister has been unwell and fell ill recently—you should go and look after her. Let Yue Yi accompany you; since your wounds aren’t fully healed, it’s good to have someone with you on the journey.” Li Guang had said these words a few days earlier when he came to visit. From the memories of this life, Qin Cheng knew that after major campaigns on the frontier, soldiers were given rotating leaves of absence. In the recent battle at Shanggu against the Xiongnu, the garrison had lost four to five thousand men. Such heavy losses meant that every survivor was eager to go home. Li Guang, always caring for his soldiers, made arrangements for them to return to their families. Most soldiers of the border commanderies were from military households stationed nearby, so the journey home was short. This boosted morale at little cost, and Li Guang was glad to do it.

When Ji Zhu and Yue Yi last visited, Qin Cheng had inquired about General Li Xi. Ji Zhu reported that during Li Guang’s battle with the Huns’ Left Virtuous King, General Li Xi had been harried by four or five thousand Hun cavalry. However, as their orders were only to distract and not destroy, Li Xi’s forces suffered no heavy losses, nor did they achieve any major victories. In short, Li Xi’s command had preserved half of Shanggu’s military strength. When Qin Cheng discussed this with Li Guang, he was asked for his opinion. He still wasn’t sure what standing he had in Li Guang’s eyes—how much weight his words carried—but he spoke frankly.

“For seventy years, our Han armies have fought the Huns, rarely scoring decisive victories and suffering defeat after defeat. At root, the problem is the speed of the Hun cavalry,” Qin Cheng said, choosing his words carefully to avoid modern military jargon. “The Hun cavalry, relying on their speed, roam our territory at will, as if there were no one to oppose them. Whenever we gather forces to confront them, they vanish without a trace. The only way for the Han army to truly repel their invasions is to build a cavalry force stronger than theirs—cavalry against cavalry, speed against speed, so their advantage is nullified. Only then can we suppress the Hun cavalry at its core! Thus, I believe that all the manpower lost in this campaign, across all branches, should be used to reinforce the cavalry. The other branches can be reorganized with their current numbers.”

Li Guang listened thoughtfully, and after a long silence, nodded, though he said little more. Qin Cheng understood that changing the composition of military forces involved endless complexities. If Li Guang truly intended to follow this advice, he would have much to consider. As a border commandery governor, he would first need imperial approval. Whether Li Guang would act on his suggestion, Qin Cheng could not say. Changing something so deeply rooted is never easy.

For the first time since coming to this era, Qin Cheng found himself with ample free time, allowing him to reflect on his past actions and plan his next moves. From before to after his passage through time, his environment changed but his personal creed remained. Before his journey through time, Qin Cheng had been forced to run away while still in high school, always on the run from the authorities while struggling to survive. He wandered across half the country before finally establishing himself in an underground boxing ring in a border city. From his first illegal fight, his life knew no peace. After four years in the ring, a down-and-out crime boss took notice of him, and Qin Cheng followed him in a bloody resurgence. On that thorny, blood-soaked path, he danced too often on the edge of life and death. In his view, as long as one lives, one must relentlessly pursue their desires. Death could come at any moment, and before it did, he must never pause—if not to make his life legendary, then at least to live it passionately. Though fate had now brought him two thousand years into the past, his calculations and plans continued.

Lost in such thoughts, Qin Cheng did not come back to himself until Xiaolou came to call him for breakfast.

After the meal, Qin Cheng was considering asking Xiaolou to show him around the city—after all, since his arrival in this era, he had not properly set foot in the town—when Yue Yi burst into the room.

“Qin Cheng, come outside with me! Guess who’s here?” Yue Yi didn’t care that Qin Cheng was still recovering; he grabbed him and hurried him outside.

“Who?”

“Guess.”

…

Stepping out of the medical hall, Qin Cheng heard Yue Yi’s mischievous laughter and saw, standing before the entrance, a young man and woman gazing at him. The young man, seventeen or eighteen, wore the coarse black hemp robe typical of apprentices. The oversized garment hung from his lean frame like a cloak. He had a delicate face with pronounced cheekbones and brows arched like distant green hills, but his small, bright eyes sparkled with cleverness; he immediately gave the impression of quick-wittedness.

From the memories of this life, Qin Cheng knew this was Nangong Shang, one of his two closest friends.

Beside Nangong Shang stood a young woman, graceful and slender, about his age. Her shapely figure exuded a gentle elegance, the blue cloth skirt accentuating her slim waist. Clean clothes matched her fair complexion and delicate features, inspiring a respect that brooked no insolence.

This young woman was Linglong, the fiancée betrothed to Qin Cheng since childhood, who had not yet become his wife!