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The Governor-General of Xia Province had come in person, escorting the very thing every soldier in camp dreamed about—food. Naturally, the frontier troops turned out to welcome him.
The two sides exchanged formal greetings first, trading polite phrases with broad smiles, as if they were old friends reunited rather than meeting for the first time.
In truth, the fate of Xia Province hinged on Zhao Pan.
And whether the northern front could keep fighting now depended on whether Governor-General He could keep sending grain.
Each side relied on the other. That alone meant their relationship was destined to be close from the start.
Zhao Pan looked like he had stepped straight out of a commoner’s ideal of a grand general. He had broad shoulders, a burly frame, thick eyebrows and beard, and a face full of straightforward boldness. When he laughed, the sound boomed like thunder and seemed loud enough to shake the saplings at his elbow.
Once the grain had been handed over, the frontier army would take over from here.
At last, He Chunhua’s convoy could rest.
Zhao Pan hooked an arm through his and pulled him toward the main camp. “Come, come, I’ll give you a welcome feast.”
By the time they entered the command tent, it was already early in the hour of the monkey, which was around three in the afternoon. Five men sat inside, with Zhao Pan and a deputy general...
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