After nightfall, Yan Shun came to the camp to request an audience with Yang Zhengshan.
Seeing Yang Zhengshan again, his emotions had steadied a great deal. Though he still could not be certain of Yang Zhengshan's identity, the performance of the soldiers under Yang Zhengshan's command just now had already set his mind at ease.
Everything had been so orderly, without a single person harassing the military households under his governance. On this point alone, Yan Shun felt Yang Zhengshan ought to be an upright man.
A somewhat dim candle burned inside the tent. Yang Zhengshan sat behind a desk, writing and sketching.
When Yan Shun came in, he did not even lift his head, merely saying, "Sit first. Wait for me a moment!"
"Yes!"
Yan Shun sat somewhat stiffly on the bench beside him. Yang Zhengshan wrote for quite a while before setting down his brush, then picked up the tea that had already gone cold and took a sip.
"Ah, I can tell the situation on your side isn't very good!" He sighed softly.
Yan Shun's thoughts spun through a hundred turns, and he said, "This subordinate has disappointed you, my lord!"
Yang Zhengshan waved his hand. "No need for those empty phrases. First, tell me about the situation in this thousand-man commandery!"
Yan Shun hesitated a little. The state of the thousand-man commandery could be seen at a glance, but to speak of the poverty under his own governance before his direct superior—was that not slapping his own face?
Fine, it seemed he did not have much face to speak of anyway!
"Speak!" Yang Zhengshan's brows furrowed as he raised his eyes and looked at him with displeasure.
Yan Shun trembled all over and hurriedly said, "Replying to my lord, our thousand-man commandery currently has three hundred