While Liu Acheng and Luo Zhaoren were enjoying a special meal of White Sheep with several Black-Clad Guard officers, the cooking smoke never stopped rising across the camp. The soldiers would be eating boiled wheat tonight and tomorrow morning, and the dry rations they carried into battle tomorrow would be wheat as well.
Clearly, some people simply could not share their soldiers' hardships and comforts. No wonder he was eighteen or nineteen and still could not command troops.
Of course, having filled his belly with White Sheep, Liu Cheng had something to say about that. My White Sheep came from the camp opposite. Doesn't eating it count as feeding off the enemy? Besides, their ordinary soldiers are probably eating boiled wheat too.
Much the same, really.
That said, Liu Acheng still made his customary round of the camp... Liu Aqian's banner had been assigned to Xue Zhen and was now attacking Qingni City, so that was that. But he would inevitably have to visit Gao Heng's banner with his lips still glistening with grease.
To be honest, the atmosphere was not particularly good.
Even a man like Huan Wen was somewhat unnerved by this business of rushing into a decisive battle the moment they entered the passes. Liu Cheng, just back from a bitter fight in the Central Plains, also found the scene before him unreal. How much more so must these men have felt?
But as their Chief Secretary, fellow townsman, and backer, he had no concrete comfort to offer. He could only sit there and shoot the breeze with them. He did not even dare ask whether they had any letters they wanted him to write.
Five hundred men-how many could he write letters for today? Would the rest feel unfairly treated? Would they then fail to sleep