After the New Year, the weather began its unhurried revival, keeping to its appointed pace, and temperatures slowly rose. It was easy to imagine that the thaw would come during the first month, when the Great River and Bohai would be covered in shattered ice and the fields soaked through with melted snow.
Next, naturally, preparations for plowing and spring planting could begin, moving from south to north.
And measured by spring planting, Zhang Xing had already spent four full years in this world and was about to enter his fifth. Soon, when summer arrived, even his life as a rebel would enter its third year.
A scholar's rebellion accomplished nothing in three years; Zhang Xing's rebellion, by contrast, seemed to have progressed too quickly in three years.
It truly had been too quick.
His life after rebelling, especially, always gave him the feeling of being pushed along... Had things followed his original plan, he should only recently have crossed the river, perhaps not even fought his first battle yet. But now the Righteous Army that had crossed the river had long since fought its battle to establish a foothold, completed its reorganization, and stood ready for a new trial.
But what could one say? Circumstances waited for no one. Who was not being pushed along?
"Master Feng." In the main hall of the General’s Residence in Hejian Commandery's seat, Xue Changxiong, Great Wei's Northern Hebei Campaign Commander, sat in the foremost seat. He glanced at the light streaming through the entrance and spoke quietly, with some unease, to an old man in plain clothes seated before him. Fully armored, he shifted his feet, even scraping off a considerable amount of mud. "Circumstances wait for no one. Who isn't being pushed along? Do I not know the roads are muddy