After the New Year, the weather began its unhurried, punctual revival, and temperatures slowly rose. It was easy to imagine the thaw arriving within the first lunar month, when the Great River and Bohai would be filled with broken ice, and the fields soaked through with melted snow.
After that, naturally, preparations for plowing and spring sowing could begin, moving from south to north.
And measured by the spring plowing, Zhang Xing had already spent four full years in this world and was about to enter his fifth. Once summer arrived, his career as a rebel would enter its third year as well.
A scholar could rebel for three years and accomplish nothing; Zhang Xing's rebellion, by contrast, seemed to have progressed too quickly in three years.
It really was too fast.
Especially since he had become a rebel, life had always felt as though someone were pushing him along... According to his original plan, he should only recently have crossed the river, and might not even have fought his first battle yet. But now, the Righteous Army that had crossed the river had long since fought to establish a foothold, completed its reorganization, and was standing ready for a new trial.
But what could one say? Circumstances gave no quarter. Who was not being pushed along?
"Lord Feng." In the main hall of the General's Residence in Hejian Commandery's seat, Great Wei's Northern Hebei Campaign Commander, Xue Changxiong, seated at the head, glanced at the light streaming through the doorway and spoke with some unease to an old man in plain clothes seated before him. Fully armored, he shifted his feet, even scraping off a good deal of mud. "Circumstances give no quarter. Who isn't being pushed along? The roads are muddy, spring plowing is upon us-do I not