After the New Year, the weather began its unhurried, punctual recovery, and temperatures slowly rose. It seemed likely that the thaw would come during the first month, when the Great River and the Bohai Sea would be covered in shattered ice, and the fields saturated with melted snow.
Then, naturally, preparations for plowing and spring planting could begin, moving from south to north.
And reckoned by spring planting, Zhang Xing had now spent four full years in this world and was about to enter his fifth. Soon, when summer came, even his career as a rebel would enter its third year.
A scholar could rebel for three years without accomplishing anything; Zhang Xing's rebellion, by contrast, seemed to have progressed too quickly in three years.
It really had been too fast.
Especially life after the rebellion began-it always felt as though someone were pushing him along... According to his original plans, 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 its foothold, completed its reorganization, and stood ready for its next trial.
But what could one say? Circumstances spared no one. Who wasn't being pushed along?
"Lord 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 principal seat. He glanced at the light streaming through the doorway and spoke in a low, somewhat uneasy voice to an elderly man in plain clothing seated before him. Fully armored, he shifted his feet, scraping off considerable mud. "Circumstances spare no one. Who isn't being pushed along? Do I not know the roads are muddy and spring planting is imminent? Do I not