After the New Year, the weather began its unhurried, punctual revival, and temperatures slowly rose. It was easy to imagine that the thaw would come within the first month, when the Great River and the Bohai Sea would be filled with shattered ice, and the fields soaked through with melted snow.
After that, naturally, people could begin preparing their plows for spring planting, working their way from south to north.
And by the reckoning of spring planting, Zhang Xing had already 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 success; Zhang Xing's rebellion, by contrast, seemed to have advanced too quickly in three years.
It really had been too fast.
Especially after he rebelled, life always felt as though someone were pushing him along... According to his original plan, he should only recently have crossed the river at this point, and might not even have fought his first battle. 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 a new trial.
But what could he say? Circumstances showed no mercy. Who wasn't 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 seat of honor. He glanced at the light streaming through the doorway and spoke quietly, with some unease, to an old man in plain clothes seated before him. Fully armored, he shifted his feet, scraping off a good deal of mud. "Circumstances show no mercy. Who isn't being pushed along? The roads are muddy, and