Liu Ruyan walked over and reached out to touch her forehead. "It's not hot, why are you wearing so many layers?"
Su Yao shook her head and removed her hand. "It's nothing, I've just been feeling a bit cold these past few days."
Liu Ruyan didn't withdraw her hand; instead, she sat down next to her and carefully examined her.
"You didn't look well either. When the kitchen brought over the fish soup this morning, you frowned after just one sniff and didn't even touch your chopsticks."
Su Yao was taken aback.
She's definitely been acting strange lately; she's sensitive to cooking fumes and fishy smells. The smell makes her chest feel tight, and sometimes she experiences bouts of fever.
After a while, I started shivering from the cold again. After walking a few steps, I felt palpitations and shortness of breath. I also had a faint feeling of heaviness in my lower abdomen, like my period was about to start, but when I checked the dates, it didn't seem right.
"They're probably worried about Gu Moran. They wonder how this battle will turn out?"
Xie Wanqing put down her pen, looked up at her, then at her hand resting on her lower abdomen, and suddenly chuckled.
" Sister Su, do we need to worry about our Prince?"
Liu Ruyan then smiled.
"You should still worry about whether he'll bring back a few of his sisters this time."
"Everything else is a joke. I think you wouldn't happen to be pregnant, would you?"
Su Yao's fingers stiffened.
"What nonsense are you talking about?"
Xie Wanqing covered her mouth.
"Congratulations, Sister Su! The Prince will be ecstatic when he finds out."
Su Yao blushed, recalling the night before Gu Moran left.
"Stop talking nonsense, it's not even true yet!"
The wind was strong at the Dengzhou dock, and the salty, fishy steam carrying the smell of rust hit us in the face.
Murong Xue squatted in front of the weapon rack, her thumb tracing the blade from the base to the tip. Her face darkened when she reached the third blade.
"You dare bring this knife onto the ship?"
She slammed the knife to the ground, blade facing upwards, the rusty part standing out starkly in the sunlight.
The guerrilla battalion's squad leader shrank back, his lips moved twice, but he didn't dare to utter a sound.
Murong Xue stood up and kicked the weapon rack beside her feet. The rack wobbled, and the dozen or so swords on it clanged.
"Can't you understand what I'm saying, or is your ears filled with seawater?"
Before setting out on a campaign, all weapons must be tested with an oilstone; those with rust spots must be melted down and reforged.
Whoever owns the knife is responsible. If I see this kind of scum again, I'll throw him and the knife into the sea to feed the fish.
The sergeant knelt down with a thud, and several soldiers beside him also lowered themselves by half a head, hurriedly moving the knife to the whetstone.
Murong Xue ignored them, turned and walked to the next shelf. She picked up a long spear and weighed it in her hand. The brass ferrule at the shaft joint was loose. She twisted it a couple of times but couldn't tighten it. She turned and shouted behind her, "Call the blacksmith over! Re-rive all the ferrules!"
After shouting, she wiped the sweat from her forehead and glanced towards the east side of the dock.
More than a hundred warships were moored along the stone base, their newly installed cantilevered wings folded up on both sides, resembling two rows of folded iron wings.
The repeating crossbows on the deck were already secured, and the loader was squatting by the crossbow slots, carefully stuffing in short arrows with detonators, as if afraid that a slight tremor would blow him up.
The waterline of the third ship has sunk another half inch since yesterday, and the grain and fresh water barrels are still being moved up.
Murong Xue stared at the waterline for a few moments, then turned to her personal guard and said, "Go tell Miss Zhen that the third ship is drafting too deep."
The guards immediately ran away.
Along the coastline, Yun Shuyue's hoofprints stretched from north to south, winding and turning three times, with the furthest stretch reaching a group of reefs five miles away before turning back.
When she dismounted, her legs were already trembling slightly, and her boots were half-filled with sand, making each step a painful jolt to the soles of her feet.
Then he squatted on the beach and drew lines in the wet sand with his finger.
First, I drew the general direction of the coastline, and then I poked three holes at three locations.
"Here, here, and here."
She muttered to herself, took out a piece of charcoal from her waist, marked the three pits, and wrote a few words crookedly next to them. Some of the words were written backwards, so she thought for a moment, erased them, and rewrote them.
After finishing the drawing, she lay on the beach and looked at it from left to right. She felt that something was not quite right, so she drew an extra curve at the northernmost point to indicate that there was a recessed bay there.
It took a full half hour to draw the simple topographical map on the beach. Although it was as rough as a child's doodle, it marked the necessary reefs, shallows, and tide lines.
She carefully traced the topographical map onto a piece of cloth, rolled it up, stuffed it into her bosom, and ran barefoot back to the camp, carrying her boots.
Lin Qingdai was wiping her sword inside a side tent.
Yun Shuyue lifted the curtain and rushed in, almost tripping over the threshold. She slammed the cloth in her hand onto the table. "Sister, look! This is what I drew!"
Lin Qingdai put down her sword, walked to the table, and unfolded and flattened the cloth.
His gaze swept over the three marked points.
Which is the safest option?
Yun Shuyue pointed to the northernmost bay. "Here, the water is deep enough, there are few reefs, and the mudflats are flat; cavalry can charge straight up there."
She paused, then moved her finger south. "But it's a detour, adding an extra hour to the journey."
Lin Qingdai stared at that spot for a few moments, traced the curve of the coastline with her finger, and finally lightly touched the bay.
"This is it."
Yun Shuyue blinked: "But if it wastes time—"
"Half a day more travel time, a hundred fewer deaths." Lin Qingdai rolled up the cloth. "Go and deliver this to the Prince, and while you're at it, tell General Pu that the vanguard landing point has been changed to the north."
Yun Shuyue took the cloth, put on her boots, and ran out.
Lin Qingdai picked up the sword again and wiped the blade with a soft cloth.
Half of her face was reflected in the sword's blade, her expression filled with a longing for war.
Gu Moli took a walk around the camp.
She looked at the warships on the dock, the soldiers training on the drill ground, and the lively scene of Zhen Meili arguing with a shirtless blacksmith in the workshop.
As they approached the main tent, their pace slowed.
Gu Moran stood at the entrance of the tent, a large map spread out on a wooden shelf in front of him. He pressed his finger on the sea area between Dengzhou and Incheon, and with his other hand, he drew arrows on it with a charcoal pencil.
The wind blew up the edges of the map, and he weighed it down with a teacup.
Gu Moli stood there for a while, then walked over.
"Royal brother."
Gu Moran didn't even look up, just grunted in response.
Gu Moli gripped her sleeve tightly, her nails digging into her palms through the fabric. Her lips opened and closed again, as if she had swallowed back the words that were about to come out, reorganized them, and then spoke.
" Kim Seon-a, what are your true feelings for her?"
Gu Moran stopped drawing the arrow.
The charcoal pencil left a black dot on the map.
He turned his head to look at her.
"What's the meaning?"
Gu Moli met his gaze without looking away.
"Brother, I'm asking what's on your mind."