Chapter 257.2: Hello Chang'an
Chapter 257.2: A Thousand Miles, Sharing the Same Wind (Part 2)
The dawn wind carried the lingering chill of the night. The camp’s banners, heavy with frost, fluttered faintly in the pale grey light.
The soldiers were already stirring awake. The sounds of horse hooves, armor clinking, and men calling to one another blended into a low, steady hum.
Yuan Xiang returned to the main tent, his boots dusted with frost. He lifted the tent flap and saluted.
“General,” he reported, “we found traces of disturbance along the northern road about ten li away. There were scattered arrows and marks of horse hooves. Judging by the signs, there had been a skirmish.”
Cui Jing’s expression darkened slightly. “Any remains of the messenger?”
Yuan Xiang shook his head. “None, General. But it seems the letter pouch was taken.”
Silence fell. The only sound came from the faint rustling of the tent’s curtain.
After a long pause, Cui Jing rose from his seat, his armor gleaming faintly under the dim morning light.
“Gather the captains,” he ordered. “We march within the hour.”
“Yes, General!” Yuan Xiang replied.
He turned and hurried out.
Cui Jing stood still for a moment, his gaze falling upon the folded letter lying atop the table. The edges of the paper trembled slightly under the draft, as though unwilling to remain still.
He reached out and pressed it flat, his fingers pausing on the name written at the end.
That familiar handwriting once again filled his sight.
For a brief instant, the heavy frost and the long campaign seemed to fade away, replaced by the tranquil scenery of Jiangnan—the river mist at dawn, the sound of oars cutting through water, and the soft laughter of a girl in white standing by the bridge.
It was an image buried deep in his memory, yet as vivid as yesterday.
Outside, Yuan Xiang’s voice came through the tent flap, announcing that the captains had assembled.
Cui Jing’s eyes moved, and he slowly rolled up the letter. He tucked it carefully inside the inner layer of his armor, close to his chest.
Then, without another word, he took up his sword and strode out into the cold light of morning.
The drums of assembly echoed across the plain. The horses stamped the ground, and rows of banners unfurled, their crimson edges catching the dawn sun.
Yuan Xiang mounted his horse and waited beside the General’s banner. When Cui Jing emerged, the men straightened in unison.
“Prepare to move!”
With that command, the column began to advance.
The sound of hooves thundered through the frost-laden air, stirring up clouds of white mist.
Cui Jing rode at the front, his cloak sweeping behind him, his eyes fixed toward the distant horizon—toward the unseen south.
That same wind that carried the scent of frost here in the northern plains would, by nightfall, sweep over the riverbanks of Jiangnan as well.
And perhaps, at that very moment, beneath the same sky, someone in that faraway land might look up and feel that wind brush past her face—just as he did now.
The world was vast, the distance uncountable. Yet the wind that crossed a thousand miles was the same.
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