The Great Song Dynasty's Soul-Forging in Progress

Di Qing raised an eyebrow: "Speak."

"This humble subject dares to beg the General... to live." Wang Zhonghua raised his head, his gaze intense. "Live well, live longer and longer than those who wish to harm you. Western Xia has not yet been destroyed, the Northwest is not yet pacified, and the Great Song needs you, General. If you were to harm your health due to a moment of anger, that would be a tragedy for your loved ones and a delight for your enemies!"

Di Qing was stunned. He had thought the young man wanted to ask for an official position, for merit, or for protection, but he never expected him to say something like this.

live.

These three words had never been uttered to him since his exile to Chenzhou. His former comrades avoided him like the plague; his friends at court remained silent in fear; and those who had kicked him while he was down wished him dead. Only this young man, whom he had met by chance, knelt before him and, in the simplest of words, expressed his most sincere hopes.

Di Qing's eyes even started to sting slightly.

He turned away from the boy, afraid that the boy would see his expression.

"Live on"—how ridiculous, yet how weighty. He, Di Qing, had survived countless brushes with death on the battlefield, his face still bearing marks, his wounds still there, had never feared death. But tonight, this young man's words made his heart tremble more than a thousand troops.

He recalled these past days, sitting alone in the Chenzhou government office, facing a solitary lamp every night, watching the candlelight flicker as if watching his own precarious fate. He thought that if one day those people really wanted to harm him, he would simply grant their wish—after all, his passionate heart had long since cooled.

But the boy said: Live on.

Not for fame or fortune, but simply to live. For the untamed northwestern mountains and rivers, for the soldiers still guarding the border, and for—for those burning eyes gazing at him.

He suddenly remembered that when he was just a lowly soldier with his face tattooed, he had looked at Han Qi and Fan Zhongyan in the same way, hoping that someone would see him. Now, it was his turn to be looked at in the same way.

Di Qing slowly clenched his fist. The pain from his palm was real and burning.

Okay. Then live. Live for those who wish him dead, and live for—this boy before me.

He stood up, walked to Wang Zhonghua, and personally helped him up, saying in a deep voice, "Fine. Just for those words, I promise you—I will live well. Not only live, but live a life of honor, so that those who wish for my death will open their eyes and see clearly!"

He paused, then suddenly laughed, a laugh tinged with a long-lost sense of pride and relief: "Wang Zhonghua, you young man, are a hundred times better than those pedantic scholars who only know classical Chinese!"

Wang Zhonghua smiled too. He knew that he had at least snatched half of Di Qing's life back. The other half depended on himself, on the land of Chenzhou, on the support he, Wang Zhonghua, could provide, and on the future developments.

"General, you flatter me." Wang Zhonghua cupped his hands in greeting. "I am but a humble soup vendor, and I only know one principle—good people live, and bad people die. Whether you are a good person or a bad person, General, I know it in my heart."

Di Qing laughed heartily, his laughter echoing in the tent and causing the candlelight to flicker. Qin Tiedan stood to the side, his tense body finally relaxing, and a smile appeared on his lips.

"Wang Zhonghua," Di Qing spoke slowly, each word carrying immense weight, "who exactly are you? As far as I know, you come from Wangjiagang, your parents are ordinary farmers, and you yourself only attended a village school for a few years. Your knowledge, your composure, your 'Drunken Eight Immortals' brewing method, your methods of dealing with 'Hidden Arrows'... are far beyond what a mere farm boy could possess!"

His gaze was sharp as a knife, as if trying to dissect Wang Zhonghua from the inside out: "Among the many strategists under my command, very few can see through the situation and pinpoint the core issues like you! Who... is your teacher?"

It's finally here! Wang Zhonghua felt a chill run down his spine, knowing this was the most crucial moment. He took a deep breath, his face displaying just the right amount of bewilderment and a hint of grievance at being questioned.

"General," he said with a wry smile, "I am Wang Zhonghua, a native of Wangjiagang. If there is anything different about me... perhaps it is that I have always been fond of wild thoughts since childhood, and I would devour a few tattered and miscellaneous books. Some time ago, I accidentally fell into the water and almost lost my life. When I woke up, I felt that my mind was much clearer. Things that I couldn't understand before now seemed to become clear. As for 'Drunken Eight Immortals,' it was just a modified version of a recipe from the previous dynasty that I obtained by chance. As for dealing with 'Hidden Arrows,' it was just some clumsy method I came up with in a fit of anger when I saw my fellow villagers being bullied. I hope you will forgive my foolishness, General."

He attributes everything to "talent," "miscellaneous books," and "enlightenment through drowning," which is currently the most reasonable and unfalsifiable explanation.

Di Qing frowned, clearly not entirely satisfied with the explanation, but looking at Wang Zhonghua's increasingly robust physique, dark complexion, full face, and clear, frank eyes, he couldn't find any flaws.

He had also heard about how the person's personality changed drastically and how he suddenly became intelligent after falling into the water.

Is this child's skill truly a gift from heaven? Why does his face seem so familiar? Could it be that I've seen him in the capital before...?

He pondered for a long time before sighing, "Perhaps it truly is the will of Heaven that has produced such a genius in our Great Song Dynasty." He didn't press further, but instead asked, "You didn't come here today just to deliver this account book, did you?"

Wang Zhonghua knew he had passed the first hurdle. He said solemnly, "General, you are wise. The Prefect of Chenzhou seems to have misunderstood me and has hindered me in many ways. I am but a humble person with little influence, and only by relying on your might can I have a foothold in Chenzhou and continue to do practical things for my hometown. I have no other skills but some business acumen, and I am willing to offer a portion of the profits from 'Drunken Eight Immortals' to the court for military use, in a small way."

This is a blatant case of vested interests and seeking protection.

Di Qing looked at Wang Zhonghua with a deep gaze. This young man not only possessed extraordinary talent, but also the courage and skill to match it. He lacked money, but even more so, he lacked a foothold to break Chen Shimei's blockade in the local area. And Wang Zhonghua seemed to be precisely that foothold sent by heaven.

"Your 'Drunken Eight Immortals' is indeed an excellent product for keeping warm and boosting morale in the army," Di Qing said slowly. "As for Prefect Chen... although I hold a sinecure, my words still carry some weight in Chenzhou."

He didn't make any explicit promises, but his attitude was clear.

Wang Zhonghua felt relieved, knowing that he had achieved his goal. He then chatted with Di Qing about the customs and military formations of the Northwest. Occasionally, he revealed some insights that were ahead of their time, which made Di Qing's eyes light up with wonder, his doubts deepened, and his appreciation grew even stronger.

When Wang Zhonghua and Qin Tiedan took their leave of the main tent, it was already late at night.

Di Qing stood alone outside the tent, watching the two figures disappear into the distance, especially Wang Zhonghua's increasingly robust figure, though still somewhat thin. He whispered to the commander of his personal guards beside him, "Investigate, investigate thoroughly! I need to know every detail before and after he fell into the water, what books he read, and who he came into contact with! This boy... is no ordinary person!"

He looked up towards Bianjing in the north, his gaze distant. Your Majesty, if this Wang Zhonghua is truly a prodigy sent from heaven, then was it a coincidence that you "sent" him to me, a banished general, or that you sent me to her, or... a move you had already made in your game?

A night breeze swept across the desolate Zhanghuatai camp, carrying a chill that seemed to foreshadow an impending storm. Di Qing knew that the waters of Chenzhou had begun to stir because of Wang Zhonghua's arrival. And the emperor far away in Bianjing had probably already turned his gaze to this land he had once fought on and was now besieged in, and to that suddenly appearing peasant boy.

For the first time, Wang Zhonghua's name entered the periphery of the empire's highest ruler in this way, quietly unveiling a corner of the prelude to the upcoming "turmoil in Beijing".

That night, they confided in each other in the military tent, and heroes cherished one another.

Years later, when Di Qing once again galloped across the battlefield, launching a northern expedition against the Western Xia, he often thought of that night in Chenzhou, of that young man with clear eyes and words that pierced the heart, and of that simple yet powerful statement—

live.

When Wang Zhonghua took his leave, it was already late at night. Di Qing personally escorted him to the tent entrance, watching his figure disappear into the night, and stood there for a long time.

"Interesting," he murmured to himself. "Really interesting."

As Wang Zhonghua walked back, gazing at the starry sky, an unprecedented surge of pride welled up within him. He had altered Di Qing's fate by a hair's breadth; he had shifted a gear in this era. Next, there was Shen Kuo, glass, iron smelting, and firearms…

Oh right, there are also Bi Sheng, Su Song, Ouyang Xiu, Bao Zheng... there are so many historical figures I haven't seen yet.

Alright then, the road ahead is long and arduous, but I will persevere in my pursuit.

Unbeknownst to him, Di Qing, sitting back down at his desk inside the tent, was gradually overwhelmed by a profound sense of shock and bewilderment.