The Great Song Dynasty's Soul-Forging in Progress

Wang Zhonghua, with his keen hearing, overheard a few words of conversation among the villagers, which only fueled his disgust for Chen Shimei. This Chen Shimei was indeed a manipulative, hypocritical scoundrel! His apparent attempt to extricate himself from the predicament today had, in reality, brought the Wang family, especially Qin Tiehua, even closer under his scrutiny.

Hmph, this "favor" is probably not easy to repay.

Wang Zhonghua glanced at Qin Tiehua, who was busy at work, and a strong sense of responsibility welled up in his heart: Chen Shimei, don't mess with me. Although I am a poor boy, if you offend me, I will ruin your reputation!

As the sun rose higher and it approached noon, the queue of people slowed down slightly. Wang Zhonghua had just caught his breath and wiped the sweat from his brow when he saw a group of people leading horses slowly approaching from the direction of the ferry.

The leader was tall and imposing, dressed in a faded blue robe that couldn't conceal his commanding presence. He appeared to be in his forties or fifties, with a sharply defined face and a weathered bronze complexion. His arched eyebrows slanted sharply towards his temples, and his eyes were deep and calm, like a still, deep well, occasionally flashing with a glint of lightning, carrying the stern authority of someone long accustomed to power and decisive in action. However, a faint tattoo on his forehead accentuated a deep-seated melancholy and weariness in his expression, and his tightly pursed lips revealed a stubbornness and a sense of desolation.

The attendants behind him, though dressed as ordinary servants, all had sharp eyes, steady steps, and slightly bulging temples, clearly indicating that they were all highly skilled. At this moment, however, they all looked travel-worn, their expressions suppressing resentment and indignation.

As the group approached the shop, the tall man at the head of the group stopped. His deep gaze swept over the signboard of "Wang Family Spicy Soup," and he sniffed the unique aroma lingering in the air. A hint of surprise flashed in his eyes.

"This soup is spicy and fragrant... quite unique and domineering, unlike anything I've ever heard of before." His voice was deep, slightly hoarse, and carried a hint of metallic intensity.

One of his attendants immediately stepped forward, cupped his hands in greeting to Wang Zhuacai, and said, "Old man, could you sell us a few bowls of soup? And some dry rations as well?"

Seeing that this man possessed an extraordinary air, Wang Zhuacai dared not be negligent and quickly replied, "Yes, yes, yes! Plenty of soup! And ready-made steamed buns as dry rations!"

The tall man nodded slightly, paused for a moment upon seeing Wang Zhuacai, and then looked thoughtful. He then found an empty table to sit down, his posture still upright as a pine tree. His attendants stood on either side of him, their eyes scanning the surroundings warily.

Wang Zhonghua's heart stirred. The demeanor of this group of people was completely out of place with the bustling atmosphere of Longsheng Ferry. Especially the leader, although down on his luck, could not hide the imposing aura that once commanded thousands of troops. He personally served several bowls of hearty and flavorful spicy soup, and then had Qin Tiehua bring over a plate of freshly baked, crispy on the outside and soft on the inside sesame cakes.

"Please enjoy your meal, esteemed guests." Wang Zhonghua put down his soup bowl, his attitude neither humble nor arrogant.

The tall man glanced at Wang Zhonghua, his gaze lingering for a moment on his clear and calm eyes. He nodded without saying anything more. He picked up a spoon, scooped up a spoonful of soup, and put it in his mouth.

The next moment, a glint of light flashed in his deep eyes! He almost immediately scooped up a second spoonful, a third spoonful… His movements remained steady, but his speed was noticeably faster. As the scalding, spicy broth went down his throat, a barely perceptible blush seemed to rise on his bronze face, and his tightly pursed lips relaxed slightly. The gloom that had shrouded his brows seemed to be dispelled by the domineering heat.

He drank half a bowl in one gulp before stopping, letting out a long, hot sigh. He looked up at Wang Zhonghua and asked in a deep voice, "Young man, what's the name of this soup?"

"Sir, this soup is called 'Spicy Soup'," Wang Zhonghua replied.

"Spicy soup...what a wonderful spicy soup!" the man repeated softly, a complex emotion flashing in his eyes, a mixture of reminiscence and感慨 (gǎnkǎi, deep emotion). "Spicy as fire, warming to the core, deeply moving! Drinking this bowl reminds me of...the wind and sand beyond the Great Wall, the border troops...how wonderful it would be if those old brothers could drink a bowl of hot spicy soup..."

He paused, then looked sharply at Wang Zhonghua: "Did you make this soup?"

"Yes, it was the boy who cooked it."

The burly man sized up Wang Zhonghua, nodded, and asked no more questions. He then focused on finishing the remaining half bowl of soup and a sesame seed cake. His followers behind him also buried their heads in their food and drink, their eyes slightly moist, as if they were thinking about something. These weathered men were clearly very satisfied with the taste.

After they finished eating, an attendant paid the bill, the amount far exceeding the value of the soup. Wang Zhonghua was about to ask for change when the tall man waved his hand, stood up, and looked at Wang Zhonghua again, saying meaningfully, "The soup was good. The man... is probably no ordinary person either. Young man, take care of yourself. Until we meet again."

After saying this, he did not linger. He led his entourage and rode towards Chenzhou City. His upright figure, amidst the dust, still carried an indomitable and aloof air.

After they had walked a distance, an experienced bodyguard who had traveled all over the country and was well-versed in the ways of the world, lowered his voice and said to the people at the next table with a look of surprise and uncertainty, "That guy just now... he looked so much like... like General Di, who was infamous in the Northwest last year, striking fear into the hearts of the Western Xia people, Di Qing?"

"Di Qing? Is that the same Di Shuai who was impeached by the censor for 'holding too much power in his army' and 'being arrogant and domineering,' stripped of his military power, and demoted to a sinecure as a militia commander in our Chenzhou?"

"Shh! Keep your voice down! It's him! I never expected... to be passing by in such a sorry state."

"Alas, great achievements often overshadow the ruler; this has always been the case. It's a pity that after the Yang family generals faded into obscurity, our Great Song Dynasty finally produced a Tiger-Faced General who struck fear into the hearts of the Western Xia, but..."

"He seemed to really admire that kid from the Wang family just now."

A barefoot, disheveled storyteller, watching Di Qing's dejected figure, suddenly began to sing:

What's the point of praising loyalty and bravery?

What's with this talk of wanting to be enfeoffed as a marquis?

The character "Song" on the flag faded in the wind.

The officials of the court held a banquet!

Their food supplies ran out for a month and a half.

The jejunum was bound tighter than a bowstring.

We must also draw our bows and shoot signals to signal the approaching enemy!

Oh dear—

A quiver that's torn needs to be patched every three years.

Their battle coats were tattered, and reed catkins filled the sky.

Everyone says it's about protecting the country.

Where is the land?

The general's newly victorious horse had a golden saddle.

No longer can one see the white banners lining the graves in Longxi!

The swords of the Western Xia, the arrows of the Hu people,

The grass is never-ending, and the challenges are never-ending.

The worst thing is the night spent waiting to die in the wounded and sick camp.

An old soldier said that the lanterns in Bianjing (Kaifeng) were like ribbons of silk during the Lantern Festival—

Young lady, strolling on a painted boat.

Sweet honey cake, soft colorful silk...

He stopped breathing as he was talking.

My eyelids are frozen into two ice crystals!

Ugh!

The border of the Great Song Dynasty is ten thousand feet high.

Ten thousand feet below lies a bed of white bones.

If you ask me what my wishes are?

May my soul transform into a spring breeze and cross the Jade Gate.

Blow away this—

The smoke of war will never be extinguished!

It can't be blown away...

Willow catkins from my hometown

Flying over the broken wall

……

The singing was hoarse, the wind howled, and it had a similar feel to the ballad master Guo Yongzhang. Every line sounded as if even God was sighing.

Is the world about to change?

Wang Zhonghua stood at the shop entrance, gazing in the direction Di Qing had disappeared into the distance, his heart filled with turmoil. Di Qing! Di Qing! It was actually this renowned war god of the Song Dynasty, who had been so famous throughout the land yet suffered a tragic demotion and ultimately died in despair in Chenzhou!

Was his last sentence just a casual word of encouragement, or... something else entirely?

Is death truly the only option for Di Qing?

This damned world, are you a prosperous Song Dynasty or a utterly pathetic one?