Marry a Northern Song Dynasty civil servant

Chapter 43

Do you remember that I didn't finish saying something that day?

"Huh? Which day?"

"It's okay, I can say it again. Would you be willing..."

Yuan Hao couldn't help but ask the heavens what he had done to deserve such divine punishment, that his words had to be interrupted time and time again.

The distant clamor, the deafening sound of gongs and drums, rang out exceptionally clearly in this open field.

Song Xiaohua casually asked, not really caring, "Did something happen?"

Yuan Hao smiled wryly and replied helplessly, "We must have won the battle."

"fight?"

"Lu Ziqi led his troops to pursue the Liao people who massacred the village, and presumably, he succeeded."

"!!"

Because they didn't want to worry the ailing Song Xiaohua, everyone chose not to mention her husband's military campaign in front of her. Since she had never asked where her husband was, everyone assumed she must know. Thus, the sudden revelation of this news was like a bolt from the blue, a devastating shock, almost causing her to fall into a state of mental breakdown due to the excessive stress.

After a moment of stunned silence, Song Xiaohua suddenly jumped three zhang high in the air, grabbed Yuan Hao, and roared, "Why is a civil official like him leading troops?! Why is a county magistrate going to war? He's not even an official here, why was he put in charge of this? Those Liao people are even more despicable and cruel than the Japanese devils! What if we can't win? What if we get hurt? What if... what if? Huh?!"

After shouting, he glanced at a small group of people running happily in one direction not far away, and without saying a word, he took off after them.

Yuan Hao stood there in a daze for a long while before lowering his head to straighten his wrinkled clothes. His fair and slender fingers paused for a moment on the spot where his body still retained warmth, as if he were savoring something.

Was she swearing just now? It actually had a certain charm to it…

Immediately, he shook his head and chuckled, then strode out with his hands behind his back.

At first, Song Xiaohua was rather demure, holding up her skirt. Later, she simply imitated Sun Erniang, who was in the lurch, by stuffing the cumbersome thing into her waistband and starting to run wildly, showing a bit of the wildness of a woman at the end of her road.

Those who were overtaken by her only felt a gust of wind, a flash of white, and then a figure that looked like a human whizzing past. That whistling sound was actually the labored, bellowing breathing of someone panting heavily…

Holly, Holly, you absolutely must come back with all your arms and legs intact and unharmed. If anything happens to you, I... I will never let you go!

Just as Song Xiaohua's legs went weak and her vision blurred, and she was about to faint from shortness of breath, her frantic sprint finally came to a stop.

Ruins and rubble, scorched earth, white banners and paper money—a scene of utter desolation.

This is the village where the massacre took place; this is where loved ones perished.

People kept pouring in from all directions, and all the noise had stopped. They just stood quietly in a large circle around the tall pile of firewood in the middle.

On top of that, there were about a hundred heads, human heads, stacked one on top of the other.

The dried bloodstains and tangled hair made it impossible to see his original appearance, but the twisted expression of fear, anger, and ferocity he felt in the moment before his death was clearly visible.

A group of soldiers, their armor stained with blood and dirt, stood neatly to one side. Each of them was wounded and looked disheveled, yet their heroic and imposing aura seemed to make even the scorching sun overhead give way to their sharpness.

The one in the lead, dressed in black armor, was haggard and barely human, but his eyes were as sharp as an eagle's.

That name lingered in Song Xiaohua's heart and on her tongue a thousand times, but she just couldn't bring herself to utter it. It felt like something was tightly choking her throat, making it hard to breathe.

It was very quiet all around, with only heavy breathing and the flickering of flames in the wind. An emotion that had been suppressed to the extreme was about to burst forth at any moment.

The man, holding a torch, raised his arm as if to light the pile of firewood, but suddenly seemed to sense something, stopped, and turned to the side. He saw a figure in pure white slowly stepping out of the crowd, walking towards him step by step.

Her hair and clothes were disheveled, her shoes and body were covered in mud, her face was flushed and her breathing was rapid, and the tears in her eyes seemed to be scorched by flames, with a thick layer of mist, but they would never condense and fall.

It felt like an eternity had passed, yet also like only a snap of the fingers, before she came within arm's reach, stretched out her hand, and softly said, "Give it to me."

He handed her the torch without hesitation. But as he released her, he grasped her other hand tightly.

He lowered his eyes, took a deep breath, and quickly turned his head to look directly at those hideous faces.

It was they who turned their swords against unarmed civilians. It was they who killed her family. It was they who turned her blood ties into a handful of dust she could never touch again…

They deserved to die!

The warmth and strength from his palm stopped his trembling. He steadily lit the torch onto the dry wooden stake, and in an instant, blood-red flames soared into the air, burning fiercely. The air was filled with the pungent smell of blood and decay, and plumes of thick smoke drifted away.

"Those who offend our Great Song Dynasty shall be killed!"

"kill!"

"kill!

"kill!"

His once gentle voice was now hoarse like gravel, carrying the sound of clashing swords.

Three resounding shouts of "Kill!" pierced the clouds and reached the heavens, mournful and desolate yet resolute and unshakeable.

Brother, sister-in-law, and nephew, your great revenge has been achieved. Have you seen it?

Looking up at the leisurely drifting white clouds in the sky, tears finally slid down my cheeks.

Yuan Hao, standing in the crowd, kept staring at Song Xiaohua, who stood tall in the middle of the armored vehicle. She stood proudly in front of the rolling flames, so thin and frail that she seemed as if she could be blown away by the wind or swallowed by the flames at any moment. However, her black-haired and white-clothed figure did not sway in the slightest.

A brilliance flashed in her eyes. She was no longer the delicate seedling that needed to be carefully nurtured and the flower that was kept in the pavilion. She was more qualified to stay by his side and watch him conquer the world!

Author's Note: My little flower has come back to life! This time, she's truly come back to life! This way, she'll understand better how to strive for and cherish life in the future, and she'll be happier!

As the saying goes, "No pain, no gain," right? Oh ho ho ho...

PS: I remember someone once mentioned the issue of 'foot binding', so I looked it up. Foot binding originated from the late Five Dynasties period to the early Song Dynasty, but it didn't become widespread until the late Southern Song Dynasty. So, our little flower can still run freely with her big feet!

Chapter Forty-Seven: Never Let Go

Song Xiaohua sat on the ground, half-dead, her head against a pillar, with huge dark circles under her eyes.

While brushing my teeth and washing my face, I looked down and saw a piece of charcoal residue, and I spat it out. Walking to the middle of the yard, I looked up and saw the bright red sun, and I spat it out again. The smell of morning smoke filled my nostrils, and I spat it out once more…

From yesterday until now, she has been vomiting everything she sees, smells, or thinks. She vomited and vomited until even the bile was gone, leaving only feigned dry heaving. Even pregnant women with the most severe morning sickness don't vomit as happily as she does.

I had that nightmare all night... I can't take it anymore, I can't think about it, or I'll lose control again...

This is the consequence of showing off and being cool; a classic case of reaping what you sow, ending up tragically dead without a shred of resentment.

Those weren't props or haunted house decorations from movies or TV shows, but rather bloody human heads and living dead bodies. The impact on the senses and the trauma to the soul were far greater than that of weapons of mass destruction.

The bloodiest scene she had ever witnessed in real life was a rookie who had broken his leg in a car accident, yet dared to stare at it closely with wide eyes and even set it on fire himself.

Beneath the dried bloodstains, small clumps of hair had formed... Ugh...

Actually, when the fire started and the burning hatred in her heart subsided a little, she began to feel unwell, experiencing waves of nausea. However, she couldn't afford to lose face in front of so many passionate and enthusiastic people, so she desperately closed her eyes, held her breath, and endured it.

After finally getting through the crowd, the soldiers were ordered to return to camp to rest. Just as they were about to vomit, someone beat them to it.

However, what he vomited was blood.

Lu Ziqi, who had been calmly directing and stabilizing the overall situation, standing beside her and holding her hands tightly to give her strength, suddenly bent over like a javelin that had been suddenly broken, spitting out a mouthful of blood.

He then forced a smile, gave Song Xiaohua a very strained one, closed his eyes, and collapsed.

Even after being pulled down onto the cold, blood-stained armor by his tightly gripping hand, Song Xiaohua was still completely unaware of what was happening.

Looking at his snow-white face and lips, at his quietly closed eyelashes, at his unmoving nostrils, Song Xiaohua's mind went blank for a moment. Her first thought was, he's dead...

According to the plot of TV dramas, this should be the finale, where the triumphant male lead dies spectacularly in front of the unlucky female lead who has been waiting for him, commonly known as a 'Bad Ending'.

However, according to the plot of the TV series, the male lead would at least say a long string of lines to the female lead before he officially died, with a breath he could never swallow. Where is there such a thing as dying so easily and decisively?

At this thought, Song Xiaohua scrambled to her feet, grabbed Lu Ziqi by the collar, and shook him violently: "How dare you just kill me like this? Even if you're going to die, you should at least explain yourself first! What about Ling'er? What about me? You can't just dump this little burden on me and abandon me like this! I don't want it! ... I said I wanted to break up with you, I said I wanted a divorce, you haven't written me a letter of divorce yet, we haven't even finalized the paperwork! You're not allowed to die until these things are resolved, do you hear me? I'm telling you, divorce cases go on for a long time, maybe a lifetime, so get up and fight me to the death!"

"Dongqing... don't scare me. You said that once you held my hand, you would never let go. If you died, you would take me with you to see the King of Hell... Dongqing... I'm willing to die with you, but I want to live with you even more, to be happy and joyful together, until we grow old..."

Just as she was shaking him, panting and crying her heart out, a slender, fair hand reached out and placed it on Lu Ziqi's pulse. Then, a clear, melodious voice said, "He's not dead, but if you keep choking him like this, it's hard to say what will happen."

These words were like a thunderclap in spring, a guiding light, the sacred voice of God or Buddha. Song Xiaohua immediately calmed down, quickly loosening her grip on her collar and wiping away her tears: "Yuan Hao..."

Feeling helpless at her hopeful and trusting expression, Yuan Hao sighed and said, "He was just overworked, which caused his stomach problems to flare up, and he fainted temporarily."

Then, with Yuan Hao's help, they helped Lu Ziqi onto his horse and sent him home.