Chapter Thirty-Nine: Candor

Zhou Suyan did not wait for instructions this time; she took the initiative to prepare the meal. After a flurry of activity, she arranged several dishes and a pot of wine. Her gaze toward Wang Luo, once reluctant, now softened into an unusual tenderness.

“You seem quite happy,” Wang Luo said with a smile.

“We’re celebrating your victory,” she replied, pouring his glass full.

“At last, you’re learning to do what a woman ought to,” Wang Luo lifted the wine jug and filled her cup as well. “Men are responsible for winning; women handle logistics. They fret for us during battle, then rejoice with us in triumph. Isn’t that a reasonable division of labor?”

“It is,” she agreed. “As long as you keep winning, I’ll stay by your side.”

So, if he loses, she’ll leave. Well, that is the truth. But as a captive, is it really appropriate for her to say such things?

Wang Luo pondered a moment, then voiced the question. “Do you think it’s wise to say that?”

“I’ve always been honest,” she smiled at him, seemingly confident that she would not be punished.

“Well then,” Wang Luo poured her another drink. “Do you think manure is real?”

“Such talk at the table?” she pulled a face of disgust.

“It’s real enough. But both of us find it revolting, don’t we? Hiding unpleasant things—like manure, snot, caterpillars—is, in my view, a form of respect.” Wang Luo gestured toward her with his finger. “Sometimes, a well-chosen lie is necessary and valuable—just to make it easier for people to get along.”

“You mean you want me to say I like you? That I’d stay with you no matter what?”

“Well… It’s a bit sentimental. But yes, that’s about right…”

“And what about you?” Her expression grew serious. “Would you say such words to me?”

“No,” Wang Luo shook his head. “I’m lazy. I won’t waste energy inventing lies.”

She opened her mouth, as if to protest the unfairness, but in the end, simply lowered her head, her eyes dim.

“You see, we’re enemies,” Wang Luo rubbed his nose. “You still want to kill me… So you’re not in a position to demand much. I don’t expect you to truly like me; just say a few nice words… Dress prettily, cook well, tidy the house, warm the bed. In short, when I’m finished with work, when I return from the battlefield, exhausted, I’d like a bit of comfort.”

“And what I give you in return is protection in this scenario, and perhaps a few other benefits when appropriate. When this scenario ends, we’ll part ways, and there won’t be any further contact. If you feel this arrangement is improper, I’m happy to let you go, truly.”

She looked at him, her face resolute, composed, and indifferent, without a trace of softness. She could hear, in his polite omissions, what he wasn’t saying: “If you refuse, so be it—I’ll find another woman. After all, I’ve won, and I’ll keep winning.”

Thus, she—never mind that she’d once planned to kill him, nor the incident where she manipulated him; in her reckoning, those events had never happened—nodded in great pain, convinced he was treating her wrongly, unjustly, cruelly.

Then, unable to control herself, tears began to fall, silent and heavy.

---

Afterward, he slept, and she nestled at his side.

“She did not despise me.”

“At last, I have the right to save an ordinary person. After saving such a one, finally I won’t be insulted, mocked, despised, or ridiculed.”

With these thoughts, Wang Luo slept soundly.

But beside him, she tossed and turned, unable to sleep.

From the side, he was not handsome—far inferior to Charles. Yet there was something about him that grew on her.

If he woke now and saw the look in her eyes, if they saw reflections of each other in their gazes, and then—

No, she shook her head. Such romance would never happen with this man. He’d look at her coldly and say, “Go wash the dishes.”

That was what he’d do.

For some reason, she found it amusing, and genuinely laughed.

How was Charles doing? She took a walkie-talkie from her space, dialed the number, but it still wouldn’t connect.

Wan’er was gone too; today’s news still couldn’t be sent…

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“Look, this is our haul.”

Yang Wentian laid out the newly exchanged medicines, food, and wine on the table for Mei Xiaosheng to see.

“Incredible,” Mei Xiaosheng put on a look of admiration. “How many universal points did it cost?”

“Just over two thousand,” Yang Wentian picked up a bundle of herbs. “Restores health, removes negative status effects, can be refined further with alchemy skills! Bought for fifty universal points—back in the space, it’ll fetch at least four hundred.”

“Amazing!” Mei Xiaosheng repeated. “Is this a reward for the victors after taking the main camp?”

“No, Wang Luo bought these for us. He’s the leader; after capturing the camp, he gained the privileges. He hasn’t even killed any enemies himself, and we haven’t received any missions lately—I thought even with a victory, there would be nothing to gain! But…”

“So…” Mei Xiaosheng lowered her head, “could he help us buy a few?”

“Sure, I’ll tell him tomorrow,” Yang Wentian’s voice was a little hesitant. “For you, it’s no problem. But for the others…”

The Shadow Team had followed the main group since defecting. They kept a low profile—neither outstanding nor troublesome. When chatting with Wang Luo, Yang Wentian recalled that Wang Luo was not picky about such ‘just getting by’ behavior, but neither was he satisfied…

Even though Wang Luo was always friendly to his teammates, Yang Wentian sensed that, since he hadn’t distinguished himself recently, he shouldn’t make excessive requests.

----

“You mean the Yellow Turban troops annihilated the Han army’s main force and broke through their camp?”

Night had fallen. Charles, leading the Han army and camped at a temporary base, awaited reinforcements—but instead, he was hit with a crushing blow. When he read the urgent message from Wright, his body swayed, and darkness flickered before his eyes.

“The news is accurate,” Wright’s tone was somber, but still calm. “I’ve confirmed it—the Han army’s main force was ambushed in a valley and wiped out; in the camp, the Han banners have all been replaced.”

Clearly, Wright did not think he was delivering good news, but he had not realized how dire it was.

Charles gritted his teeth. Of course, this kid bore no responsibility. He just gathered intelligence, and that woman would give him credit. Those who must make decisions—the likes of Charles—such troubles were beyond someone like Wright.

Why? Decision-making was crucial; when successful, everyone prospered. But when things go wrong, why must I bear all the blame?

He stepped out of the tent, surveying the camp before him.

Orders for deployment would remain valid for another sixteen hours. These Han soldiers would still obey him. Despair was not an option! The space was ruthless, but always left room for opportunity. It had been so before…

What way was there to extricate himself from the current predicament? A surprise attack? Link up with other Han forces and strike? Or perhaps…