Generals and Puppet Emperors

*I am in a very awkward situation.

It was as if a big stone was stuck in my throat, and it was constantly rubbing against my throat, bringing a hot touch and spittle soaked in the smell of blood.

Are you asking me to express my thoughts directly and decisively?

No no no... I've always followed the slow, warm boil long-term regimen.

Jump directly from the first step to the last step to express your feelings...

I don't think it's going to be great.

I'm always hesitating, always telling myself that this is not the best time.

I don't want to lose Aman, and I don't even want to see her disgusted eyes.

Probably, I am still wary of things like feelings.

In fact, my understanding of feelings has long been distorted, and it is heading towards an extreme path. I firmly believe that feelings can destroy everything.

Lessons learned from the past made me have to think more.

One more time and I might really be ruined.

Fortunately, Aman didn't seem to be too entangled in reciting the poem—she probably thought it was the product of my drunken unconsciousness, rather than my true words.

But her next question was tougher.

"You read a name... It was very vague, and I didn't hear it clearly." Aman moved his eyes to the void, as if recalling the scene she saw yesterday. After a long while, she heard the murmur again. He continued, "Did you cry for that person... Is that someone very important to you? Did you want to read that poem to her?"

Yes, very important very important people.

People who have long been lost in the long river of time.

I just had a fragment of memory suddenly come back, my poem was read to Aman, I was unexpectedly honest and bold when I was drunk.And I did break into the maze of memory, evoking a very long-term but unforgettable memory.

My thoughts when I was drunk were also unpredictable. It suddenly jumped from one section of memory to another, leaving only unspeakable things.

"Sorry..." I had nothing to say, similar to my attitude towards feelings, when I couldn't speak, I didn't say a word, as if deliberately leaving a suspense to tantalize my appetite, "About that person... I will tell you sooner or later."

Aman's eyelashes trembled a few times, and the corners of her lips slightly moved down.

I found that at this moment, I could detect some slight changes in the expression on Aman's face, but I couldn't penetrate her heart.

It was as if she had learned Outback emotion without me knowing it.

But no matter how she changes, she is still Aman.

Fascinated, I added: "You are... the only one."

My most precious treasure is right before my eyes.

The past without Aman's participation is actually not so sensational, nor is it heart-piercing pain and sorrow.

For a while, the past was even nectar-filled with joy and lightness.

It can make me temporarily forget the cruelty of the battlefield, the destruction of families brought about by the war, and the ground is full of broken corpses and pools of blood like hell.

When I joined the army, there were female soldiers in the army, but the number was less than one-tenth of that of male soldiers, and their voice was far lower than theirs.

This is a perfectly normal situation. No matter how you say it, women are inherently inferior to men in terms of physical strength, and their emotions are more delicate. They are more likely to die of timidity in the face of the battlefield.

If there hadn't been a brave female general who made great achievements in battle in the previous dynasty, it would be impossible for this dynasty to set a precedent for allowing women to join the army.

It was on the battlefield that I met her, who has the word Ping.

And in the end, her ending finally answered her name.

Like duckweed, even death is silent, and even the death does not stop the boat that is drifting.