Under the bright moonlight, the grass swayed against the wind and the barrack lamps were lit.
The army set up camp beneath Mount Jiangling, dozens of miles from the capital.
The lights in Han Moze's big tent shone brightly.
Han Moze was sitting cross-legged on the bed, concentrating on adjusting his inner breath and studying techniques.
Out of nowhere, Han Moze's eyes shot wide open and his gaze was cold as ice.
Xu Ziling arrived outside his tent curtains with a sweet, shy smile that resembled a cotton rose. In her little, delicate hands, she carried a bowl of steaming hot congee.
Xu Ziling turned her head to look over at the corner of the room where the wind blew. "Your Majesty big brother, the wind tonight is strong, so I especially called someone to cook you a bowl of bird nest congee to warm you up."
Han Moze softly furrowed his sharp brows and spoke with a cold look on his face. "I don't need it. You should head back!"
