novelSusiti Chapter 25 Unwavering Persistence Despite Obscurity
Chapter 25 Unwavering Persistence Despite Obscurity
Two years have passed. From the son of a military household who fled from Shandong to a Han Chinese archer in the Imperial Guard, he is like a knife that can only be sheathed in a broken scabbard. No matter how sharp it is, people pretend not to see it.
On the high platform, Tuotuo leaned forward slightly, his black armor emitting a faint clanging sound. His gaze was like lightning, fixed on the soldier in blue robes below who had just accomplished a world-shaking feat.
The gaze swept over his coarse cloth clothes and finally landed on the polished bamboo bow in his hand.
The wind and sand still blew across the training ground. The soldier in the blue robe stood with his bow sheathed, his posture as sharp as a spear, completely unaware of the great figures he had disturbed.
Soon, Tuotuo, dressed in purple robes and a jade belt, arrived before the Han army. A gust of wind whipped the fur collar of his cloak, but the young commander's gaze was sharper than any arrowhead: "That last arrow, was it executed with the 'Meteor Chasing the Moon' rapid-fire technique?"
Before Yang Huaijian could answer, the cloak, still warm from the scent of agarwood, was already on his shoulders. The moment the brocade touched his shoulder, Yang Huaijian trembled violently.
"You've consistently received a B grade in the Ministry of War's evaluations?" Tuotuo's riding whip suddenly flicked up his waist badge, and his jade thumb ring tapped against the old bamboo bow, producing a clear sound. "From today onwards, the owner of this bow should change his waist badge."
The silver wolf relief on his scabbard pressed against his trembling knees, and the commander's voice shattered all doubts: "Tomorrow, go to the command camp for duty—I want the whole army to see what kind of rhinoceros armor a true archer should wear and what kind of powerful bow he should draw."
Overwhelmed with excitement and slightly flustered, Yang Huaijian stroked the back of the bamboo bow, each wear mark a testament to his years of unwavering perseverance. Now, that perseverance had finally been recognized by someone who could change his destiny. Tomorrow, he would draw his new, powerful bow and embark on a new journey.
That night, snoring filled the communal sleeping quarters of the barracks, but suppressed whispers surged like an undercurrent in the darkness. The oil lamp flickered in the wind, drawing out the whispers: "Did you see it? Lord Tuotuo tore up the Ministry of War's evaluation book on the spot for that Han archer!" Another voice added, "More than that! I saw him drape the imperial cloak over him..."
The worn bamboo bow leaned quietly against the weapon rack, its handle still dusted with the yellow sand from the training ground during the day. Meanwhile, the whispers of his comrades still echoed in the darkness: "Tomorrow he'll be on duty in the command battalion... A Han Chinese, to receive such favor..."
Yang Huaijian turned to face the wall, burying his face deep in his cloak. The brocade was infused with the scent of ambergris and the smell of horsehide, and the lingering warmth of his body made his eyes throb. This warmth both filled him with trepidation and ignited a spark of courage within him. It was a path to success he had never dared to dream of in his humble life since he was old enough to understand. This road to the future, though destined to be fraught with thorns, was the first ray of light he had seen in so many years—a ray of light that belonged to him alone.
He was no longer the Han Chinese soldier's son who could only practice archery silently in a corner of the training ground, nor the nameless soldier whose archery skills, no matter how superb, could only receive a second-class evaluation. Lord Tuotuo's words, "I want the whole army to see what kind of rhinoceros armor a true archer should wear and what kind of powerful bow he should draw," echoed in his ears, each word carrying immense weight.
He imagined himself donning the rhinoceros armor, and that in his hands he would no longer hold this polished bamboo bow, but a real, powerful bow and arrow. He felt as if he were already standing on the command camp's drill ground, no longer a despised Han soldier, but a skilled archer who had earned respect through his own abilities.
On a sunny afternoon, during a break from practicing his sword, Fang Yingyu was carving a peach wood hairpin in the courtyard. The hairpin's head was a lotus bud, its petals layered and lifelike. The image of Ruan Shanruo's smile floated into his mind—those almond-shaped eyes, those slightly upturned lips, and the silver hairpin in her hair that swayed gently with her steps.
"Thinking about Miss Ruan again?" Fang Xiaohe appeared behind him at some point, his tone teasing with good-natured sarcasm.
Fang Yingyu's face flushed red, and her hand trembled, almost shaving off a petal. "Brother, don't talk nonsense..."
Fang Xiaohe sighed and sat down beside him: "Yingyu, the Ruan family is a prominent family in Yuanzhou City, we..."
"I know," Fang Yingyu interrupted her brother, her voice low. "I didn't dare to have any wild ideas. I just... I just thought of carving a hairpin for her as a thank you gift for introducing her to my master." He said it very seriously, as if he wasn't lying.
Fang Xiaohe looked at his younger brother's tightly pursed lips and slightly trembling fingers, unable to bear saying anything more. He patted Fang Yingyu's shoulder: "Your skills are good, Miss Ruan will like it."
Fang Yingyu shook his head with a wry smile, carefully wrapped the carved wooden hairpin in cloth, and tucked it into his bosom, close to his heart. The hairpin grew warm under his touch, as if it had come to life. He kept it like that, day after day.
Three days later, dust obscured the sun on the official road outside the capital. Yan Temur personally led three hundred iron cavalry to line up and wait, to "welcome" Toghon Temür, who was returning from Guangxi. The scorching sun baked the iron armor, reflecting a dazzling cold light, but it was far less intense than the burning anxiety in Yan Temur's heart.
"They're here!" the lieutenant suddenly announced in a low voice.
A line of carriages and horses slowly approached from afar. The curtain of the lead carriage was already lifted, revealing a young man in a blue robe, looking travel-worn.
Yan Temur rode forward, looking down at the boy's still somewhat childish face. When their eyes met, he was startled—this boy was not as his subordinates had reported; there was not a trace of fear in his eyes, only a deep, unfathomable pool of still water.
"Your Highness must have had a long journey," Yan Tiemu'er said in a voice as cold as iron.
Do you know what kind of place the capital is?
Toghon Temür slightly raised his eyes, but there was no ripple in them. "No answer." The historian later wrote these four words, unaware that at that moment, Yan Temur's back was already soaked with cold sweat.
The boy remained silent as a mountain, but Yan Timur seemed to hear a thunderclap. Seeing the boy's silence, Yan Timur was also momentarily speechless. He gripped the reins tightly. At this moment, he understood even more clearly that this boy was no ordinary person.
Then, Toghon Temür's carriage entered Dadu. The eaves of the Forbidden City, stained like blood-red blades in the setting sun, stood in the shadow of the city wall, his robes fluttering even without wind. Here, he could see thirteen-year-old Toghon Temür, the boy hastily summoned back from Guangxi, his face still bearing the marks of the south. Bayan's fingertips tapped lightly in his sleeve—the person who would change their family's fate had finally arrived.
Subsequently, Toghon Temür was taken directly to the former Crown Prince's residence. The mansion still maintained its former luxury, its golden splendor tinged with a chilling coldness. The palace maids and eunuchs appeared outwardly respectful, but their eyes betrayed their scrutiny, as if appraising merchandise, every movement weighing the true value of this suddenly appearing "master."