Chapter 325 Care to Eat?

Chapter 325: Want Some?

Just then, an old squad leader who usually enjoyed listening to storytelling and had some learning under his belt spoke up slowly, looking like a man who had seen through it all.

"You still don't get it? That woman earns her keep through real skill, and she's accomplished monumental feats!

A person like that carries herself with immense pride! 'General's Wife' is an honor confined to the household—it can't match the awe-inspiring prestige she's earned on the battlefield!

What she wants is a name she's carved out with her own ability. That's the pride of self-reliance!" His explanation hit them like a bolt of enlightenment.

"Oh—!!!" A chorus of sudden realization rippled through the group.

The sword-and-shield soldier slapped his thigh, finally getting it: "Got it! Just like how we address each other by military rank in the army—whoever's got the skill, that's who we respect! It's got nothing to do with whose wife or whose husband they are!"

"Exactly that!" the archer nodded vigorously. "We've got to honor the skill itself!"

With that way of thinking, everything fell into place.

For these plain-spoken soldiers, strength was the ultimate bottom line.

Respecting the strong—especially one with an independent spirit and peerless ability—was only natural.

And so, within the Cui Family Army camp, a new tacit agreement quickly took shape.

Everyone silently avoided using the title "General's Wife" as much as possible.

Cheng Ge hadn't been leaving his tent much these past two days—for no other reason than the goddamn weather being cold enough to kill.

The wind hit the face like a knife cutting into flesh, stinging something fierce.

Last time he'd taken a stroll along the city wall, he'd come back with a stuffy nose and a heavy head, feeling like a cold was creeping in again.

The moment Lü Rou and Funiang saw this, they treated it like a crisis, flanking him on both sides and nagging him with heartfelt concern.

They more or less forced him to stay put in the main tent, temporarily restricting his freedom of movement.

Cheng Ge himself had also noticed that his body seemed to be getting worse than before.

He'd always been fragile, sure, but at least he hadn't gotten sick this easily back then.

Now, though, every few days—a little chill, a bit of exhaustion—and illness came knocking right away.

He felt like Lin Daiyu reincarnated, and it was genuinely infuriating.

The brazier was blazing, and Lü Rou had just added some fresh charcoal, sparks crackling softly.

Cheng Ge was almost swallowed by his chair, wrapped up so thoroughly in layers that only his eyes were visible, staring blankly at the charcoal brazier.

Dahuang lay quietly on the thick blanket at his feet, also bundled in an old padded jacket that Funiang had kindly thrown over him.

His black nose poked out, with a tiny clear droplet of snot hanging from it, quivering slightly with each breath.

Funiang crouched by the brazier, carefully using tongs to rake aside the ash on top and pull out the sweet potatoes that had been roasting underneath for a long while.

The skin of the potatoes had turned slightly charred. She patted the ash off the surface, peeled back the skin to reveal the golden, soft, and sticky flesh inside, then wrapped it carefully in a clean cloth before handing it to Cheng Ge.

"Thanks." Cheng Ge's voice came out muffled through his neck warmer. He pulled one hand out of his thick sleeve and took the steaming sweet potato, a wave of warmth spreading from his palm.

He tugged the neck warmer down from his chin, exhaled a visible puff of white breath, and took a careful bite.

The sweet potato was roasted just right—sweet, soft, and sticky—the warmth traveling from his mouth all the way down to his stomach.

He broke off a small piece and bent down to toss it to Dahuang, who was staring at him with pleading eyes.

Dahuang gave a quick lick, and the bit of sweet potato vanished before he could even taste it.

He blinked his round doggy eyes and continued staring at Cheng Ge with hopeful expectation, tail swishing across the thick blanket.

Cheng Ge pointedly ignored him and took another bite himself.

Just then, the thick felt door flap at the tent entrance was pushed aside from outside, and a blast of bitter cold wind swept in, sending a shiver through Cheng Ge.

Cui Ji's tall figure stepped inside, casually pulling the curtain shut tight behind him, sealing the cold air out again.

He'd clearly been even busier these past two days, barely returning to the main tent to rest.

Now the whites of his eyes were shot through with red, weariness lingering in his brow, and a shadow of stubble had sprouted along his jaw.

Cheng Ge turned at the sound, hastily swallowed his mouthful of sweet potato, and pulled a nearby chair closer to the brazier for him.

Cui Ji sat down beside him, and Cheng Ge could faintly feel the chill still radiating off him from outside. He murmured, "Done with work? Have you eaten yet?"

Cui Ji nodded. His eyes swept over Cheng Ge's cheeks, rosy from the brazier's glow, and the pale stretch of neck visible above his collar.

Cheng Ge sniffled—his nose still seemed a bit stuffy.

Lü Rou and Funiang, seeing the situation, bowed without a sound and slipped out of the tent.

Only the two of them remained inside, the crackle of the charcoal fire sounding especially loud in the quiet.

Cheng Ge took another small bite of the sweet potato and asked offhandedly, "That spy we caught last time—how did it go? Did you get anything out of him?"

Cui Ji picked up the tongs and prodded the charcoal in the brazier to stoke the fire higher, then said gravely, "He's from the Southern barbarians."

Cheng Ge paused mid-bite, clearly taken aback, and looked up: "The Southern barbarians?"

He truly hadn't expected the Southern barbarians to be involved. "The Northern Di and the Southern barbarians... are they stirring?"

One was in the north, the other in the south—if those two actually joined forces, the situation would get far more complicated.

Cui Ji gave a grunt of acknowledgment, not saying more, but the meaning was clear enough.

Cheng Ge furrowed his brow, silently taking another bite of the sweet potato, the sweet, sticky flavor melting on his tongue.

He gazed down, pondering for a long while, before asking, "Is there... a mole?"

You couldn't blame him for being suspicious. For a Southern barbarian spy to be coming and going so freely within the Cui Family Army camp—and for the Northern Di army to arrive at the city gates no sooner had Cui Ji led his men to the Mingshui Swamp—the timing was too perfectly calculated.

This was a carefully laid trap, one link after another. If Cui Ji hadn't turned back to reinforce in time, the consequences would have been disastrous.

The firelight danced in Cui Ji's eyes. He didn't answer directly, but his somber expression was practically an admission of Cheng Ge's guess.

A weight settled in Cheng Ge's chest. For someone to have led Cui Ji so accurately into the trap, it had to be one of his trusted inner circle.

If that were truly the case, then this was blatant betrayal—a threat far more dangerous than any enemy charging at them with drawn blades.

"So... have you found them yet?"

Cui Ji's lips pressed into a thin line, his jaw looking cold and hard: "Not yet."

Cheng Ge fell silent. Cui Ji's trusted aides, aside from those he had personally promoted, were mostly old retainers from the Old Prince Zhenbei's time.

Suspecting any of them would feel like tearing out a piece of his own heart, hard to bear, both emotionally and logically.

At that moment, Cui Ji turned his head, his gaze settling on Cheng Ge's face.

The flickering firelight played across his stern profile, and even his eyes seemed to warm from the tent's heat and the man before him.

Cheng Ge, sensing something, turned to look, and their gazes met unexpectedly.

The heat from the charcoal fire rose, casting a hazy veil over their line of sight.

Cheng Ge felt a little awkward under his gaze, his cheeks flushing slightly.

Instinctively, he lowered his eyes, his long lashes trembling, and he swallowed hard.

Clutching the half-eaten sweet potato in his hand, he spoke in a soft voice: "You... would you like some? It's quite sweet."