Full River Red · Chat

The gray walls on both sides of the corridor pressed down low, the light spat from the lanterns thick and dim, sticking shadows against the walls. From front and back came the muffled sound of boot soles scraping against blue bricks, the iron armor plates clinking rhythmically, striking out a faint scent of iron. Zhang Da, a conscripted soldier, was sandwiched in the middle of the troop. He could feel the breath of the person behind him on the back of his neck—even and cold, like the spine of a blade pressed against flesh. He knew it was Sun Jun—his nephew and the deputy commander—who was currently staring at the back of his head with eyes devoid of warmth, as if watching livestock waiting to be slaughtered. Zhang Da hunched his shoulders, intentionally making his steps small and chaotic, his knees slightly bent, his boot tips scraping the ground with a cowering sound. Passing a half-open window, he glanced sideways and saw a cyan silhouette sitting under the lamp—He Li was cleaning his nails with a silver hairpin, a half-smile hanging on the corner of his mouth, as if he had long known someone would pass by, yet also as if he didn't care for them at all. At the end of the corridor was the council chamber. The moment the door curtain was lifted, a heavy scent of medicine and sandalwood poured out. Qin Hui sat in the deepest armchair, his entire body sunken into his voluminous black robes like a mass of gray sitting upon shadows. He didn't look up, only coughed once—the sound wasn't loud, but everyone in the hall stopped in their tracks simultaneously. Zhang Da bent down, his knees sinking into the gaps of the cold stone bricks. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw two more people standing in the corner: Wu Yichun’s face was taut and his belt was cinched tight, yet sweat hung from his brow; Zheng Wan leaned against a pillar with arms crossed, his eyes glaring fiercely at Sun Jun’s back. Zhang Da knocked his forehead against the back of his hands, hearing a trembling "Chancellor" squeeze out of his throat. At the same time, his ears caught a faint, delicate sound—behind the curtain of the back hall, a bracelet made of beads clinked softly. <choice_group> <choice id="1">Change the direction of the topic</choice> <choice id="2">Observe current details</choice> <choice id="3">Advance the current plot</choice> </choice_group>