Chapter 62: Heavy Snow (Part II)

In an instant, the wind died down and the clouds turned an inky black. At dawn, the rooster crowed three or five times, the sound of gongs echoed throughout Chang’an, snow covered the knees and the cold was bone-deep. People shouted in unison, “One, two, three.”

“Show some spirit! The princess said, if you’re a real man, don’t be afraid of wind, snow, or bitter cold—run naked, run for me! One, two, three, four!”

“One, two, three, four!”

Bare-chested, Ma Daha led the team at the front, forcing a path through the white training ground, carving out a circle in the snow.

The snow had not yet stopped. Twenty-five men, clad only in trousers, their bodies steaming, raged through the snow.

The princess had decreed that every morning, no matter if it was wind, snow, or torrential rain and thunder, they must rise for morning exercises. Ten years to hone a single sword; first, their willpower must be tempered, then their stamina, martial prowess, and discipline—lastly, their intellect.

“Squad leader! Big Brother Daha! It’s so cold!” Ma Daha had lost count of how many times he’d heard his younger brother complain. He’d once suggested to the princess that it was too cold in the morning, snow was falling, and they should temporarily suspend the morning drills.

But the princess insisted they persevere. This world is cold and cruel, she said. Don’t think that entering the Princess’s Manor means you can sleep without worries. Your training is not just for the Princess’s Manor, but for yourselves. In this life, the only one who can save you is yourself.

Thinking of this, Ma Daha no longer hesitated.

“Erha, do you remember the days we used to slaughter pigs?”

“I remember. Life was pretty good back then.” Ma Erha exhaled what little warmth remained in his body, his reddened shoulders trembling, puzzled why his brother was reminiscing now.

“Then summon all the strength you used to kill pigs and keep running!” Ma Daha dashed forward, slipped, and fell headlong into the snow, mouth and nose full of snow, but quickly climbed to his feet, brushing the frost from his eyebrows.

Turning to look at the team that had come to a halt behind him, Ma Daha’s gaze grew fierce. He had been a butcher, and the scent of blood still clung to him. He snorted out the snow, swallowed the icy chunks, and breathed out air that had lost all its warmth.

In the silence, snowflakes hissed as they fell, burying the last trace of green in the bamboo grove.

Ma Daha even noticed some team members’ shoulders were already covered in snow. Gritting his teeth, he reminded himself there was only one lap left. As the squad leader, he must not give up.

“What are we? Answer me!”

Ma Daha’s shout echoed across the empty field, like a wild beast’s roar, rousing those numbed by the cold and dispelling the confusion in the ranks.

“Answer me! What are we?”

Ma Daha’s eyes were bloodshot, veins bulging at his temples, feeling his heart and blood vessels throb as he roared again, hoarse but unyielding. Something was breaking free inside him, and he stood taller, chest high, head lifted, eyes fixed forward, standing at perfect attention.

He did not know that what was breaking free was the sprouting of self-respect, something every human should have from birth. Only at this moment did he finally understand the hope that living brings—hope was right here in the Princess’s Manor.

Those who hugged themselves, shivering in the cold, all sensed a strange pride radiating from Ma Daha. Why would a butcher, a man of such humble origins, feel pride?

Through his brother’s eyes, Ma Erha caught a glimpse of an extraordinary spirit, and slowly, he understood.

Next, the scholar Zuo Zhishu, teeth chattering, thrust out his thin chest. Tears welled in his eyes as he battled the wind and snow, freezing into white blossoms on his cheeks. Yet his shouted reply pierced the hearts of all present.

“Because we are soldiers!”

“We are soldiers!” The others woke as if from a dream, shouting in unison, hearts stirring. Yes, they had claimed a new identity. Even before the princess, a royal after all, they could now stand tall and meet her gaze. This sense of belonging was real—even if the princess sent them to die, they would not flinch. The day they became soldiers, the princess had asked, “Are you afraid to die?”

Then, no one answered. Now, if she asked again, they would answer with heads held high: No, we are not afraid!

As the princess had said, a soldier’s duty was not just obedience, but also the courage to charge to the frontlines, even in the face of death, in order to protect.

Understanding this, their spirits soared.

“Ah! We are soldiers!”

No one knew who started the shout, but it ignited these men from all walks of life. A new fire burned in their chests, warming the cold blood in their veins.

“Yes, we are soldiers! Heads up, chests out, stomach in—forward!”

“Forward!”

“Only cowards fear death!”

“We are soldiers!”

The team of twenty-five pressed on through the blizzard, roaring their defiance at the storm, advancing with pride and determination. They finished the final lap, enduring to the end—it was their victory.

They wiped down with hot towels, dressed, sat on the chairs the princess had given them, and drank down the steaming ginger tea in one gulp.

Their training for the day had only just begun, yet the kitchen staff had already brought food: each man received a large steamed bun and a bowl of meat broth.

It was the sous-chef and Wu Xiaoqi who delivered the food. Watching the ravenous men devour their meal, they sighed inwardly; they had witnessed the scene just now—these men were truly mad, at least in their eyes.

For several days running, not a single man fell behind, nor did anyone complain of the cold again. They had worn a snow path around the field, waist-deep in places, a path that belonged to them alone—a soldier’s track, always broad and solid, its hard, cold surface marked with their resilience.

Through wind and snow, they strengthened their resolve and finally understood why they always had to stand tall with heads held high. Once this posture became habit, their very spirit changed.

That morning, as the gongs sounded once more in Chang’an, the entire carpenter’s workshop burned brightly with lanterns.

Mo Qianjin and Mo Dingkun had not slept all night; they had finished making a roofless carriage. The princess had explained: this was a sleigh, a special vehicle for Santa Claus.

Puzzled, they marveled at how it ran on snow, a curious winter contraption, but the princess never did explain who Santa Claus was.

Whistling, they harnessed several large dogs to the sleigh with ropes. Mo Dingkun could hardly wait to try it out.

“Father, I want to test this thing,” Mo Dingkun said as he pushed the sleigh outside the workshop.

A bleating sheep running by offered its opinion—no.

“Don’t rush,” said Mo Qianjin, who, along with another carpenter, was wrangling a white sheep. Because the snow was deep, they chose smaller animals.

By the time they finished, daylight had fully broken and the gongs sounded faintly again.

Several sleighs sped across the snow and arrived at the Heavenly Gift Pavilion, delivering their creations to the princess and waiting for rewards.

Wu Yueling watched the sleighs glide over the snow with satisfaction. With these, travel and shopping would be so much easier. She rewarded the craftsmen with food, clothing, and scarves, but ignored the eager looks from Mo Qianjin and Mo Dingkun, who clearly hoped for silver.

Dressed in a black military overcoat, Wu Yueling checked herself in the mirror. All those extra coins spent on costumes for past events had proven worthwhile. She layered on a padded blue robe, bundled herself up until she looked like a dumpling. Even so, sitting on the sleigh was chilly, but the two little ones were warm in their new pet outfits.

Of course, this bold idea had come from Wu Yueling herself.

The little white tiger and lynx both wore coats and hats embroidered with the royal “king” character. The hats were made by Wan’er and Xiaochun—their needlework was truly impressive.

Wu Yueling had to admit she admired their skill; she, after all, was the sort who couldn’t even thread a needle.

To increase their grip, the little tiger and lynx also wore big boots, turning them into two boot-clad, fake little cats.

The two little ones pulled the sleigh across the snow.

Wu Yueling sat atop, glancing back now and then to see Wan’er, Chuer, Xiaochun, Yu Chao’en, and a few other servants also laughing happily on their sleighs. Smiling, she continued on toward the kitchen.

The little white tiger had grown, now larger than a typical dog, while the lynx was about the size of an adult dog—neither of them were small anymore.

To lighten their burden, Wan’er, Chuer, and the others who wanted to try the sleighs rode those pulled by dogs and sheep instead. The snow was nearly up to the waist—without global warming, perhaps that was why the snow was so heavy. It wasn’t the first time she’d seen such disastrous snowfall; she recalled being snowed in back in Jingzhou, unable to leave the mountains, the cold almost unbearable.

Without this blizzard, the idea of a sleigh would never have occurred to her.

She arrived at the kitchen and picked up two wooden buckets of food—one of soup, one of roast chicken. These were to reward the soldiers who braved the snow for their morning drills. According to Chuer’s account, those fellows had truly developed a backbone.

When she came to collect the food, her padded layers made Lady Ye nearly fail to recognize her.

After handing out the rewards, Wu Yueling returned to the Heavenly Gift Pavilion, sat on the kang, and heard of an accident. Originally, bones and fodder were used to guide the dogs and sheep, controlling their direction.

But some kitchen hands, greedy for more sleighs, tried using pigs to pull the sleighs and ended up overturning into the snow, people and pigs together. Fortunately, the princess’s personal guards found and dug them out in time, so no harm was done.

That afternoon, Xiaochun and Xiaomi rode a sleigh to the eastern market of Chang’an to purchase dry goods.

In Chang’an, large numbers of soldiers were shoveling snow, clearing the streets. Despite the Princess’s Manor recruiting and sheltering refugees and beggars, there were still corpses of vagrants in thin clothes buried by the snow to be found here and there.