When Mu Qing woke up, he was facing the bronze lamp hanging in the tent. A strange memory came over - he was Zhao Xin, the son of Zhao Kuo, and there were only three days left in the battle of Changping.
"Xin'er, come and prepare troops for your father." Zhao Kuo's voice sounded, and the map on the case marked the defeat known to future generations.
Xin Zhao's fingertips felt cold, and the "recklessness" he had scolded countless times in his previous life was now making his heart feel tight. Seeing that his father still wanted to send light cavalry to lure the enemy, he finally said: "Father, there may be an ambush in the west mountain. Let's explore the truth first before advancing!"
Zhao Kuo raised his eyebrows and chuckled: "Children are just talking on paper."
Xin Zhao clenched his fists. In this life, he wants to turn this "paper talk" into a chance to save Zhao. Under the candlelight, the boy's eyes had lost half of their childishness.
