When dust rose three feet high on the dirt road outside the capital, Niu Jizong was patting the hilt of his knife and laughing, asking whether the boy in the family still remembered his biological father. Jia Cong walked behind the palace with his eyes sweeping over the ruins and his heart pounding - he was sent to the army at the age of twelve and had to carry it in the cold for three years. Hou Lian came over to call brother Cong to come to his senses. I rubbed the old frost-cracked scars on my knuckles and glanced at the outline of the city gate in the distance. The northwest war report should arrive before anyone else.
