Chapter 31: A Gentle Day-Marquis Wu of Wei(Falling petals chase after drifting leaves.)

That night, Wei Wuke had a splendid dream: he became the supreme Marquis of Wei. The intoxicating sensation of wielding power over life and death, standing at the pinnacle of authority, utterly enchanted him. As he sat on the throne, receiving the homage of his subjects, suddenly someone pushed him from behind.

He awoke—and saw exactly who had done it.

"Young master, it's time for breakfast!" Zheng Dali stood by the bedside.

Wei Wuke, his sweet dream interrupted, glared at Zheng Dali's rugged face, feeling thoroughly disgruntled.

"So early for breakfast?" Wei Wuke complained, still half asleep.

"Young master, it's not early at all. You should get up quickly," Zheng Dali urged. The sun was already high in the sky—how could it still be early?

"Fine, fine!" Wei Wuke replied impatiently. He couldn't even enjoy a proper lie-in. What was the point of being a young master, anyway? In the twenty-first century, hardly any young people bothered with breakfast.

Reluctantly, after a considerable fuss, Wei Wuke finally dressed and followed Zheng Dali outside.

The moment he stepped into the sunlight, the glare stabbed at his eyes like needles, forcing him to cover them. Only after adjusting to the brightness did he lower his hands.

"Greetings, young master!"

Everyone who passed by offered respectful salutations, and Wei Wuke returned them in kind.

"Come on, let's go have breakfast together!" Wei Wuke laughed, addressing the passing soldiers.

Breakfast? The Wei soldiers were confused—wasn't it nearly time for lunch?

"Young master, we've already eaten!" one soldier replied with an awkward chuckle.

"Ah, I see! Well, carry on then," Wei Wuke quickly said, slipping away—embarrassed at making a spectacle of himself so soon after rising.

Zheng Dali hurried after him, muttering, "I told you, I told you to get up earlier."

"Enough!" Wei Wuke snapped. It was all Zheng Dali's fault for not making it clear how late it was.

"Forget it, this breakfast isn't worth it. I'll just wait a bit and eat two meals together," Wei Wuke declared, returning to his tent and throwing himself back onto the bed.

So what if he lacked ambition? He'd catch up on sleep. Closing his eyes, Wei Wuke mumbled to himself.

And so, under Zheng Dali's dumbfounded gaze, Wei Wuke drifted off again.

Another hour passed before the increasingly impatient Zheng Dali roused him.

"Young master, this won't do. What general is so fond of sleep?" Zheng Dali complained.

"Enough, it's just a nap. Stop nagging," Wei Wuke retorted, rising and heading with Zheng Dali to the mess.

By the time they arrived, all the Wei soldiers were already assembled, waiting.

"Salutations, young master!" Upon seeing Wei Wuke, the soldiers stood and greeted him.

"Everyone sit, please!" Wei Wuke hurriedly motioned for them to relax and took his own place.

Wei was unlike other states—generals and common soldiers ate and lived together, with no separate privileges, not even for the Marquis himself. This closeness fostered camaraderie, so that in battle, soldiers would fight fiercely alongside their commanders, sharing life and death.

But not all Wei officers maintained this tradition. Take Wang Xian, whom Wei Wuke had encountered earlier—he had abandoned it. The consequence was clear: when Wang Xian was punished, not a single soldier pleaded for him. Wei Wuke noted this and took it to heart.

"Come on, brothers, don't just sit there—do you need your young master to feed you?" Wei Wuke joked, picking up his chopsticks and feigning surprise.

The remark provoked hearty laughter, lightening the mood as the soldiers began to eat.

"Why is it always steamed buns and flatbread?" Wei Wuke complained to Wang Xiu after taking a few bites.

Meat? He hadn't tasted any in days! It puzzled him—he'd never cared much for meat in his previous life, so why was he now so fixated on it?

"Young master, that's our usual fare," Wang Xiu replied.

"Young master, the army is on campaign—" Wang Xiu started to explain, but Wei Wuke waved him off, uninterested.

Though not very hungry, the soldiers devoured their food with gusto, and before long the buns and flatbread, which Wei Wuke had scorned, were gone.

After eating, the soldiers dispersed under their squad leaders, each to his duties.

Scanning the room, Wei Wuke grew curious. He drained the last drop of porridge from his bowl and asked, "Why haven't I seen any wounded brothers? Don't they eat?"

Wang Xiu quickly answered, "Young master, they're in the tents. Dedicated comrades bring them their meals. There's no need to worry."

Satisfied, Wei Wuke nodded. The wounded must be well cared for.

Glancing at the sun, he saw it was still early; bored, Wei Wuke wondered what to do.

Perhaps visit the wounded? He mused. On television, generals always liked to do that.

With nothing pressing, he decided to act. "Since there's nothing else, let's go see our brothers," he said to Wang Xiu.

Wang Xiu, eager to oblige, led the way.

Soon, they arrived at several military tents. Though outwardly no different from the others, a closer inspection revealed faint traces of blood and suppressed moans of pain.

Wei Wuke took a deep breath and signaled to Wang Xiu, choosing the nearest tent.

Lifting the curtain, he found wounded soldiers inside, eating slowly through their pain. When they noticed someone enter, they turned their faces toward the door.

"Brothers, the young master has come to visit," Wang Xiu announced.

Upon seeing Wei Wuke, all the soldiers who could move struggled to rise and salute him.

"Sit, sit! No need for formalities," Wei Wuke said, alarmed at the display. If any wound reopened from moving, who would answer for it?

"You are all heroes of Wei. I should salute you, thank you for shedding blood for our state," Wei Wuke said, standing in the center of the tent and looking around. He had learned the art of rhetoric, making great progress.

Such a considerate commander moved the wounded soldiers deeply. Despite their condition, their general, a young master of noble birth, had remembered them. How could they not be moved to tears?

Wei Wuke was surprised—he'd barely said two sentences and already his men were crying. What should he do?

"Enough, enough—what's there to cry about? Aren't you men?" Wei Wuke said sternly, halting the tears.

"Take care and heal well. When you're recovered, you'll join me in routing the Chen army," he continued.

"Not just the Chen—also the Qin. We'll make them run for their lives," he added, growing increasingly imaginative. "Who knows, I might even lead you to the Zhou court, to weigh the Nine Cauldrons!"

Wang Xiu felt embarrassed at the exaggeration—wasn't the joke going a bit far?

…

The soldiers listened eagerly, wishing to recover quickly and follow Wei Wuke to conquer the world and achieve greatness.

"We'll heal well and serve at your side, young master," one soldier said, struggling to stand.

Wei Wuke went on, encouraging and exhorting the wounded until they were utterly inspired.

He then moved on with Wang Xiu to the next tent, determined to attend to every group.

He was certain that his efforts would win him a new wave of loyal followers.

Moreover, the sooner these wounded soldiers recovered, the stronger his force would become. Soldiers who had survived wounds were always more dependable.

As Wei Wuke was finishing his rounds in the last tent, Zheng Dali brought him news.

"Young master, a messenger from the central command has arrived. You're to attend a military council in the main tent at noon tomorrow."

Military council? Wei Wuke was puzzled. Wang Xiu explained—it was a strategic meeting.

Just back, and already summoned to a meeting?

Wei Wuke nodded to Zheng Dali, indicating he understood.

A meeting was fine; he was curious to see what they would discuss.

At this moment, Wei Wuke found himself looking forward to the next day—perhaps his father might even appear.