Good Pregnancy Quick Transmigration: The Overly Charming CEO with No Heirs

Half a month later, the news reached the border.

It wasn't news of supplies being dispatched; it was devastating news.

Chen Lixin stormed into the main tent with a livid face, clutching a letter in his hand, his fists clenched so tightly they cracked.

"General, that son of a bitch, the First Prince, sabotaged something on the way!"

He slammed his fist on the table, causing the flags in the sand table to tilt and sway.

"Our men sent south have been detained, their money intercepted, and they're accused of 'unauthorized transfer of military rations with malicious intent'!"

Han Yunzhao sat behind his desk, holding a military treatise in his hand, and did not move upon hearing this.

"How much is left in the granary?" he asked.

Chen Lixin gritted his teeth, his voice sounding like it was being squeezed out from between his teeth:

"We're almost out of food. Even if we eat sparingly, we can only last another seven days at most."

Seven days.

Han Yunzhao finally put down the military treatise and raised his eyes.

"Pass down the order: starting today, two meals a day, thin porridge."

"General!" Chen Lixin exclaimed anxiously, "The soldiers are guarding the border in the freezing wind, eating only two meals of thin porridge a day. How many grains of rice are in that porridge? How can their bodies withstand it..."

"You have to bear it, even if you can't." Han Yunzhao interrupted him, his voice carrying an undeniable authority. "This is a military order."

Chen Lixin clenched his fists so tightly that his nails dug into his palms, drawing out fine beads of blood.

He stood there for a while, then wiped his face hard, his voice hoarse: "This humble general obeys."

The moment he stepped out of his tent, he cursed a very vulgar curse at the gray sky, his voice so loud that the entire camp could hear it.

No one found it offensive.

Because everyone wants to curse.

Three days later.

The porridge was almost gone, and the stove was about to go out.

The cook scraped and shaved the bottom of the pot.

The bugle call still rang out on time, and the soldiers still lined up for morning exercises.

But his steps were clearly unsteady, and the tip of his spear trembled slightly in the cold wind, whether from the cold or from hunger, it was hard to tell.

Han Yunzhao stood on the watchtower, watching all this, silent as a stone statue.

The wind lifted the hem of his clothes, sending them billowing in a desolate arc through the air.

He suddenly remembered that many years ago, when he was twelve years old and had just arrived at the border, it was also a cold winter.

He stood there in the cold wind, hungry, watching the soldiers who were a head taller than him drill.

At that time, he told himself to pull through and survive.

He pulled through.

He's still alive today.

But now, he has to lead 300,000 people to get through this.

This is a thousand times harder than living alone.

"General." Chen Lixin walked up to the watchtower, holding a bowl of porridge in his hand. The porridge was so thin that you could see your reflection in it. "You haven't eaten all day. At least have a couple of sips."

Han Yunzhao glanced at the bowl of porridge but didn't take it: "Take it to the wounded soldiers."

"General!"

"This is a military order."

Chen Lixin's hand trembled, and the bowl of porridge almost spilled.

He opened his mouth, but ultimately said nothing, turned around and left the watchtower.

His back was much more hunched, as if he had aged ten years in just a few days.

Han Yunzhao withdrew his gaze and looked into the distance.

Thick clouds hung heavy on the horizon, making it look like it was about to snow.

The first snow of winter came later than usual, but it would have been better if it hadn't come at all.

Because when the snow comes, the weather gets colder, food supplies become scarcer, and life becomes even harder.

By the fifth day, the atmosphere in the camp had reached its limit.

The soldiers were emaciated and had sunken eyes, yet they still stood on the city wall, gripping their spears, facing the biting north wind, motionless.

Han Yunzhao is in the same state.

He ate the same food as his soldiers, or even less.

At this moment, Chen Lixin returned from outside, his face even more gloomy than the weather, and a layer of white frost covered his armor.

"General, I've searched all the nearby cities, and they won't sell a single grain of rice. Some people are willing to sell, but the price..." His eyes were practically spitting fire. "That price can buy three times the amount of grain, and our little bit of silver is simply not enough."

Han Yunzhao remained silent.

"The Crown Prince has given word," Chen Lixin said, his voice even lower and his anger even greater. "He said that as long as the general hands over the tiger tally, the provisions will be delivered immediately without delay."

If someone like that, raised on dog food, were to become emperor, then the fall of Dongli would not be far off.

Han Yunzhao finally reacted.

He chuckled softly.

The smile was faint, so faint that it was almost invisible.

But when Chen Lixin saw it, a chill ran down his spine for no reason.

He had followed the general for so many years, and he had seen the general angry and cold, but he had rarely seen the general smile.

Every time the general laughed like that, it meant someone was about to suffer a terrible fate.

"Tell him," Han Yunzhao said, his voice unusually calm, "The tiger tally is in my hands. If you want it, come and get it yourself."

Chen Lixin took a deep breath and clasped his hands in a fist salute: "Yes."

That night, the snow finally fell.

The heavy snow fell thick and fast, covering the sky and the earth as if to bury the entire world.

The temperature plummeted, and the tents could hardly keep out the chill that was seeping in from all directions.

The soldiers, wrapped in thin cotton quilts, huddled on their bunks, their stomachs rumbling, tossing and turning, unable to sleep.

Some people muttered curses against the imperial court, while others longed for home.

Someone mentioned the reunion dinner they had when they celebrated Chinese New Year in their hometown, and as they spoke, they fell silent, their eyes reddening.

sixth day.

The snow hasn't stopped.

The cook squatted in front of the stove, looking at the empty pot, tears streaming down his face.

Standing at the camp gate, Chen Lixin looked at the heavy snow and the thin, yet still upright, soldiers in the distance. He finally couldn't hold back and burst into a tirade of curses.

He cursed the eldest prince for being heartless and cruel, the second prince for failing to save someone in distress, the court officials for being incompetent and useless, and even God for being blind.

By the end of his tirade, his voice was hoarse, his eyes were red, and tears mixed with snowflakes covered his face.

No one laughed at him.

Everyone wanted to yell and curse, but they didn't have the energy.

Han Yunzhao sat in the main tent, with a map spread out in front of him, densely marked with cities, passes, and supply routes.

There was a bowl of ice-cold water next to him, but he didn't drink a drop.

He hadn't eaten much for five days. His jawline was sharp as if it had been cut with a knife, and his eye sockets were deeply sunken, but his eyes remained calm, cold, and bright.

He was thinking of a solution.

I'm trying to think of a way to turn this into a safe haven.

It is necessary.

He was a general leading an army of 300,000.

If he falls, those 300,000 people will truly be doomed.

After an unknown amount of time, the curtain was suddenly lifted, and a cold wind carrying snowflakes rushed in, causing the candlelight to flicker violently.

Chen Lixin practically tumbled in, his expression a mix of shock and elation, his lips trembling before he could utter a sound:

"General! Outside! A caravan has arrived! A huge caravan! They're carrying nothing but grain!"

Han Yunzhao's hand stopped.

"They say they have the general's jade pendant, and that you sent them!"

Chen Lixin's voice was trembling, as if he was afraid this was a dream and that if he raised his voice, he would wake up.

Jade pendant.

Han Yunzhao suddenly stood up.

He recalled that on the day of their parting, he had placed the jade pendant into Xi Yao's palm.

That caravan.

That jade pendant.

It's Yao Yao.

"...Where is the person now?" His voice sounded quite calm.

But what lies beneath that calm is more turbulent than ever before.

"It's right outside the camp gate! I've already sent someone to open the gate, but there's too much stuff; we can't move it all in a short time..."

Han Yunzhao had already strode out of the tent.