Starting with a Wei Wu soldier

On the last day of the twelfth lunar month, the snow finally stopped completely.

The leaden clouds were torn apart by the north wind, revealing a long-awaited, clear, and bright winter sky. The sunlight shone coldly on the thick snow, reflecting a blinding white light. But the cold wind grew even more biting, like an invisible blade, scraping across the fortress walls and rooftops, whipping up bursts of snow and whistling sharply.

However, the bitter cold did nothing to freeze the increasingly festive atmosphere inside Starfire Fortress.

"New Year's Eve," a day deeply etched into the bones of Han Chinese men, holds a particularly special meaning for the fortified people who have endured displacement and struggled to survive. It is not merely a change of year, but more like a solemn declaration: they have survived, enduring a complete cycle of the four seasons in this war-torn year and in this newly built home.

From dawn, the fort was immersed in an orderly flurry of activity. Women swept the last snow from the houses and courtyards, hung out the long-washed coarse cloth quilts to dry, and racked their brains to prepare the most important meal of the year, the "New Year's Eve dinner," using limited flour, bean dregs, and pickled vegetables. The children changed into what might be the only clean clothes without patches all year, their little faces red from the cold, yet unable to contain their excitement, chasing and playing in the cleared ground, occasionally secretly picking up unburnt embers, trying to light the pine branches they had collected, only to be chased away by the adults with laughter and scolding.

The men split into several teams. One group, under Zhao Tiezhu's command, conducted a final inspection of the livestock sheds' insulation and fodder to ensure these important assets wouldn't be compromised before the New Year. Another group, under Chen Wei's arrangement, strengthened the sentry posts and patrols in various locations—the more festive the occasion, the less they could afford to relax. Yet another group, following Zhou Dashan and Wang Jian, set up a simple wooden platform and erected tall wooden poles in the largest open space within the fortress, preparing for their nighttime activities.

The western camp was equally bustling. Although the Murong tribe did not celebrate the Han New Year's Eve, they adapted to local customs and, with their growing integration into Xinghuo Fortress, had long regarded today as an important shared holiday. The women were learning to mix millet with minced wild goat meat, attempting to make large, oddly shaped "dumplings"; the children were filled with curiosity about the windmills and galacha in the hands of the Han children. Helan Sou, along with several elders, specially brought several plump frozen wild rabbits and a small bag of precious wild grassland tea as a "New Year's gift" to their host family.

Inside the council chamber, Chen Xing, Wu Xuejiu, and Li Shu were finalizing a long list and inventory of items. It was the "year-end reward" to be distributed at the nightly ceremony—extra grain, cloth, salt, and even a small quantity of relatively fine iron farm tools or everyday utensils salvaged from spoils and trade, calculated based on each person's merits and performance throughout the year. The items weren't numerous, but their scope was broad, benefiting almost every family or individual who had contributed to the fortress.

"The accounts must be clear and the distribution orderly. Everyone must know that this is calculated in accordance with the Merit Order, and every penny is based on evidence," Chen Xing instructed Li Shu.

"Rest assured, Lord, everything has been packaged and labeled according to household and individual, and will be distributed by name at night. There will be no mistakes or omissions." Li Shu was full of confidence. After nearly a year of training, this young secretary had become increasingly capable.

In the afternoon, accompanied by Chen Wei and two bodyguards, Chen Xing inspected the entire fortress. He walked past the fortress walls, now even taller after repairs and reinforcements, and comforted the soldiers who stood guard in the cold wind, giving each of them an extra small bag of salt and two thick coarse grain cakes. He entered the crowded but warm craftsmen's workshop, watching the blacksmiths finish hammering the last batch of farm tools in dire need of repair, the carpenters oiling several newly made spinning wheels, and the bricklayers repairing the corner of a shack that had collapsed under the weight of snow. He came to the expanded school, where Wu Xuejiu was leading a group of children, using charcoal to write auspicious characters such as "Spring," "Fortune," and "Peace" on wooden boards in a crooked manner. Although not neat, each stroke was earnest.

Finally, he strolled to the western slope camp. Several rough red paper lanterns hung on the wooden walls of the camp, adding a touch of brightness. Murong Mingyue was leading the able-bodied men of her troops in their daily riding drills, though today's practice had a more playful element. For example, they would bend down to pick up colorful strips of cloth from the ground while galloping, or throw snowballs wrapped in soft cloth at each other on horseback, their shouts and laughter filling the air. Upon seeing Chen Xing arrive, everyone stopped and bowed in greeting.

"General Murong and everyone else have worked hard, and even on New Year's Eve, they haven't forgotten to train," Chen Xing said with a smile.

"Please excuse my rudeness, Lord. I was merely stretching my muscles to prevent them from rusting from laziness." Murong Mingyue reined in her horse and approached. Today, she was not wearing red, but had changed into a dark blue Hu-style robe with fur trim. Her long hair was tied up and secured with a simple bone hairpin. She looked less fierce on the battlefield and more dashing in her daily life. "Lord, you inspected the fort today. The fort has a brand-new look and a strong festive atmosphere."

"It's just finding joy in hardship. After a year of toil, this moment of peace is rare, so we should share in the joy with the people." Chen Xing looked at the figures busily preparing in the camp. "Later tonight, there will be a small celebration in the fortress. If the general and your troops are free, you might as well come along."

"It would be an honor to trouble you." Murong Mingyue nodded in agreement, a hint of expectation in her eyes.

As the sun began to set, the chilly wind seemed to subside somewhat. A large, dark crowd had already gathered in front of the wooden platform in the open space inside the fortress. Except for the necessary sentries, almost everyone in the fortress was there, bundled up in thick winter clothes, their breath forming clouds of smoke, yet their faces wore rare, relaxed smiles. Most of the people from the western slope camp had also arrived, mingling with the fortress inhabitants. Although ethnic boundaries remained, there was less of a barrier between them, and more curiosity and friendliness prevailed.

Several bonfires were lit on the wooden platform, dispelling some of the chill. The first ceremony was an ancestral worship and remembrance ritual. Under Wu Xuejiu's direction, Chen Xing led everyone, facing north, to burn incense and offer wine, praying to heaven and ancestors for favorable weather and peace for the fortress in the coming year. Afterwards, a special memorial was held for all the soldiers and civilians who had tragically died in battle or labor since the establishment of Xinghuo Fortress, including the fallen members of the Murong tribe. The atmosphere was solemn and respectful; many had tears in their eyes, especially the families who had lost loved ones. But when Wu Xuejiu read the eulogy, "The heroic souls are not far away, protecting the living; though the road ahead is difficult, the torch will be passed on," a heavy emotion of "inheritance" and "responsibility" rose in everyone's hearts.

After the memorial service, the atmosphere turned celebratory. Li Shu ascended the wooden platform and began calling out names to distribute the "year-end rewards." Each name was briefly described with an explanation of the recipient's major achievements over the year, and then the person in question or their family member stepped forward to receive the substantial reward, wrapped in coarse cloth, from Zhou Dashan, Wang Jian, and others. From below the platform came occasional envious exclamations, occasional congratulatory laughter among acquaintances, and mostly, expressions of anticipation for their own future opportunity to stand on the platform. Some members of the Murong tribe were also on the list; they had mostly earned their merits for assisting patrols, contributing herding skills, or participating in labor. When Helan Sou stepped forward on behalf of his tribe to receive the reward, applause also erupted from below.

The distribution of rewards lasted for nearly an hour. Finally, there was a simple "hundred-family feast." Each family contributed some of their best food, gathered on a long wooden plank by the campfire: mixed noodle dumplings, steamed millet cakes, well-stewed wild mutton, pickled vegetables, bean paste, and even a few dishes of precious roasted chestnuts and wild honey. Everyone shared freely, without distinction. The children received extra baked flatbreads sprinkled with sugar, and were overjoyed. Key figures such as Chen Xing, Chen Wei, Murong Mingyue, and Wu Xuejiu also ate with the common people, without any special treatment.

Although the food was simple and the quantity was not abundant, the joy of sharing and the liveliness of gathering were enough to dispel the deepest chill of the winter night. People sat around the campfire, eating and talking loudly about this year's harvest and next year's plans. Occasionally, a bold man would shout out a few off-key local folk songs, eliciting good-natured laughter and responses.

As the banquet reached its midst, someone started a series of performances, with everyone taking turns to "show off their talents." An old man played a mournful tune of homesickness on a leaf; young soldiers demonstrated a set of military boxing techniques with impressive power; warriors from the Murong tribe danced a lively and energetic grassland dance, drawing cheers from the crowd; and even a few teenagers recited a passage from the "Thousand Character Classic" they had just learned that day, albeit with numerous errors, yet they won the most enthusiastic applause—a tribute to knowledge and the future.

Chen Xing sat at the head of the table, gazing at the boisterous yet genuinely joyful scene before him, at the weathered yet hopeful faces illuminated by the firelight, and an indescribable sense of emotion welled up within him. A year ago, he was struggling desperately amidst mountains of corpses and seas of blood; a year later, he was sitting here, celebrating New Year's Eve with hundreds, even thousands of people. It all felt like a dream, yet so real, so real that he could feel the warmth of the campfire and hear the laughter of everyone present.

His gaze involuntarily drifted to his side. Murong Mingyue was slightly turned to the side, whispering something to Helan Sou beside her, a faint smile playing on her lips. The firelight danced on her delicate profile, softening her usual sharp features and coldness, revealing a rare gentleness. Seemingly sensing his gaze, she turned her head, their eyes meeting. The smile in her eyes hadn't faded, clear and bright, reflecting the flickering flames and his figure.

Neither of them immediately looked away. The surrounding noise seemed to vanish in an instant, leaving only the soft crackling of the campfire and the bright reflection in each other's eyes.

After what seemed like an eternity, perhaps only a fleeting moment, Murong Mingyue lowered her eyes slightly, raising her hand to tuck a strand of hair that had been blown across her cheek behind her ear—a natural and elegant movement. Chen Xing also withdrew his gaze, picked up the warm water in front of him, and took a sip, concealing the inexplicable flutter in his heart.

The celebrations continued late into the night. As the bonfires died down and the chill returned, people began to leave with their families, reluctant to part ways, returning to their warm huts and homes. Throughout the fort, the sounds of doors closing and greetings of "Happy New Year" filled the air.

Chen Xing and Murong Mingyue were the last to leave the open space. Instead of immediately returning to their quarters, they strolled up the fortress wall. The soldiers on duty saluted them from a distance, then discreetly stepped back.

From the top of the fortress walls, the view was expansive. Scattered lights within the fortress mingled with the embers of the still-burning campfire. Outside, an endless, cold snowfield, bathed in moonlight, stretched to the dark, indistinct outline of distant mountains. All was silent except for the soft whistling of the wind whistling through the battlements.

"Another year has passed," Chen Xing murmured, gazing at the vast starry sky. Tonight, the sky was exceptionally clear and brilliant, with the Milky Way stretching across the heavens and countless stars like grains of sand.

"Hmm." Murong Mingyue stood half a step behind him, also gazing up at the starry sky. "On the grasslands, the starry sky on New Year's Eve is said to predict the grasslands and livestock of the coming year. The stars are so bright tonight, it seems... to be a good omen."

"I hope so." Chen Xing turned his head and looked at her soft profile outlined by the starlight. "Miss Murong, you've had a tough year."

Murong Mingyue shook her head slightly: "Compared to the Fortress Master's strategic planning and tireless efforts, what I have done is insignificant."

"No need for modesty," Chen Xing said sincerely. "Without the help of the General and your esteemed tribe, Xinghuo Fortress would never be what it is today. The road ahead remains fraught with peril. The Black Mountain Commander, the Ulolan tribe, and many more unknown enemies are still lurking in the shadows, watching us with predatory eyes. But with the General by my side, I feel much more at ease."

These words were rather blunt, almost touching upon a tacit boundary. Murong Mingyue's heart skipped a beat. After a moment of silence, she whispered, "With the Lord's trust, Mingyue and the people will not betray you. Starfire Fortress... is already our home."

"Home..." Chen Xing savored the word, a warm current flowing through his heart. He looked at the lights gradually going out inside the fortress and said slowly, "Yes, home. We, who have drifted from all directions, have been able to build a 'home' together here. How difficult it is! To protect this home, to make it bigger and more stable, so that more people can live and work in peace here... This is the responsibility on the shoulders of you, me, and all our followers."

Murong Mingyue followed his gaze, her eyes resolute: "Though the burden is heavy, it is less so when shared by many. The spark has been lit, and it will surely illuminate many more places."

The two fell silent, standing side by side atop the wall, letting the cool night wind blow through them. In the distance, the faint sound of a watchman's clapper could be heard; midnight had passed, and the new year was quietly approaching.

At this moment, no more words are needed. A tacit understanding that transcends allies and borders on that of close friends, along with a deeper and more ambiguous emotion, quietly grows on this snowy New Year's Eve as the old year gives way to the new, like the first drop of snow melting quietly in the corner of a wall, foreshadowing the budding of spring beneath the ice.

The night is long and the road ahead is long. But at least for this moment, they share the same starry sky, watch over the same light, and shoulder the same heavy hope called "home".