My brother entrusted his child to me, and I livestreamed raising the baby, making the Empress cry wi

But they had already made their choice, and now it's no use regretting it; all they can do is say some bitter things out of resentment.

"It's just for them to wear temporarily. They'll definitely take it back after the disaster relief is over. What's there to be so smug about?" The person who spoke stood with his arms crossed, by the curtain of a tent, his shoulders slightly hunched.

The air inside the tent was damp and stuffy, a mixture of stale sweat, damp mud, and rust, constantly filling the nostrils. The dry grass on the ground had long since absorbed the moisture, making a soft, squelching sound underfoot, like stepping on a puddle of mud.

Dark green mold had grown on the four corners of the tent, almost invisible in the dim light, yet emanating a noticeable stench of decay.

As he spoke, the muscles in his face twitched, forcing a stiff, mocking smile. He turned his head away as soon as he finished speaking, feigning disdain, but his gaze involuntarily drifted back to the figures coming and going outside the tent.

In the rain, those wearing transparent raincoats walked briskly, splashing water everywhere, but without the slightest sign of disarray.

The man's throat moved involuntarily as he swallowed a mouthful of saliva that seemed to have a strong sour taste, making him appear even more gloomy. He looked like a pickled vegetable just pulled from a vat of vinegar, dripping with sourness from head to toe.

Another person who hadn't stepped forward took over the conversation, his voice high-pitched and shrill, almost distorted, and particularly jarring in the damp air, as if deliberately intended for the person who had just lifted the tent flap to hear.

"Exactly! And this tattered clothing isn't worth risking our lives for. Who knows what we'll encounter while on a disaster relief mission? Floods don't discriminate. Can that thin layer of cloth really keep out the rain or protect us from water ghosts?" He spoke faster and faster, his voice rising higher and higher, the last word almost screaming out loud.

But as he spoke, his fingers unconsciously twisted the hem of his clothes, crumpling the coarse cloth into a tangled mess, as if trying to squeeze all his unhappiness into that ball of fabric. The coarse cloth was already stiff, and with his twisting, the wrinkles resembled twisted scars, lying haphazardly on the hem of his clothes.

Upon hearing this, the soldier carrying the armor paused, and raindrops dripped from the armor, merging into the damp, withered grass without leaving a trace.

He immediately retorted, "So what? Even if they take it back, I've already enjoyed it." His voice wasn't loud, but it carried a real sense of toughness. Rainwater dripped from the brim of his hat, forming a silver line in front of his nose.

"Besides, Lord Lin is such a good man that he even considered such a small matter. He certainly won't send us to our deaths!" As he spoke, he slightly raised his chin, his chest seemed to be burning with fire, and his voice became a few degrees brighter, drowning out the sound of the rain pouring outside the tent.

"Hmph, maybe they're just using small favors to trick you into risking your lives." The man sneered, his lips curling downwards, and he hugged his chest even tighter, his knuckles turning white, as if letting go would cause him to collapse from the bitterness in his heart.

"You've never seen the world. Who in this world would treat us ordinary soldiers so well for no reason? We're not even related, yet they give us such good clothes. What's the point? Isn't it to save your lives?" He spoke louder and louder, throwing out one sentence after another, it was unclear whether he was trying to convince others or himself.

"fart!"

The soldier finally couldn't hold back any longer. His voice suddenly rose, like a muffled thunderclap in the tent. He slammed his soaked helmet onto the rack with a thud, causing the water droplets on the helmet to drip down like a localized drizzle.

He turned around to face the two men. The light inside the tent was dim, with only a sliver of light from the sky filtering through the curtains, illuminating his face and clearly outlining his youthful features.

His nose was straight, his lips were tightly pressed together, and his cheeks were flushed with excitement. The light in his eyes was scorching, as if an inextinguishable fire was burning inside, piercing straight at the two men, forcing them to unconsciously shrink back, their heels sinking into the soft mud.

"What use would Lord Lin have for our lives? If he really wanted us to die to fill the flood, he could have easily tied us all up with a wave of his hand. You all saw his ability to teleport people!"

He also turned up the volume, the sound echoing in the tent, causing a few drops of water to drip from the tent roof, falling "plop plop" onto the muddy ground outside.

"If Lord Lin wanted to, would you even have the right to choose whether to go or not? When you chose not to go, did Lord Lin utter a single harsh word?"

As he spoke, his anger flared even more, and his entire demeanor rose in intensity. Each word seemed to be uttered through gritted teeth, carrying a sense of resentment.

The two men opened their mouths as if to refute something, but after a few gulps, not a single word came out. In the end, they could only manage a low, hoarse "Tch" from deep in their throats, turning their heads away, unable to look the soldier in the eye.

The soldier rolled his eyes, ignoring their sour grapes talk, and strode out, flung open the tent flap. The flap fell behind him, swayed a few times, and brought in a damp breeze carrying the scent of earth and grass, diluting the sour smell that filled the tent.

He went back into the rain, stomping his feet hard, as if trying to stomp his anger into the mud. With each angry step, he splashed up a considerable amount of water, but not a single drop managed to seep into his rain boots.

The transparent raincoat reflected the light from the sky, standing out against the gray rain, billowing and swaying with his movements.

The two men inside the tent stood frozen in place, their faces flushing red and then turning pale, their lips pressed tightly together. After a long while, one of them finally let out a snort through his nose, as if trying to expel all the anger he had just suffered. But the snort dissipated into the damp air as soon as it left his lips, without even a echo.

But the light in their eyes didn't lie; they simultaneously lifted the tent flap, watching the spirited figures coming and going outside. As the flap was lifted, a slanting drizzle flew in, hitting their thin faces and sending a chill down their spines.

Those companions who had once shared hardships wore transparent raincoats and walked through the mud, yet each of them took a steady step.

The raindrops pattered on their raincoats like beads on lotus leaves, rolling off without wetting their clothes underneath. The transparent raincoats shimmered faintly, and from a distance, they looked like a school of glowing fish swimming in water.

As they looked at each other, their Adam's apples bobbed up and down. A bitter feeling welled up inside them, spreading from their throats to the tip of their tongues, then to the tip of their noses, making their eyes sting slightly. It was as if they had bitten into a mouthful of bitter melon, the bitterness refusing to dissipate.

They really regretted it...