Qin An was only sixteen years old this year and served as Qin Hu's personal page. He was very frail, could no longer bear the torment, and looked as though he were on his last breath.
In truth, Qin Hu was in little better shape. Over the past few days, the vanguard camp had been marching thirty miles daily, tasked with clearing roads through mountains, building bridges over rivers, gathering firewood, tending fires, digging trenches, hauling water, and pitching encampments.
What kind of treatment would two pampered, soft-skinned young men face while surrounded by hundreds of rough, boorish soldiers every day?
Chapter 928