Qin An was only sixteen years old this year and served as Qin Hu's personal page. He was very frail and already worn down by the torment, looking as though he had only one breath left in him.
In truth, Qin Hu was in no better shape. Over the past few days, the vanguard camp had been marching thirty miles daily, tasked with clearing mountain paths, building bridges over rivers, gathering firewood, stoking fires, digging trenches, hauling water, and pitching camps.
What kind of situation would these two soft, pampered fellows face day in and day out, cooped up with hundreds of rough-hewn, burly soldiers?
Chapter 833