When the first horn blew, Liǔ Cháoquè was led away, turning her head as she entered yet another new battlefield.
Her appearance, unchanged through the years, made her stand out like a crane among chickens in the army, though the endless wars added a touch of fatigue to her face. Every choice she made was like walking a tightrope, but fortunately, she was answering according to the key. Yet the departure of each companion and every bright red flag fluttering on the hilltops made her tremble nonetheless; they were like the foolish old man moving mountains, generation after generation, striving to remove the great mountain that oppressed them.
"Is there any spare gauze?"
Chapter 142