Chapter Fourteen: This Is Simply Impossible to Refuse

Fang Yun and the others found their tent damaged, with most of their belongings pilfered. Fortunately, Fang Yun had taken the most important items with him, leaving only some makeshift tables and chairs inside the tent.

The military, upon learning of their dire situation, allocated a tent for them, providing them with a different kind of support—though Fang Yun was certain this generosity was the result of some deal between Li Wangcheng and the military.

They were settled in a modest military tent, empty aside from a few essentials likely moved elsewhere. The offer of a tent was probably the limit of what the military could provide, so asking for more would be unreasonable.

Before long, Shang Xingbing arrived with two brothers, carrying a pile of supplies into the tent. “Are you all okay?” Fang Yun asked immediately, concerned. Knowing that Li Wangcheng’s men were skilled fighters, but remembering the number of people in that tent earlier, it was unlikely they escaped unscathed from a group outnumbering them four to one.

“No problem, just minor injuries. They relied on numbers, otherwise they wouldn’t have any wounds at all,” Shang Xingbing said, waving his fist nonchalantly, revealing some scrapes on his knuckles. Without waiting for Fang Yun’s reply, he began arranging the items inside the tent.

The three of them worked quickly, preparing five sleeping mats and setting up a stove, whose origin was a mystery. With the stove, the tent grew warmer. Just as they finished, the tent’s flap was lifted and Li Wangcheng entered, snow swirling around him.

“Boss, what should we do with those people?” Shang Xingbing’s first concern was the survivors who had invaded their tent—what fate awaited them?

Li Wangcheng glanced at him without a word, walked to the stove, and removed his leather gloves, brushing snow off his coat. Seeing the spot on his back just out of reach, Fang Yun hesitated briefly before stepping over to brush the snow from his back.

His usually sharp features softened slightly at her touch. Fang Yun lowered her eyes, unwilling to meet his gaze.

Turning aside, she pretended to rummage through her backpack but actually pulled out an aluminum lunchbox from her space, placing it by the stove. Then she took out a bottle of mineral water and poured it inside.

She also pulled out five insulated lunchboxes—the same ones she had packed earlier with rabbit meat noodles.

When she opened one, she expected to see a lump of greasy, congealed meat, but instead, a plume of white steam rose gently.

Shang Xingbing, still talking to Li Wangcheng, suddenly twitched his nose, then turned to see Fang Yun staring absentmindedly at the lunchbox.

“It smells amazing! Is that our rabbit meat?” he asked, his stomach growling loudly right afterward. Embarrassed, he rubbed his belly. “After all that, I’m even hungrier.”

Fang Yun snapped out of her daze, realizing her space could keep food warm, which brought a mixture of joy and worry. Joy that no matter how cold it got, they could still eat hot meals; worry over how to explain the food’s warmth to Li Wangcheng and the others without arousing suspicion.

Before she could think it through, Shang Xingbing stepped forward and took the lunchbox from her hands.

“Hey!” Fang Yun instinctively reached to take it back, but when she looked up, she met Li Wangcheng’s gaze.

She froze. Li Wangcheng approached, stood before her for two seconds, then asked, “You said there were several lunchboxes. Why only this one?”

Previously, he had seen Fang Yun divide five lunchboxes; now she held only one, which Shang Xingbing had taken. Li Wangcheng had already eaten nearly half a bowl, so it was impossible to ask for it back. He wouldn’t touch food that others had already eaten.

“They’re in the bag,” Fang Yun said, relieved that he didn’t press further. She turned and retrieved the remaining lunchboxes from her backpack, handing them out.

“These lunchboxes keep heat so well. I thought after all this time the food would be congealed, but it’s still like it just came off the stove,” Shang Xingbing said as he finished eating, his appetite nearly satisfied, and began chatting idly.

“You can’t stop talking even while eating,” Li Wangcheng shot him a look that silenced him immediately.

Fang Yun ignored their exchange, her hunger awakened by the aroma. She picked up her utensils and began eating eagerly.

After the meal, their bodies warmed through. Fang Yun tried to collect the empty lunchboxes, but Shang Xingbing grabbed them, heading outside into the snow to wash them. The other two men went off to scout the surroundings, leaving only Fang Yun and Li Wangcheng in the tent.

An awkward silence fell. Fang Yun busied herself, trying to ignore Li Wangcheng’s imposing presence.

Unfortunately, her attempts to avoid him went unnoticed.

“I’ve roughly explained our plan to He Gaolang. He can help us get close to Ma Qibo’s hidden supplies on the cliff,” Li Wangcheng said.

Fang Yun looked up sharply but asked with some doubt, “Who is He Gaolang?”

“The soldier you just saw.”

“The one talking with you?”

Fang Yun recalled seeing Li Wangcheng speak with a soldier after she was escorted out of the survivors’ tent. Presumably, that soldier was He Gaolang. But when and how Li Wangcheng met him, and what his exact position was, she wondered if he could truly help them.

She threw these questions at Li Wangcheng, knowing the matter was serious—if the information leaked or if He Gaolang wasn’t as capable as hoped, it would cause trouble.

“He’s the head of the entire military operation team at Dongmingshan. He can deploy all the military squads. I traded the supplies you mentioned with him, and he agreed.”

“Can he really decide something so big?” Fang Yun found it hard to believe.

Li Wangcheng smiled knowingly.

Among the platforms in Dongmingshan, the military-political jurisdiction was the most struggling, and due to the scarcity of supplies, it was being subtly suppressed by the other two platforms.

Offering supplies in exchange was a huge temptation for the military. Whether He Gaolang could decide such matters alone or not, the higher-ups would hardly refuse such a proposal once reported.

It was simply impossible to refuse.

Their forces were running out of ammunition and food, with the civilians outside watching hungrily. Both military and political leaders were under immense pressure.

No one knew exactly how much supplies Ma Qibo had, but given the number of people he maintained, it was clear he was well-stocked.

If they could wrest a portion of those supplies from him, it would be enough to get through the harsh early days.

“If that’s the case, we need to rethink our plan—how to approach Ma Qibo’s supply storage and how the military will cooperate with us.”