Chapter 21: Not Understanding the Human Heart
“That’s true,” Jima said. “But the soldiers won’t accept it. After being punished, they’ll blame the suffering on your horned little attendant, and by then, he’ll be in trouble.”
George frowned in confusion. “If they’re not following military law, it should be me they resent.”
Jima turned her head and asked the sergeant, “Sergeant, do the soldiers respect George?”
The sergeant hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “Yes, the commander has led by example multiple times and saved many comrades’ lives.”
George didn’t furrow his brows, indicating it was the truth.
“They follow you, fear you, and rely on you; no one will genuinely resent you,” Jima said. “They will only think your horned attendant is truly troublesome, seeking a fight in the village, leading them to be whipped.”
“That’s hard to comprehend; maybe you have a point.”
“Of course I do. I’m an expert in manipulating people’s hearts,” Jima said, flicking her tail. “You’re still too young and naive.”
“But I won’t change my decision,” George said. “I’ve repeatedly explained to the soldiers that the horned little boy is one of us. If I don’t punish them, it implies he isn’t one of us, which is not only a breach of discipline but also a breach of trust, as I promised the horned little boy. I must stick to doing the right thing.”
“What if the cost of insisting on what’s right is too high?” Jima asked. “After the news of the horned little boy getting beaten spreads throughout the army, everyone in the camp will start to resent him. Perhaps some sympathized with him before, but after that day passes, there won’t be an ounce of sympathy left.”
“Why?”
Jima enjoyed the feeling of educating the genius George. Sitting on her horse, she raised her hand and pointed to the soldiers digging ditches and inserting wooden stakes under the blazing sun. A group of resting soldiers gathered around a few barrels of murky water, holding dry, hard bread that they soaked in the water and ate with jerky.
As they ate, they whispered among themselves. The wind swayed, carrying snippets of conversation:
“…melon…”
“…cheese…”
“…roasted lamb…”
Jima looked at George, who gazed back at her in confusion.
“These soldiers have been anticipating fresh vegetables in Melon Village, quenching their thirst with melons, sipping melon wine, and enjoying roasted meat,” Jima said. “Now, because the horned little boy is being beaten, the villagers refuse to trade, leaving them only with bread and jerky. How can they not be angry?”
“But the villagers are clearly in the wrong,” George said. “I asked the horned little boy, and he didn’t do anything wrong but was beaten for no reason. He was beaten because that young man’s father had just died, and his father died due to foolish customs—sacrificing a villager to appease the beast men. It’s a cycle of mistakes.”
“I thought you would blame me for not using my extraordinary powers to extinguish the anger of those beating the horned little boy.”
“Could you do that?”
“Yes, I could, but I couldn’t be bothered.”
“That’s fine; you’ve done enough already.”
Jima sighed, “Sigh, I wanted to fish. Why are you being so uncooperative?”
“Fishing?”
“I intentionally told you I could easily resolve conflicts with my extraordinary powers. Your next line should have been: ‘Why don’t you use them? You have a responsibility,’ or something that blames me,” Jima said. “That way, I could retort, ‘See, even someone as good as you can’t help but blame others; not to mention mortals.’ But you didn’t. I almost had you speechless.”
George was left speechless and finally said, “The villagers keep making mistakes; how can I continue to make mistakes too?”
“Good, then what do you plan to do?”
“Publicly punish the soldiers and lashing them myself,” George said. “Also, keep the horned little boy near me, living in my tent to prevent him from being targeted by resentful soldiers.”
“You’re so stubborn.”
“One shouldn’t do wrong,” George said. “I hope they realize that if those soldiers can do the right thing and support the horned little boy, the young man wouldn’t dare bully him, and things wouldn’t have escalated to this level.”
Jima agreed too; if a few soldiers stood up for the horned little boy, even if the young man lost his reason, the other villagers would stop him from getting involved. But…
“That’s what you say, but… forget it, you just don’t understand the human heart,” Jima shrugged and said, “As long as you’re happy.”
Saying that, she casually rode her horse toward Ivo Frostleaf’s tent to find the fairy who could always cool things down.
George turned to the sergeant and said, “I think my stance has been made clear.”
The sergeant saluted George, “Yes, sir.”
As he turned to leave, George stopped him, asking, “Do you think the soldiers will harbor resentment?”
The sergeant showed a conflicted expression, saying, “Commander, the soldiers won’t hate you.”
“I meant their attitude toward the horned little boy.”
The sergeant said, “They will. Everyone has been toiling under harsh conditions, looking forward to eating melons to quench their thirst, but now they can only drink river water.”
“Alright, you can go.”
On the other side.
Jima, with Lianxi the cat on her head, dragged a basket full of ingredients directly toward Ivo Frostleaf’s tent.
“Sister Frostleaf, I’m here,” she shouted as she burst into the tent, only to find it empty.
She likely got upset and went to hide in the forest from the sun.
Jima didn’t mind and petted Lianxi, saying, “It’s too hot; come down.”
Lianxi jumped down, meowing and rubbing against Jima’s calves.
Jima opened the entrance to the “Dream Palace,” lifted Lianxi, and tossed her into the basket, pushing into the entrance that felt like the eye of a typhoon, giving a feeling of stepping into the void. Before long, both human and cat landed safely. Jima, with good balance, didn’t fall, but the basket tipped over, spilling a dozen onions and cabbages across the ground, rolling down the green grassy slope.
Lianxi, eager, pounced on a cabbage but ended up rolling down the slope with it.
“You don’t need to act like a cat here,” Jima said. “Change back to human form.”
“Meow!”
In the blink of an eye, Lianxi, dressed in a proper maid’s outfit, appeared at the bottom of the slope, clutching a vibrant green cabbage. She scrambled up, gathering the fallen onions and cabbages.
Jima commanded, “You pick everything up and then take it to the kitchen to wash and chop it nicely, just like I taught you. I’m going to take a nap.”
“Yes, Master.”
Jima waved her hand, summoning a cloud to fly beside Lianxi, while she seated herself onto another cloud and soared toward the palace.
In just a few blinks, she returned to her familiar bathing pool. She took off all her sweaty clothes and tossed them into the nearby washing machine, enjoying a refreshing bath that left her feeling clean. Too lazy even to stand, she called upon a cloud to lift her directly to her bedroom, stopping only to grab a chilled Coke.
Lying on the large bed that could accommodate four people reveling, Jima took a sip of Coke and comfortably crossed her legs.
Thinking about how over a hundred people were working under the blazing sun outside, even the cleanliness-loving Gaoling flower—Ivo Frostleaf—couldn’t bathe daily and was leading a hard military life. Meanwhile, she could bathe in a bath the size of a swimming pool, sip Coke, and have a servant to help her cut and wash vegetables.
In comparison, Jima felt happier and more at ease.
Though her combat ability was lacking, in terms of convenience and enjoyment, she was far above the rest.
“It’s like enjoying the rain after a hot shower, leaning by the window to watch the drenched people outside.”
After muttering to herself, she stretched and closed her eyes to rest.
Not knowing how long she’d slept, Jima was awakened by the need to use the bathroom. Lazily lifting her hand, she called forth the system and checked the time.
It was already three-thirty in the afternoon. Jima got out of bed, too lazy to put on clothes, wearing only her underwear, and with her bare, clean feet, walked to the door, sitting on a cloud that sped off toward the kitchen.
All the ingredients in the kitchen were prepared; the cabbage was torn, carrots were cut, the onions were broken, and the remaining pork in the freezer was chopped.
After inspecting everything, Jima felt quite satisfied. The least enjoyable part of cooking was preparing the ingredients; having someone else take on this burden made cooking a pure pleasure.
Lianxi kept her head down, not daring to look at the naked Jima; her eyes were red and evidently suffering from onion-related trauma.
“Very good,” Jima flipped through the hand-torn cabbage. “But there’s too much; it’s a waste of food.”
“Master, I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine. I’ll just make a bit more,” Jima said. “It’s perfect for building a good relationship with Ivo Frostleaf.”
Jima put on an apron, tied it around her slender waist, snapped her fingers, and flames erupted from the stove, heating the pot. She added the pork, waiting until the surface turned slightly golden before taking it out and frying another batch of cabbage.
Half an hour later, delicious onion stir-fried pork and cabbage were done.
After tasting a bite of the cooled pork stir-fried cabbage, she satisfiedly licked the tips of her chopsticks.
After Jima took the first bite, Lianxi clumsily picked up her chopsticks and upon tasting, she squinted her eyes in satisfaction, saying, “This is delicious; the emperor definitely hasn’t eaten anything this good.”
“Too bad there’s no MSG,” Jima lamented, as she liked the poorly regarded seasoning.
After they finished eating, they discovered a second platter; Jima had earlier decided to use all the ingredients since one platter couldn’t hold them all, making this second platter necessary, yet untouched.
“Master, I can definitely finish all of it.”
“Forget it; let’s give the leftovers as gifts to please the fairies.”
Jima placed the two untouched platters into a food box, removed her apron, and after changing into new clothes, carried the food box, with Lianxi transformed back into a cat sitting on top of it, leaving the Dream Palace.
Back at the tent, Ivo Frostleaf was there too; she ignored the entrance to the Dream Palace inside the tent and didn’t even glance at Jima carrying the food box.
Seeing her side profile, Jima felt her face was very cold and, feeling a bit like a sycophant offering food, turned to leave, grabbing someone and asking, “Where’s Commander George?”
“He’s digging a latrine.”
Jima’s eyes lit up. “Great, thanks! Where?”
The person pointed, “Over there.”
Jima hurried in the indicated direction and soon saw George, dressed casually, digging a pit under the blazing sun, wielding a shovel with great efficiency and strength — one person could do the work of ten.
Jima approached and after glancing at the temporary latrine, she was disappointed to find it was completely clean.
“Hey, George.” Jima kicked the working George and offered the food box, “Here, something for you to eat.”
