Traveling back to the Northern Song Dynasty: Picking up a princess as my wife

Beyond the deep blue waters of the Tartary Strait lies Sakhalin Island—also known as Kuye Island—silently bearing the weight of history. On the island, Wanyan Gan, the regent of the Jin dynasty, stands in the wind, his gaze piercing through layers of mist as he surveys the 30,000 iron cavalry assembled under his command. This army, though finding temporary refuge on this isolated island, is like a lone boat forgotten by time, adrift on an endless sea of ​​despair.

Food and weaponry, these two lifelines, were now like distant, unattainable stars, brilliant yet unreachable. Wanyan Gan knew all too well that even if the warriors' resolve was as firm as a rock, an army without supplies would eventually dissipate under the erosion of time. How could the bravery of these 30,000 men be sacrificed to hunger and deprivation?

Sakhalin Island, this vast and desolate land, now bears not only the hopes of the Jin Dynasty, but also its last lifeline—the last force still capable of forming an army. On the sea, the Jin Dynasty's ravaged naval fleet, with only a dozen or so warships remaining, swayed in the waves, several of them heavily damaged, bearing witness to the carnage of their fierce battle with the Han Dynasty's navy. They were like defeated eagles, their wings broken, yet their eyes still burning with an indomitable flame. However, the hope of repairing these warships, like an extinguished lamp, had become faint due to the fall of all Jin Dynasty ports and shipyards.

In this forgotten corner of history, Wanyan Gan's mind was churning with complex thoughts. He understood that every moment of delay was a drain on his hope of survival. In this desperate situation, finding a way out or facing the final chapter of fate became the only choice before him. And the future of the Jin Dynasty hung on this single thought.

Wanyan Gan's brows furrowed with worry, and he sharply turned his gaze to the scribe beside him, asking in a deep voice, "How much of our army's food supply can we sustain?"

Upon hearing this, the clerk immediately bowed and spoke with a hint of respect: "Your Highness, I just finished compiling the statistics this morning. The army's remaining rations are barely enough for ten days. Fortunately, several excellent warships in the navy have begun preparations to go out to sea to fish, which may alleviate the logistical difficulties and lighten the burden of supplies."

After listening to the detailed report from the official document, Wanyan Gan couldn't help but sigh deeply, his voice filled with endless desolation and helplessness: "Alas! The world is unpredictable. I never thought that the naval warships of my Great Jin Kingdom would be reduced to serving as fishing boats. Well then, you may leave now. I have nothing urgent to attend to at the moment."

Despite his deep reluctance to accept this harsh reality, Wanyan Gan clearly realized that the once glorious Jin Dynasty was now in decline, no longer what it once was. His ruler was imprisoned, a prisoner of the Han army, and his remaining 30,000 cavalry were severely weakened, lacking their former battlefield prowess, let alone any chance of turning the tide of war. As for how long he could hold out in this turbulent situation, he could only leave it to fate.

A troop of Han cavalry, clad in heavy armor and riding tall horses, slowly entered the western edge of the Tartary Strait, into a small fishing village hidden among the sea breeze and waves. The tranquility of the village was shattered by the unexpected sound of iron hooves. Startled, the fishermen dropped their busy fishing nets and repaired boats, hastily slamming their doors shut, as if behind each tightly closed wooden door lay a deep-seated fear of the unknown.

Company Commander Guan Qi, the leader of the team, had sharp eyes yet a gentle demeanor. He gently tightened the reins, bringing his mount to a stop amidst this sudden unease. Turning to the equally dashing soldiers beside him, he instructed, "Pass down the order: tell our soldiers to remain calm and not disturb these innocent civilians. Send a few more brothers to distribute some of the grain we brought, going door-to-door. Judging from the state of this village, those greedy Jurchens have probably already plundered it, leaving not a single grain of rice."

His words conveyed both the authority of a general and a deep sympathy for the suffering of the people, like a warm current quietly flowing through this cold fishing village.

When the Han soldiers carefully placed bags of heavy grain in front of and behind the doors of every household in the small fishing village, some bold villagers could not contain their excitement and, under the cover of night, quietly carried this unexpected gift into their own homes.

In the quiet of the night, a naked, dark-skinned boy, his eyes gleaming with surprise, suddenly spotted the cloth bag filled with pristine white rice. Unable to contain his excitement, he cried out joyfully, "Dad, look! It's rice! It's the finest rice!"

The middle-aged man rushed over upon hearing the commotion. His rough hands gently lifted a handful of rice, brought it close to his nose, and took a deep breath, as if trying to etch this long-lost aroma into his heart forever. It was the unique fragrance of rice, a scent he hadn't tasted for many years. He never imagined that on this ordinary night, under the eaves of his humble home, such a heavy bag of hope would be miraculously piled up.

The time it takes for an incense stick to burn quietly passed, and then an old man holding a cane and walking with faltering steps slowly entered, followed by the simple and honest people of the fishing village. They slowly walked up to Company Commander Guan Qi.

"I am the village chief of this fishing village. May I ask, General, what kind of people are you? Judging from the attire of your soldiers, you do not seem to be part of the Jin army."

Guan Qi smiled gently, cupped his hands in a slight bow to the old man, and said in a warm yet solemn tone, "Greetings, Village Chief. We are soldiers of the Great Han Dynasty. Recently, the Jin Kingdom has been defeated by our army, and this land has now come under the control of the Han Kingdom. Fellow villagers, you are now also subjects of our Great Han. Upon arriving here, I saw that you were ragged and hungry, and I was deeply concerned. Therefore, I have ordered my soldiers to distribute their rations to you to alleviate your immediate needs. When the rest of our Great Han army arrives, we will surely be able to provide you with warm new clothes and share the blessings of peace."

Upon hearing Guan Qi's words, the old village chief's eyes instantly welled up with tears. His knees trembled as he slowly knelt down before Guan Qi, his wrinkled face overflowing with gratitude. The simple fishermen behind him followed suit, kneeling in rows, creating a solemn and moving scene.

This scene made Guan anxious. The old village chief in front of him had been deeply etched with the marks of time on his face. His kindness and respectful demeanor were enough to make Guan revere him as a god. How could Guan accept such a heavy gift?

"Old village chief, please get up quickly. The ground is cold, and your body can't withstand it." Guan Qi hurriedly stepped forward to help him up, speaking earnestly, "Our Han emperor cares for the common people and is always concerned about their suffering. Please believe that the future will gradually improve, and everyone's life will be better."

Following the old village chief's footsteps, Guan Qi stepped into his extremely simple dwelling. What came into view were two slightly dilapidated huts, their state of disrepair shocking Guan Qi, who found it hard to imagine that such a place of shelter could bear the weight of life.

Through the old village chief's warm yet weathered voice, Guan Qi gradually pieced together fragments of the mysterious whereabouts of the 30,000 Jin soldiers. It turned out they were lurking on Sakhalin Island, across the Tartary Strait, like a formidable shadow on the distant horizon. Even more chilling was the fact that these Jin soldiers commanded a considerable fleet. Recently, the fishermen of the fishing village had been repeatedly plundered by them, the sea echoing with the helplessness and resentment of their catch being mercilessly taken away.