My Sims of the Eastern Jin Dynasty

Once all the ships had entered the river, Xiao Heng immediately ordered them to form a battle array on the river.

More than twenty warships quickly stretched across the river, and archers nocked their arrows, aiming at the Qin cavalry on the riverbank.

Xiao Heng walked to the bow of the boat, looked at the cavalry on the riverbank, and went to the war drum, personally picking up the drumstick.

"Raise the command flag!"

Then the drums thundered, and the warships slowly sailed toward the riverbank.

Upon hearing the drumbeats, Liu Laozhi on the shore simultaneously ordered an attack.

The war drums beat louder and louder. First, the captains on the Imperial Guard warships suddenly stood up, then forced themselves to sit down again.

"Let's see the Northern Army soldiers fight it out."

More than ten warships quietly moved back half an arrow's length in time with the drumbeats.

The sound of drums reached Stone City, and the hearts of the soldiers guarding the city trembled with the sound of the drums.

Several military supervisors who looked like civil officials hurriedly climbed the city wall to look into the distance.

"The Yangtze River is a natural barrier; how could barbarian horses possibly cross it?"

His tone was firm, but his hands trembled slightly inside his sleeves.

The sound of drums seeped into the palace, and panicked eunuchs scrambled to deliver the message...

The sound of drums rolled into the banks of the Qinhuai River. An old man who had gotten up early to sell porridge listened to it for a moment, then continued to stir the bean soup in the pot.

Inside the secluded mansion, a maidservant whispered, "There is the sound of drums from Jiangbei." The person inside the tent turned over and murmured.

"Just another drill!"

The entire city of Jiankang resembles a giant corpse wrapped in thick satin, its surface embroidered with the elegance of Jiangnan, while its interior is already rotten and infested with maggots.

They trusted the muddy river more than their own heartbeats.

Until a lame old soldier in a shantytown in the north of the city suddenly got up and roared at his grandson.

"That's the battle drums! People are going to die!"

The children fell silent in fright, while the neighbors had already begun packing up the non-existent belongings.

This city, long before the Hu horses trampled across the north of the Yangtze River, was suffocated by its own splendid attire.

The drumbeats grew louder and more frequent.

"The Qin army has truly reached the north bank of the Yangtze River!"

These words caused the magnificent corpse in Jiankang City to convulse violently.

Inside the inner palace of the imperial palace, Sima Yao, barefoot and protected by more than a dozen eunuchs, prepared to leave the palace.

Behind him, the arguing among the ministers was becoming increasingly loud.

"The Qin army is approaching the river! We request that we relocate the capital to Kuaiji!" "Quickly dispatch troops from the Three Wu regions to defend the emperor!" "We should first escort the emperor on his southern tour!"

Until someone shouted something.

"The Northern Army is still resisting!"

But people quickly ignored this statement.

At this moment, the Qinhuai River suddenly became turbulent, causing widespread panic among ordinary people.

The riverside docks were soon crowded with aristocratic families attempting to flee south.

A copy of Zhuangzi was trampled into the mud, and on the page was the line, "Rather than praising Yao and condemning Jie, it is better to forget both and transform them into the Way."

Just then, a small, covered boat sailed into the dock, and the boatman shouted.

"A boat to Wu County! Ten times the price!"

The entire city felt as if a bucket of ice water had been poured over it. The thick brocade that had covered it for decades finally slipped away with the sound of real drums, revealing the already rotting corpses underneath, and a group of living people who suddenly remembered that they still had heartbeats.

After the fifth drumbeat, Xiao Heng slammed the drumsticks heavily onto the deck, his arm muscles still throbbing.

He leaned on the drum stand, panting, sweat dripping from his brow bone into his eyes, stinging painfully.

Looking up at the opposite bank, the city of Jiankang, which he had just forcibly awakened with the sound of drums, was now witnessing an utterly absurd scene.

The Imperial Guard warships turned at an ambiguous angle, as if ready to escape downstream at any moment.

Further away, the clamor of the Qinhuai River wharf drifted faintly across the river, mingling with the cries of women and the curses of servants.

Several ornately decorated warships were clumsily trying to squeeze into the channel, their masts adorned with brocade bearing various family emblems fluttering ridiculously in the morning light.

"A bunch of smashers!"

Xiao Heng chuckled, took the water bag Chen Da handed him and gulped down several mouthfuls. The salty taste of the river water mixed with sweat rolled down his throat, and his gaze returned to the riverbank.

In the center of the Qin cavalry, Ju Nan stood alone, sword in hand, clad in tattered black heavy armor, covered in dust and blood. His face bore several wounds, yet he still stood tall, his gaze fixed on the direction of Jiankang on the opposite bank.

Then Ju Nan turned to look at Xiao Heng, and their eyes met in the morning light.

"Who goes there? State your name!"

His voice was hoarse yet loud, penetrating the river breeze and reaching Xiao Heng's ears.

"Xiao Heng of the Northern Navy!"

Xiao Heng responded loudly.

"General Ju, you have nowhere to retreat. Why not dismount and surrender? Further resistance will only increase casualties!"

"surrender?"

He could hardly laugh. His laughter was low at first, then became wild, and finally turned into a violent cough. He held onto the reins of his warhorse and barely managed to steady himself, his eyes filled with disdain and determination.

"I have spent twenty years dominating the battlefield, relying on slaying generals and capturing flags. I have never known the meaning of surrender! Xiao Heng, I have heard of your name. You captured Huaiyin, and you killed Peng Chao, didn't you?"

Xiao Heng felt a chill run down his spine, but his face remained impassive.

"Why do you say that, General? Even if he is really dead, it may not be related to me."

There's no need to hide it.

Ju Nan scoffed, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

"That fool was narrow-minded and ambitious; it's better he's dead, saving him from getting in the way. As for you, at such a young age, your courage and methods are truly remarkable. Look at Jiankang City; I haven't even arrived yet and it's already so impressive. If it weren't for this great river... I would have been better off joining my Great Qin. The Heavenly King is thirsting for talent; he would certainly be generous with bestowing upon you a title of nobility and granting you endless riches and honors!"

"General, you jest."

Xiao Heng shook his head. He couldn't bring himself to spout nonsense like loyalty to the emperor and patriotism, so he could only change the subject.

"Now you are in dire straits, with the Yangtze River as your natural barrier, with no boat to cross and no natural defenses to hold. Why put up a futile resistance? Lay down your weapons, and I can save the lives of your soldiers and let them return to their hometowns to reunite with their families."

After a moment of silence, Ju Nan suddenly looked up towards Jiankang on the opposite bank.

The city walls on the opposite bank became increasingly clear, and one could vaguely see the flags on the city walls and the figures of people coming and going.

He slowly dismounted. The continuous 24-hour march had almost exhausted him, and his steps were somewhat unsteady. However, he still straightened his back and walked step by step to the riverbank. He squatted down, stretched out his hands, and scooped up a handful of muddy river water.

The river water leaked through his fingers, icy cold, but it cleared his mind somewhat.

Looking at the river water in his hand, he suddenly laughed, his laughter tinged with a sense of tragedy and resentment.

The Qin cavalrymen behind him watched him silently. Some had blank stares in their eyes, some had fear in their eyes, and some had red eyes, clearly infected by the overwhelming emotions.

"Did you see that?"

Ju Nan stood up, pointed to Jiankang City on the opposite bank, his voice hoarse yet penetrating the river wind, reaching the ears of every Qin cavalryman.

"That's Jiankang! The most prosperous city in Jiangnan! We are the first iron cavalry to stand on the banks of this river in a hundred years!"

He turned around abruptly, his gaze sweeping over the soldiers who had followed him in their desperate charge. His voice was choked with emotion, yet his resolve remained firm.

"I know you're afraid. I'm afraid too. We're being pursued from behind, and there's an insurmountable barrier in front of us. We have no ships, no way to retreat. But think about it, we've marched south from the north, enduring countless bloody battles. What was it all for? It was to pacify Jiangnan, to let the banners of Qin fly throughout the land!"

"Today, we stand here, and let the waters of the Yangtze River bear witness that the men of Qin once watered their horses here! Let the emperor of the South hear, let his court officials see, that our Northern Iron Cavalry has already besieged the city! Even if we cannot breach the city, we will make them forever remember the name of Ju Nan, and the might of the Qin Iron Cavalry!"

"General!"

A captain roared furiously, his eyes filled with fanaticism.

"We are willing to fight to the death with our general! We will never surrender!"

"I am willing to fight to the death with the general! I am willing to fight to the death with the general!"

More than two thousand Qin cavalrymen roared in unison, their voices even surpassing the roar of the river, echoing along the banks of the Guabu River.

They raised their weapons and shouted towards the Yangtze River, their fear replaced by determination.

They knew they had no way out; only by fighting to the death could they live up to everyone's expectations.

Ju Nan nodded, a hint of relief flashing in his eyes.

He suddenly drew his sword, cut off a wisp of his warhorse's mane, and gently tossed it into the river.

The mane drifted along the river and soon disappeared into the waves.

"This mane is our witness. If we ever obtain boats, we will cross this river, capture Jiankang, and return! Today, let us prove our resolve with our deaths, and shed our last drop of blood for the hegemony of Qin!"

He then mounted his horse, pointed his sword at Jiankang, and gave a stern order:

"Form ranks! Let the Southerners see what the mighty Qin cavalry's death throes are all about!"

Just then, dust billowed up from the western land direction, and Liu Laozhi's infantry and cavalry finally caught up! The black battle flags of the Northern Army emerged from behind the hills, like a black tide sweeping over the outer edge of the mudflats.

Soon, the Qin army moved, but they did not form a wedge formation to launch a desperate counterattack against the pursuing land forces, nor a circular formation to hold their ground and await reinforcements.

With an almost absurd, solemn sense of ritual, they slowly turned around on the muddy riverbank.

The horse's head was pointing neither at the shore where pursuers were like a forest, nor at the flanks covered with dense reeds, but at the boundless Yangtze River.

"What...what are they going to do?"

Chen Da could hardly believe his eyes. He had witnessed all sorts of desperate charges, but what he was seeing was beyond his comprehension.

Xiao Heng remained silent, his fingers slowly tightening around the gunwale.

He understood.

This wasn't a tactic; it was a performance for the Yangtze River, for the city on the other side, and for themselves...

The drumming stopped sometime ago, and the river breeze filled my ears, bringing with it the faint sounds of commotion from the opposite bank, and the suffocating silence before me.

They could not draw their swords; the swords were not dazzling in the morning light, and were even somewhat dim.

He didn't point at any enemy, but simply raised it high, as if performing a ritual to communicate with heaven and earth.

Then, he squeezed the horse's belly with his legs.

There were no shouts, no thunderous hoofbeats; at first, the horses seemed hesitant and clumsy as they waded into the shallow water, stirring up murky waves.

One rider, two riders, ten riders... the entire remaining Qin cavalry force, as if guided by a silent command, began to advance towards the Yangtze River.

They didn't rush forward very fast; the river water quickly weakened the horses' momentum, and the mud held their hooves in place.

The scene was extremely bizarre: a group of fully armed cavalry, who should have been able to sweep across the plains, were now charging towards the insurmountable Yangtze River at an almost clumsy pace.

This is less like a charge and more like a pilgrimage, or a collective death.

The warhorse began to neigh anxiously, struggling in the chest-deep river water.

Some horses' hooves sank into the hidden pits at the bottom of the river, and the horses and riders fell sideways with a crash, instantly swallowed by the turbid current, without even a decent splash.

The cavalrymen struggled to control their horses, their spears tilted, their bows and crossbows soaked in water, and their armor became incredibly heavy.

They didn't look heroic at all; on the contrary, they looked quite pathetic and ridiculous.

On the Jin army's warships in the middle of the river, a burst of suppressed laughter finally erupted.

But the charge continued.

Ju Nan was at the forefront, but the river water had already reached the neck of his warhorse.

He no longer brandished his sword, but gripped the reins tightly, his back straight, his head held high, his gaze fixed on Jiankang on the opposite bank, beyond the surging river.

He was not rushing toward an enemy, but toward a symbol, a shore he could never reach, a dream of conquest that he was destined to fail in.

Xiao Heng suddenly remembered that man, the knight who rushed towards the windmill.

Windmills do not bleed, they do not fail; they only mock all courage and perseverance with their silent turning.

The same applies to the Yangtze River.

It will not be moved in the slightest by the sacrifice of these thousand riders; it will only erase all traces with its eternal flow.

Is it tragic? Of course it is.

But beneath this tragic grandeur lies a deep-seated absurdity.

They used the most real death to collide with an illusory goal.

Their enemy was not Liu Laozhi, nor Xiao Heng, but the Yangtze River, a natural barrier, a dream they had fought for their entire lives only to be swallowed up by it in the end.

A cavalryman was overturned by a wave; he thrashed about, his heavy armor dragging him down.

In the instant before the water submerged, he actually mustered all his strength and threw the Qin army battle flag in his hand towards Jiankang.

The flag unfurled briefly in the air, then fell onto the water like a withered leaf and was quickly swept away.

This scene caused Jiang Xin's laughter to abruptly subside.

Xiao Heng felt a tightness in his throat.

He had witnessed countless deaths, but never one so senseless yet so earnest.

The exhausted warhorse finally gave out, its front hooves buckling and throwing him into the icy river.

He did not struggle. In the end, what was etched into his vision was probably still the unattainable phantom of that city, distorted in the shimmering light, like a mirage.

Behind him, the surviving cavalrymen, like puppets with broken strings, disappeared one after another into the turbid waves.

The Yangtze River continues to flow eastward, as if nothing had ever happened.

The charge is over.

There was no clanging of metal, no flying blood and flesh, only the relentless swallowing sound of the river.

The hustle and bustle of Jiankang on the opposite bank seemed to fall silent for a moment, as if shocked by the silent mass suicide.

Liu Laozhi was somewhat at a loss. They had prepared for a fierce battle, but all they got was a heart-stopping performance.

Xiao Heng slowly exhaled a breath of stale air.

"I give up!"

"madman!"

Chen Da murmured again, but this time, there was no sarcasm in his tone, only respect.

A group of real men, in a fake era, used real blood to show fake people, but the fake people found the blood disgusting and turned back to continue dreaming.

They were not rushing towards victory, but towards the final chapter of their own destiny, and in the most dramatic way, they cast themselves into the legend of this great river. From then on, every northerner standing here may remember that once a thousand riders crossed the river here.

Ju Nan's collective suicide was a resounding slap in the face to all Southerners: the way you cowardly live is truly disgusting.

......