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Author: The 300-pound cook

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Following an order, a small group of soldiers rushed out of the city gate cave and captured Yang Chuan without any explanation.

Yang Chuan didn't say a word or resist.

He has actually rehearsed this scene in his mind many times, and has thought about many details, such as whether to use wool ropes or brown ropes to bind, or simply use wooden shackles and iron chains. It seems possible.

This time I was lucky, there were neither wooden shackles, iron chains, nor ropes to bind me.

However, the feeling of having two cold knives held against his neck was also very unpleasant.

Yang Chuan was pushed and pushed into the pass, and climbed up the city wall on the shabby steps. Tang Yifu and others were also guarded by a group of soldiers.

"Your name is Yang Chuan?"

The red-faced man stood with his hands behind his back, looking towards the north without even looking at Yang Chuan. In his hand, he held the 'identity documents' of Yang Chuan and others, and his thick and long fingers were like a few frostbitten carrots.

"Yes." Yang Chuan said.

"How did you kill the servants of my Han Dynasty envoy, take away their biographies, and forge Lord Zhang Qian's autographed letters..." The red-faced man suddenly turned his head and scolded: "You haven't recruited them from the truth!"

Yang Chuan raised his head, looked at the 'Mr. Langzhong' in front of him seriously, and said: "My true identity will be clear to you if I ask Sir Zhang Qian. Why bother this young man?"

He discovered that this red-faced man was actually not very old, probably in his early thirties, right? Or seventeen or eighteen?

People in this era generally look older, and they also like to start growing beards at a young age. Some people look like uncles at first glance, but upon closer inspection, they are just young men in their early twenties...

"Sharp and sharp-tongued."

The red-faced man looked at the sheepskin, biographies and bamboo slips in his hands, and said coldly: "If your identity is true or false, naturally I have to ask Mr. Zhang Qian, but you'd better tell the truth."

Yang Chuan asked calmly: "Do you have anything else to do, sir?"

"No more." The red-faced man waved his hand and ordered: "Put them in a cage and wait for Mr. Zhang Qian's reply."

Yang Chuan was a little angry and said: "In order to return to his hometown, the boy narrowly escaped death. After going through a lot of hardships to escort Lord Zhang Qian's benefactor back, why was he imprisoned in a cage?"

"Why are you imprisoned?" The red-faced man sneered again and again, pointing to the bullock cart under the city wall, "There are hidden weapons, and it's better if we don't shoot you to death with random arrows."

Yang Chuan looked down and smiled: "Those are kitchen utensils, not weapons."

But it was a sheepskin bag he had placed on the bullock cart that was rummaged through by several soldiers, and a large number of pots and pans and twenty or thirty 'kitchen knives' were poured out.

"What are kitchen utensils?" The red-faced man was slightly startled.

"Kitchen utensils."

Yang Chuan stretched out his hand to push away the knife on his neck, but failed, so he had to continue: "When Master Zhang Qian was in the Western Regions, I cooked for him for several months. After asking Master Zhang Qian about this, he naturally

Got it."

The red-faced man stared into Yang Chuan's eyes, paused for two or three breaths, and waved his hand: "Go ahead."

As a result, Yang Chuan, Tang Yifu and the others were imprisoned in two large cages...

The nights at the turn of summer and autumn had begun to get cold, and the wind howled. Yang Chuan, Tang Yifu and others were trembling while squatting in the cage, but none of them refused to speak.

Especially Yang Chuan, his face was terrifyingly gloomy.

Zhang Qian, that heroic old man in history textbooks, once made Yang Chuan reverie and admire him endlessly when he was a boy. Every time he read Sima Qian's "Qian is a strong man, tolerant and trustworthy, and loved by barbarians", he felt a little bit

Little excitement.

Clearing out the Western Region will be enough to be famous throughout the ages.

However, it was that tall and thin old man who said lightly, "Pick up a certain family's wife and child to return to the Han Dynasty", and he and Tang Yi's father made a trip to Mobei.

In the end, he was even imprisoned!

"Brother, are you cold?" Suddenly, Naren Tuoya, who was locked in a cage with him, asked timidly.

"Brother, it's not cold. I feel a little cool right now." Yang Chuan chuckled and took off his old sheepskin jacket. "Here, I'll give you another piece of clothing."

Narentoya was so cold that she curled up into a small ball, like a stunted lamb. Even her voice trembled, but she pushed back the torn sheepskin: "Brother, I'm not cold..."

Yang Chuan didn't say anything and directly wrapped the little girl's body in the sheepskin jacket.

When it comes to starvation and cold, he is really good at it. When he was a slave in the Qiang tribe, the most difficult time was when he swallowed snow and grass roots for three days in a row and struggled to survive.

"Young Master..." In another cage, Tang Yifu, who was half an iron tower, held his head in his hands and cried like a child.

"Everyone can squeeze in and get warm," Yang Chuan held his head, leaving his thin back to Naren Tuoya, "Hurry up and go to bed."

When I first returned to Dahan and before my identity was clear, it was good to receive a beating from society. At least it would keep me clear-headed and not pin all my hopes on others.

The night is long and the wind is howling.

Yang Chuan missed Sister Bao's warm body and savored nearly a hundred delicacies before smacking his lips and falling asleep...

…

For three consecutive days, Yang Chuan, Tang Yifu and others were imprisoned in cages with no one paying any attention to them, and no one brought them food or water.

The soldiers who were coming and going looked at him curiously at first, mainly because they wanted to observe Tang Yifu, a tall and powerful Huns, at close range, and basically turned a blind eye to Yang Chuan.

Later, even the soldiers didn't bother to pay attention.

In the northern frontier area, the sun during the day is as fierce as barbecue, but the wind at night is so cold that it seems to freeze people into dried meat.

Seeing that more than a dozen people were suffering from hunger and thirst, they were almost going to die.

Yang Chuan endured it silently and began to calculate on his fingers. If it continued for three more days, it would reach the limit of human beings. If some water and food were not sent over...

Then I'm sorry.

This chef won’t play with you anymore!

He thought very clearly about this.

At first, becoming a slave to the Qiang people was a helpless move. He knew very well that sooner or later he would kill those beasts. However, if he were to return to the Han Empire and become a slave to his own people, or be killed by his own people, that would not be possible.

It's called miserable, but it's called cowardly.

It was intolerable for him to live cowardly, let alone die cowardly.

Last night, six golden eagles came.

Sister Bao is also here.

However, Yang Chuan sent them all away without disturbing any Han soldiers, nor did he accept the 'food' brought by those fools.

Especially the food brought by a few golden eagles, it makes people get angry just thinking about it: Ma Dan, you got a few pieces of raw meat and you can hold your nose and eat it, what's the matter with a few venomous snakes you got?

This is a history book, not a martial arts novel. Is it possible for this cook to swallow snake gall and develop a peerless swordsmanship...

At dusk on the third day, the red-faced man finally appeared.

This time he did not wear armor, but put on a set of Gao'e crown belt, light white official clothes, and a red silk ribbon belt around his waist with three agate stones inlaid on it. At first glance, he did not have any taste or class.

Yang Chuan only took one look at it, and he started to think: 'I thought this guy would have such a high official position, but he is actually a young official with a rank of six hundred stones.'

"I've made you all suffer."

The red-faced man walked over slowly, put his hands behind his back, and said calmly: "Your biography has been verified by Master Zhang Qian himself, and it is indeed correct."

As he spoke, he waved his hand, and several soldiers quickly stepped forward to open the prison cage.

Yang Chuan quietly stood up, hugged Narentuoya who had fainted from hunger, bent down and walked out of the cage, saying: "Thank you, sir."

Tang Yifu and others also walked out of the cage.

There were a total of twelve of them. Without water and food, plus the exhaustion of the wind and sun for three days and three nights, less than half of them could get up, but no one dared to say a word.

Among these people, only Yang Chuan is a Han, and the others are all Huns...

By the way, there were also Zhang Qian's Hun wives and sons, who didn't even dare to express their anger. They were submissive and timid. As soon as they walked out of the cage, they knelt down in front of the red-faced man and kowtowed repeatedly with a thud.

The red-faced man ordered the soldiers to take the group down to have something to eat, and then turned around and left.

But Yang Chuan stopped him: "Sir, where is Master Zhang Qian now?"

"Sir Zhang Qian is in the military camp of the cavalry general Wei Qing. Why do you want to serve in the army?" The red-faced man turned to look at Yang Chuan and said meaningfully: "A certain family can really help with this matter.

."

Yang Chuan cupped his hands and said, "Thank you, sir."

The red-faced man turned around and walked away, obviously too lazy to associate with these stinking "servants" who looked like beggars.

Yang Chuan continued to ask: "I haven't asked you for your name yet."

The red-faced man suddenly looked back and said coldly: "A despicable servant dares to ask the name of a certain family?"

Looking at him, he seemed to have been greatly insulted and was about to explode. This frightened Tang Yifu and others, and they hurried forward to apologize again and again.

Yang Chuan was like a fool, with a harmless look on his face, and said: "Excuse me, what is your position? How does it compare to Master Zhang Qian? Again, how do I call you Sir?"

The red-faced man stopped.

Turning around slowly, the joints of his hands were pinched so hard that they made a 'pop' sound.

He took a few steps forward and approached three or four feet in front of Yang Chuan. He lowered his head and looked down at the thin and small Yang Chuan: "Sima Qian of a certain family, an official among the officials, with a rank of six hundred stones, and a military lord under the command of the prefect of Yunzhong.

What else can you say?"
Chapter completed!