Jijun whispered into Qi Linger’s ear slowly.
“So…but it’s another big gamble.”
After hearing this, Qi Linger couldn’t help but look solemn, and looked at Zhou Jijun in confusion, but she never thought that her master, who had long discarded the sharp edge in his youth, would do it again. A big bet.
This national war is destined to last for countless years, and no one can be in a hurry, but the master’s plan seems a little impatient.
Qi Ling’er couldn’t think of anything that could force the master to decide the situation so urgently and determine the outcome of the future battle, but he was so anxious, as if he was expecting something.
Could it be that the master wanted to…
As he looked at Zhou Jijun, who had lost all his splendor in less than two hundred years and was as warm as water, Qi Linger’s eyes darkened slightly.
“Yanzi, are you writing about Yunsheng?”
Without looking at Qi Ling’er, Zhou Jijun turned to Yanzi, who was writing vigorously. He still looked like a young man, but his chin had grown green beard. His face turned red, and he smiled coquettishly at Zhou Jijun.
“Just write it, just delete the part where he knelt down and was humiliated.”
Hearing this, Yanzi’s expression changed suddenly, and he looked at the extremely vivid words carefully carved by his pen with complicated eyes.
After following Zhou Jijun for so many years, he is no longer the simple-minded young man he was before. He also understands that although he is nominally the official of Mr. Jun, his history is controlled by Zhou Jijun. To be fair, Zhou Jijun did not make things difficult for him too much. History was written as it was, and it was impartial, which could be regarded as retaining some of the arrogance of a historian.
But this time, he asked himself to delete the part where Zhou Yunsheng was humiliated.
“…The young master followed his father’s example and fought against Chisong. He took out five villages in three days and marched to Wuhuo City, where he was heavily surrounded…At that time, a superior general named Kuangji cultivated himself into Xuantian, and defeated the young master in In front of the city… everyone is watching, and the prince is kneeling…”
If you compromise today, you will be unable to help yourself in the future. If you can’t write real history, what kind of historian can you be?
Yanzi gritted his teeth and struggled hesitantly. When he raised his head, Zhou Jijun and Qi Linger were gone.
Seeing this, Yanzi let out a long sigh of relief and turned to a new page without deleting that paragraph.
He didn’t know, and he forced himself not to know. Ever since he went to Mount Tianwu and followed Zhou Jijun, he was destined to be unable to become a pure historian. But after all, he is the last descendant of Tianya Pavilion in this troubled world. He holds a pen that has been passed down for thousands of generations. Sandwiched between Zhou Jijun’s overall situation and the history of thousands of years, he still has to make a choice.
…
“Hmph, that brat just le