HNYWEF -Chapter 125 Taking Responsibility

When Li Shimin reached the landslide site, he was already completely drenched.

Rainwater ran down his face, dripping into his eyes and stinging sharply. He didn’t have time to wipe it away, only squinting forward through the downpour.

There weren’t many torches left. Most had been extinguished by the rain. Only a few still burned, held aloft in people’s hands, illuminating the scene of devastation.

A large section of the mountainside had collapsed. Mud, rocks, and trees had surged down the slope, completely blocking the road.

Several carriages were buried underneath. Only half a carriage body was visible, tilted and skewed.

People were digging—digging with their hands, prying with wooden sticks—shouting something in the rain. Their voices were swallowed by the storm, impossible to hear clearly.

Li Shimin’s eyes searched through the crowd.

He found him.

Zhou Xiong stood at the front of the rubble, completely still.

He just stood there, letting the rain pour over him, staring at the pile of broken stone before him.

His body was covered in mud. His clothes were soaked and clung tightly to his frame. His hair hung loose, falling over half his face.

He wasn’t digging.

Wasn’t shouting.

Just standing there.

Li Shimin’s heart tightened.

He ran over, stopping beside Zhou Xiong.

“Brother Xiong!”

Zhou Xiong didn’t look at him.

He just kept staring at the rubble.

Li Shimin followed his gaze.

From within the pile of stones, a corner of a carriage was visible, tilted awkwardly.

Beside it, a hand protruded from a gap in the rocks—hanging limply, motionless.

A woman’s hand.

Not large.

Li Shimin froze.

His mouth opened as if to speak, but no words came out.

Someone ran up behind him—the scout who had delivered the message earlier.

He was covered in mud, his face indistinguishable between rain and sweat, gasping as he stopped beside Li Shimin.

“Second Young Master…”

Li Shimin turned to look at him.

The man’s face was deathly pale.

“Sister-in-law… she…”

He couldn’t continue.

Li Shimin’s throat moved.

“Speak.”

The scout lowered his head, voice shaking violently.

“When the landslide came down, Sister-in-law was beside the rear carriage. She could have escaped, but she saw someone in front not reacting in time… she pushed that person away.”

He paused.

“She didn’t manage to avoid it herself. The one who was saved said… Sister-in-law she…”

Li Shimin stood in the rain, motionless.

The rain poured over him, blurring his vision, but he didn’t notice.

He suddenly remembered what he had said earlier that day, standing in the tent.

“The weather is good today. Perfect for travel.”

He had said it.

It had been his suggestion.

His decision.

And now that person lay beneath that pile of stones.

That hand sticking out from the cracks—hanging there, unmoving.

A sudden chill rose inside Li Shimin.

Not the cold of rain—but something seeping out from within.

Before he could recover, a hand slammed into his chest.

A shove.

Hard.

Li Shimin staggered backward two steps, nearly falling.

He steadied himself and looked up.

Zhou Xiong stood in front of him.

His face was ashen from the rain, hair plastered to his skin, eyes fixed straight on him.

Those eyes—

Empty.

Completely empty.

Colder than the night rain.

Li Shimin stood frozen.

Zhou Xiong opened his mouth.

His voice squeezed out from his throat—hoarse, broken, as if torn apart.

“So this is your ‘good weather’?”

Li Shimin didn’t respond.

Zhou Xiong stepped forward.

“So this is your fucking concern for the families of Wa Gang?”

Li Shimin stepped back.

Zhou Xiong advanced again.

“You suggested it! You took responsibility! You made the decision!”

Each word was forced out through clenched teeth.

“And now what?”

Li Shimin opened his mouth.

Nothing came out.

He stood in the rain, staring into Zhou Xiong’s eyes.

Those eyes looked at him—

Like he was already a dead man.

Zhou Xiong said nothing more.

He simply looked at Li Shimin once more.

Then turned away and returned to the rubble.

He crouched down.

And began to dig.

With his hands.

Rain mixed with mud splattered across him, across his face. He didn’t care.

He just kept digging.

Again.

And again.

Li Shimin stood behind him, staring at that figure.

Rainwater ran down his face, into his mouth—salty, bitter. He didn’t notice.

He just stood there.

Zhou Xiong was right.

It was his suggestion.

His responsibility.

His decision.

And now someone lay buried under that pile of stones.

That hand still hanging there, motionless.

For the first time, Li Shimin understood that a wrong command in war could carry such unbearable consequences.

Timing. Terrain. People.

He had misjudged the timing, lost the terrain—and now—

The rain kept falling.

Harder and harder.

Someone ran up beside him, speaking—but he couldn’t hear.

Someone grabbed his arm, trying to pull him away—but he didn’t feel it.

He just stood there, watching the figure crouched in the rubble, digging.

“Good weather.”

“Good weather…”

He repeated it in his mind over and over.

And then—

He suddenly crouched down.

Into the muddy water.

He held his head in his hands.

Completely still.

The rain poured over him, over his back, over his hands covering his head.

He didn’t move.

As if something heavy had pinned him in place.