HNYWEF -Chapter 154 I Can Afford to Wait

Great Sui Era, Year 8.

It was deep into the night.

Inside the military tent, a single oil lamp burned. The flame flickered, making the shadows stretch and shrink unpredictably.

Outside, insects kept chirping—chi-chi-chi, chi-chi-chi—a sound that slowly grated on the nerves.

Zhou Xiong lay on his bedding, staring at the top of the tent.

The tent roof was old. It had several patches, the stitches crooked and uneven—clearly done by hand.

He stared at those patches for a long time.

His mind was in chaos.

For a moment, he was back on that mountain road. Shan Xiongxin lay there, blood pouring from his chest, a crowd around him in panic.

He walked over and said, “If you want him to live, don’t block me.”

The crowd froze, watching as he knelt down, cut open the clothing, and began stitching.

When it was done, Shan Xiongxin grabbed his sleeve and asked his name.

He said, “Zhou Xiong.”

Shan Xiongxin said he would remember it.

Then he told him to come along.

So he went.

And then—something else.

The operating room lights, blinding white, hurting his eyes.

He stood at the table, the knife in his hand moving again and again—one stitch finished, another began. One after another.

No idea how long passed.

Only that eventually, he couldn’t stand anymore. Someone helped him out. He leaned against a wall, vision going black.

Then—nothing.

When he opened his eyes again, he was in that forest.

Zhou Xiong blinked.

The tent roof was still the same tent roof. The patches were still the same patches.

He suddenly remembered the last message he had seen before transmigrating: a certain Middle Eastern country had requested humanitarian medical assistance from peacekeeping forces. Both civilians and soldiers were being brought in.

He had been alone, operating nonstop for twenty-four hours.

Later, he heard that thirty-seven people had been saved that day.

And after that…

There was no “after that.”

He must have died from exhaustion.

Zhou Xiong suddenly laughed.

Very softly.

Lying there, staring at the tent roof, the corners of his mouth lifted slightly.

Died from exhaustion.

Not bad.

At least not shot by stray bullets. Not blown up. Not dying in some meaningless way.

Died from exhaustion.

Died on the operating table.

Died while saving people.

As he thought about it, he laughed again.

This time, the sound came out.

Someone passing outside heard it, paused, then lifted the tent flap and peeked in.

“Doctor Zhou? Are you alright?”

Zhou Xiong waved his hand.

“I’m fine.”

The man looked at him for a moment, then let the flap fall and left.

Zhou Xiong went back to staring at the tent roof.

His thoughts started turning again.

Shan Xiongxin told him to follow.

Then he would follow.

He had nowhere else to go anyway.

The world was in chaos. Wars everywhere. Death everywhere. He was alone, carrying only what he had—how long could he even survive?

Following them meant food, a place to sleep. That was enough.

As for the future…

He remembered a thought from earlier—if he just endured a little longer, it would become the prosperous era of Zhenguan.

Zhenguan.

Li Shimin.

The man who would later become emperor—was he still in Taiyuan? Or had he already begun his uprising? He didn’t know.

He only knew that in a little over a decade, the world would become peaceful.

He could wait.

Ten-odd years. That was all.

He had already died once. What was there to fear in waiting?

Zhou Xiong turned over onto his side, looking at the oil lamp.

The flame flickered.

He watched it for a while.

Then closed his eyes.

His mind continued to drift through random thoughts.

Shan Xiongxin’s wound—stitched decently. It probably wouldn’t leave too large a scar.

Those brothers of his—some looked a bit simple-minded, but they should be easy to get along with.

As for the future, he would deal with it when it came.

He could wait for that Li Shimin. He could wait for that Great Tang.

History was already set in place. It wouldn’t run away.

All he needed to do was take care of the work in his hands and save the people in front of him.

The rest—leave it to time.

As he thought this, the corners of his mouth lifted again.

And this time, he couldn’t suppress it.

Outside, insects continued to chirp.

Chi-chi-chi, chi-chi-chi.

Zhou Xiong lay there, eyes closed, smiling faintly.

He could wait.

He really could.

Above the camp, the moon hung quietly at the edge of the sky.

Occasional dog barks and distant shouts drifted through the camp, then faded again into silence.

A new day was about to begin.