Chapter 129: Surname

For a traveler across time, the greatest ambition is to fulfill the dreams of the past; sprawling farmlands, grand mansions, and a bevy of beauties should be the standard perks. Yet, since the day he awoke, he had known only the struggle of combat. The only woman he had encountered was a middle-aged matron—though, to her credit, she was well-preserved and alluring enough to be easy on the eyes.

This body was only sixteen. He did not know when his seventeenth birthday would fall. In his previous life, he had been a twenty-four-year-old who had known romance, so naturally, he maintained an interest in the opposite sex, especially the beautiful. But when every face he encountered wore the same expression of sheer terror, no amount of beauty could sustain the charm. Liu Ji turned and called out, "Dolma."

From some corner, a small silhouette darted out like an agile cat, suddenly appearing before him.

"Who sent these women?"

Dolma gripped the doorframe, poked her little head inside for a glance, and quickly pulled it back.

"It was your people. They were this tall, this wide."

She gestured with her small hands. By now, Liu Ji understood; it must have been a Tang soldier, taller and broader than himself. Such men were not uncommon in the Tang army—Li Siye’s personal guards were mostly of that stature. Could he be the one who sent them?

Liu Ji shook his head and shifted the topic. "Has your father hit the road yet?"

"He left last night."

"Good. Go find that old mountain villager and help me inquire about something."

Dolma vanished as quickly as she had appeared. Liu Ji’s manpower was currently too scarce, and those he could trust were fewer still. Only by personally governing such a large city could one realize how tedious administrative affairs truly were. Once order was restored, countless troubles followed in its wake.

Because the old regime had been swept away, administration was paralyzed. He was stretched thin, occupied from dawn till dusk, with no one to turn to for help. Only those who have done the work themselves realize how ridiculous the portrayals in later novels are; cities do not run themselves. They are managed by countless people—what the future called civil servants.

It is easy to topple an old regime, but building a new one is as difficult as ascending to heaven, especially without proper preparation. In his previous life, the Party had cultivated a vast reserve of cadres, and even then, they had relied largely on the old staff, reforming them for their own use and gradually exploring a mature method. Unfortunately, that was not an option here.

Every day, he returned here exhausted, drained like a dog. Perhaps that was why Li Siye had sent women to wait on him?

With this thought, he understood. These women were all dependents of the city’s prominent families. His orders had been for the mountain villagers to kill only the adult males; women and children were to be dealt with separately. How they were dealt with was a matter of circumstance—this was a time and space where the defeated lost everything, and human rights were non-existent.

Compared to the women sent to the military camps, they might even consider themselves fortunate. Liu Ji would not go out of his way to meddle in matters beyond his scope. Even if he wanted to play the saint, he would have to wait until he held absolute power. Naivety had been excised from his thoughts the moment he joined the army; survival was the tautest string in a warrior's mind.

Liu Ji entered the room and approached the women. The terror on their faces deepened; none dared to lift their heads. Judging by their exposed skin, these women had been carefully selected. In this era, only the wealthy could nurture girls with such fair, clean complexions.

"Do not be afraid. Look up."

The main language of the Nepalese region in the future belongs to the Indo-European family. He tried speaking in that tongue, but the women remained unresponsive. After a moment of thought, he switched to Tibetan. Sure enough, a few raised their heads.

It seemed that Tibet, as their suzerain, exerted great influence. These women from prominent families had learned some of the language, likely in preparation to serve Tibetan nobles in the future.

What puzzled Liu Ji was that the woman at the very end kept her head bowed against the floor, her long hair obscuring her body. When the others obeyed his command, she merely shuddered, remaining motionless.

"You are safe here. Let me see your face."

Liu Ji kept his tone as gentle as possible. From her posture, she was a young woman. Hearing his voice, she slowly lifted her head, her long hair parting to reveal a delicate face.

What surprised him was not her youth, nor the beautiful features with clear Indo-European characteristics, but the tears flowing from her brown eyes. Her gaze was filled with despair.

Liu Ji knew these women had seen their families destroyed and had survived the aftermath, yet the others displayed a resigned obedience. Only this girl showed raw emotion—the agony of a fall from heaven to hell.

"I did not kill your family. You have no reason to harbor hatred for me."

His words had no effect; if anything, a flicker of hatred crossed her eyes. The young are poor at hiding their feelings. The other women, fearing he might be provoked, stepped forward to apologize.

"Forgive us, Master. She is just too afraid. She meant no offense."

The women’s pleas meant nothing to Liu Ji, for he was not angry. He believed that before being sent here, arrangements had already been made; their relatives—mothers or children—were essentially hostages. Therefore, these women would be wary of harming him. But to keep someone so unwilling by his side would always be a hidden danger. If it came to it, he would just send her back; he was not the type to force a woman.

But strangely, when he voiced this thought, the women reacted with even greater terror. They scrambled forward to beg for mercy, the young girl trembling so violently that she could not even speak.

So, he could not even release her?

Liu Ji instinctively sensed a problem. The women seemed overly concerned about this girl; even their pleas were hushed and reverent. Her status must be significant.

"Tell me your name," Liu Ji said, warning the others, "Let her speak for herself. Do not interrupt."

The girl hesitated for a long moment before answering softly, "El... Elcyrea."

"Elcyrea." Liu Ji repeated it in Tibetan, then switched to Chinese, muttering to himself, "An Indian-sounding name. Does it mean 'Snow Lotus'?"

"Beautiful Elcyrea, with your background, you must carry the mark of your lineage, right? Tell me your surname."

"Vicha."

Liu Ji stood up abruptly, his gaze sharpening.

"The man who sent you here—did he have a square face, curly hair, and a thick beard?"

The women nodded one after another. Liu Ji understood. This was not Li Siye’s doing; it was the handiwork of Lifei Yuanli.

*Damn that son of a bitch. He’s still up to his old tricks.*