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Chapter 5
Chapter 5: Princess, Your Man Is So Handsome
The next day.
At the break of dawn, Ning Luo left in a hurry with Priscilla. They had no time to waste here.
Chaos was the fastest ladder to ascend.
Especially at a moment like this—right after a military defeat.
W̄ ӗ b n оv̇е l̄ Е̄ ñ ǔ má
Ning Luo wasn’t stealing some so-called captain’s authority. Instead, he was using the captain's identity during a time when the army's upper command was being reshuffled, taking advantage of the power vacuum in the General Staff of the Army. What he aimed to seize was the authority of the General Staff. Once the power transition there was complete, even if Ning Luo held the rank of colonel, it would be of no use.
At most, Ning Luo had two weeks left.
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And much of that would be spent on the road—first traveling from Brittany to the field hospital, then back again to the logistics department.
The only means of transportation available to Ning Luo was horseback.
By nightfall.
Ning Luo could only look for a farmhouse to spend the night, not least because he needed to take care of Priscilla as a woman—though in truth, Priscilla’s physical capabilities far exceeded Ning Luo’s.
Е ǹ u m̈ а̂ . і d́
However—
When Ning Luo and Priscilla arrived at the farmhouse on horseback—
They saw a few soldiers in tattered uniforms inside, drinking while rummaging through chests and cabinets. One soldier sat with his eyes open, slumped against the corner wall—clearly lifeless.
A farmer and his wife were huddled in the corner.
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There was no doubt—
These were deserters from the battlefield.
Ẃ ebn̈.о́ vеl̇ Е̄nuḿа̇
Deserters are worse than thieves; a broken army is more brutal than bandits.
As Ning Luo noticed them, the deserters also noticed Ning Luo. They froze in place, but after a brief hesitation, immediately raised their muskets.
Priscilla’s icy gaze swept over the deserters. Her slender fingers gripped the saber at her waist.
The air seemed to freeze.
Ning Luo raised his hand, signaling Priscilla not to act.
Then—
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He walked over to the soldier who had died in the corner. Judging by the pallor of the soldier’s face, it was obvious he had died from an infected wound—a common fate in this era. Ning Luo took off his coat and laid it over the soldier’s body, covering his face.
Then he moved to the wooden table, pulled out a chair, and sat down. His black eyes swept over the deserters in the room, as though he were peering into their very souls.
Under Ning Luo’s pressure—
The lead deserter finally lowered his musket and saluted. With the first man disarming, the others followed, setting down their weapons and offering salutes.
“Please present your soldier IDs.”
Though still trembling with fear—
Е n̂ú m а̀_.і d̀_
The soldiers stepped up one by one, placing their IDs on the table in front of Ning Luo before lining up again.
Ning Luo picked up the IDs and began checking them, then looked up.
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“Your assigned post shouldn’t be here.”
The lead deserter hesitated for a moment.
“We got separated from our unit.”
“They’re deserters!”
Ẅ еb̌n̂ оv ѐ l̄ Е nŭm̊ a
The farmer, who had been cowering in the corner, stepped out and began cursing at the soldiers. The lead soldier turned to glare fiercely at the farmer, clearly about to lash out.
But Priscilla's cold gaze had already locked onto him. The soldier could only scowl and back down.
Ning Luo spoke up.
“Pour me a cup of tea.”
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“Right away, sir. I’ll get it for you.”
The farmer immediately came to Ning Luo’s side and poured him a cup of tea, then lifted his head and gave the lead soldier a rather smug look.
Ẇёb nо̌vе l̆ Е̂n̊ ù m̂ ȧ
The lead soldier opened his mouth to speak.
“Captain…”
“Did I give you permission to speak?”
The soldier froze stiffly in place.
Ning Luo accepted the tea, though he didn’t bring it to his lips—his brows were deeply furrowed.
After a long moment, he finally asked,
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“How long have they been here?”
“They arrived yesterday, sir.”
Ning Luo’s courteous tone caught the farmer off guard; to him, even just being spoken to politely by a noble officer was rare—far better than how those deserters had behaved.
“I apologize for what they’ve done. Any damage or losses they caused—I’ll see to it that you’re compensated.”
“Really?”
“Yes. Just prepare a list for me tomorrow.”
Е n̆ ũ mа
“Sir, it’s not just them. Actually, there are also—”
Before the farmer could finish—
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Priscilla cut in.
“Why didn’t you report it to the local garrison?”
“Because… there have just been too many deserters lately. Even if I did report it to the garrison…”
The farmer trailed off.
Е́ n_um̈а
An officer like Ning Luo, willing to offer compensation, was already a rare blessing. If he kept talking, he might offend the female officer beside him—and that would be far worse.
But Ning Luo saw it differently.
The farmer’s meaning was clear—this wasn’t an isolated incident, but a widespread, uncontrollable phenomenon.
Ning Luo looked up at the soldiers in front of him.
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“From this moment on, you are reassigned to my Special Investigation Unit. Go bury your comrade.”
“Yes, sir!”
E̊ nŭmа
Ning Luo lowered his head and, with his pen, crossed out the original unit information on their soldier IDs, replacing it with “Priscilla’s Special Investigation Unit.”
The soldiers had every reason to be excited.
They knew Ning Luo was fully aware they were deserters. They also knew that Ning Luo knew they knew he was aware they were deserters. And yet, he had just officially reassigned them into his unit—which meant they were no longer deserters.
And Ning Luo clearly came from noble military stock. Being part of a “Special Investigation Unit” under someone like him meant they wouldn’t be thrown into some high-casualty frontline unit.
Night.
Ning Luo, Priscilla, and the rest of the soldiers did not leave.
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After all, Ning Luo still needed to stay overnight at the farmhouse. The soldiers had to sleep on the floor, but with Ning Luo present, they didn’t dare act up like before.
The farmhouse had enough rooms for both Ning Luo and Priscilla to use.
However—
Even with a room available, Ning Luo didn’t return to rest. Ever since having a simple dinner, he had stayed in the sitting room, hard at work.
It wasn’t until deep into the night that Priscilla came over to remind Ning Luo.
Papers were scattered across the table and floor—densely packed with scribbles everywhere.
En u m а̂
“It’s already very late. You didn’t rest yesterday. If you don’t sleep again today, we still have to keep traveling tomorrow.”
“No time.”
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Ning Luo didn’t even look up.
Priscilla asked with a hint of confusion,
“What are you doing?”
“I need to calculate the optimal solution.”
W̊ е b nóv̂ е̃ l Е̂ ň ǔmã
Priscilla didn’t quite understand what he meant. She bent down and picked up one of the papers that had fallen to the ground.
`maxZ = c₁x₁ + c₂x₂ + ⋯ + cₙxₙ`
The pages were filled with strange symbols—more cryptic than dark magic runes. Priscilla had always considered herself well-educated, yet she couldn’t make any sense of Ning Luo’s notes.
“What do these symbols mean?”
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“Objective function. It’s used to calculate linear management of resources.”
“So, it’s a way to figure out the best solution for that resource allocation you were talking about?”
Е̃ n̂ ům̆а́
Priscilla didn’t understand what a function was—
But she did understand what “resource management” meant.
Ning Luo nodded.
“Yes. If you want an example, let’s take the supplies at the field hospital. There are many problems with the way supplies are sent from the rear to the front lines and the hospital. We need to optimize the whole process. After optimization, we need data to verify the results. For instance, this formula:
Minimize Z = a·T + b·(1−A) + c·M.
T is total delivery time. A is delivery accuracy. M is the maintenance score of transport tools and routes.
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a, b, c represent the weight of each factor’s importance.
Let’s say the average delivery time is 4 days, delivery accuracy is 80%, and maintenance score is 5 (number of breakdowns per month).
If a, b, c are weighted as 1, 2, and 0.5—meaning we place more importance on delivery time and accuracy—then plugging it into the formula gives us a result of 6.9.
If, after optimization, we get a smaller number, it means the system is more efficient.”
“…I didn’t understand a thing.”
Priscilla could understand every word Ning Luo said—
Е n̂û m̈a
But once they were strung together, she couldn’t make sense of them. Theoretically, this kind of thing should belong to university professors—not battlefield logistics. She hadn’t expected Ning Luo to apply it directly to military operations.
At least now she understood what Isabella had meant when she said economics and finance were Ning Luo’s true strengths.
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Ning Luo only nodded.
“It’s fine. You don’t need to handle any of this—just leave it to the specialists.”
“How long would it take to calculate all this using your method?”
Priscilla countered.
W ӗb̃n о̀ v̈ е̌ l Ѐ ń ũm̌ а̃
Even though she didn’t understand any of it, she could tell the formula was incredibly complex—and this was only for one part of the field hospital. If this was scaled up to the entire army, the scale of calculation would be unimaginable.
Ning Luo replied,
“At the fastest—several years.”
“That troublesome?”
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“No choice. This era is simply too primitive. Every part of the system has issues. A complete Pareto optimization is the only solution.”
Priscilla no longer wanted to dwell on the meaning of the terms coming out of Ning Luo’s mouth.
Е̄ ṅú mа̊. іd
“If it can’t be completed in a short time?”
“It must be completed.”
“Why?”
“Don’t you think this war has gone on long enough?”
“Has it?”
This time—
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Ning Luo finally lifted his head to look at Priscilla.
“That’s exactly the problem. Thirty-three years—this war has already lasted thirty-three years. Since the day we were born, this war has been going on. It’s gotten to the point where everyone just assumes war is a natural part of life. From the wounded in hospitals, to the streams of refugees we saw along the road, to the deserters hiding out in this place—don’t you find any of it abnormal?”
Priscilla was stunned for a moment.
This was the first time anyone had ever brought up this question to her.
She had thought Ning Luo was about to talk about some lofty dream. That kind of youthful idealism—she’d seen it too many times before. But instead, what Ning Luo brought up was the war itself.
And just as Ning Luo said—
Е̊ñů m а.i d
Perhaps war itself was the very thing that had become unnatural.
“So…”
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“This war needs to end. Do you know what it has become? It has gotten to the point where it consumes one-third of the empire’s annual revenue. Tens of thousands die every year. Its sunk cost has grown so massive that no one dares to bear it. It has become a war the empire absolutely cannot afford to lose. If we don’t find a way to end it soon, this war won’t just destroy the empire—it will destroy every one of us.”
Priscilla didn’t respond.
She quietly sat beside Ning Luo, helping him organize the papers that were scattered everywhere, then poured him a fresh cup of hot tea.
One could only say—
W̌ еbn оv еl̊ E num ä
It was no wonder the princess would fall for a man like this.
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