Bei Yun hadn't been gone for long. Not long after, he returned, entered Qiao Xiaomai's tent, and pulled up a chair, seating himself across from her.
"There's actually something I don't understand," he began, "If there's going to be a war, then people are bound to die. If people are bound to die, does it really matter how they die? In the end, death is death. I just don't understand why you're so resistant to it."
"Don't you think it's simpler this way? It spares those ordinary soldiers from heading into battle, from losing limbs or becoming maimed. With poison, they can die quickly and painlessly."
"It's a swift and decisive method. The armies on both sides won't have to drag this out for long. It's either them or us, and the outcome will be resolved quickly. Why do you find it so objectionable?"
Bei Yun truly couldn't understand. He gazed into Qiao Xiaomai's eyes, his expression full of confusion and pleading. He hoped she could help him make sense of it.
