November in Puyang.
Wang Zhaoqing had been besieging the city for more than three months, from the peak of autumn, when the horse was plump, to the first snowfall, which then grew heavier, until today it was almost as thick as goose feathers.
It was deep winter in November.
Wang Zhaoqing looked up at the snowflakes above and then around at his soldiers, each of them rubbing their hands around the braziers. Seeing him look their way, they all shrank back their gaze.
Such snowy weather was not suitable for fighting, let alone besieging a city. Not to mention besieging, just setting up camp alone was a struggle – they labored in the snow, while those in the city were sheltered from the wind and snow, comfortable. This standoff was not equal at all.
Previously, when the barbarians from the north came in winter, they would generally retreat. Could they retreat?
