I traveled back to the Qin Dynasty, and the First Emperor begged me to become his empress.

Chapter 624 The Exiles of 8ga Island 5

Everyone lowered their heads. The hatred had never disappeared; it had only been temporarily masked by the pressure of survival.

“I’ll join,” a young man said through gritted teeth.

"I'll join too."

Count me in.

In the end, all eight people expressed their support. Looking at these familiar yet unfamiliar faces, Yan Mu felt a surge of tragic emotion. He knew that this was a mission with a slim chance of survival, but some things had to be done.

“Alright,” he said in a deep voice, “From now on, we will split up and prepare. Contact the Japanese, secretly hide weapons, and observe the Qin army’s rotation patterns. Remember, be careful in everything, and never let the news leak out.”

At the same time, inside the general's mansion, Li Xin was listening to a report from his deputy.

"General, General Wang Ben's fleet has passed the Ryukyu Islands and is expected to arrive on the third day of June." The deputy general unfolded the nautical chart. "The fleet is large, with more than 20 ships of various sizes, including 10 tower ships, 10 troop transport ships, and the rest are supply ships and cargo ships."

Li Xin nodded: "The port needs to be cleared in advance, and if there are not enough berths, we will expand it."

"Yes, sir." The lieutenant paused. "There's one more thing... There seems to be some unusual activity among the exiles recently. Yan Mu has been frequently in contact with the Japanese, which may indicate something sinister."

Li Xin remained calm: "Keep a close watch, but don't alert them. The island must not be in chaos before General Wang's fleet arrives."

"Should we make an arrest beforehand?"

“No need.” Li Xin walked to the window, gazing at the mine lights under the night sky. “Let them move. This is a good opportunity to eliminate any destabilizing factors.”

The lieutenant understood: "General, you want to... wipe them all out in one fell swoop?"

Li Xin didn't answer, only gazing out the window. Four years had passed, and he had transformed this desolate island into what it was today: a steady stream of gold from the mines, bountiful harvests year after year from the farmland, and the sound of children reciting lessons filling the school. But he knew that beneath the surface of calm, undercurrents were always surging. Conflicts among the remnants of the Wei Kingdom, the indigenous Japanese, and even within the Qin army were intertwined, like a pile of dry tinder, just waiting for a spark.

Now, this spark has appeared on its own. Good, it will completely burn away these hidden dangers before Wang Ben arrives.

"Notify all battalions," Li Xin turned around, "to strengthen vigilance, but keep a relaxed exterior while maintaining a tight interior. The spies planted among the exiles and the Japanese can now be mobilized."

"Yes!"

After the deputy general withdrew, Li Xin stood alone before the map. The map marked every mine, every farmland, and every camp on Baga Island. It was the culmination of four years of hard work, and the capital he would use to atone for his mistakes and return to Xianyang.

The King of Qin is going to declare himself emperor. This news arrived a month ago via fast ship, and Li Xin immediately understood that his opportunity had come. As long as he presented the gold and silver mined over the past three years as a congratulatory gift, and as long as he proved that Baga Island had become a stable overseas territory of the Great Qin, he could return to the Central Plains.

Therefore, this handover must not go wrong in any way.

On May 20th, there were still ten days until Wang Ben's fleet arrived.

Late at night, Jing Ke finished his night shift patrol at the mine and returned to his lodgings alone. The moonlight, like water, spilled onto the winding mountain road. Insects chirped from the roadside grass, and the distant sound of ocean waves could be faintly heard.

He stopped as he passed the music workshop. The lights were still on inside, and a figure was reflected on the window paper—it was Gao Jianli. What was he doing so late?

As if guided by some unseen force, Jing Ke walked over and gently pushed open the gate.

Gao Jianli sat before his zither, his hands hovering over the strings, but he didn't play. He tilted his head, as if listening to something. Hearing the door open, he stirred slightly: "Who is it?"

“It’s me.” Jing Ke closed the door.

Gao Jianli was silent for a moment: "What brings Supervisor Jing here so late at night?"

Jing Ke sat down opposite him, with a zither between them. The light from the oil lamp cast their long shadows on the wall.

“Yan Mu is about to make his move,” Jing Ke said bluntly, “when Wang Ben’s fleet arrives in early June.”

Gao Jianli's fingers lightly touched the strings: "So?"

Would you help him?

"Me?" Gao Jianli's empty eyes "stared" at Jing Ke. "What can a blind man like me do to help?"

“You can hear.” Jing Ke stared at him. “You can hear things that others can’t. Nothing on this island escapes your ears.”

Gao Jianli laughed, but his laughter was full of bitterness: "So what if I heard it? Brother Jing, do you still remember the Xianyang prison? I was already blind then, and you held my hand through the bars and said, 'Jianli, as long as we are alive, there is hope.' But now? Where is the hope?"

A sharp pain pierced Jing Ke's heart. Yes, where was hope? For four years, he had endured humiliation and hardship, toiling in the mines, rising from a common laborer to a foreman, secretly observing everything on the island, waiting for the opportunity to assassinate Ying Zheng. But the longer time passed, the more desperate he felt. The Qin state's rule was so stable, its system so rigorous; individual martial prowess seemed laughably insignificant before the vast machinery of the state.

“At least we’re still alive,” Jing Ke said in a low voice.

"Living?" Gao Jianli's hand pressed on the strings, producing a jumble of noise. "Living like a dog? Brother Jing, we were both once plotting to assassinate Ying Zheng. Now you're overseeing construction for the Qin people, and I'm teaching them music. What are we doing?"

Jing Ke could not answer. He had asked himself this question countless times, but never found an answer.

“Yan Mu and his men will not succeed,” he finally changed the subject. “Li Xin has been prepared for this. The Japanese on the island may seem dissatisfied, but most of them have actually been tamed by the Qin people. Those local Japanese leaders have long been bribed by Li Xin with gold and silver. When the uprising actually takes place, there will be no more than a hundred people who will respond.”

"You told Li Xin?"

“No,” Jing Ke shook his head, “but Li Xin himself knows. He has spies everywhere on this island.”

Gao Jianli remained silent. The only sound in the workshop was the crackling of the oil lamp. After a long while, he spoke: "Then why did you come to tell me all this?"

Jing Ke looked at him, at this close friend who had once shared life and death with him. Over the past five years, they had gone from being inseparable to being like strangers, but some things could never be completely severed.

“I don’t want you to get involved.” Jing Ke’s voice was low. “Jianli, you’ve already sacrificed enough for the assassination of Ying Zheng. Your eyes, your freedom, and… our friendship. Don’t make any more pointless sacrifices.”

Gao Jianli's body trembled. He "looked" in Jing Ke's direction, unable to see him, yet able to sense the complex emotions within him. Did he hate him? Of course he hated him. He hated Jing Ke's "betrayal," hated his "compromise." But deep down, he knew Jing Ke was right—Yan Mu's plan was doomed to fail, and participating would only lead to pointless death.

“I will not help Yan Mu,” Gao Jianli finally said, “but I will not help the Qin people either. I am just a blind musician; what happens outside is none of my business.”

Jing Ke nodded and stood up: "That's good. In the first few days of June, no matter what happens, stay in the music workshop and don't go out."

He walked to the door, then stopped, his back to Gao Jianli: "Jianli, if... if one day I really find an opportunity to assassinate Ying Zheng, will you help me?"

Gao Jianli's fingers traced across the strings, producing a series of low, melancholic notes. He did not answer.

Jing Ke waited for a moment, then pushed open the door and left.

Silence returned to the courtyard. Gao Jianli sat quietly for a long time before softly saying, "I'm already a cripple, how can I help you?"

Outside the window, the moonlight gradually faded, dark clouds gathered, and a night rain was imminent.