Xue Yan’s hand went rigid.
For a moment, he seemed not to realize what had fallen onto his hand. Then, as if finally understanding, he hurriedly turned his hand over and covered Jun Huailang’s face with his palm.
His movements were clearly somewhat clumsy. When his fingertips brushed beneath Jun Huailang’s eyes, he pressed too hard, scraping his skin until it stung.
But Jun Huailang’s tears kept spilling uncontrollably. He wiped away one drop, only for another to flow out, as though they could never be wiped dry.
Jun Huailang still did not make a sound. He simply shed his tears in silence.
Normally, Xue Yan found crying people annoying. Especially those new recruits in the military camp who could not endure even the slightest hardship—whenever he saw one of them crying, he would beat them until they stopped.
Otherwise, he would threaten them with death, making them too afraid to shed even a tear.
But now, these tears falling one by one onto his hand felt as though they were flowing straight into his heart, scalding his chest until it hurt.
“All right. It’s only rain. What are you crying for?” he said softly, his voice hoarse.
Jun Huailang instinctively protested, “I’m not.”
But his voice was thick with nasal congestion and suppressed sobs, making his denial particularly unconvincing.
Xue Yan gave a quiet laugh.
“Mm. You’re not,” he said.
Jun Huailang somewhat awkwardly explained, “…It’s raining in the mountains now, so it’s bound to be more dangerous. And when they come into the mountains looking for us, the rain will only make things more difficult.”
At this point, his voice dropped, and another sob slipped into it.
“…And you’re injured.”
Xue Yan paused.
At that moment, only he himself knew how badly he wanted to pull the arm braced against the stone wall back and draw the person in front of him into his arms.
After a moment, his slightly chilled fingertips brushed over Jun Huailang’s wet eyelashes.
“All right,” he said. “Anything I’ve promised you, no matter what it is, I’ll do.”
As he spoke, he pinched Jun Huailang’s cheek.
“Do you believe me?”
Jun Huailang suddenly said, “It’s not just for my sake that you have to stay alive. For your own sake, you should live too.”
“…Hm?”
Even though there was nothing but darkness before them, Xue Yan’s hand was resting against Jun Huailang’s face.
He could feel those long, thick lashes, black as crow wings, brushing against his fingertips, making them itch.
Jun Huailang had raised his eyes in the darkness and was looking at him.
“No matter how tough someone’s life is, how much can it withstand being recklessly thrown away?” His cool voice was choked with tears, yet there was an unmistakable edge of fierceness in it. “Your own life is yours to cherish.”
No one had ever told Xue Yan to cherish his life. Not even the Prince of Yan, who had treated him like his own son.
It was something everyone had tacitly accepted, including Xue Yan himself.
He was a lone star of calamity, cursed with a worthless life. Even the King of Hell did not care enough to claim it, so naturally he could squander it however he pleased, throw it around and beat it up as he wished.
…What was there to cherish about this broken thing?
Perhaps it was precisely that reckless, death-defying streak in him that allowed him to run rampant in court, with no one daring to provoke him lightly.
Xue Yan did not speak for a moment.
But Jun Huailang, hearing the silence, continued.
“Did you hear me?”
Xue Yan gave a quiet hum.
Jun Huailang still felt that it was not enough.
Ever since he realized that Xue Yan was injured, his heart had been suspended by a thin thread. The thread seemed to have even cut into his flesh, leaving his chest tight and aching.
Yet the person in front of him did not take it seriously at all, as though suffering a little injury were nothing, as though his life or death did not matter.
Jun Huailang did not know why, but the more he noticed these things, the more uncomfortable he felt.
Originally, he had only felt sorry for this person and, following his own heart, done what he had been taught since childhood was right.
But now, he wanted this person to cherish himself.
He did not know when it had begun, but he had come to hate seeing the shadows left upon Xue Yan by those dark, sunless years of his past.
Hearing Xue Yan’s utterly unconcerned voice, Jun Huailang added, “If even you don’t care about your own life, then I’ll…”
When it came time to make a threat, Jun Huailang stopped.
He had never threatened anyone before and had no experience doing so. The threat he had just uttered had simply slipped out naturally when his emotions reached that point, but when it came to figuring out how exactly he was going to threaten Xue Yan, he could not think of anything.
Halfway through his sentence, silence once again filled the cave.
Before Jun Huailang could think of what to say next, Xue Yan laughed first.
“Then what?” His tone rose at the end. Although his breathing was somewhat weak, the amused teasing in his voice was unmistakable.
Jun Huailang gritted his teeth.
“…Then I won’t care about you either.”
Xue Yan’s laugh, which had originally ended after a single sound, turned into a string of low chuckles.
Jun Huailang was pressed close against him and could feel the vibrations in Xue Yan’s chest as he laughed.
Just as Jun Huailang was beginning to feel embarrassed from being laughed at, Xue Yan spoke with a smile.
“All right. I promise you.”
He could not help cursing inwardly.
How could there be someone so unbearably lovable?
It made him want so badly to kiss him hard, yet he treasured him so much that he did not dare. All he could do was take advantage of their joking to satisfy himself a little, rubbing his fingertips firmly over Jun Huailang’s cheek.
That reckless nature was rooted in his very bones. Even if he said all this, he still could not change his old habits.
But now, he had tied his own life to Jun Huailang.
Even someone who had never cared whether he lived or died would no longer dare to throw his life away so easily once he had something—and someone—to care about.
——
The rain outside grew heavier and heavier, and the temperature inside the cave dropped with it. Jun Huailang carefully reached up and touched the stone wall behind Xue Yan.
It was ice-cold. The moment he touched it, the chill seemed to seep straight into his bones.
Jiangnan’s climate was already humid. Now that it was raining, moisture seeped inward through the cracks in the earth and stone.
Jun Huailang could also feel the cold emanating from Xue Yan’s body.
He had always been warm. Jun Huailang remembered that when they had been at Mingluan Palace before, Xue Yan would even go out to practice swordsmanship in winter wearing only a single layer of clothing.
He had never been afraid of the cold.
Yet now, even though it was clearly summer, his body was cold, blending with the damp chill seeping in from the stone wall.
Jun Huailang withdrew his hand, and without the slightest hesitation, he covered Xue Yan’s shoulder with it as much as he could, trying to warm him.
“Are you cold?” Jun Huailang asked. “It’s all right. The rain will stop soon.”
The sound of the rain outside was so loud that it could be heard through layers of earth and stone. Even someone who knew nothing about geography or watercourses would know that this rain was not going to stop anytime soon.
His words, “It’s all right,” were clearly not meant for Xue Yan.
They were meant for himself.
He was telling himself in his heart: It’s all right. Xue Yan will be fine.
Xue Yan gave a hoarse hum.
“It’s fine. I’m not cold. Take your hand back.”
He did not tell Jun Huailang that the earth and stones behind him were unstable and occasionally loosened. The arm he had braced against the mountain wall behind Jun Huailang was there to shield him from any falling debris.
But if Jun Huailang’s hand was resting on his shoulder and a rock fell, what if it struck his hand?
Those were such beautiful hands.
Yet Jun Huailang ignored him and stubbornly tried to wrap his hand around Xue Yan’s shoulder.
Xue Yan clicked his tongue.
“What use is putting it on my shoulder?” he said. “If you really want to warm me, move it down a little and put it over my heart.”
His intention had merely been to tuck Jun Huailang’s hand safely into his embrace.
But when Jun Huailang hesitated before moving his hand downward and placing it over his chest, Xue Yan cursed inwardly.
He really had brought this trouble upon himself.
That slender, warm hand slid all the way down from his shoulder. Even through the intense pain, it sent a tingling sensation through him. When it stopped over his heart, he felt as though his own heart had stopped beating.
If they had been anywhere else, this gesture would have been far too intimate.
Fortunately, Xue Yan’s back hurt badly enough at the moment that he did not have to worry about any awkward reaction while their bodies were pressed this close together.
But Jun Huailang, right in front of him, did not notice Xue Yan’s gritted-teeth restraint in the slightest.
His hand rested over the firm, resilient muscle beneath Xue Yan’s skin. Through the warm flesh, he could feel Xue Yan’s strong, steady heartbeat.
That immediately put Jun Huailang’s mind at ease.
He could feel that the other man was alive.
At the same time, however, that heartbeat seemed almost contagious.
One beat followed another, strong and calm. Gradually, it seemed to bring his own pulse into the same rhythm. In the quiet darkness, his own heartbeat began to pound along with Xue Yan’s, one beat after another.
That untimely flutter took deep root in Jun Huailang’s blood.
Time passed little by little.
Perhaps deliberately trying not to let Jun Huailang worry, Xue Yan began slowly talking to him instead.
In Jun Huailang’s palm was the sound of his steady heartbeat. As time passed, the heart that had been suspended in midair gradually settled.
Even though the rain outside had not weakened in the slightest.
Gradually, Jun Huailang became drowsy. Xue Yan, on the other hand, pinched his cheek to keep him awake.
“Listen. Do you hear something outside?” Xue Yan suddenly asked.
Jun Huailang immediately tilted his head and listened.
But after listening for a long while, all he could hear was the rain.
“I really don’t hear anything…” Jun Huailang said hesitantly.
Xue Yan laughed softly.
“Of course you don’t,” he said. “I was just teasing you.”
It was the first time Jun Huailang realized just how childish this man could be.
Xue Yan played the same trick several times in a row.
Jun Huailang seemed to be waiting wholeheartedly for someone to come and take Xue Yan out for treatment, so every time, he fell for it without the slightest annoyance.
Later, it was Xue Yan, smiling, who rested his chin on Jun Huailang’s shoulder. His voice had become little more than a breath.
“What are we going to do with someone this easy to fool?”
Jun Huailang paused, his tone unusually gentle.
“…That’s because you’re childish.”
Xue Yan sighed.
“They still haven’t come. Once I get out, I’m definitely going to give Jinbao and Duan Shisi a good beating.”
As he spoke, he slowly closed his eyes.
It really hurt too much.
The several times he had teased Jun Huailang were all attempts to distract himself. Gradually, strange, jumbled hallucinations began to flicker through his mind, making it difficult for him to distinguish reality from illusion.
He closed his eyes, intending to rest for just a moment.
But to him, it was no more than the briefest moment of closing his eyes when he suddenly heard Jun Huailang’s anxious voice beside him.
“Xue Yan, Xue Yan? Wake up. Open your eyes. Don’t sleep.”
Xue Yan wanted to laugh and tell him that he had not fallen asleep, that he was only trying to scare him a little.
But he could barely make his voice come out.
After a moment, his voice was frighteningly faint as he said hoarsely, “…I’m fine.”
Jun Huailang seemed not to hear him. His voice was already thick with tears.
Tsk. Why was he crying again? He had never seemed this prone to tears before.
Xue Yan intended to open his eyes and tease him a little more, but his eyelids felt far too heavy.
In fact, his eyelids had been too heavy to lift for a long time already. If not for Jun Huailang, he would never have been able to hold on this long.
Even standing in a horse stance in the military camp or lifting a bronze cauldron had never been this exhausting.
Just then, Xue Yan heard Jun Huailang’s choked voice again.
“Xue Yan, open your eyes. Listen. There’s a sound outside.”
In the darkness, Xue Yan silently curved his lips into a smile.
What, had he finally learned to turn the trick around and fool himself?
He summoned all the strength he had left and raised his hand to touch Jun Huailang’s hair.
“All right. I heard it,” he said, his tone full of soothing reassurance.
But even he himself did not realize that the words he thought he had spoken aloud had barely any breath left in them.
In the darkness without a single ray of light, his lips moved, and he still imagined that he had spoken a complete sentence.