After Xiao and Xia Lanshi had both left one after another, the study instantly fell quiet.
Seeing that the night was already deep, Su Muchen had originally intended to return to the West Courtyard to rest.
But before he could say anything, he raised his eyes and directly met Xiao Yuan’s deep, night-dark gaze.
For some reason, the atmosphere around Xiao Yuan was extremely oppressive at this moment. His deep gaze seemed to carry a tangible weight, pressing down heavily upon him.
He felt that Xiao Yuan seemed very unhappy, and could even be said to be… angry.
“I… I’ll go back and rest first.” Su Muchen keenly sensed danger and instinctively prepared to make his escape.
“Doctor Su.” Xiao Yuan raised an eyebrow slightly, his low voice without the slightest fluctuation. “Did I permit you to leave?”
Su Muchen secretly groaned inwardly: He really is angry.
It looked like he wouldn’t be able to escape tonight. He had to smooth things over with this prince first, lest the opportunity to accompany the army that he had just fought so hard to obtain be taken back again.
But the thing he was worst at in this life, unfortunately, was comforting people.
The two of them remained several steps apart, staring at each other as they fell into a stalemate.
After silently confronting each other for quite some time, Xiao Yuan was ultimately the first to give in.
He let out an almost imperceptible sigh, a hint of helplessness mixed into his voice.
“Standing there like that, don’t your legs hurt?”
Su Muchen blinked. As if pardoned by the emperor, he looked around and was just about to find a chair closest to the door to sit down when he heard Xiao Yuan say quietly:
“Not there.”
Su Muchen’s movements froze, and he secretly complained inwardly: The emperor’s heart is like a needle at the bottom of the sea. If I’m not supposed to sit there, then where else am I supposed to sit?
His gaze swept around the study and finally landed stiffly on the large rosewood desk in front of Xiao Yuan.
He thought: He can’t possibly mean for me to sit on the desk, right?
Seeing how he looked as though he were facing a formidable enemy, Xiao Yuan was practically angered into laughter.
“If you really want to sit there, it’s not impossible.”
An absurd image instantly flashed through Su Muchen’s mind of himself sitting on the desk and talking with the prince…
No. That would be too strange.
Just then, Xiao Yuan calmly leaned back against the chair. His slender fingers lightly patted his thigh.
Su Muchen’s entire body jolted. Before he had even walked over, the tips of his ears had already begun burning uncontrollably.
“Come here.” Xiao Yuan’s voice was very low, carrying a forcefulness that allowed no refusal.
Su Muchen seemed nailed to the spot, his Adam’s apple rolling slightly.
“If you don’t come over, this prince has plenty of ways to make you come.”
Hearing the danger in his words, Su Muchen resignedly closed his eyes for a moment.
He braced himself and slowly stood up, moving over at a snail’s pace like a rabbit going to its death.
His eyes remained fixed on the hem of Xiao Yuan’s clothes. After standing stiffly for several seconds, he finally carefully sat down.
The moment he settled into the seat, the reassuring warmth radiating from Xiao Yuan’s body, accompanied by a faint scent of agarwood mixed with the cool fragrance of pinewood, instantly enveloped him completely.
Xiao Yuan stretched out his long arm. His iron-wall-like arm firmly circled Su Muchen’s waist, leaving no room for argument as he held him securely in his arms.
After a long while, Xiao Yuan finally spoke, his voice slightly hoarse.
“Do you know? Sometimes, I really want to lock you inside my bedchamber and not let you see anyone. That way… no one would ever be able to hurt you again.”
Su Muchen’s heart suddenly skipped a beat.
“…But I know that if I really did that, you would no longer be yourself.”
Xiao Yuan knew very well that the person in his arms was not a bird in a cage.
Su Muchen’s soul came from a free country. The stronger the restraint, the more fiercely he would resist.
And the person Xiao Yuan had truly fallen for was precisely that completely guileless, always sincere and dazzling Doctor Su.
Hearing these almost confessional words from the depths of his heart, Su Muchen couldn’t say he wasn’t shaken.
With Xiao Yuan’s current power and status, if he truly wanted to forcibly confine him, it would be as easy as turning over his hand.
But he had not done so. Instead, he had chosen to suppress the possessiveness and violence buried deep in his bones, giving Su Muchen the greatest respect.
“I understand. You risked yourself and entered this situation purely because you wanted to help me.”
Xiao Yuan lifted his head and looked at him intensely, his tone finally softening somewhat.
“I don’t want to break your wings, and I can compromise, but you must strictly obey the rules I set.”
In truth, he had already seen through Su Muchen’s little scheme to exploit loopholes.
“Whenever I think of you staying in that chaotic military camp, potentially facing stray arrows and assassination at any moment… any tiny lapse in attention could make me lose you forever… I would rather have you hate me than tie you back to Guichen Studio.”
The hand Xiao Yuan had wrapped around his waist unconsciously tightened, the force almost enough to make Su Muchen feel pain.
The path of power Xiao Yuan himself had walked was a bloody road paved with assassinations, poison, and betrayal.
He had seen every kind of demon and monster. Precisely because he knew how dark that abyss was, he was even more afraid that Su Muchen would become stained by even the slightest bit of it.
An enemy might be hiding among the army. They might disguise themselves as a dying wounded soldier and lure him into a trap.
Just imagining such a scene made Xiao Yuan’s blood run cold inch by inch.
Only now did Su Muchen truly understand the bottomless fear and unease in this man’s eyes.
His heart ached, and his tense body gradually relaxed.
He gently leaned into Xiao Yuan’s broad chest and softened his voice.
“Jingyuan, I know you’re worried about me. But I’m worried about you too.”
Xiao Yuan’s body trembled slightly, and the arms holding him tightened a little more.
“I can follow all the conditions you mentioned.”
Su Muchen gritted his teeth, trying to fight for his final bottom line.
“If you want me to give up treating prisoners, then I’ll give it up. Even if the frontline is desperately short-handed, if you tell me I can’t go, then I absolutely won’t go. But… if you’re seriously injured, or if Xia Lanshi or Xiao are at death’s door and need me to save them, I definitely can’t just stand there and watch—”
“No.”
Xiao Yuan cut him off without mercy, his brows tightly furrowed, his tone once again cold and iron-blooded.
“Since you want to enter this situation with your own body on the line, you must understand what ‘military orders are as immovable as a mountain’ means. If one day I order a retreat, you must leave immediately. You are absolutely not allowed to look back!”
He stared tightly into Su Muchen’s eyes, speaking each word slowly, cruel yet resolute.
“You are not allowed to save me. You are not allowed to disobey a military order for anyone.”
Su Muchen’s heart sank sharply, and even his breathing stopped.
Xiao Yuan knew that Su Muchen was different from Xiao.
Xiao had undergone rigorous military training and would not allow emotions to influence his judgment. But Su Muchen was a doctor. His instinct was to save people.
On a battlefield, that kind of kindness was the easiest thing to become a fatal weakness.
To ensure that Su Muchen could stay alive, he could only force himself to be the villain.
“If you cannot give me this promise, then give up on this idea now. Tomorrow morning, go back to Guichen Studio.”
The air in the study seemed to freeze.
Su Muchen’s chest felt painfully tight.
What did Xiao Yuan mean?
Was he trying to draw a clear line between them?
A knot of frustration rose in his heart, but he took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down.
He understood that this was a fierce collision between two different worldviews.
For the first time, he became so clearly aware that the principles he was familiar with might not work on a battlefield.
This was not a hospital.
No one could simply ignore military orders and the overall battle situation just because they “wanted to save someone,” much less make an entire army pay for one person’s choice.
Xiao Yuan wasn’t forcing him to become heartless. He was forcing himself, in the cruelest possible way, to learn how to stay alive.
Su Muchen remained silent for a long time, so long that the light in Xiao Yuan’s eyes gradually dimmed.
In the end, he gently lowered his eyes.
It was not surrender.
It was the difficult choice a doctor made after truly understanding the rules of the battlefield for the first time.
“…Okay. I promise you. Once a military order is issued, I will retreat.”
His voice sounded muffled, carrying the unwillingness of having his principles forcibly stripped away, yet also revealing helpless compromise.
“Really?” Xiao Yuan’s heart stirred slightly, his gaze like a torch as he scrutinized those clear eyes.
“Yes…” Su Muchen nodded resignedly.
But after saying that, he raised his eyes.
“But if, before the retreat, I still have a chance to save you… that’s a different matter.”
“You really are still going to bargain with this prince.”
Xiao Yuan was helpless.
“I’m a doctor. It’s an occupational disease.”
“Then if Doctor Su violates a military order in the future, this prince will punish you severely without leniency.”
“Okay.”
A dark, profound glimmer passed through Xiao Yuan’s eyes. His large hand clasped Su Muchen’s lower back, pulling him even closer against his body.
He lowered his head, his warm breath brushing against Su Muchen’s ear, his voice hoarse and dangerous.
“Do you really understand what that nod just now means? From now on, you belong under this prince’s command. There is no room for regret.”
Right now, he could still let Su Muchen go and return to the modern world, becoming the owner of Guichen Studio just as he had been before.
If Su Muchen insisted on entering this situation, then unless he died unexpectedly, as long as Xiao Yuan remained alive, he would never allow Su Muchen to leave his side again.
“Sigh… I was doomed a long time ago.”
Su Muchen slowly raised both hands and voluntarily cupped Xiao Yuan’s cold, stern face. His thumb gently rubbed across the other man’s cheek, his voice filled with willing resignation.
“Who told me that the person I fell for had to be someone like this?”
Perhaps long ago, from the first rainy night when they met, they had already been destined to end up this way.
This sudden, almost blunt confession was like a spark landing precisely upon the dry kindling Xiao Yuan had forcibly kept suppressed.
The emotions in Xiao Yuan’s eyes instantly boiled over. He lowered his head and fiercely kissed him, swallowing all of Su Muchen’s breath.
The deep kiss gradually became gentle and lingering. Between intertwined lips and teeth, moisture mingled.
Only when the kiss forced glistening tears from the corners of Su Muchen’s eyes did Xiao Yuan finally pull away slightly.
He gently traced the corner of Su Muchen’s lips with his thumb, his low, hoarse voice echoing through the quiet study.
“…You fell for me, and I also fell into your hands. When you put it that way, you’re not exactly losing out.”
Su Muchen raised his eyes to look at him. His originally hazy gaze gradually cleared, and hearing those words, he couldn’t help but laugh in exasperation at Xiao Yuan’s shamelessly smug expression after clearly being the one who had benefited.
He murmured softly, “…Clearly, you’re the one who gained.”
He leaned against Xiao Yuan’s chest, feeling his steady heartbeat.
Xiao Yuan gently stroked Su Muchen’s soft, smooth hair.
The two remained quiet for a while.
The smile in Xiao Yuan’s eyes gradually faded, and his expression became solemn.
“Starting tomorrow, this prince appoints you to the position of ‘Military Adviser’ in Prince Su’s residence, overseeing military supplies and medical affairs. For all matters concerning military medical care, medicinal materials, injuries and illness, epidemic prevention, and logistical deployment within the army, you may issue orders directly. None of the camps may disobey. For major military supply deployments involving provisions, weapons, and other matters, you must still report them to me for approval.”
He slightly raised his eyes.
“Once the appointment is formally announced, the capital will receive the news within seven days.”
Su Muchen’s expression turned solemn, and his mind immediately began racing.
He understood all too well the weight and hidden danger behind this appointment.
The spies planted in the Northern Frontier by the Imperial Army and the various factions within the imperial court were everywhere.
Once this appointment order went out, it would be no different from announcing to the entire world that Doctor Su had completely entered Prince Su’s camp.
At that point, the lofty emperor in the palace, the crown prince harboring ulterior motives, and Sheng Yuanli would inevitably reassess the threat posed by “Doctor Su” and begin plotting against him and arranging assassinations.
Yet this was also the only way to give him legitimate authority to command the army’s logistics.
Su Muchen did not hesitate in the slightest. He looked seriously into Xiao Yuan’s deep eyes.
“I made my resolve a long time ago.”
Xiao Yuan looked at him. His gaze contained tenderness, but also worry.
But as long as he remained alive, he would absolutely never allow those who wanted to hurt Su Muchen to take even a single step across the line.
◆◇◆◇◆
After leaving the main courtyard, Xia Lanshi hurried beneath the night sky along the covered corridor, heading straight back to the East Courtyard.
Xiao silently followed behind him the entire way, clearly able to feel the suffocating layer of icy coldness surrounding the person walking ahead.
Xiao lowered his voice and tentatively called out, “Huaiyu.”
Yet Xia Lanshi did not even stop walking for half a second, as though he had not heard him.
“…Huaiyu.” Xiao called again, a trace of helplessness entering his voice.
The white figure ahead still showed no reaction.
This time, Xiao was completely certain—Xia Lanshi was genuinely angry.
In Xiao’s memory, Xia Lanshi rarely displayed such emotions.
He was a strategist so calm that it was almost frightening, holding countless methods capable of putting his opponent to death.
He had no need for such emotions.
Even when he displayed them, they were almost always deliberately performed for his opponent to see.
In the past, Xiao had almost never seen him this angry.
Xiao knew that his words in the study just now had indeed been too naked and direct.
But within his system of thought, major military responsibilities absolutely could not accommodate the slightest bit of personal emotion.
How to achieve the highest efficiency, how to complete the mission, and how to minimize losses—that was the ultimate law he followed as an intelligence operative and Gatekeeper.
It was the only optimal solution produced by his precise calculations.
The two walked silently, one in front and one behind, until they reached the main room of the East Courtyard.
Only then did Xia Lanshi suddenly stop.
He turned around. His usually gentle eyes were now cold as frost, without the slightest warmth.
“What business does Mr. Liuchu still have?”
Xiao lowered his eyes. On his usually cold face, a hint of innocence and rare awkwardness flashed past.
“If there’s something, we can talk.”
“Talk? Didn’t you already explain yourself very clearly in front of His Highness just now?”
Xia Lanshi stared coldly at Xiao.
Xiao pursed his lips.
“You should understand that it was the only optimal solution.”
“I naturally understand.”
Xia Lanshi gave a cold laugh and raised his eyes, staring firmly into Xiao’s calm, unruffled eyes. All he felt inside was a bone-deep chill.
He felt that he was already cold enough.
But sometimes, Xiao gave him the feeling that he wasn’t a person at all, but a weapon without emotions.
So calm that he could even abandon everything for the sake of a mission.
“You can use your own life as a bargaining chip. That is your choice. But what right do you have to decide for me how I am supposed to live after losing you?”
“I, Xia Lanshi, am only a mortal. Naturally, I have selfish feelings too. You want me to sit by and do nothing when you’re trapped or captured, and even casually treat you as a dead man—impossible!”
Xia Lanshi lowered his lashes, a trace of sorrow and pain that was extremely difficult to detect appearing in his eyes.
“…What exactly do you take me for? Do you really think there will still be a ‘next time’ between us?”
Xiao’s body trembled almost imperceptibly.
“I don’t know what exactly you went through in the past, nor do I know how the rules of starting over work.”
Xia Lanshi looked at him, every word striking his heart like a heavy hammer.
“But there is only one thing I know—in this world, once you die, you are dead.”
“Next time, even if you encounter another person somewhere else named ‘Xia Lanshi,’ even if he has exactly the same face as me, he won’t be the ‘me’ standing here now, the ‘me’ who loves you.”
Xiao’s gaze trembled faintly.
How could he not know?
He had witnessed far too many partings through life and death. Precisely because he understood better than anyone that “once gone, forever gone,” that was why…
“…I’m sorry.”
Xiao spoke softly, his voice hoarse.
“But I wasn’t trying to give up.”
If he truly intended to give up, he would never have brought out “Little Seven,” much less volunteered to undertake the perilous reconnaissance mission.
He was simply accustomed to forcing himself into desperate situations, fighting his way out of this hopeless dead end to find a path to survival.
He lowered his eyes and whispered:
“It’s just… a long time ago, I already became accustomed to putting ‘whether I can survive’ at the very end. The mission, intelligence, the result… those things always come first.”
Xia Lanshi took a deep breath, gradually suppressing the anger surging in his chest.
He knew there was no point arguing at the doorway, but some principles had to be laid out clearly.
He pushed open the door and turned sideways, saying coldly:
“Don’t just stand there.”
Xiao obediently followed him inside and casually fastened the door latch behind him.
Xia Lanshi pulled over a chair and sat down, his expression solemn.
Xiao, however, continued standing straight where he was, like a child who had done something wrong and didn’t know where to put his hands, a rare trace of grievance in his eyes.
Xia Lanshi was not swayed by this rare display of weakness. His expression remained stern.
“I know your past, and I understand your habits and views when it comes to handling things,” Xia Lanshi said in a low voice. “But these are two different matters.”
“His Highness governs the army strictly, but he will never treat the people under him as disposable dead soldiers. Here in the Northern Frontier, every person who is alive is flesh and blood. They are not pieces on a chessboard, much less cold weapons. I consider myself the same.”
Xia Lanshi stared deeply into Xiao’s eyes, engraving every word into his heart.
“I’ll say it again: you are a ‘person,’ not some disposable ‘object.’ Put away the cold-blooded methods you learned as a Gatekeeper. No one here will ever ask you to sacrifice yourself for a mission.”
Xiao’s eyes widened slightly.
Deep within his sealed-away memories, there had once been a figure extremely similar to this one who had said almost exactly the same words to him with his life, amid a sea of blood.
The scene from the past suddenly overlapped with the face before him, a face filled with anger yet overflowing with affection.
A long silence spread through the room.
After a long while, Xiao finally said softly:
“…I take back what I said about ‘consider me already dead.’”
Xia Lanshi raised an eyebrow slightly, his tone cold.
“And then?”
Xiao let out a soft sigh, took one small step forward, and resignedly lowered his head.
“…Then I’ll put it another way.”
Xiao was silent for a moment before saying, “If I don’t appear at the contact point three days from now, you bring people to confirm.”
Xia Lanshi looked at him.
“Confirm what?”
Xiao pursed his lips.
“Confirm whether I’m still alive.”
Xia Lanshi glanced at him.
“But didn’t you just say, so decisively, that no matter how much time passed, no one was allowed to cross the defensive line even half a step to look for you?”
Xiao blinked. His usually still-as-an-ancient-well eyes were filled with helplessness.
Faced with the meticulous Xia Lanshi before him, he was probably destined to lose battle after battle in this lifetime.
“I was wrong…” Xiao’s voice was very low, carrying a rare softness and coaxing tone. “Forgive me, okay?”
Seeing that he had finally truly understood the deeper meaning behind it, the knot in Xia Lanshi’s chest finally loosened considerably.
But he had no intention of simply letting the matter pass.
“I can let this matter go. However—”
Xia Lanshi stood and walked toward Xiao. He raised both hands and gently yet irresistibly placed them upon Xiao’s broad shoulders.
As that familiar fragrance swept over him, before Xiao could react, a cool and gentle sensation touched his lips, followed immediately by a sharp sting.
Xia Lanshi bit down on his lip without the slightest courtesy, then gently wiped away the bright red bead of blood.
He slightly lowered his head, a hint of warning in his eyes.
“This is to make sure you remember. If you dare to treat your own life so lightly again next time, then even if you cry and beg me, I will not pay you the slightest bit of attention.”
Xiao licked the wound on his lip. The taste of blood spread across his tongue, and he accepted this “warning.”
“…I promise there won’t be a next time,” he replied softly, a hint of tenderness faintly appearing in his eyes.
Xia Lanshi stepped back slightly and smoothed his sleeves, his tone returning to its usual calmness.
“I can let you go do what you want to do, but you cannot hand your life over along with it.”
“I understand.”
“All right. It’s late. Mr. Liuchu, hurry back to the South Courtyard and rest.”
Xiao blinked, the slightest hint of grievance curling at the corners of his lips.
“I’m going deep into enemy territory first thing tomorrow morning. We won’t see each other for several days… and you’re sending me away now?”
Looking at this man who was cold and ruthless outside yet was now pretending to be pitiful in front of him, Xia Lanshi ultimately couldn’t bring himself to be truly harsh.
He helplessly sighed and, in the end, indulged the man by letting him sleep in his room.
He could never bring himself to be truly cruel to this man.
Just then, the respectful voice of a servant came from outside the door.
“My lord, the hot water for your bath is ready.”
Xia Lanshi acknowledged him and turned toward the adjoining bathing room.
Xiao naturally followed.
Ever since he had arrived here, even the task of attending to Xia Lanshi during his bath had long since been completely taken over by him. The servants simply had no chance to intervene.
Steam curled through the spacious bathing room.
Xiao skillfully helped Xia Lanshi remove his complicated outer robe and inner garment, his movements practiced and familiar.
But Xia Lanshi suddenly caught his wrist.
“Tonight, aside from bathing together and sleeping, nothing else is allowed.”
Xia Lanshi turned his head slightly. His eyes, misted by the steam, were cold yet carried a trace of seriousness.
Xiao’s hands paused.
“…Are you still angry?”
“Yes.” Xia Lanshi admitted frankly. “I’m not completely over it yet.”
Xiao raised an eyebrow and said nothing more, simply focusing on playing the role of a competent “bathing attendant.”
He took out several bottles that had already been prepared nearby. They were all shower gel and shampoo he had brought over from the modern world.
Xiao squeezed the shower gel, carrying a faint herbal and woody fragrance, into his palm. After rubbing it into dense foam, he gently spread it across Xia Lanshi’s pale, slender back.
The uniquely smooth texture and fragrance of modern cleansing products spread through the old-fashioned wooden tub.
There was only the sound of water in the bathing room, and the two of them remained quiet.
After the bath, Xiao wrapped Xia Lanshi in a soft cotton robe. He then took a dry towel and gently dried his wet long hair.
Xia Lanshi had always been physically weak. If he went to sleep with his hair still wet, he could easily catch a chill or develop a headache.
Xiao was extraordinarily patient, continuing until every strand of that snow-colored hair was completely dry before carrying him back to the bed.
When the two lay side by side, Xia Lanshi reached into the hidden compartment beside his pillow and took out a row of pills. He removed one light-blue tablet and broke it in half.
It was the sleeping medication Su Muchen had previously prescribed for Xiao.
“Take this.”
Xia Lanshi held half the tablet to Xiao’s lips, his tone leaving no room for refusal.
“Doctor Su said that before you leave tomorrow, you must ensure that you get one complete sleep cycle. Otherwise, after three consecutive days of high-intensity reconnaissance, your judgment will be more dangerous than taking the medicine.”
Xiao looked at the pill, his brows drawing together almost imperceptibly.
He was extremely resistant to this kind of medication that would deprive him of his alertness.
As a Gatekeeper, losing control often amounted to handing his neck directly to an enemy’s blade.
Only when absolutely necessary would he reluctantly take it.
But seeing the uncompromising look in Xia Lanshi’s eyes, he ultimately did not refuse.
He took the tablet and swallowed it in one gulp with the cup of water Xia Lanshi offered.
Xiao turned onto his side and buried his head in the crook of Xia Lanshi’s neck. His voice sounded somewhat lazy from relaxation.
“Huaiyu, do you know? In our world, this kind of medicine is sometimes used by people with ulterior motives to do bad things…”
The hand Xia Lanshi was running through his long hair paused slightly.
But Xiao gently nuzzled against him, closed his eyes, and spoke with completely unreserved dependence.
“But… I trust you absolutely.”
He murmured softly, “Huaiyu… don’t be angry anymore. You know, I never wanted you to disappear…”
Xia Lanshi said softly, “…I’m not angry anymore. I won’t bring those words up again either. Sleep.”
As if finally reassured, Xiao at last closed his eyes.
Under Xia Lanshi’s soothing pats, the effects of the medicine finally began to take hold. Xiao’s breathing gradually became long and heavy, and before long, he sank into sleep.
◆◇◆◇◆
When Xiao opened his eyes—
He discovered that he was standing behind the familiar wooden counter of Guichen Studio.
He was wearing the black shirt he used to wear most often. The familiar mixed scent of coffee and old wood filled the air.
The shop was dimly lit, with all sorts of miscellaneous objects arranged on the shelves.
Outside the window was pitch black, and only the fine sound of rain could be heard.
He didn’t know how many times he had seen this scene before.
Yet he was still bewildered.
“Jingle—”
The copper bell at the entrance suddenly rang. Someone pushed open the door and walked inside.
It was Su Muchen.
But the way Su Muchen looked at him was unusually cold and indifferent, as though he were looking at a complete stranger who had nothing to do with him.
A strange panic surged in Xiao’s heart. He called uncertainly:
“Young Master?”
Su Muchen stopped walking and slightly furrowed his brows, his gaze distant and cold.
“Who are you?”
Xiao’s heart immediately sank, and his mind plunged into a sharp state of confusion.
…What was going on?
Why had he returned here again?
Wasn’t he in the Northern Frontier just now, in Xia Lanshi’s room in the East Courtyard?
He suddenly realized that he seemed to have returned to the original “starting point” once again.
Before he could sort out his thoughts, the “Gate” leading to the back room was suddenly slammed open, and wind and snow poured through it.
Xiao Yuan walked out, blood covering his abdomen and shoulder, his body heavily wounded.
The instant Xiao Yuan saw Xiao, his expression changed completely. Extreme vigilance and murderous intent erupted in his eyes. The long blade in his hand pointed directly at Xiao’s throat, as though he were looking at an assassin who had come to claim his life.
Xiao wanted to explain, but not a single sound could come from his throat.
Just as he was trapped in extreme confusion and despair, the surrounding scene suddenly twisted and reassembled like fragments.
The next second, he found himself back at the Northern Frontier administrative office.
But it was not the East Courtyard. It was that cold, empty room in the South Courtyard.
He was lying alone on the bed. The door was pushed open, and Xia Lanshi entered wearing white robes.
As though he had grasped the last lifesaving straw, Xiao desperately tried to sit up.
But Xia Lanshi stopped several steps away from the bed.
Those pale-red eyes that always contained a gentle smile were now cold and unfamiliar.
Xia Lanshi looked at him coldly and called out in a completely emotionless tone:
“Mr. Xiao.”
In that instant, Xiao felt as though he had fallen into an ice cellar, a wave of bone-deep coldness spreading throughout his body.
Could it be… that everything he had originally possessed had been lost again without him noticing?
It turned out that the truly frightening thing about “starting over” had never been death.
It was—
Coming back alive, only to find that everything you once possessed could no longer be found.
Just then, a familiar voice came through—
“Xiao, wake up!”
An anxious call sounded beside his ear, accompanied by the sensation of someone shaking his shoulder.
Xiao abruptly opened his eyes and gasped for breath. His forehead was covered in fine cold sweat, his pupils contracted from extreme terror.
As his vision gradually focused, Xia Lanshi’s worried face appeared before his eyes.
Xia Lanshi knew that once Xiao fell asleep, he was very prone to nightmares. Therefore, even after Xiao took the medicine, he had remained in a light sleep, keeping watch over the movements of the person beside him. That was how he had been able to wake Xiao in time when he became deeply trapped in the dream.
Xiao stared blankly at Xia Lanshi, his mind still lingering on the cold “Mr. Xiao” from the dream. His eyes were filled with confusion, as though he could not distinguish which side was reality.
Seeing him like this, Xia Lanshi’s heart tightened.
He leaned slightly closer and softly asked him, using the secret phrase they had previously agreed upon for confirming each other’s existence, one that only the two of them could understand:
“Xiao, did you sleep well?”
This secret phrase, belonging exclusively to the two of them and used to confirm each other’s existence, was like a sharp blade that instantly cleaved through the fog of the nightmare.
Hearing those words, Xiao seemed to finally return to himself, as though his soul had at last returned to its proper place.
The fear in his eyes gradually faded, replaced by deep attachment.
In a hoarse voice, he gave the agreed-upon second half of the phrase:
“…Not bad.”
The moment the words fell, Xiao was like a drowning man who had finally found a piece of driftwood, tightly nestling himself against Xia Lanshi’s chest.
Listening to the steady, real heartbeat coming from Xia Lanshi’s chest and feeling his living warmth, his tense body finally began to slowly relax.
Xia Lanshi wrapped his arms around him and gently stroked his ink-black hair, like soothing a frightened animal.
“It’s not dawn yet. There are still a few hours before we leave. Sleep a little longer.”
Xiao buried his face against his neck and murmured sullenly, “…I don’t want to sleep anymore.”
After experiencing such a terrifyingly real nightmare, he didn’t want to close his eyes even for a moment.
It had been like a nightmare with no end, and he didn’t know when it would finally stop.
But he knew that once he failed, the dream he had just experienced would truly happen all over again.
He wasn’t afraid of starting over from the beginning.
He was afraid that everything he had now would disappear.
Xia Lanshi understood his unease and did not force him. He simply tightened his embrace and whispered gently:
“Then just close your eyes and rest. I’ll stay with you.”
“…Mm.”
Compared with those pills, he would rather simply rest beside Xia Lanshi.
In the darkness, Xiao obediently closed his eyes.
As long as this person remained beside him, even if the road ahead was a mountain of blades and a sea of fire, he could face it without fear.
This time, his mission still allowed only success.
But the definition of success was no longer merely bringing back intelligence.
It also included—
Returning alive to Xia Lanshi’s side.