At night, Xia Lanshi set aside the mountain of military affairs piled on his desk and came to the vicinity of Linbei City’s gates.
He did not tell anyone that he had come to wait for someone.
At sunset, there were still a few merchants and travelers passing along the official road outside the city gates.
The temperature began to drop.
The cold of the Northern Frontier at night in spring was different from winter.
It was not the bone-chilling cold of heavy snow sealing off the border, but a sharp, penetrating chill brought about by the enormous difference between day and night.
The howling wind rapidly carried away the warmth from the surface of the body, making the cold feel even more severe.
Xia Lanshi wore a cloak and stood quietly beneath a wind-sheltered pavilion beside the city gate, holding a cup of hot tea that had already been replaced twice.
Every so often, he raised his eyes and looked into the distance.
The end of the official road was shrouded in a hazy yellow, with blowing sand obscuring his vision.
There was no Huiye.
And no Xiao.
“Did the gate guards say whether many people came back from the north today?”
The attendant beside him stepped forward and answered quietly, “Reporting to Magistrate Xia, everyone entering and leaving through the north gate today has been recorded. We have not yet seen Mr. Liu Chu.”
Xia Lanshi softly acknowledged this.
“I see.”
He did not ask anything else.
He merely lowered his head and took a sip of tea.
The tea had already gone cold. Its bitter chill slid down his throat into his stomach, yet he seemed not to notice at all.
First watch.
The city gate gradually became deserted.
The final group of merchants and travelers passed through the inspection. Amid the heavy grinding of the mechanisms, the enormous city gates slowly closed, leaving only a small gate for emergencies during the night.
Seeing that Magistrate Xia was still standing in the wind without leaving, one of the city guards could not help approaching to persuade him.
“Magistrate Xia, the wind is strong at night, and your health is weak. Why don’t you return and rest first? If there is any military intelligence, this subordinate will immediately send someone to report it to the administrative office.”
Xia Lanshi raised his head and glanced outside the dim little gate.
He placed the teacup, which had long since gone cold, on the table.
“Wait a little longer.”
Second watch.
The wind grew colder.
The torches atop the city wall flickered in the wind, sparks constantly drifting into the pitch-black night sky before disappearing in an instant.
Xia Lanshi had already changed to another cup of hot tea.
This time, he took only one sip before setting it down.
“Any news?”
“No.”
“What about the north?”
“None.”
Xia Lanshi fell silent for a moment.
He stood beneath the city gate and looked toward the pitch-black official road.
The road stretched deep into the night, as though swallowed by an invisible giant beast. There was no end in sight, nor any returning figure.
He suddenly remembered the day Xiao had left.
The look in that man’s eyes when he received the little sachet Xia Lanshi had given him—the unmistakable happiness and cherishing.
Before leaving, that man had said in a relaxed yet certain tone, “I’ll bring this life of mine back to you, intact.”
He had also said, “I have something to give you, too. And there are some things I want to tell you.”
He had said, “Wait for me. I’ll be back in three days.”
He had been so decisive, as though he were talking about something completely uneventful, like going out to buy a jug of wine.
At the time, Xia Lanshi had not even asked much.
Because he knew Xiao’s abilities.
And he knew that in the countless lives of the past, Xiao had crawled back from the brink of death again and again.
Xia Lanshi had not asked another question then.
Because he knew Xiao’s abilities, and he knew that throughout however many cycles of life he had gone through, that man had returned from the land of death countless times.
So he had believed him.
But now, standing in this howling cold wind, he felt for the first time—
Three days seemed rather too long…
In the past, he had waited ten years before finally finding Xiao amid the vast sea of humanity.
He had thought these three days would be nothing more than a brief wait, something he could endure and get through.
But as time crept closer and closer to the limit, every passing moment became torture.
Third watch.
The night was deep.
There were no longer any voices outside the city gates.
Even the soldiers on night watch had grown quiet. All that remained around them was the faint metallic sound of weapons occasionally colliding and the mournful whistling of wind through the cracks in the city walls.
“Cough…”
Xia Lanshi covered his lips and coughed softly.
Seeing this, the attendant immediately stepped forward and drew the cloak more tightly around his shoulders, his voice anxious.
“Magistrate Xia, please go back. Your body won’t be able to withstand this cold.”
“I’m not going back.”
His answer came so quickly that it was almost instinctive.
The attendant froze.
Xia Lanshi himself was stunned.
After a moment of silence, he lowered his eyes and added quietly in a hoarse voice,
“…He hasn’t come back yet.”
This time, he did not even bother to find an excuse about inspecting the defenses.
He was simply waiting for Xiao.
He took the mist-silver mechanical pocket watch from inside his robes and gently opened the cover.
The hands had already passed midnight.
His long white lashes lowered, his gaze falling upon the line engraved on the inside of the watch cover:
“Live. That’s enough.”
At this moment, he seemed to understand what state of mind Xiao had been in when he carved those words.
He asked for nothing.
He only hoped that the man would return.
Fourth watch.
The sky remained a suffocating black.
Xia Lanshi had stood for so long that his fingertips had become ice-cold, devoid of even the slightest warmth.
That very day, he had just promised Doctor Su that he absolutely would not stay up late.
Moreover, he had already been sleeping very little these past few days because of the impending war in the Northern Frontier. His body had long since reached the limits of its endurance.
Yet tonight, he felt not the slightest bit sleepy.
Whenever he closed his eyes, all he could see was that northern official road being swallowed by darkness.
And all the countless terrible possibilities.
The teapot on the table was replaced for the third time.
Then the fourth.
Then the fifth.
Until finally, seeing his pale complexion, the attendant simply stopped asking whether he wanted any tea.
Xia Lanshi merely stood beneath the city gate like a jade sculpture, occasionally glancing into the distance.
Every time he looked, there was nothing.
His gaze grew heavier each time.
The unfathomable depths of his eyes, usually so calm and inscrutable, now churned with panic he could no longer conceal.
His fingertips repeatedly and uneasily brushed over the peace talisman bracelet on his wrist.
“…Pass on an order.”
The attendant, who had been dozing beside him, immediately straightened.
“Sir?”
“Push the hidden sentry posts outside the north gate another five li north.”
“Yes.”
“If you see any lone rider…”
Xia Lanshi paused.
“No.”
He abruptly changed his words, his voice taut.
“If you see anyone returning from the north, regardless of their identity, report to me immediately.”
The attendant’s expression changed slightly.
“Sir, are you worried that—”
“Go.”
Xia Lanshi did not let him finish.
…The three-day deadline had long since passed.
Xia Lanshi lowered his long lashes.
In his heart, he had already gone over the worst possible outcomes several times.
In the past, Dasheng had sent elite scouts to investigate those three lost territories before.
Yet of all the people who had gone, only a handful had successfully returned alive.
Was Xiao trapped there now?
Or had he already been captured by the enemy?
Or perhaps he had already…
Although Xia Lanshi had prepared contingencies for him and sent hidden guards to follow him, there was still no guarantee of absolute safety.
There were simply too many variables on a battlefield.
Xia Lanshi forced himself to calm down.
His mind began racing as he calculated what to do next.
First, he thought of the remaining two-plus months.
Without accurate military maps of the lost territories and without the enemy’s latest deployment intelligence, how were they supposed to attack?
He had run countless war-game simulations in his mind.
Almost all of them were dead ends.
There were simply too many unfavorable factors. The odds of a frontal assault succeeding were vanishingly small.
He had even begun to contemplate something bordering on treason—simply disobeying the imperial command, abandoning the attempt to reclaim the lost territories, and switching to full-scale defense.
Then he thought of the vow he had once made to Xiao—
if Xiao died, he would follow him.
They would go together to the Forgotten River, together along the road to the Yellow Springs.
On one side was Xiao Yuan, Prince Su, whom he had sworn to follow to the death and to whom he had entrusted the world.
On the other was the person he loved most.
If Xiao… really were gone…
he would have to make a choice.
Su Muchen had drawn up a new recuperation plan for him that day, saying that he would give it to Xiao and have him supervise Xia Lanshi properly.
But…
If Xiao was no longer there, that recuperation plan would have no meaning to him either.
The chill before dawn was the most penetrating.
The darkness of night began to loosen slightly.
The heavens and earth were still a muddled blue-gray that refused to dissolve.
The official road outside the city remained shrouded in thick morning mist. The distant mountains gradually shed the darkness of night, leaving behind only a vague black silhouette.
Xia Lanshi had stood there all night.
His face was as pale as frost and snow, faint bluish shadows beneath his eyes.
Several times, the attendant had pleaded with him to return, only to be mercilessly refused each time.
Until now, as the first light of dawn faintly appeared, he slowly closed his eyes.
Perhaps…
Xiao was not coming back.
The desperate thought had barely surfaced before he immediately crushed it down.
No.
That man had said he would return.
He never made promises lightly.
Since he had said it, then he would definitely—
“What is that?”
On the city wall, a sharp-eyed soldier suddenly pointed into the distance and shouted.
Xia Lanshi’s lowered lashes trembled violently.
He abruptly opened his eyes and looked toward the distance.
At the end of the thick morning mist, on that official road that still seemed immersed in night, there was finally movement.
Within the desolate gray darkness, an utterly pure white suddenly burst into view without warning.
Like the brightest morning star at daybreak, it tore through the oppressive mist.
At first, it was merely a vague, shifting phantom, as though the cold wind might scatter it with the slightest blink.
But gradually, accompanied by the heavy sound of hooves drawing nearer and crushing the frost, the silhouette became clearer and more tangible inch by inch within the vast wilderness.
The horse’s heavy breathing turned into clouds of white vapor in the cold air.
Its four hooves flew as it thundered across the wild grass beside the official road, thick with white frost.
A tall, upright snow-white warhorse charged through the dawn wind at full speed, its silver-white mane streaming wildly backward in the gale.
And upon that snow-bright back, seemingly untouched by even a speck of dust, was a dark, exhausted figure.
At that moment, the howling wind around them seemed to recede like a tide.
Xia Lanshi’s slender body froze.
His fingers tightened beneath his long sleeves.
Even his breathing and frantic heartbeat seemed to stop completely in that instant.
He recognized it.
That was Xiao’s horse.
And on its back was a dark figure.
“Open the gates.”
The gate guard froze and looked at the sky, which was not yet fully bright.
“Sir?”
“Open the gates!”
The command was heavy, even carrying a tremor Xia Lanshi himself had not noticed.
It tore through the silence of dawn.
The heavy city gates slowly opened in the morning mist, emitting a deep grinding sound.
Huiye seemed to see that familiar figure standing before the city gates.
It had still been galloping at full speed, but once it drew near, it suddenly slowed.
Its hooves stepped onto the bluestone pavement.
Clop.
Clop.
Clop.
Each sound seemed to land directly upon Xia Lanshi’s wildly pounding heart.
Xia Lanshi stood motionless.
As though if he moved even one step, the scene before him would shatter like a dream.
He merely stared intently at the approaching warhorse.
Until Huiye reached the city gate and stopped.
Xiao dismounted.
His movements were not as agile as usual, and were even somewhat heavy.
He raised his head.
Through the thin mist, his deep eyes gazed at Xia Lanshi.
His voice was hoarse, his eyes filled with endless tenderness and exhaustion.
“Huaiyu, I’m back.”
Xia Lanshi still seemed unable to believe it.
He reached out with a cold, trembling hand, wanting to confirm that the person before him was not a phantom.
But Xiao suddenly stepped backward.
Xia Lanshi’s hand froze in midair.
He stared for a moment.
Xiao looked at him dressed entirely in white and said quietly,
“Don’t touch me. I’m filthy right now.”
He had crawled and rolled through Beidi territory, then endured a terrifying escape.
His body was covered in dirt, bits of grass, and dried blood.
He was afraid of getting Xia Lanshi dirty.
Only then did Xia Lanshi truly confirm it.
It really was Xiao.
He was back.
The man who normally loved cleanliness to an almost excessive degree was now covered from head to toe in a damaged combat uniform, smeared with mud, his hair blown into complete disarray by the wind.
When Xia Lanshi’s gaze fell upon the mottled bloodstains on Xiao’s shoulder and body, his heart clenched violently.
“How badly are you hurt?”
“Don’t worry.”
Xiao forced out a reassuring smile.
“Most of them are injuries from jumping off the horse in an emergency. Nothing hit anything vital.”
Xia Lanshi’s expression darkened.
An emergency jump from the horse?
He immediately knew that Xiao had indeed encountered danger in Beidi.
And it had been dangerous enough that he had been forced to abandon even his horse.
But fortunately…
Fortunately, Xiao had come back.
Whole.
He had not lost an arm or a leg.
He had returned completely to Xia Lanshi’s side.
Xia Lanshi could no longer suppress the emotions surging through his heart.
He stepped forward and hugged him tightly.
Xiao was covered in bruises and abrasions.
The force of the embrace immediately sent sharp pain through his body.
He gave a muffled groan.
But even though every part of him hurt and his arms were so exhausted that he could barely lift them, he still slowly raised one hand and gently stroked Xia Lanshi’s snow-white hair, as though soothing a frightened little snow fox.
Because he could clearly feel the slight trembling of the slender body in his arms.
“…Magistrate Xia, people are watching.”
Xiao reminded him softly, though his voice carried a hint of indulgent amusement.
They were standing right in front of the city gates.
Although the guards around them had long since tactfully averted their eyes and did not dare look in their direction, once dawn fully broke, there would probably be another new wave of rumors about them throughout Linbei City.
Xia Lanshi inhaled deeply, taking in Xiao’s scent mixed with blood and windblown sand and feeling his body heat.
Only then did he slightly rein in his emotions and step back half a pace.
There was still a faint redness around the corners of his eyes, but his tone was full of grievance.
“…You’re late. You swore you’d be back in three days. Today is already the fourth day.”
Seeing him like this, the smile in Xiao’s eyes deepened.
“All right. It’s my fault. I apologize. When we get back, I’ll accept whatever punishment Magistrate Xia sees fit.”
Just then, hurried footsteps sounded from inside the city gates.
Xiao Yuan and Su Muchen, their clothes covered in morning dew, hurried to the gate.
Neither of them had slept all night.
They had both been anxiously waiting for Xiao’s return at the administrative office.
The moment they received the message from the hidden sentry, they immediately rushed over.
Su Muchen spotted Xiao at once.
His eyes quickly locked onto the glaring bloodstains on Xiao’s clothes.
His expression immediately turned serious as he strode forward.
“How did you get hurt this badly? Where are you bleeding? Are your bones all right?”
Xiao Yuan immediately reached out and stopped Su Muchen, who had almost started stripping Xiao’s clothes right there to examine him.
“Stop standing here in the wind. Whatever the matter is, let’s return to the administrative office first.”
He could see it clearly.
Xiao had spent three days traveling nonstop deep into enemy territory to carry out his mission, then endured a dangerous escape and return.
His physical strength was already completely exhausted.
What he needed most now was proper rest.
What’s more…
Xiao Yuan glanced at Xia Lanshi beside them.
This magistrate had waited for Xiao until dawn in the bitter cold wind of the night.
His face was almost translucent with pallor, and his complexion was arguably even worse than Xiao’s after fighting his way out of the enemy camp.
If they did not return now, Doctor Su’s medical record would probably gain another severe entry.
◆◇◆◇◆
After returning to the administrative office, Su Muchen immediately examined Xiao’s body and wounds.
An arrow wound on the shoulder.
An abrasion on the lower leg.
Multiple abrasions and contusions across his body.
Mild dehydration.
Three days of high-intensity activity and severe lack of sleep.
Although Xiao said that he had managed to sleep briefly, Su Muchen knew that a person deep inside enemy territory could never truly lower his guard.
His expression grew increasingly grim.
He said to Xiao in a serious tone,
“What you need most right now is to go to sleep immediately.”
Xiao was about to say something, but Xiao Yuan directly issued an order.
“This morning, you are not to touch any military affairs.”
Xiao: “But the situation is urgent—”
Xiao Yuan interrupted him directly.
“That is an order.”
Even though the situation in the Northern Frontier was now tense to the extreme, Xiao Yuan had still keenly noticed Xiao’s exhaustion and firmly issued the order that he rest.
Su Muchen added from the side,
“You have to sleep at least this morning. In your current condition, your thinking speed will slow down, and your memory and judgment may be impaired. You’ll actually be more likely to make mistakes.”
Xia Lanshi also calmly added,
“If you insist any further, then next time we won’t merely be verbally persuading you.”
Xiao could not argue against all three of them.
In the end, he could only obediently return to the southern courtyard to rest.
Mist-like steam filled the bathing room, warm water enveloping his utterly exhausted body.
Only now, immersed in the hot water of the bathing tub, did Xiao finally experience the genuine feeling of being “alive again.”
He tilted his head back and closed his eyes.
He felt the nerves that had been taut for three days and three nights, along with every stiff muscle in his body, gradually relaxing bit by bit with the warmth of the water.
He had successfully survived this perilous journey into Beidi and returned alive.
He had also successfully brought back the enemy’s military deployment intelligence and maps of the lost territories that Xiao Yuan needed most.
But his mind had not stopped.
Because he knew very clearly that the real problems and the true hard battle were only just beginning.
Just as he was still rapidly calculating the coming battle situation in his mind, the door outside the screen opened with an almost inaudible sound.
He opened his eyes warily and turned to look.
He saw Xia Lanshi carrying a wooden tray radiating a faint medicinal fragrance.
Neatly arranged on it were wound medicine, ointment, and clean gauze.
He was slowly walking toward him.
“I came to help you apply the medicine.”
Xia Lanshi’s voice was soft, yet carried an unmistakable refusal to accept no.
Looking at the person before him, Xiao could not help remembering the past.
Back then, Xia Lanshi had also tried to take medicine and help treat his wounds, only to be pushed away by Xiao with all sorts of excuses.
Although he had failed in the end.
This time, looking at the worry and exhaustion that had yet to fade from Xia Lanshi’s eyes, Xiao did not utter a single word of refusal.
Xiao stood up from the bathing tub.
Water droplets slid down the contours of his lean, powerful muscles. His wet black hair clung tightly to his skin, while the Other Shore Flower mark on the right side of his back emerged from the heat, vivid red as though dripping with blood.
He casually pulled the bath towel from the wooden rack, dried himself, and put on a loose moon-white inner robe.
The dim yellow lamplight illuminated his body.
Xia Lanshi’s gaze fell upon him.
That body, originally fair and unblemished, was now covered everywhere with alarming bruises and abrasions, blue and purple patches scattered across his skin.
There was also a somewhat deeper wound on his shoulder and another along the side of his lower leg.
His breathing caught slightly, and his brows unconsciously drew tightly together.
Xiao keenly caught his reaction.
He stepped forward, lowered his head slightly, and reached out with his injured fingers to gently smooth the crease between Xia Lanshi’s brows.
“Don’t frown. They’re just small injuries that look worse than they are.”
Xiao’s voice was hoarse and gentle after his bath.
“You know my body’s recovery speed has always been much faster than an ordinary person’s.”
To prove his point, Xiao leaned slightly forward, touched his fingertips lightly to his own thin lips, and a suggestive smile flashed through his eyes.
“Look. The wound you bit open a few days ago has already healed completely.”
Hearing such blatant flirting, Xia Lanshi’s ears grew slightly warm, but his brows still did not relax.
He ignored Xiao’s teasing and silently took Xiao’s wrist, leading him to the couch in the outer room.
“Even if you recover quickly…”
Xia Lanshi pressed down on his shoulder, making him sit, his voice filled with undisguised heartache.
“…it still hurts when you are injured.”
Xia Lanshi placed the wooden tray on the small table.
Then he bent down and began carefully cleaning the wounds on Xiao’s shoulder and body.
His movements were exceedingly gentle.
Looking at the new wound and old scar on Xiao’s right shoulder, as well as another old scar on his left shoulder, he could not help sighing.
“Your shoulders really have suffered enough.”
Xiao himself gave a helpless smile.
He had been wearing a protective vest, but the enemy seemed to love aiming for his shoulders.
He did not mention that another arrow had come directly toward his back.
Fortunately, his tactical pack had blocked it.
Otherwise, he might not have made it back.
After cleaning the wounds that had bled, Xia Lanshi picked up a small white porcelain jar.
His slender fingers dipped into the translucent ointment inside.
“This is a bruise-dispersing ointment specially made by the Imperial Medical Academy. It will feel a little cool when first applied.”
Xia Lanshi quietly warned him.
Then he gently dabbed the ointment onto the large areas of bruising across Xiao’s chest, waist, abdomen, arms, and legs.
The warmth of his fingertips and the coolness of the ointment intertwined.
The instant they touched his skin, they caused a slight shiver.
Xiao was unusually quiet.
He did not move.
He merely lowered his head slightly, his deep gaze fixed unwaveringly upon Xia Lanshi’s face so close to him.
Watching those long lowered lashes.
Watching that focused expression.
As though he wanted to make up all at once for the days he had been unable to see him.
He stared so openly that Xia Lanshi’s movements paused slightly.
Xia Lanshi could not help raising his eyes and giving a soft laugh, his tone teasing.
“Before, whenever I wanted to change your medicine, you dodged me like the plague. You even used ‘I have a cleanliness obsession and don’t want anyone touching me’ as an excuse. What happened? You went to Beidi, and somehow that cleanliness problem cured itself?”
Hearing this, a slightly bitter smile appeared at the corners of Xiao’s lips.
“Back then… I was afraid.”
Xiao looked at Xia Lanshi.
His gaze became extraordinarily deep, concealing far too many emotions from the past that he could never put into words.
“Because I had seen too much helplessness. Too much of it. I was afraid that I myself… was actually the calamity destined for you. And I was afraid that if certain things were brought into the open, it would change the way you saw me and leave you caught in a dilemma.”
He slowly lowered his eyes, a dark glimmer passing through them.
“More than that, I was afraid that once certain words were spoken, once certain changes occurred, they would sever the cause and effect that already existed. They might cut off the stable path you were originally meant to walk… and trigger a chain of consequences that I couldn’t predict at all.”
“I had no answer, and no absolute certainty.”
Xiao’s voice lowered, carrying a trace of vulnerability.
“So I would rather you never know anything. I thought… keeping my distance might be the safest thing for you.”
Xia Lanshi fell completely silent.
The hand applying the ointment stopped in midair.
He looked at the man before him, a man who seemed capable of anything, yet was almost clumsy in how cautious he was with matters of the heart.
His heart filled with aching bitterness.
So, throughout all those countless days and nights when he had been pushed away, Xiao had been thinking about all this and carrying all this weight.
Every single thing had been for him.
For Xia Lanshi.
“So you’d rather suffer alone, hide alone in the shadows, and avoid me, all because of these self-righteous reasons?”
Xia Lanshi took a deep breath, both moved and somewhat angry.
The force of his hand applying the ointment unconsciously became heavier, deliberately pressing directly onto a bruise.
“…Hiss!”
Caught off guard, Xiao sucked in a sharp breath.
“You had other paths you could have chosen.”
Xia Lanshi ultimately could not bear to hurt him, and immediately lightened his touch, gently rubbing the medicine in with his fingertips.
“Some things simply aren’t something you can change by yourself. Being afraid is normal… but silence and pushing someone away can never solve a problem.”
Xia Lanshi raised his head, his gaze firm as he looked directly into Xiao’s eyes.
“You’re no longer alone now. Whatever problems you have, whatever concerns you carry, you can tell me. Whether it’s a dead end or an abyss, we’ll figure out a way through it together.”
Xiao quietly looked at him.
Those eyes that always seemed to contain ice and snow had melted into a pool of spring water.
“Mm. I know that now.”
He turned his hand around and held Xia Lanshi’s ointment-stained hand.
Then he lowered his head slightly and pressed an utterly reverent and gentle kiss against the other’s fair knuckles.
He couldn’t bear to push him away anymore.
Even if he truly was a calamity, he could no longer bear to let go.
After carefully treating all his injuries, Xia Lanshi took a clean cloth and wiped his hands, then methodically gathered the medicine bottles and jars from the small table.
“His Highness ordered that you rest properly today. There’s no need to rush to report the military intelligence.”
This time, Xiao did not stubbornly refuse.
Three days of high-intensity infiltration and escape, with danger at every step, had kept his mind and body in a state of extreme tension the entire time.
Throughout those three days, he had barely experienced any deep sleep, relying entirely on extraordinary willpower to keep himself going.
Now that he was finally beside the person who made him feel completely safe, exhaustion surged over him like a tidal wave.
Right now, he only wanted to sleep properly.
“You come sleep too.”
Xiao did not walk toward the bed himself.
Instead, he pointed toward it and looked at Xia Lanshi disapprovingly.
No matter how exhausted he was, he had not missed Xia Lanshi’s paper-pale complexion or the obvious dark shadows beneath his eyes.
He did not need to ask.
He already knew this man had once again failed to take proper care of himself and had even waited for him all night in the cold wind outside the city gates.
This time, Xia Lanshi did not refuse.
Nor did he use the endless official documents as an excuse.
He had received a warning from Su Muchen first thing that morning telling him to go to sleep immediately and not work.
The two of them lay together on the soft, warm bed.
Out of habit, Xiao stretched out his long arm and drew Xia Lanshi’s slender body into his embrace.
The two pressed closely against each other, their breathing mingling, as though they had finally found the other half of themselves that had been missing for so long.
Even though they knew the situation outside the window remained dire, with war on the verge of erupting at any moment—
at this moment, within the small space of this bed, they briefly possessed the most precious peace in the world.
Before falling asleep, Xiao’s deep voice sounded beside Xia Lanshi’s ear, carrying a hint of hoarseness, teasing, and amusement.
“Magistrate Xia… this morning, you hugged me and gazed deeply into my eyes in front of all the soldiers guarding the city gates. And now, in broad daylight, you’re resting in my room in the southern courtyard… I think your reputation and chastity are truly beyond saving now.”
Xia Lanshi closed his eyes, feeling the reassuring warmth of the person beside him.
The corners of his lips curved into a helpless smile.
“…They’ve been beyond saving for a long time. Which person was it who shamelessly sneaked into my room every night before this and refused to leave my bed no matter what?”
Xiao laughed.
His laughter carried the satisfied amusement of someone who had gotten exactly what he wanted.
Xia Lanshi gently nestled closer into Xiao’s embrace and whispered,
“These past few days, I’ve been thinking about you…”
Xiao lowered his head and gently buried his face in that snow-white hair.
“…I’ve been thinking about you too. Thinking that no matter what happened, I had to return to your side.”
His voice was hoarse with the emotion of someone who had survived disaster.
“Fortunately, this time, I came back.”
Amid their soft whispers, one sentence and then another, the tension in both their bodies finally relaxed completely.
Their breathing gradually became long and steady.
Embracing each other, they sank into dreamless, peaceful sleep.