Xiao Chiye rode at full speed to get back. After resting one night, he would have to mount up again past midnight and head back. His schedule was packed tight—these two days had been squeezed out with great effort. Not wanting to delay the transport of military supplies to the front, he had ridden nonstop for eight or nine days, all just to see Shen Zechuan.
Who would have thought he’d end up this angry?
Xiao Chiye handled Meng, taking off and putting back on its leg chain, making the bird flap its wings in protest. Xiao Chiye was in a bad mood too—irritated, and the more he thought about it, the angrier he got.
Ji Gang strolled back carrying a birdcage. When he saw Xiao Chiye, he was startled. After hesitating a moment, he still stepped inside. Xiao Chiye greeted him respectfully. Standing there, tall as he was, Ji Gang had to tilt his head up to look at him.
“The fighting in the north is intense,” Ji Gang said, handing over the cage. “Your master must be having a hard time.”
Xiao Chiye hung up the cage and replied, “It’s tough. He often thinks of you and brings you up from time to time.”
Ji Gang clasped his hands behind his back. “I’ve never fought in a war, I’m no help. You rushed back like this—do you have urgent business?”
Xiao Chiye thought, not yet, but answered aloud, “The Beiyuan hunting grounds have been cleared out for me. The Imperial Guards plan to station there. I came back to ask Lanzhou about the progress. When the time is right, I’ll arrange for someone to come over.”
Ji Gang knew these matters were something they had discussed in detail before, so he nodded without asking further.
Taking the opportunity, Xiao Chiye said, “Did Lanzhou fall ill on the way to Chazhou? Master, he’s picky with food. At home, with you watching him, he at least eats a bit of everything and will take medicine when sick. But once he goes out to handle affairs, everyone listens to him—no one keeps an eye on him, so he dares to be picky.”
At this, Ji Gang immediately remembered. “I was just about to say something to him yesterday!”
“He dodged it,” Xiao Chiye finally stopped bothering Meng and let it go. “He feels guilty—he definitely wouldn’t dare bring it up with you.”
Ji Gang nodded, then felt something was off. “Guilty about what? Is Chuan’er hiding something from me?”
“Yes,” Xiao Chiye frowned slightly. “He cut his left hand badly. The return trip was long, and he didn’t change the dressing often. When I checked last night, the wound in his palm was almost ruined from soaking in sweat.”
Ji Gang’s expression changed immediately. “Where is he?”
“Asleep,” Xiao Chiye paused, then added, “He slept late last night and was exhausted. This morning he was still fatigued. In the future, you’ll have to keep an eye on him, Master, so he doesn’t treat his body carelessly. I’m far away in Libei, and many things I can only hear about through letters. If he wants to hide it from me, I wouldn’t know anything.”
Ji Gang straightened. “I need to watch him change the dressing.” Then he sighed. “Back at the temple, he never fully recovered. The doctors we hired weren’t capable—they couldn’t see the root of the problem. His body isn’t like others’. The longer time goes on, the more carefully he must be looked after. You know this too—when he first entered the capital, he suffered torture in the imperial prison, then the beating of the court rods, and then your kick… that kick was ruthless! If not for old acquaintances in the Embroidered Uniform Guard secretly helping, Chuan’er wouldn’t have made it. His body was badly damaged back then, and to conceal things he even took medicine. Now I worry day and night, always afraid…”
Xiao Chiye fell silent for a moment. Then suddenly he lifted his robe and knelt down. Supporting himself properly on the ground, he kowtowed to Ji Gang.
Ji Gang was shocked. “What are you doing?”
Still in that position, Xiao Chiye spoke toward the ground, “Six years ago, when I passed through Zhongbo, I hated Shen Wei the most. I despised him for abandoning the city, and I feared the Empress Dowager’s puppet. So in Qudu, I kicked Lanzhou. You’re right, Master—I kicked hard, intending to take his life.”
Ji Gang choked on his words, afraid Shen Zechuan inside might hear, and turned his head aside with a heavy sigh.
After a moment, Xiao Chiye continued, “Lanzhou’s current condition is my fault. The doctors in Zhongbo aren’t good enough—I’ve already gone to invite Master Yideng. After autumn, when the fighting eases, my own master will come to examine his pulse. No matter how difficult he is to care for, I will care for him. But I am far away in Libei—military movements and supply transport cannot be delayed. Not being able to see him leaves me uneasy. Matters like Chazhou cannot happen often. In Zhongbo, I have no relatives or close friends—only you can be entrusted. Master, Lanzhou suffered sudden disaster in his youth. He hides his thoughts, speaks nothing of his pain. But he treats you as a father. As long as you are by his side, he will at least take some care. I ask for nothing else—only that you scold him a few times, let him know pain and consequences. If he does this again, you can beat me, Xiao Ce’an, instead!”
Ji Gang stood there, stunned, feeling something was off about those words but unable to pinpoint what. He glanced toward the window. Behind the bamboo curtain, there was a faint clink of a teacup—just once, then silence.
The frogs in the pond were all cleared out. After dinner, the courtyard was quiet.
Xiao Chiye went to bathe after eating. Langtao Xuejin and Meng had both been fed. Shen Zechuan stood under the eaves, plucking at the newly planted orange jasmine. No one else was in the courtyard. In the fading glow of sunset, a small table under the eaves held tea and snacks. Shen Zechuan sat down, staring absently at the distant sunset.
Xiao Chiye came out still damp, wiping his hair as he crouched behind Shen Zechuan. Shen Zechuan turned his head, still holding the flowers. Xiao Chiye lowered his head and kissed him like that. The sunset burned orange-red, the world was silent—even the wind seemed to politely withdraw, leaving this small courtyard to the two of them.
Suddenly, Shen Zechuan turned and pushed Xiao Chiye down beneath the eaves. Half leaning against the doorframe, Xiao Chiye held him tight, pressing his nose against Shen Zechuan’s cheek as he said gruffly, “You’re pressing on my injury.”
Shen Zechuan broke into a faint smile. “Let me check.”
Xiao Chiye didn’t let him. He caught Shen Zechuan’s wrists and pulled him closer. Strong and solid, he bore Shen Zechuan’s weight effortlessly, sitting there with a carefree posture. They stayed close like that from dusk until nightfall.
In truth, Xiao Chiye hadn’t been in a good mood for half a month.
The Sha Third Camp taken by the Imperial Guards had been handed to Guo Weili. During the handover, Guo Weili ran into Gu Jin—neither side liked the other, and even the soldiers clashed. Xiao Chiye swallowed his anger, took over Wu Ziyu’s position at the Bianbo Camp, but escorting supplies proved far more difficult than expected. Commanders from different fronts ordered him around. After retreating to the rear, he had to report every detail to Xiao Jiming. Outside the military tents, he had to deal with merchants from Luoxia Pass and Huaizhou. Often he drank all night, only to mount his horse before dawn and ride to the next camp.
But none of this, he intended to tell Shen Zechuan.
He thought of the long song of Hongyan Mountain. He couldn’t sing it, only hum it playfully. Shen Zechuan rested against him, clutching his clothes, falling asleep in the faint fragrance. Xiao Chiye held him, and when the time came, he lifted him and carried him back inside.
Shen Zechuan’s fingers didn’t loosen. Xiao Chiye bent down and blew gently on his palm, squatting there to look for a moment before saying, “I’m still angry.”
Shen Zechuan half-opened his eyes, poked Xiao Chiye’s cheek, and said softly, “Don’t be angry.”
“You only know how to lie to me, you…” Xiao Chiye paused, at a loss for words. “Second Young Master’s so easy to fool? Bullying an innocent young master suits you, huh?”
Shen Zechuan rolled over onto his stomach, face to face with him.
Damn it—that look.
Xiao Chiye could only swallow his frustration, pinching Shen Zechuan’s cheek as he said hoarsely, “Go on, keep acting spoiled with me—it won’t work, Shen Lanzhou. If you stab yourself like this again, I’ll just be done for in Libei. No more me. Remember that?”
Shen Zechuan nodded obediently.
Xiao Chiye leaned closer, bumping his forehead lightly against Shen Zechuan’s. “I have to go.”
Shen Zechuan didn’t let go. “When will you come back next time?”
Xiao Chiye couldn’t answer. His thumb brushed Shen Zechuan’s cheek. “As soon as I can. There’s a lot to do. It should ease up after autumn.”
Midnight had arrived. Shen Zechuan loosened his grip, watching him.
Xiao Chiye had never found it so hard to stand. He quickly fastened his arm guard, lowered the bed curtains, and finally tapped Shen Zechuan’s nose lightly. “Sleep well, Lanzhou.”
Langtao Xuejin left the city under cover of night, and Meng soared north with Xiao Chiye.
Chen Yang was already waiting midway to receive him. Xiao Chiye would rest a few hours at Bianbo Camp before heading north again to the front.
At the very moment Xiao Chiye left Cizhou, a donkey entered Zhongbo.
On its back lay a person, slumped forward, impossible to tell if alive or dead. From within his sleeve came faint, starving meows. The man struggled to open his eyes, glanced at the pitch-dark road ahead—then closed them again.