The two of them were so close that a breath could have bridged the gap. Xiao Chiye’s gaze traced Shen Zechuan’s features, lingering on his thin lips, and in a husky voice he said, “I love you so much.”
A shiver coursed through Shen Zechuan, the tremor of defeat. In the dim light, he felt captured like the night itself, yet even as it enveloped him, it wrapped tightly around Xiao Chiye. He was held so firmly that everything in his eyes was laid bare before Xiao Chiye.
Xiao Chiye closed in—a near-kiss standoff—whispering with wicked intent, “I love you so much.”
Shen Zechuan felt as if those words had undone him countless times. His little reserve of disguise had nowhere to hide; the remaining “Shen Zechuan” was stripped bare before Xiao Chiye. This was the part of himself even he could not face—his hypocrisy, cunning, and darkness swept up into a wave of desire.
He was gasping.
The word love carried total surrender.
Xiao Chiye made Shen Zechuan’s eyes glisten. Pressed against the edge of the table, he felt a fullness coursing through his body, eliciting quiet sobs, clinging to Xiao Chiye’s warmth without restraint.
Xiao Chiye bound Shen Zechuan’s wrists; from the waist up, he became a crescent of strength and pressure, as if he intended to nail the words I love you onto Shen Zechuan’s body, searing them into his bones.
Jade shone like polished pearls.
Outside the military tent, patrols walked by, voices laughed in the distance, wind played across the world. But all that was another realm—it did not belong to Shen Zechuan. He could hear only the table sliding, the rising tide of their union, and Xiao Chiye’s heartbeat.
Each beat whispered, I love you.
It became unbearable. He threatened to overflow—in sound and beyond. He trembled, barely able to stand, and in utter silence, his fingers hooked lightly onto Xiao Chiye’s clothing.
That small grip softened Xiao Chiye’s heart.
He kissed Shen Zechuan’s nape, holding him as if to tether him. So fierce, yet so gentle. Shen Zechuan tilted back, chest to chest with him, their bodies fused.
A taut curve traced his waist.
Xiao Chiye loosened the bindings; Shen Zechuan let go of the table edge. Everything in the world was unreliable—except Xiao Chiye. He murmured near Shen Zechuan’s ear, teasing, praising.
Shen Zechuan was the polished pearl.
Xiao Chiye kissed him.
Tears gathered in Shen Zechuan’s eyes. He blinked them back, trembling softly, and whispered, “Ah Ye.”
Xiao Chiye buried himself at Shen Zechuan’s neck, intoxicated. Every day, this bad man whispered his name at will, each time an invitation. He nuzzled, as if waking from sleep, murmuring naturally, “Hm?”
“Ce’an,” Shen Zechuan tilted his head, nose to nose with Xiao Chiye, calling out almost innocently, like a child learning words, “I… love… you… so… much.”
Xiao Chiye lost control of the hand at his waist. Mouth dry, tongue thick, he quickly lifted Shen Zechuan from the ground, carrying him a few steps to the bed and turning him around.
He took Shen Zechuan’s hand and kissed him deeply. Face to face, they captured every expression—the most awkward and the most beautiful. Xiao Chiye brushed back Shen Zechuan’s wet hair; even their flaws aligned perfectly. All malice, strangeness, and cruelty left no space between them.
They were secret, intimate, unrestrained.
Amid the wind of the battlefield, sweat could not be contained.
At the third watch, three quarters past, Xiao Chiye carried Shen Zechuan across frost-kissed grasslands.
“Been a while,” Shen Zechuan murmured, nestling into Xiao Chiye’s back, “run faster.”
“You’ll kill me,” Xiao Chiye jostled him lightly.
Shen Zechuan tugged at Xiao Chiye’s small braid tucked in his collar. “You’re killing me too.”
The morning was still young; the eastern mountains blocked the view. The wind was strong; they shared a single cloak. Dawn had not yet broken, and they had already left Sha One Camp. To the north stood an abandoned watchtower; this was where Xiao Chiye had come.
Huddled under the cloak, they sat on the weathered tower, facing east, awaiting sunrise.
“I thought you came to propose,” Xiao Chiye teased, tilting Shen Zechuan’s head to rest on his shoulder, “I was starting to feel old waiting.”
Shen Zechuan, shivering from the wind, lifted the cloak slightly, burrowing into Xiao Chiye’s chest, wishing he could hide entirely from the chill.
“I’ll wait till I’m eighty,” Shen Zechuan said, “then your father won’t be able to cut me down.”
Xiao Chiye pressed his chin to Shen Zechuan’s head through the cloak. “Even a house master should have the courage to elope,” he murmured. “The old man admires you.”
Shen Zechuan had envisioned a stealth cavalry, but could such a unit truly be stationed along the Chashi River line? Such a force demanded inhuman discipline—it was too effective. After painstaking preparation, could it still remain on the Chashi line? Was that all Shen Zechuan truly wanted? This was a blade of slaughter, reflecting the darkest parts of himself.
If not for Xiao Chiye…
Xiao Chiye lowered the cloak slightly, revealing Shen Zechuan. “Here comes the sun.”
Shen Zechuan gazed east. Xiao Chiye tilted his chin to lift his face.
The horizon roiled with heavy clouds, wind wild over dim skies. Then, through a break, shafts of golden light pierced the clouds like arrows. The sun emerged, immense and weighty, shredding the clouds into fragments. The vast grasslands lit instantly, frost sparkling across the earth, dry grass gleaming like reflected light, the waves of wind audible and clear.
“Xiao Ce’an,” Shen Zechuan whispered.
Xiao Chiye poked his cheek.
Shen Zechuan grasped it, revealing the red of his wrists, lost in thought.
The sky rippled with golden waves; blue spread like soaked rice paper, soon washing over their heads. Hongyan Mountain’s snow-capped peaks rose into the clouds, eagles wheeled overhead. Shen Zechuan and Xiao Chiye glowed in the sunlight.
The wind howled; Shen Zechuan felt as if he might be swept away.
But Xiao Chiye stood firm behind him, gradually clasping his hands.
“Do whatever you want,” Xiao Chiye whispered, “with me here, you won’t fall.”