“Later, I want to go see Xiao,” Su Muchen said.
“Okay. I’ll go with you.”
As Xiao Yuan spoke, his gaze shifted slightly toward Xia Lanshi.
Xia Lanshi seemed as though he had heard nothing. At this moment, he was holding a register, his expression focused as he carefully checked the records for the supplies that had just been put into storage.
Over the past few days, Xia Lanshi had spent most of his time in Xiao’s room, barely leaving his side.
But he had not neglected his official duties because of it. He had simply moved his work into Xiao’s room and completed it there.
Xiao Yuan understood that Xia Lanshi had finally found the benefactor who had saved him many years ago, and out of consideration for him, he had not said much. He knew Xia Lanshi had a sense of propriety.
Only today, Xia Lanshi had behaved unusually. After going to Xiao’s room once in the morning, he had not stepped into the South Courtyard again.
Seeing the bandage around Xia Lanshi’s wrist, Xiao Yuan’s gaze darkened slightly.
“Then I’ll go change clothes first.”
Su Muchen’s voice pulled his thoughts back.
On one side of the underground cavern, Xiao Yuan had specially ordered a spacious tent to be set up for Su Muchen.
Clean hot water and a brand-new set of Great Sheng clothing had been prepared inside.
Su Muchen removed the modern casual clothes that had been stained with a little dust and changed into the distinctive clothing of Great Sheng.
When he lifted the tent flap and walked out, the ribbon tying his hair was slightly crooked.
Seeing this, Xiao Yuan, who had been waiting outside the tent, smiled faintly.
He naturally stepped forward and skillfully smoothed out the slightly wrinkled collar of Su Muchen’s clothes.
Then he adjusted his hair ribbon as well.
“Let’s go. We’re heading back,” Xiao Yuan said softly as he withdrew his hand.
Su Muchen nodded and followed Xiao Yuan out of the underground palace.
They went upward to the Sacrificial Treasury, then left through the back entrance of the Northern Frontier Martyrs’ Shrine and walked into the rear alley.
This alley had been specially designed to be isolated from the outside world. It was not marked on any map and did not connect with the outside. It led directly to a hidden door in one part of the Northern Frontier Administrative Office.
As soon as they entered the guest room in the South Courtyard, Su Muchen immediately hurried to the bed to check on Xiao.
At this moment, Xiao was sitting on the bed, leaning diagonally against the bolster behind him, his eyes closed.
Hearing the familiar sound of shoe soles against the floor, along with another low, heavy set of footsteps, he slowly opened his eyes. His gaze remained as cold and still as a deep pool.
He merely swept a glance over Su Muchen and Xiao Yuan and did not offer any greeting.
Su Muchen stepped forward and skillfully checked the life monitor strapped around Xiao’s wrist.
Both his blood pressure and heart rate had almost completely returned to their normal ranges.
He then picked up the pulse record and wound-observation notes that the military physician had been filling out on schedule and examined them carefully.
“How are you feeling today?”
Su Muchen asked gently as he set down the records.
Xiao’s expression remained somewhat weary, and his voice was hoarse.
“Not bad.”
“Does the wound hurt?”
“A little.”
Su Muchen silently thought that a Gatekeeper’s constitution really was different from that of ordinary people. His physical condition was recovering even faster than expected.
Yet a layer of gloom still seemed to linger over his face, refusing to disperse. His mental state was clearly still somewhat low.
“Your body is recovering pretty well, but staying cooped up in your room all the time isn’t good.” Su Muchen removed the device from Xiao’s wrist. “If your head isn’t dizzy, you can get out of bed and walk around more. Go outside and get some fresh air.”
The moment he said this, Su Muchen suddenly remembered that this was not Guichen Studio, but the heavily guarded Administrative Office.
He awkwardly turned his head toward Xiao Yuan.
Xiao Yuan calmly picked up the conversation.
“You can walk around the South Courtyard and the central garden. As for the Front Office, that is an important restricted area, so don’t go there for now. As for the East Courtyard…”
“I know.”
Xiao interrupted Xiao Yuan’s introduction.
His voice was cold, without the slightest fluctuation.
He was more familiar with every corner of this Northern Frontier Administrative Office than anyone.
Xiao Yuan was not annoyed at being interrupted. He merely raised an eyebrow slightly, a knowing look flashing through his deep eyes.
“True.”
Based on all of Xia Lanshi’s previous deductions, he had already known that the man before him possessed an extraordinarily rich amount of “experience.”
Caught between the two men, Su Muchen was completely baffled. He had no idea what sort of riddle they were speaking in.
But he knew Xiao’s temperament too well. Without someone pushing him, he would definitely continue lying around on this bed.
“I’ve been in Great Sheng for so long, and I haven’t even been to that central garden yet.”
Su Muchen blinked and said to Xiao, “Come on. Just consider it accompanying me to have a look. If you keep lying down all day, your muscles are going to atrophy.”
Xiao’s brows drew together slightly, instinctively wanting to refuse.
But under Su Muchen’s near-relentless coaxing, he ultimately had no choice but to compromise.
Xiao was wearing only a somewhat thin white inner garment.
Xiao Yuan ordered someone to prepare a clean outer robe.
Su Muchen took the clothes and somewhat clumsily helped Xiao put them on, trying to liven up the atmosphere.
“See? I’ve completely learned how to wear Great Sheng clothes now.”
Xiao Yuan watched as he once again managed to make the collar crooked, and the corners of his mouth could not help lifting slightly.
With a hint of helplessness, he said, “It would naturally be better if you could wear them more neatly.”
Once the clothes were changed, Su Muchen stepped back two paces and admired his own “masterpiece,” unable to resist giving his sincere praise.
“Xiao, this outfit suits you much better than it suits me. You look just like a noble young master from one of Great Sheng’s prestigious families.”
The outer robe was dark blue, dignified and restrained, perfectly complementing Xiao’s cold, hard, and aloof temperament.
His black hair was already long, and now it hung somewhat messily over his shoulders. That cold, severe air that seemed to emanate from his very bones remained difficult to conceal.
Only his complexion was still pale, and his lips were still faint in color, making him continue to look somewhat sickly.
Faced with Su Muchen’s praise, Xiao still showed little emotion. He merely gave a soft “Mm” in response.
Afterward, the three of them set off together for the central garden.
At the center of the garden stood an enormous century-old Chinese scholar tree. It was said to have already existed before the construction of the Northern Frontier’s First Military City and to be several hundred years old.
Even after enduring repeated wars, it had survived. Its luxuriant branches appeared especially sturdy in the cold wind.
A stone table and chairs had been placed beneath the tree.
This had originally been a place where Xiao Yuan, Xia Lanshi, Chi Banyue, and the others occasionally relaxed and enjoyed tea.
But because the situation in the Northern Frontier had been unstable, everyone had been extremely busy, and hardly anyone had visited this place.
It was nearing dusk. The sunset scattered across the garden like broken gold, coating the scenery in a layer of warm golden light.
Xiao stood beneath the old scholar tree, his gaze seemingly falling into the distance, yet his attention unconsciously swept over the empty surroundings.
That Xia Lanshi who had been watching him for days, always trying every possible way to provoke and tease him.
After what had happened that morning, he had not appeared again today.
…Perhaps he had finally chosen to give up.
Xiao lowered his eyes, concealing the complicated light deep within them.
He mocked himself inwardly.
This was for the best.
Not seeing each other, not entangling themselves with each other—this was the best release for both of them.
And yet, at this moment, an unmistakable trace of loneliness rose uncontrollably in his heart, one he himself was unwilling to admit.
It turned out that no matter how deeply his rational mind guarded itself, his eyes still unconsciously searched for that snowy figure.
Noticing that the atmosphere had become somewhat heavy, Xiao Yuan appropriately broke the silence.
“I’ve had a nourishing dinner prepared in the warm hall to replenish your qi and blood. Muan, you two should come over together.”
Understanding Xiao Yuan’s intention, Su Muchen immediately said to Xiao, “Come on. You need to eat more blood-nourishing food right now so you can recover faster.”
Xiao had originally wanted to refuse, but seeing the look in Su Muchen’s eyes, he could not bring himself to reject Xiao Yuan’s goodwill in front of him.
In the end, he could only obediently follow them.
The three of them passed through the corridor and arrived at the warmly heated dining hall.
Five people attended dinner.
Besides Xiao Yuan, Su Muchen, and Xiao, who had come together, Chi Banyue had already brazenly taken her seat and chosen the best viewing position for herself.
And just before dinner was about to begin, that familiar snowy figure finally lifted the curtain and entered.
Xia Lanshi had ultimately arrived right on time.
Normally, although this warm hall was a place specifically provided for those living in the rear courtyards to dine, Xiao Yuan, Xia Lanshi, and Chi Banyue were all busy and rarely had the opportunity to eat together.
It was unusual to have so many people gathered like this.
The five of them sat around the round table. Dishes were brought out one after another, many of them specially prepared for Xiao: red dates, lamb, pork liver, and medicinal nourishing soup. It was an unusually lavish meal.
Once the meal began, the atmosphere at the table presented a subtle contrast.
Xiao and Xia Lanshi sat extremely far apart, both of them excessively quiet throughout.
Xia Lanshi held his chopsticks with elegant movements, his eyelids lowered as he properly ate the dishes in front of him without looking at Xiao once.
Xiao likewise said nothing, lowering his head as though staring at the tabletop.
Su Muchen had originally thought that Xiao’s right shoulder was injured and his arm was fixed in a sling, so eating with only his left hand would be inconvenient. He had intended to help him.
Unexpectedly, Xiao easily held his chopsticks in his left hand and picked up food without the slightest difficulty.
“I didn’t expect you to be pretty nimble with chopsticks in your left hand.”
Su Muchen was somewhat impressed.
Xiao replied very flatly, “I’m left-handed to begin with.”
Su Muchen’s hand holding the chopsticks immediately stopped.
His expression was somewhat surprised.
“But I usually see you using your right hand.”
He had actually never noticed at all.
“That’s because…”
Xiao tugged at the corner of his mouth and said with a humorless smile, “If one hand is crippled, there’s still the other one to use.”
He said it so calmly, as though it were only natural.
But when everyone heard this, their movements around the table all paused for a moment.
Especially Su Muchen.
He quickly thought that this was probably yet another thing taught at that damn Gatekeeper training facility.
Even if one hand was completely ruined, one still had to use the other hand to continue fighting.
“Someday I really have to complain to Third Granduncle about how twisted your education is.”
Su Muchen truly could not stand it anymore.
For the sake of a single door, they had ruined an entire group of people.
Xiao said nothing, simply continuing to eat quietly.
Xia Lanshi silently ate as well, as though he had heard nothing.
For most of the rest of the meal, Su Muchen was the one doing the talking.
From the intricacies of Great Sheng cuisine to amusing incidents during today’s transportation of supplies, he talked about everything there was to talk about.
Chi Banyue was also extremely responsive, and the two of them went back and forth, managing to keep the atmosphere from becoming too cold.
Xiao Yuan was naturally a taciturn person. He simply listened quietly to everyone’s conversation, occasionally saying in his deep voice when Su Muchen had talked himself dry, “Eat. Don’t be shy.”
Or he would say modestly, “The Northern Frontier is a harsh place. It is all just simple food. Please don’t mind it.”
The moment he finished speaking, however, the hand that had held a sword for years expertly picked up a particularly tender piece of lamb and gently placed it into the bowl beside him—Su Muchen’s bowl.
Seeing the sudden addition of meat in his bowl, Su Muchen was stunned for a moment.
Then he broke into a bright smile at Xiao Yuan and ate even more happily.
Su Muchen was hardly picky about food. He ate everything and enjoyed every bite, which made Xiao Yuan feel that the dishes on the table seemed especially delicious today as well.
Chi Banyue sat beside Xia Lanshi.
One moment, she secretly glanced toward Xiao Yuan and Su Muchen. The two were getting along harmoniously, smiles on both their faces.
The next moment, she quietly looked toward Xiao and Xia Lanshi.
The two of them seemed to have an enormous iceberg between them. Forget serving food to each other—they would not even look at one another.
Two completely different situations on either side.
One side was sweet as candy.
The other was cold as a blade.
“Can’t things be a little more balanced?”
Chi Banyue muttered under her breath.
The final trace of sunset finally sank completely below the horizon.
The five people, each harboring their own thoughts, rarely shared a brief moment of idle leisure on this Northern Frontier night.
◇◆◇◆◇
The liveliness of the warm hall gradually faded into the night.
After dinner, Xiao walked alone beneath the cool moonlight, slowly returning to the guest room in the South Courtyard.
Not long afterward, Su Muchen came over and gave him a few reminders about taking care of his wounds and the like before getting up to leave.
Before leaving, Su Muchen even turned back to check on him once more, his eyes still carrying a trace of worry.
But in the end, he passed through the corridor and returned to the West Courtyard to rest.
Late at night, the entire Northern Frontier Administrative Office sank into profound silence. Only the occasional cold wind outside the window blew through, causing the remaining snow on the branches to fall with soft rustling sounds.
At the second watch of the night, the military physician responsible for the night rounds quietly pushed open the door.
He first carefully took Xiao’s pulse, confirming that everything was stable. Then he poured a bowl of warm water and handed a half-tablet of pale blue medicine to Xiao, watching him obediently place it into his mouth, tilt his head back, and swallow.
Amid the rustling of paper, the military physician finished recording Xiao’s condition for the night stroke by stroke. Only then did he extinguish the extra lamps in the room, leaving behind a single dim wall lamp, before bowing and withdrawing.
“Click.”
The door closed.
Xiao suddenly opened his eyes on the bed. There was not the slightest trace of sleepiness in them.
He slowly turned his head. His Adam’s apple moved.
Then he spat the pale blue tablet, which he had never swallowed, from beneath his tongue into his palm and casually threw it away.
He lifted the quilt and placed his bare feet onto the freezing floor, slowly walking to the center of the room.
After taking a deep breath, he slowly extended his left hand toward the empty space before him and closed his eyes.
In the dim, deathly silent room, as he concentrated his will, the space itself actually began to distort strangely.
A void rift roughly the height of a person slowly opened in the darkness.
However, what spilled from that rift was not the pure, gentle, cold white light that usually appeared when Xiao Yuan or Su Muchen opened one.
Instead, it was a dark red light filled with danger and agitation.
The red light illuminated Xiao’s pale, tense face.
The crack in the door had opened less than two fingers’ width when it began to tremble violently, its light flickering unstably.
“Ugh…”
Xiao’s body swayed slightly, and he weakly lowered his left hand.
As his hand dropped, the doorway emitting that eerie red light rapidly faded as well, finally closing completely in the darkness as though it had never appeared.
Xiao turned around and sat back down on the edge of the bed.
He knew that not only had this body not fully recovered, even the door itself seemed to be refusing to open.
After pondering for a long while, he seemed to remember something.
He reached beneath the bolster behind him and, with a hook of his fingers, pulled out a letter he had hidden there during the day.
It was the letter Xia Lanshi had given him.
Borrowing the faint moonlight filtering in through the window, Xiao slowly unfolded the sheet of paper, which carried a faint scent of ink.
Xia Lanshi’s handwriting was just like the man himself—slender in its strokes, yet carrying a touch of unrestrained elegance.
The letter read:
——————————
To Young Master Xiao,
Though spring has already arrived in the Northern Frontier, the evening chill remains heavy, and frost seeps through one’s clothes. Tonight, the wind sounds particularly bleak as it passes through the courtyard and halls. Several branches of cinnabar plum in front of the East Courtyard rustle softly beneath the wind, and hearing them beneath the lamplight makes the cold feel all the more pronounced.
The weather this year has been unusual. The pot of sprinkled-gold plum beneath the eastern window bloomed nearly a month later than in previous years. I originally thought I would not see its flowers this spring. Unexpectedly, when I pushed open the window this morning, I found a single blossom trembling on the tip of a withered branch.
Its color is extremely pale, merely a faint touch of red, hanging all alone amid the plain white of the garden. It cannot be called beautiful, but it is certainly rare.
The little snow owl I mentioned to you the other day has become increasingly spoiled lately. If the raw meat is cut even slightly too large, it will not even look at it. It insists that I finely chop it and feed it to its mouth piece by piece with bamboo chopsticks before it reluctantly pecks at a couple of bites.
Once it is full, it dozes in its nest of dried grass. Occasionally, it rubs that fluffy little head against my hand, its tiny claws never knowing their own strength. It is both irritating and amusing.
Only, this little fellow still has no name. I have gone through books for several days, yet I always feel that those elegant words do not suit its appearance.
Young Master, you have broad experience and extensive knowledge. I wonder if you have a suitable name that might suit this spoiled yet foolish little creature?
The night is deep and the frost heavy. I respectfully wish you good care of yourself.
Huaiyu, handwritten
——————————
There were no word-by-word interrogations, no probing into matters of country and family.
It was nothing more than an utterly ordinary letter about everyday life.
Xiao’s rough fingertips gently rubbed the sheet of paper.
As he read the trivial details between the lines—the “late-blooming plum blossom” and the “picky snow owl”—the cold, deep-pool-like eyes of his ultimately softened, almost despite himself.
These ordinary, warm moments, even carrying the earthy warmth of everyday human life, had once been the luxury he most longed to approach yet most feared touching when he lived in endless darkness.
He had thought that he would die, and then everything would return to zero.
Now, not only had he personally seen that little snow owl, he had even already given it a name.
His greatest regret had clearly already been made up for.
Yet when he stood upon the land of Great Sheng and watched the living, breathing Xia Lanshi wandering before his eyes, he suddenly realized—
He was not satisfied by this.
A person’s greed was like a flood or wild beast once the floodgates had been opened.
Xiao painfully clenched the letter in his hand.
He discovered that he could not let go at all, nor could he restrain any of the desires he held concerning the person named “Xia Lanshi.”
He craved the scent of ink orchid and snow tea on that person.
He craved the focused gaze with which that person looked at him.
He craved the warmth of that person whenever he shamelessly pressed close.
He even despicably thought that if he could, he wanted to fiercely pull that cunning snow fox—who was full of schemes yet had revealed a vulnerability only to him—into his arms and never let him go again.
…But he could not.
He was a monster destined to bear the curse of the “Gatekeeper” and walk toward destruction.
The tragedies of the past remained vivid before his eyes, like sharp blades suspended above Great Sheng.
If he approached Xia Lanshi, he would only drag that man—who should have been dazzlingly talented in Great Sheng and whose name should have been recorded in history—into an abyss from which there was no return.
“Huaiyu…”
In the darkness, Xiao murmured that name softly, his voice hoarse.
Reason told him that he should push him away, that he should be like a soulless dead soldier, complete the final act of balancing the scales, and then disappear completely.
But every time he saw him, something inside him would crazily cry out in rebellion.
In this silent struggle called “fate” and “desire,” even though he had once been capable of turning clouds with one hand and rain with the other, time and time again, he ended up utterly defeated at the hands of Xia Lanshi.