At dusk, fine snow began drifting across Chonghua’s borderlands. A thin layer of immaculate white gradually blanketed the ground. Wagon wheels rolled over it, pedestrians walked across it, leaving behind tracks of varying depths.
At the market, Wang Ermazi, who sold baked flatbreads, shouted at the top of his lungs. White mist billowed from his mouth as he called out loudly:
“Come on over! Fresh flatbreads right out of the oven!”
Clang, clang—he struck the broken gong hanging beside his stove twice, then continued shouting:
“There’s nothing in this world thicker than the flatbreads I bake—except Gu Mang’s shameless skin! Come buy, come buy!”
The passersby secretly laughed.
This bread stall had been here for over ten years. In the earlier years, Wang Ermazi had a different sales pitch. Back then, his duck-like voice shouted:
“Come take a look! Flatbreads Commander Gu loves most! Eat one and you’ll be as unstoppable as Commander Gu—invincible and rising step by step!”
Through the wind and snow, a group of cavalry with imposing military bearing slowly approached. At the front rode a youth of around seventeen or eighteen. He wore a brocade cap and sable furs, his handsome face tucked inside a thick fur collar, making him look especially languid.
This youth was named Yue Chenqing, deputy commander of the garrison army.
There were two abilities of his that others could never hope to match.
The first was his ability to take things in stride. As the saying goes: If others get angry, I won’t. If anger makes me sick, no one will take my place. If I get angry, who benefits? Besides, it wastes energy and harms the spirit. Yue Chenqing deeply understood this philosophy. He almost never truly got angry and had the best temper among the young nobles.
His second talent was making himself comfortable—comfortable to the greatest possible degree.
So if he could sit, he absolutely wouldn’t stand. If he could lie down, he absolutely wouldn’t sit. Yue Chenqing’s favorite saying was:
“Drink while there’s wine today. If there’s no food tomorrow, mooch off your brothers.”
Thus, he never kept good things overnight. Wine was finished the same day, and women were slept with first, discussed later.
As for patrol duty…
Play first, patrol later.
The northern frontier was full of grass markets, selling mostly furs, herbs, spirit stones, slaves, and the like. Not particularly interesting, but in the bitter cold of military life, enough to pass the time.
“I’ll take that seven-tailed spirit cat.”
“Buy me that Guhuo bird tail feather too.”
“The rolling grass at that stall looks excellent. It’ll be great for refining medicine. Get me ten baskets.”
As he walked, he casually ordered his attendants to buy goods of all sizes from the market. Such blatant neglect of duty made his attendants uneasy, but given the deputy commander’s status, none dared say much.
After strolling for a while, Yue Chenqing felt hungry and started looking around for food. Suddenly, he heard Wang Ermazi’s shouting in the distance, the broken-gong voice carrying through the wind and snow:
“Flatbreads for sale! Flatbreads as thick as Gu Mang’s shameless skin! Come take a look!”
When Yue Chenqing heard this, the corner of his mouth twitched.
Good grief. This man is actually using Gu Mang as a sales pitch? That’s asking for trouble.
Thinking this, he immediately rode forward, ready to scold him. But just as he was about to speak, an intense aroma of roasted bread hit him straight in the face.
So the scolding that had reached his lips—and the drool that nearly followed—was swallowed back down.
The scolding turned into:
“…Give me one flatbread.”
“Coming right up!” Wang Ermazi swiftly pulled out a golden-brown flatbread from the oven, packed it into an oil-paper bag, and handed it over. “Here you go, sir. Careful, it’s hot. Bread like this has to be eaten while it’s hot!”
Yue Chenqing accepted the warm flatbread and bit into it.
Crunch.
Golden, crispy layers released hot oil. The flavors of wheat bran, minced meat, and crushed peppercorn burst across his tongue in waves. Fragrance exploded instantly, making his mouth water.
He couldn’t help but praise it.
“Tastes amazing.”
“Of course it does. My Erma flatbreads are unmatched under heaven.” Wang Ermazi boasted proudly. “Even back when Gu Mang was at his peak, every time he returned to the city after battle, he’d come to my stall and eat five or six!”
After bragging, he couldn’t help but add bitterly:
“But if I’d known that bastard Gu would become a traitorous dog in the end, I should’ve poisoned the bread I sold him back then and gotten rid of that menace early!”
Chewing his bread, Yue Chenqing said:
“Don’t casually say things like that anymore. And your sales pitch—you should change it quickly.”
Wang Ermazi widened his eyes.
“Officer, why?”
“When an officer speaks, just listen.” Yue Chenqing took another huge bite, cheeks bulging. “We’re about to go to war with Liao. Our army will probably be stationed here for three to five years. If you keep shouting Gu Mang’s name like this every day…”
He laughed maliciously.
“Heh heh. Be careful not to hit a certain lord’s sore spot.”
The “certain lord” Yue Chenqing referred to was naturally their commander, Mo Xi.
Mo Xi, Lord Xihe, was personally enfeoffed by the late king. He came from the noble Mo family. The Mo family had produced four generals: Mo Xi’s maternal grandfather, grandfather, and father among them.
Under such a bloodline, it was no surprise Mo Xi possessed terrifying spiritual talent. Combined with later training under the strictest elder of the cultivation academy, by this year he had become Chonghua’s greatest commander.
And he was only twenty-eight.
Because of his family upbringing, Mo Xi’s temperament was as cold as a blade. His father had repeatedly warned him:
“Soft beds bury heroic ambition. Stay away from women and focus on your work.”
Thus, Mo Xi had always been pure-hearted and abstinent, his character upright to the extreme. One could say that in twenty-eight years, he had never committed a major mistake.
Except for Gu Mang.
To Mo Xi, Gu Mang was like ink spilled on paper, mud splashed onto snow, and that single bloodstain on the pristine white bedding of a gentleman—provocative and impossible to ignore.
—He was the stain of Mo Xi’s life.
That night.
In the military camp beyond the frontier, a clear theatrical voice pierced through the wind and sand. Singing drifted like a wandering ghost through the frosted air.
“…Rain falls on the jade-green pool. Sunshine graces the golden pavilion. If there is love, let wine and song not cease…”
The guards outside the deputy commander’s tent looked around nervously like frightened quails. Then they saw a tall black-clad figure approaching in the distance.
Their faces changed drastically.
They hurriedly lifted the tent flap.
“This is bad! This is bad!”
Inside, sprawled lazily in the commander’s seat, Yue Chenqing yawned and raised his eyes.
“What’s bad?”
“At a time like this, Deputy Commander, please get up and inspect the defenses already! Stop listening to opera!”
“What’s the rush?” Yue Chenqing said lazily. “I’ll go after this song.”
Then he turned to the performers.
“Don’t stop. Keep singing.”
The song resumed, drifting like a long thread in the air.
“Life is short; enjoy it while you can,” Yue Chenqing said happily while biting his nails. “Otherwise life is far too dull.”
“But if Lord Xihe sees this, he’ll get angry again…”
“Lord Xihe isn’t here. Why are you so nervous?” Yue Chenqing grinned. “Besides, that man always looks unhappy. He neither enjoys pleasure nor fun. At his age, even hearing a dirty joke makes him furious. If I have to keep him happy, wouldn’t I be exhausted?”
“Deputy Commander…” The guard looked close to tears. “Please lower your voice…”
“Hmm? Why?”
“Because… because…”
Yue Chenqing rolled around in the commander’s seat, even pulling Lord Xihe’s silver fur cloak over his head, laughing.
“Did Lord Xihe scare you all that badly? Why do you stutter every time his name comes up?”
He sighed dramatically.
“Everything about him is good except this—his control issues are insane. Anxiety, cleanliness obsession, compulsive control—he’s got all of it. And no sense of fun. Such a waste of that handsome face.”
The guard looked doomed.
“Young Master Yue, stop talking…”
Yue Chenqing only grew more enthusiastic.
“Look at all of you, so pent-up you’re getting heat sores. Heh, while he’s gone, I’ll loosen the rules for you all. Tonight, everyone can go flirt with girls. Curfew abolished. We’ll hold a beauty contest by the bonfire, and I’ll personally award honors to the prettiest girl in the nearby village—”
“To whom are you awarding honors?”
A low, harsh male voice suddenly sounded.
The tent flap was thrown open.
A tall man clad in silver armor stepped inside.
His military uniform fit sharply. Broad shoulders, narrow waist, long legs wrapped in black military boots. When he lifted his gaze, his features were cold and strikingly handsome, his eyes sharp and severe.
This man was none other than the very Lord Xihe Yue Chenqing had been gleefully mocking—
Mo Xi.
Why was Mo Xi suddenly back?!
Yue Chenqing froze.
Then he shuddered and pulled the fur cloak tightly around himself.
“Commander Mo,” Deputy Commander Yue said pitifully, “you came back early and didn’t tell anyone, boohoo—ow!”
The “ow” came because Mo Xi found his whining revolting.
He directly condensed a spiritual energy sword and hurled it past Yue Chenqing’s cheek.
Yue Chenqing nearly lost his head.
He scrambled up from the commander’s seat, brushing hair from his face.
“Lord Xihe, why are you attacking me?!”
“You ask me?” Mo Xi said coldly. “I haven’t asked you yet. Why are there women in my camp?”
He glanced at the trembling singers and actresses before turning his gaze to Yue Chenqing.
“You brought them in?”
Yue Chenqing wanted to grumble, but the moment he met Mo Xi’s gaze, he wilted.
“…Don’t be like that. I was just listening to music. Famous songs from Lichun. Lord Xihe, want to hear one too?”
Mo Xi’s expression remained icy.
“Decadent music. Drag them out.”
At least he hadn’t said execute them.
After Yue Chenqing finally left as well, Mo Xi sat alone inside the tent.
He removed his black dragon-hide bracers. His pale, slender fingers pressed against his brow as he slowly closed his eyes.
Under the lamplight, his complexion looked poor—faintly sickly pale. Combined with the deep hostility buried in his eyes, he looked even more exhausted.
He seemed burdened by heavy thoughts.
Not long ago, he had received a confidential letter from Chonghua’s imperial capital, personally written by the ruler himself.
After reading it three times, Mo Xi finally confirmed he had not misread.
Gu Mang was returning to Chonghua.
The letter rested inside his robe, close against his heavy, powerful heartbeat, warmed by his body.
Gu Mang is returning to Chonghua.
The words felt like thorns lodged in his chest, stabbing with every beat.
Mo Xi frowned deeply, trying to suppress the rage boiling within him.
But in the end, the fury burst free.
He suddenly opened his eyes and kicked over the desk in front of him with a loud crash.
“Crash!”
A guard hurried in.
“Commander Mo! Please calm down! Young Master Yue is still young and playful—”
Mo Xi turned sharply.
In the darkness, his eyes burned like lightning.
“Get out.”
“….”
“Without my permission, no one enters.”
“Yes…”
Silence fell again.
Only the howling northern wind outside remained.
Mo Xi stared at the mulberries rolling across the floor, dark fruits like severed heads Gu Mang had personally harvested over the years.
He thought:
How could someone commit so many cruel, vile, unforgivable acts—betray his nation, comrades, closest friend—and still have the audacity to return?
How could Gu Mang still have the face to come back?
After a while, Mo Xi forced himself to calm down and pulled out the letter again.
It stated:
Liao seeks a truce with our nation. To show sincerity, they have escorted our traitorous general Gu Mang back to the capital.
Gu Mang, once a man of Chonghua and once deeply trusted by Us, failed in loyalty. For selfish reasons, he defected to the enemy and betrayed his country. Over five years, he pillaged his homeland’s cities, destroyed peace, slaughtered former comrades, and abandoned old friends. His crimes are difficult to pardon.
In ten days, Gu Mang will return in chains. His grievances are vast, and judgment cannot be decided by Us alone. Therefore We urgently summon all nobles for deliberation. Though Lord Xihe is far at the frontier, he remains one of Our greatest pillars. We sincerely request your presence.
Take care.
Mo Xi stared at the letter for a long time.
Then he laughed coldly.
As he laughed, pain and hatred slowly surfaced on his face.
This man had committed the grave crime of treason.
What reason was there to let him live?
Dismemberment. Bisection. Boiling. Death by a thousand cuts—
He deserves death.
Mo Xi thought bitterly.
He deserves death.
But when he lifted his brush to write the character kill, halfway through, his hand trembled.
Ink bled across the silk.
Outside the tent, the mournful sound of a clay xun flute drifted through the night. Somewhere, a homesick soldier played sorrowfully, filling the camp with loneliness.
Mo Xi froze.
Something unreadable flickered in his dark eyes.
Finally, he cursed under his breath, threw down the brush, and ignited the letter in his palm.
It burned instantly to ash.
The ashes swirled.
Lord Xihe blew softly, turning them into a spiritual butterfly carrying a voice message.
“Gu Mang was once recommended and protected by this subordinate. His treason is partly my responsibility. Regarding judgment, I should avoid suspicion and not participate.”
After a pause, he added quietly:
“Mo Xi of the Northern Border sends greetings to Your Majesty.”
With a lift of his hand, the butterfly flew away.
Watching it disappear, he thought:
This was it.
The entanglement between him and Gu Mang, spanning more than ten years, was finally over.
Gu Mang had killed countless Chonghua soldiers and shattered the hearts of the people. Now the enemy had used him and discarded him, sending him back.
The officials in the capital would surely demand vengeance.
Mo Xi would still remain at the frontier for two more years.
It seemed he would not witness Gu Mang’s execution.
Slowly, he closed his eyes.
His face remained expressionless, but his nails dug deeply into his palms.
It was over.
Old friends had walked different paths, beyond saving.
Now they would meet again as strangers.
What kind of feeling was this?
No one but the two of them could ever understand.
Mo Xi sat alone in the empty tent, his face worn with exhaustion.
In the end, he had failed to pull Gu Mang back from ruin.
Arch-enemies.
Rivals.
Enemies.
That would be the final judgment history would write about their relationship.
And no one except the two of them would ever know the filthy, intoxicating secret buried beneath it all.
These two men, who now seemed determined to destroy each other—
Had once shared a bed.
Yes.
Many years ago, the disciplined, abstinent Lord Xihe had pinned Gu Mang onto a bed and taken him with fierce, uncontrollable hunger. The cold, rigorous man had once lost control over Gu Mang’s body, sweat dripping onto skin, desire burning in his eyes.
And Gu Mang—the brilliant general forged in war—had once trembled beneath him, eyes wet with tears, lips parted in silent need, yearning for Mo Xi’s kiss, allowing Mo Xi to leave bruises all over his strong, powerful body.
They were enemies now.
Their hatred ran deep.
Only death could resolve it.
But before that—
Before their paths diverged—
Those two young men had once loved each other with fierce intensity.
Passion ran wild.
And neither could bear to let go.