AEOGA CH75

Having stayed in the military camp for several days, Helian Xi marvelled at how well-trained Changli’s soldiers were. The only flaw was that Changli’s armaments were not particularly advanced.

Among the four nations, Yelang was renowned for its strong army and powerful steeds, famous for its military prowess. Changli boasted vast lands and abundant resources, where scholarly elegance prevailed. Xifeng had a wealthy economy with thriving foreign trade. Leyang was known for its music and dance, famed throughout the world for its songs and performances.

The other three nations were all on the main continent, their lands contiguous, separated only by a single high mountain range and a vast river. Leyang, on the other hand, was an island nation surrounded by sea on all four sides. Travel there required ships, making it easy to defend and hard to attack, allowing them to enjoy their own peace. Thus, even though Yelang had long eyed Leyang with greed, it didn’t plan to target Leyang first; it would have to unify the mainland before anything else.

Changli and Xifeng were essentially grasshoppers bound to the same rope.

In his past life, up until Changli fell and Xie Chongjin sacrificed himself for the nation, he knew nothing of what transpired afterward. But naturally, Yelang’s ambitions would not stop there; neither Xifeng nor Leyang would escape the catastrophe in the end.

Yelang not only knew how to deploy troops, but also how to utilize Gu, and they were utterly unhinged, possessing no moral bottom line.

Xie Chongjin recalled that in his past life, Yelang had even refined a living-dead army. Refining Gu within living human bodies granted the soldiers a hundred times their normal combat capability, surpassing human limits to become an invincible killing force on the battlefield. That scene had almost become a nightmare for every Changli soldier—as war drums thundered and high-pitched flute notes rang out, the massive army of the living dead charged forward in unison, easily tearing through fragile armor with their bare hands and leaving bodies strewn across the field.

It seemed to be a divine army.

However, the soldiers subjected to the process completely lost their human consciousness, becoming combat machines that knew only slaughter. Human bodies could not withstand such immense power; usually, after a single charge on the frontlines, those living dead would explode and perish.

Once men were lost, Yelang simply refined more. Living, breathing humans were turned into batch after batch of disposable commodities. No one knew whether those soldiers were willing to be turned into Gu—perhaps they were brainwashed into “voluntarily sacrificing” themselves under the guise of patriotism, or perhaps they were coerced outright, a display of utter inhumanity…

Lu Xuechao, who had researched Gu, offered an explanation upon hearing this: “That is the Puppet Gu. The Gu moves to sound; once implanted, the puppet is controlled via flute notes. Without the flute’s guidance, the puppet loses all mobility and dies without a whole corpse.”

“This method is cruel and toxic. While I am familiar with it, I knew neither you nor I would ever rely on such a method to fight Yelang, which is why I never mentioned it before,” Lu Xuechao said. “However, should Yelang use this trick in the future… I can bring a flute and test my skills against theirs.”

Xie Chongjin and Lu Xuechao could resort to any means to win, but they could never bring themselves to treat the soldiers defending their country as cruelly as Yelang did.

They had bottom lines, whereas Yelang had none. In that regard, they had lost completely.

With the Gu method ruled out, though Lu Xuechao had planned to use poison to raid Yelang’s home base, it was ultimately just a tactical stratagem and could not serve as the primary offensive capability. What truly needed to be expanded was their own armed force.

Lately, Lu Xuechao had been leafing through books on weapon forging, hoping to draw from the wisdom of predecessors to design improved weaponry. But as an amateur who lacked specialization, he had made zero progress so far, hitting a complete stalemate.

Fortunately, with the New Year fast approaching, he temporarily set the matter aside and threw himself into organizing the annual banquet.

–

Colorful silk ribbons and red lanterns were hung across the palace, slowly bringing out the festive spirit of the New Year. As dusk fell outside Pixiang Palace, Hua Yan, clad in a festive red padded jacket, stepped onto a ladder to hang red lanterns.

Normally, this task could be left to the palace servants, but he found their placement asymmetrical and displeasing to the eye, insisting on doing it himself.

The eaves were too high, so Hua Yan stood on tiptoe, striving to hang the lantern. Below, the servants holding the ladder watched with heart in mouth, ready to catch him at any moment.

“Master, please be careful, don’t fall!”

“How about letting this servant do it instead?”

Hua Yan said impatiently, “Quiet! It’ll be done soon. The ladder you brought is far too short.”

Palace servants: “…”

Is there a possibility that the short one is actually you, Master?

Among the members of the harem, Hua Yan was not tall. Aside from Helian Xi—who had just turned sixteen and hadn’t finished growing—he was the most delicate. He was the kind of petite that looked like two seven-foot men blending into a crowd of eight-foot men.

Although the Empress looked as frail as a willow swaying in the wind, slender and delicate, his stature was actually quite tall. Standing side by side with the Emperor, he did not look shorter at all.

Men from Xifeng Kingdom were generally not very tall, and as the youngest, Helian Xi’s modest height was understandable. But as a native of Changli, Hua Yan was exceptionally small-statured.

As the servants grumbled in their hearts, they suddenly saw the red-robed Tanhua walking toward Pixiang Palace and bowed in greeting one after another: “Talent Fu.”

In the palace, they still addressed people by their inner palace ranks.

Hearing this greeting, Hua Yan panicked, his foot slipped, and he tumbled straight down.

The servants who had been keeping a close watch immediately reached out to support him, but a figure in red proved faster than all of them. Before they could even see clearly what happened, Hua Yan was already caught firmly in Fu Xinian’s arms.

Hua Yan stared blankly at Fu Xinian’s handsome profile, thinking to himself: Oh no, I’m falling for him.

Dashing over to save him with a bridal carry—wasn’t that way too cool? Wasn’t this a storybook plot coming to life?

He coughed heavily before Fu Xinian set him down, knitting his brows as he asked, “Why do such a dangerous task yourself?”

Then he turned displeased to the group of servants: “How are you looking after your master?”

The servants dared not speak. Fu Xinian usually appeared gentle, elegant, and easygoing, but once angered, his formidable aura made people tremble. It suddenly reminded them that he was not only Talent Fu in the palace, but also the cold-faced Judge Fu of the Ministry of Justice.

Hua Yan tugged at his sleeve: “Don’t blame them. I wanted to hang them myself; the ones they hung weren’t symmetrical.”

Lanterns ought to come in pairs; they couldn’t be crooked.

Fu Xinian looked up and asked, “Where to hang it?”

Hua Yan pointed a finger: “Over there.”

Hua Yan assumed Fu Xinian was going to hang the lantern for him. Trusting Fu Xinian’s reliability, he was just about to hand over the lantern when his body suddenly felt weightless. Fu Xinian had lifted him up again, placing him right on his shoulders.

Fu Xinian’s voice sounded like smooth jade, clear and pleasant: “Hang it.”

Hua Yan: “…???”

So you’re tall, big deal.

Seeing two consorts embracing in broad daylight, the palace servants lowered their heads, not daring to look.

Anyway, as for this inner palace… well, anyone who came here knew. The Emperor belonged to the Empress, so the consorts paired up among themselves.

With his heart pounding and face flushing, Hua Yan hung the lantern properly, his mind suddenly drifting to the love story between the Emperor and Empress.

The Emperor had said that back then, he and the Empress pledged their love to each other because of a bird.

The Empress wanted to return a bird that had fallen in the wind to its nest, but since he couldn’t climb trees, he asked the Emperor for help. Instead of using martial arts to place the bird back directly, the Emperor held the Empress up to let him return the bird to its home himself.

Such a roundabout way, all just to hold the person he loved.

It was practically the exact same thing as right now.

Hua Yan: He took the chance to hold me, he has me in his heart.

He had always envied the love stories of others, playing the role of a listener, but it seemed… he could also become the protagonist of a storybook?

“It’s hung, set me down.” On the surface, Hua Yan still feigned composure.

Fu Xinian lowered his eyes, yet did not set him down. Instead, he hoisted him directly onto his shoulder and carried him back to Dianmo Study.

The reserved and courteous Tanhua was doing something so out of line for the very first time.

Not only were the servants dumbfounded, but Hua Yan was stunned too.

“Tanhua, Tanhua… Fu Xinian! What madness has gotten into you!”

Fu Xinian carried Hua Yan into the bedchamber and tossed him onto the bed. Both surprised and expectant, Hua Yan thought to himself: Is the Tanhua finally going to force himself on me?

Should he bashfully lie flat, or play hard to get?

However, Fu Xinian did not tear off his clothes forcefully as he had imagined. He simply sat down and drank a cup of tea to calm himself for a moment.

Fu Xinian said, “You’ve been avoiding me lately.”

“Even Helian Xi is willing to see Qin Yulong now, yet you’ve started dodging me instead,” Fu Xinian asked in confusion. “Where have I offended you?”

Hua Yan: No, not at all.

It was purely because after that day, upon realizing Fu Xinian might actually like him, he no longer knew how to face him.

Though Hua Yan was bold, passionate, and uninhibited, daring to think anything in his mind, he grew shy and cautious when facing genuine love.

A youth raised in a brothel, who listened to others’ love stories and wrote sweet romantic books, had never imagined that he would one day receive love himself.

Because of his enchanting face, Hua Yan never lacked affection. Before he made his debut in the brothel, many guests were struck by his beauty, laughingly saying they would wait for him to come of age to buy his first night. Those gazes were explicit and crude, wishing nothing more than to strip off his clothes.

The first time Hua Yan felt his heart flutter for Xie Chongjin was precisely because Xie Chongjin was different from those people—a true gentleman who respected him and did not treat him as a plaything.

However, his first crush did not love him back; Xie Chongjin deeply loved his childhood sweetheart and rejected him cleanly. Hua Yan felt no jealousy, only envy. Love belonged to others, while he could only remain a listener, a spectator.

Yet now, he too had someone who both respected and liked him.

And this person happened to be the one he liked as well.

He just needed some time… to calm his excited heart.

Hua Yan looked at Fu Xinian, who wasn’t wearing his usual white robes today, but a robe of vibrant red that made him look even more handsome. According to Changli custom, wearing red around the New Year signified prosperity for the coming year.

After deliberating for a moment, Hua Yan said, “Tanhua, look at us both dressed in red today—doesn’t it look like the wedding robes worn on a marriage day?”

Fu Xinian was stunned.

Hua Yan added, “And the red silk and red lanterns hanging outside the eaves—doesn’t it look like a bridal chamber decorated for a wedding?”

Fu Xinian’s voice, like fine jade, took on a raspy edge: “What… do you mean to say?”

“I received all the love poems you wrote,” Hua Yan twisted his fingers, the usually bold and passionate person showing a rare bashfulness.

He had indeed received them, but previously thought Fu Xinian was merely teaching him to write romantic words, so he had never offered a response.

“‘When the flower blooms, pluck it while you may; do not wait until there are no flowers left and snap an empty branch.'”

This was his response.

He truly lacked literary depth; this line from The Song of Golden Threads was also something Fu Xinian had taught him.

I urge you, do not cherish the golden thread garment; I urge you, cherish the days of your youth. When the flower blooms, pluck it while you may; do not wait until there are no flowers left and snap an empty branch.

A beautiful night was meant for the bridal chamber and making the most of the present.

Fu Xinian froze slightly, then let out a gentle laugh.

“Hua Yan, you have graduated.”

This was the sweetest love confession he had ever heard.