UCTOOT CH101

Dazzling white sunlight illuminated the courtyard, with rockeries and a bamboo grove offering patches of shade.

Splash, splash, water murmured softly. Standing beside the well, Shi Shu leaned forward to take a sip of icy water, bending over so that his clothes slipped down, revealing half of his pale, lean back, where the scabs had already begun to slough off.

Gulp… Spitting out the water to rinse away the taste of blood in his mouth, Shi Shu muttered, “How many more days is this tooth going to throb? How many more days is this door going to stay locked? How many days has it been? Just how long do you plan on keeping me locked up?”

Just as Shi Shu was about to pop a slice of ginger back into his mouth, Xie Wuchi, clad in crimson-purple official robes, stepped through the courtyard gate.

In an instant, Shi Shu’s brows twitched, struck with speed-of-light blindness, and he picked up his pace to dart into the house like an arrow.

Footsteps followed close behind. Shi Shu walked into the study to pretend to read, and Xie Wuchi arrived at the study. Shi Shu then bolted to the bedroom, figuring Xie Wuchi wouldn’t chase him here, but the footsteps arrived in close pursuit anyway.

Sitting on the bed, Shi Shu casually flipped open a book, continuing his pretense. Unexpectedly, Xie Wuchi sat down beside him: “Does your tooth still hurt?”

Setting the book down, Shi Shu acted as though having an ordinary chat: “It’s alright. Basically almost healed now, no big deal. Where’ve you been hiding yourself these past few days?”

“Deliberating military affairs.”

Xie Wuchi reached out to touch his face—a pale, delicate chin, the skin clean and smooth. Shi Shu let him cup his face without a word, until Xie Wuchi pressed his thumb in, gently prying open the corner of his lips.

The pad of his finger was burning hot. Shi Shu simply parted his lips to let him inspect inside: “When can I walk out that door?”

Xie Wuchi avoided the question. Unable to help himself, Shi Shu chuckled instead. While they sat at an impasse, Xie Wuchi noticed something else; his knuckles lifted the underside of the mattress, pulling out a container of lubricating ointment and dangling a cured sheep intestine.

“…” Shi Shu’s heart skipped a beat, but quickly steadied into calm without much shame, stating, “That’s right, I put them there on purpose. Xie Wuchi, I’m ready to sleep with you.”

Shi Shu flopped onto his back on the bed: “If I could give birth, I’d pop out a whole litter for you, keeping watch over your harem forever.”

Xie Wuchi: “Shi Shu.”

Shi Shu was furious, but thinking it over, he spoke his mind anyway: “To begin with, without your approval of Xiaoshu’s strategy, the plan would never succeed. I’m not the kind of person who throws his life away either. I just don’t understand why you insisted on locking me up. Maybe you think it’s for my own good. And honestly, you really are doing it for my good.”

“Xie Wuchi, I’m not as capable as you. So there’s really nothing wrong with you making decisions on my behalf.”

The weight in Xie Wuchi’s tone deepened: “Shi Shu.”

“This world has always operated on the law of the jungle. I’ve just been too slow to grasp that truth. Not only do I fail to understand all of this, but I can’t even understand my own heart anymore.”

Shi Shu rolled over: “I’d better stop venting out of spite, lest I sting someone.”

Lying on the bed, Shi Shu picked up the jar of ointment Lin Yangchun had handed him, staring at the threaded lid, unscrewing it and twisting it shut again, aligning the patterns, fiddling with it continuously.

“How much longer are you going to keep me locked up?”

Xie Wuchi: “Until the Min army retreats and the troops march back to Yanzhou.”

Shi Shu shifted into a more comfortable position: “Fair enough.”

And so, neither spoke, lapsing into silence. Summer was sweltering, peak midsummer in the eighth month, sunlight beating straight down upon the earth, roasting the soil. Even with ice blocks placed in the room, it could not fend off the rising, irritable mugginess.

Shi Shu set down the container. “Taking an afternoon nap? I’ll lie down with you for a bit.”

Xie Wuchi had already unfastened his outer robes to hang on the wall, the light gauze curtains draping over the head of the bed. After Shi Shu climbed in, he lay beside Xie Wuchi, twirling the sash of his garment between his fingers.

Shi Shu helped Xie Wuchi loosen his clothes, leaned in to kiss him softly, and went to sleep—eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling. His vision seemed slightly blurry; rubbing his eyes with a hand, he continued staring at the woven patterns of the bed canopy.

Shi Shu had always possessed a sturdy constitution, but being cooped up these past few days was far too boring. Sleeping from dawn to dusk every day, excessive slumber began giving him a splitting headache.

Unable to sleep, he idly reminisced about the past, recalling the monks’ quarters at Xiangnan Temple, where the two of them squeezed onto a modest meditation bed. Xie Wuchi had clearly been germaphobic at first; when Shi Shu had woken up and gone to wash, Xie Wuchi had been checking whether the bedding had gotten dirty.

“…” Back then, Shi Shu had found it hard to keep a straight face, telling him, “Bro, I’m not the type of guy who bleeds dye.”

Xie Wuchi had replied indifferently: “You’d better not be.”

If he said he didn’t, he didn’t. Yet it led to Shi Shu waking up every morning after that checking whether he had stained anything, inspecting the quilt for any sign of yellowing. But Shi Shu had never bled color his entire life; not bleeding dye meant not bleeding dye, and Xie Wuchi finally stopped looking at him with tinted glasses.

Thinking of this, Shi Shu couldn’t help laughing to himself: Xie Wuchi had always been so impossibly pretentious. Yet he was meticulous, almost never overlooking a single detail, treating Shi Shu remarkably well. He had taken him to see traditional Chinese physicians, made sure he drank herbal decoctions right on time every day, and even though he was a monk in a temple, had secretly taken him out to eat meat, terrified Shi Shu might die from anemia.

Thinking of this, Shi Shu: Hehe.

Then remembering his motives hadn’t been pure back then: Not hehe.

Shi Shu reined in his smile. Xie Wuchi had taken good care of Laifu too, even though he visibly disliked dogs and detested pets. Laifu had a bad habit of pouncing on people, jumping onto Xie Wuchi at first and soiling his monk’s robes.

Yet Xie Wuchi couldn’t very well beat the dog in front of Shi Shu!

One morning when Shi Shu woke up, he saw Xie Wuchi beneath the Bodhi tree in the temple courtyard, holding a steamed bun and training the dog, tearing it into little pieces, commanding Laifu to “sit,” “shake,” “left paw,” “right paw,” “count off,” “lie down,” “fetch,” matched with that haughty expression he used when looking at dogs—an absolute masterpiece.

Shi Shu had originally wondered: Laifu, you’re just an ordinary yellow mutt, how do you know how to count? Are you some kind of divine dog? Turns out Xie Wuchi had drilled it into him! But because Shi Shu woke up so late while Xie Wuchi always rose at dawn to start his productive day, Shi Shu had missed out on a lot of his mornings.

Thinking of this, Shi Shu found it amusing again, struggling to suppress the corners of his mouth.

Yet, had Xie Wuchi thought back then: Shi Shu really is an annoying brat, unable to even feed himself yet insisting on keeping a dog. Such a willful, unreasonable kid. Eating his food, drinking his water, and never once treating himself like an outsider.

Shi Shu hummed softly in his heart, shifting his sleeping posture on the pillow, before recalling the first time Xie Wuchi had exposed his true nature to him—the day they escorted Xiaoshu to that village forty li away, returning late into the evening.

Before that, Shi Shu had always believed Xie Wuchi was an extraordinarily refined, high-class gentleman. Looking at his outward appearance, anyone would assume he was the product of elite higher education. Setting aside that deceptive face only superior genes could produce, his diction, phrasing, and even the pauses in his speech seemed deliberately polished, radiating a noble condescension that said: “You are beneath me; speaking to you is bestowing honor, so be a good little lackey.”

When Shi Shu first met him, he had wiped sweat behind his back daily, thinking: Mr. Strong-posturing.

You really love acting pretentious. The kind of person who, if posted on TikTok, would cause hundreds of thousands of mediocre, overconfident men to lose their minds in the comments calling him a “male green tea” or a “pretentious poseur.”

Yet only then did Shi Shu discover that Xie Wuchi actually couldn’t control his lower body, getting aroused at the slightest stimulation, which made things rather complicated. Perhaps it was starting from then that he and Xie Wuchi had truly become close.

Thinking of this, Shi Shu’s mood was neither good nor bad. After all, having a gun pointed at you for the first time—that feeling was truly indescribable! It was like being a straight girl and suddenly having a stunning beauty strip naked in front of you: on the one hand, you find it pretty, but on the other, it’s intensely awkward.

Shi Shu tried to trace the trajectory of being together with Xie Wuchi. Living at Xiangnan Temple had its downsides after all; the senior monk next door hated dogs, occasionally making threatening gestures to strike Laifu. Though he never actually hit him, Shi Shu didn’t particularly care for a temple full of gay monks either.

Reclaiming ordination certificates to scrape together military payroll, moving to Liushui Nunnery had been great. Shi Shu loved that desolate little courtyard amidst the peach blossom grove, where a narrow path had been cleared through waist-high weeds, with a haunted house where people had died right next door. Shi Shu had been a scaredy-cat back then, dragging Xie Wuchi along whenever he needed the outhouse at night.

Usually, Shi Shu would nudge Xie Wuchi awake on the couch, saying: “Brother Xie, ge, I need to pee. Wanna come?”

Then, amidst a dead silence that made one want to drop to one’s knees and call him father, Xie Wuchi would rise to his feet and accompany him to the outhouse outside. Passing by that murder house terrified Shi Shu; pretending to be calm on the surface, he chatted with Xie Wuchi about random things, not wanting to expose his cowardice, while Xie Wuchi had to casually respond to his forced conversation.

“Xie Wuchi, the moon tonight—it sure is moon-y!”

Xie Wuchi: “Mm.”

Then Shi Shu went into the outhouse, which sat very close to the crooked-neck tree where someone had hanged themselves. Shi Shu needed Xie Wuchi to stand guard without leaving his side, and once done, frantically washed his hands and bolted inside, dashing ahead of him.

At the memory, Shi Shu curled his lips into an involuntary smile. Back then, he thought Xie Wuchi was like an older brother next door, an omnipotent gaming god, the top-scoring yet utterly pretentious genius from the adjacent class. Though everyone gossiped after class saying, “Bro, you act way too pretentious!”, in truth they admired him deeply. Shi Shu had been the same way, super clingy to him, extraordinarily clingy, driven by a guy’s instinct to play lackey to someone exceptional.

Shi Shu was only eighteen, after all, and loved being someone’s little follower—a lackey to his parents as a child, a lackey to his older cousin as he grew, and now a lackey to Xie Wuchi; in short, a lifetime of being a sidekick.

Shi Shu truly liked Xie Wuchi a lot. At Liushui Nunnery, the moment he opened his eyes every day: Where did Xie Wuchi go? Why isn’t he back from work yet? Where is he? Where is he? Hearing Laifu bark, the two of them would dash toward the peach blossom grove, circling around Xie Wuchi as he returned carrying meals.

Xie Wuchi had to shout “Stop” to keep both little dogs from lunging onto him.

Transmigrating to ancient times was far from easy. At Zhou Family Village, people had treated him well enough, but that creepy gay guy spoke vile things, and when the men gathered to talk about wives and kids, Shi Shu had nothing to share; being with a fellow countryman was far happier.

From then on, Shi Shu genuinely adored Xie Wuchi as a friend, liking him dearly, perhaps with an element of revering strength. Shi Shu was willing to do anything with him and found joy in it—whether traveling far away together, braving the elements, or heading into plague-ridden cities, he had been exceedingly happy. Xie Wuchi possessed a quality: he might not give you emotional reciprocity, and might even do the exact opposite, but staying by his side offered the highest chance of survival and the greatest sense of security.

Just like carrying a noob in a battle royale game, Shi Shu often felt that amid deafening gunfire and explosions, by the time he crawled coughing out of the smoke, Xie Wuchi’s towering figure would stand shielding him from the front, weapon in hand, scanning the perimeter and saying: “All enemies cleared.”

Shi Shu would feel that sense of: …Bro, you’re insane.

Wanting to drop to his knees and kowtow to Xie Wuchi.

—Rolling over gently, the bed let out a faint creak, breaking part of Shi Shu’s train of thought. For some reason, he didn’t dare think further; the more he dwelled on it, the closer he seemed to draw toward that tragic conclusion. The winter in Dasheng Prefecture of Senzhou had been too cold, ice and snow piercing to the marrow. Recalling that frigid land, his mind held only the blinding white of blizzards blotting out the sky, howling gales through the woods, and vast expanses of blood-red gore staining the landscape, invading his entire vision.

He liked Xie Wuchi too, wanting to depend on him for life. Though Du Zihan was great, he wasn’t as good as Xie Wuchi. Journeying three thousand li together, Shi Shu had seen that the man could be hurt as well; having seen through that secret, Shi Shu’s heart had drawn even closer to his.

And Xie Wuchi was a massive villain, a genuinely detestable bad guy. Damn it. Ever since, he had kept kissing and touching him. Shi Shu had no choice either—who told Xie Wuchi to have an illness? Bros hugging each other, what was the big deal? Shi Shu simply had never figured out how to face this bond once it curdled into romance. Yet following Xie Wuchi was still joyful; had that incident not occurred, Shi Shu thought just making do and spending a lifetime together would have been fine, wouldn’t it?

Holy crap, what’s wrong with Xie Wuchi? What’s so bad about spending a lifetime with him?

Thinking up to this point, Shi Shu still couldn’t help laughing.

The year after leaving had felt like a dream. Staying on the beach in Qin Village, he had told Zihan every day he was watching the sunset, when in truth he was thinking of Xie Wuchi.

Damn bastard—Shi Shu really wanted to beat him up. Had he known, he should have thrashed him before leaving. An absolute scoundrel. For the first time, Shi Shu experienced what pure hatred felt like, yet Xie Wuchi’s blood-drenched appearance back then had been terrifying too, haunting Shi Shu’s midnight dreams time and again.

Shi Shu had little perception of romantic love, as though that circuit had never been wired. Reminiscing with mixed feelings for a long time, he still couldn’t figure it out.

Love… yet who would have thought that meeting again, their statuses would be worlds apart.

…

Lost in thought, his consciousness drifted hazily into slumber. In his dream lay a vast expanse of blood-red corpses. He saw that mass grave again, black swarms of insects circling above, corpses piled high as mountains, wild dogs baring fangs as they gnawed on bones, before an inferno suddenly swept over them all—

Covered in cold sweat, Shi Shu jerked awake from his dream, letting out a sharp gasp—”Ah!”—panting tensely. Xie Wuchi walked to the head of the bed to take down his clothes, as someone announced from outside: “My Lord, two men named Yuan Guan and Yuan He request an audience!”

Shi Shu froze for a second. Adjusting his cuffs, thinking of who knew what, Xie Wuchi said after a moment: “Let them in.”

“Why are they here?”

“Xiaoshu’s proposal is not without merit. In history, there was the Treaty of Maqiao, where the Tang Dynasty forged an alliance with the Abbasid Caliphate; Huo Qubing dividing the Xiongnu, leading various tribal kings to surrender to the Han Dynasty; Yue Fei driving wedges among Jin commanders; and the Song Dynasty’s ‘Alliance on the Sea,’ allying with Jin against the Liao. Taking the Alliance on the Sea alone, it took three years from initial proposal to full implementation. A strategy of profound impact requires substantial time and painstaking effort to achieve. This is indeed a profitable concept; I will find a way to bring it to fruition.”

Shi Shu looked at him.

Xie Wuchi: “Xiaoshu was sent back, and the two of them intend to present this plan to me in person. Coming? Let’s go together.”

__

On the floor, clad in a plain blue scholar’s robe, Yuan Guan knelt prostrate, refusing to rise.

Beside him stood Yuan He, his Min features wrapped in cloth. In the blazing heat, sweat soaked through the linen, damp and heavy, as both knelt upon the ground.

Xie Wuchi entered. Though his tone was pleasant enough, he made no move to help them up, walking straight over to take a seat in the pearwood armchair: “Two years ago on the Street of Northern Slaves, this official shared a bowl of tea in your home. Please rise.”

The two rose, but seeing Shi Shu standing beside him, Yuan Guan dropped to his knees once more: “Second Young Master.”

Looking at him, Shi Shu thought of the sickly man from the Street of Northern Slaves, then of the venomous strategist who proposed hurling diseased corpses at Yunzhou, finding it truly difficult to reconcile the two: “Please rise, please rise.”

Yuan Guan offered a benevolent smile. Shi Shu remained silent, turning his face to look at the wall.

“You two have come in person. What is your purpose?”

Yuan Guan hurriedly drew a booklet from his bosom: “My Lord, this records the geography and terrain of Beimin’s rear territories. This humble one has come regarding the matter my daughter proposed days ago.”

“King Zhouchi currently oversees Yongan Prefecture and Duoge Prefecture; those whom this subordinate can contact are precisely the Dajing militias and tribal chieftains within these two prefectures. King Zhouchi has long admired Dajing culture—in Beimin, upper nobility pride themselves on mastering Dajing arts. Whenever new styles of jewelry or cosmetics emerge in the Eastern Capital, noblewomen immediately send agents to purchase them, while men compete to study Dajing culture. As for King Zhouchi, having spent two years with him, this humble one often heard him lament the barbarism of the Min. He reveres literature, treasures epigraphy and antiquities, and harbors inclinations to assimilate with Dajing forces.”

Xie Wuchi sipped tea, lifted the lid for a glance, and set it down.

Yuan Guan’s demeanor was thoroughly earnest as he continued: “Furthermore, numerous lesser tribal chieftains are repeatedly oppressed by the armies of the Central King and the Min King, their pastures annexed. Every grazing season, the Min King’s tribes drive their herds wherever they please; they dare to be angry but dare not speak, resentment brewing among the people. Especially after the war, exploitation has only worsened.”

“Third, Yongan Prefecture was Dajing territory twenty years ago. For all these years, Han militias have held out in the mountains, undefeated by Min forces, rallying over ten thousand men—resembling the bandit strongholds of Mount Liang—flying Dajing’s national banners, calling themselves the ‘Loyalist Army,’ holding firm against all assaults.”

Yuan Guan stood reporting, sweat dripping down his brow. Having laid out the situation, he continued: “My Lord, if we can unite these three forces, coordinating a time and place with Your Lordship to take up arms in concert from within and without, we can strike at Beimin’s jugular and swiftly seize the prefectures. It would be a monumental achievement for Your Lordship!”

The basic rule of persuasion: illustrate advantage, motivate by benefit. Xie Wuchi did not answer the point directly: “Currently, Beimin and Dajing are locked in critical warfare. The Min army maintains strict discipline, guarding against moles and spies. Risking your lives to step out of their encampment was likely no easy feat for you two?”

Sweat poured down Yuan Guan’s pale face as he dropped to his knees: “When my daughter returned, she mentioned Your Lordship suspected deceit. Thus, my brother and I have staked our lives to come persuade you, pleading only that Your Lordship accept this sound strategy!”

Seeming busy with official affairs, Xie Wuchi sounded somewhat detached: “Lord Yuan, the peerless merit of dividing Beimin and capturing their cities—once achieved, both of you would claim immense service. Do the two of you truly ask for nothing in return?”

Yuan Guan: “My brother and I ask only that after Your Lordship achieves this peerless merit, you bestow upon us fine manors, fertile land, high noble rank, and bountiful gold and silver in the Eastern Capital, so that we may never again be known to the world as slaves.”

Xie Wuchi covered his teacup and said, “Such things—when you had the Min catapult corpses into Yunzhou City, did the Min army not promise you high office and lavish stipends?”

“…”

What Xie Wuchi said was clearly a pointed interrogation striking straight at the man’s moral spine, yet carried a faintly mocking tone.

Knowing this was indeed an insurmountable hurdle, Yuan Guan admitted honestly: “At that time, we two brothers believed we could never return to Dajing, and sought a livelihood in Beimin, which led us to employ some venomous schemes. That malicious scheme was also at Prince Yinkun’s behest… until that night when my brother happened upon the Second Young Master.”

Hearing his name, Shi Shu propped himself on the arm of his chair, looking up at him.

Yuan Guan gave Shi Shu a faint smile, his expression exceedingly complex, saying: “This humble one never imagined we could meet our benefactor again, nor that Lord Xie would already be guarding the frontier, wielding supreme power over the realm. We originally dared not aim so high, fearing His Lordship had long forgotten us or despised us as base slaves who fled north. It was only when my brother came face-to-face with the Second Young Master in the ditch and was actually recognized by him that this humble one gathered the courage to send my daughter to present this strategy.”

The Yuan family had clearly come staking their lives on this gamble: “Had it not been for the Second Young Master’s kind heart, this humble one would never have dared present this plan to people of Dajing, terrified that merely catching sight of my brother’s foreign features would get us executed on the spot.”

“So you know as well that the people of Jing and Min cannot coexist.”

Rising to his feet, stepping over the patterned floor tiles, Xie Wuchi’s expression turned severe: “Whether Lord Yuan’s strategy is feasible or not, this official will not judge for now. But opening your mouth to demand this official’s younger brother—and sending him deep into the perilous domain of the Min—makes it exceedingly difficult to win trust.”

“This humble one understands. My… my family of three only seeks survival. Truly… aside from the Second Young Master, this humble one finds it difficult to trust anyone else…” Yuan Guan pressed on, striving to persuade: “This humble one has a foolproof method to ensure the Second Young Master enters Min territory safely. Disguised as my young servant in altered dress, he will return to Min with me and stay in my humble home. Brokering and winning over the factions will be handled entirely by me. The Second Young Master need only show his face on the day of the pact to put everyone’s minds at ease, after which we can escort him safely back!”

Shi Shu wouldn’t need to deal with those people; he was simply proof of sincerity.

Proof of sincerity merely meant showing his face.

Now, the danger had been reduced to a minimum.

Yet Xie Wuchi said nothing of it, stating: “You two go rest first; this official will consider the matter.”

__

Inside their quarters, the two men sat down. Yuan Guan pulled the cloth wrap from Yuan He’s face, revealing a resolute countenance bleached pale from sweat, and wiped his brow.

The two sat sipping cool water, Yuan He unable to hold back the humiliation burning across his face: “I say we never should have come on this trip. The people of Jing treat us like dogs; there was no need to come. This General Commander Xie is the exact same.”

Yuan Guan was more placid: “You and I have nothing, yet seek to win someone’s trust; it was bound to be difficult from the start. Keep a steady heart.”

“I’m damn well sick of it,” Yuan He rasped, gulping down the water in his cup in one go.

Yuan Guan untied his tunic, exposing a back covered in crisscrossing scars that reeked from soaked sweat. Sitting back down, Yuan Guan murmured: “Still such a hot temper. How old are we now?”

“I’m forty-three, you’re forty.”

“Forty already. Tell me, when will we ever have a plot of land? I want to retire to the fields too.”

“Retire to the fields? When we farmed in the Qin’an Mountains of Yuan County, you were the one who insisted on leaving—couldn’t let go of those books you wrote, babbling about literary anthologies and verses, dead set on having them sent to Dajing for printing.”

Yuan Guan chuckled softly: “You’ve never read a book.”

“Read or not, we’ve hit forty all the same.”

“What is forty? I’m not afraid of death either; I only want my name to endure through eternity.”

Eternal renown. Fame and profit stood on equal footing. No scholar lived who did not yearn to leave a legacy through the ages, etched in history. Yuan Guan drew out a bundle beside him, revealing reams of stacked paper inked with characters, some edges curling and decayed, bearing witness to decades of painstaking toil: “If Lord Xie still does not believe me, I will have no choice but to offer this work. Written with my life’s blood—should I break the pact, let him commit my million-word manuscript to the flames.”

“Those papers of yours? Just these insubstantial sheets—can they truly persuade him?”

“If these sheets are useless, then I truly have nothing left in this world,” Yuan Guan smiled wryly.

Behind another door not far away, Shi Shu sat in a chair.

Maps were laid out on the tabletop in thick stacks, depicting a far more detailed route. Seated beside him, Xie Wuchi turned the maps page by page, comparing them with the reconnaissance charts gathered by the scouts.

“Mountain ranges, villages, bridges, outposts—clearly marked,” Xie Wuchi said. “These maps are even more comprehensive.”

Shi Shu studied the distinctive symbols as Xie Wuchi traced the defense lines: “These locations are heavily guarded, primarily serving military functions. Once past the defense line, there are civilian settlements. Just as the two brothers, Yinkun and his brother, were able to roam Dajing years ago, the rear of the Min territory is similarly inhabited by a mixed population of Min and Jing. Blending in among the Han commoners as ordinary folk will not draw attention.”

“The most perilous part is the border defense zone. Once crossed, the rest will be manageable.”

Staring at the winding contours of rivers and mountains, tension gripped Shi Shu’s chest: “I…”

“Shi Shu, do not rush.”

Looking at the maps before him, when the plan had merely been a vague outline, he had felt driven by emotion. But with the steps laid out before his eyes one by one, he saw that every step was fraught with hardship.

“I was thinking, perhaps I should not control you. Letting you choose freely is better,” Xie Wuchi said suddenly.

Standing up, Shi Shu’s legs felt a bit weak. Stepping outside with Xie Wuchi, the Chinese roses in the courtyard were in full, fragrant bloom. Shi Shu reached out, plucked another blossom, and placed it into Xie Wuchi’s chest.

Shi Shu asked: “Do you want me to go?”

Xie Wuchi: “I will worry about you constantly. Even someone of extraordinary courage cannot get a night of sound sleep in enemy territory. If you cannot sleep, I will not be able to sleep either.”

Shi Shu: “Losing sleep isn’t all bad. Lately, when I can’t sleep, I reminisce about the past and find it quite happy.”

“What did you reminisce about?”

“Everything from when we first met until now,” Shi Shu suddenly thought of something. “Xie Wuchi, actually, there’s something I did wrong by you that I never told you.”

If one day in the future Xie Wuchi became the Co-Lord of the World, even without fulfilling the requirement of killing other transmigrators, he would unlock the system. When that time came, he would certainly see Shi Shu’s unlock timestamp and understand what he had done.

“Making mistakes does not matter,” Xie Wuchi turned his head, locking eyes with him. “I only want to know: are you still making it now?”

“…”

Heatwaves swept across the eaves and roof tiles of the courtyard, lotus leaves rippling in waves across the pond, kingfishers occasionally darting past.

A storm surged in Shi Shu’s heart, his back tingling with numbness, at a complete loss for words. His brown eyes widened slightly, the entire world seeming to fall dead silent.

After studying him for a long moment, Xie Wuchi looked away, saying in an even voice: “Until you correct that mistake, Shi Shu, I will keep you alive. Even before the Gates of Hell, I will drag you back.”

__

Late at night, the courtyard blazed with lamplight.

Dim light filtered from behind the study windows, hushed voices occasionally drifting through the doors as Xin Bin and other guards emerged one after another, clutching maps and galloping off on horseback into the deep night.

The discussion between Xie Wuchi, Yuan Guan, and Yuan He was still underway.

Xie Wuchi interrogated every single detail of the journey to verify the truth of their claims. Yuan Guan and Yuan He lacked his boundless stamina; when mentally exhausted, a person’s thinking breaks down and inconsistencies surface, yet they were forced to keep weathering Xie Wuchi’s probing.

Rummaging through chests and cupboards to find suitable clothes to pack, Shi Shu was startled by a crisp clatter! as something dropped to the floor—it was that gem-encrusted dagger.

Short and compact, ideal for carrying close. Looking at the dagger, Shi Shu recalled the sensation of it pressing against his flesh days earlier, cold sweat beading on his forehead.

He continued searching for lightweight clothing. A comfortable pair of undergarments had gone missing. While he was rummaging, the door creaked open, and Xie Wuchi stepped inside.

Shi Shu paused his packing.

Fresh from the interrogation, Xie Wuchi remained sharp and lucid: “The Min army has been starved of provisions for seven days; the time is ripe. Tomorrow, I will sound the drums for our forces to march out of Yunzhou’s gates, launching a joint strike with the flanking reinforcements to shatter the Beimin army.”

“When the routing troops discard their weapons and flee, the enemy commanders’ attention will be diverted, allowing you to cross the border amid the chaos. I have already arranged people on that side; they will cross tonight to await you in advance.”

“You will not travel with Yuan Guan and Yuan He; rendezvous with them at the foot of Mount Meng once past the border defense. Once there, if you feel uncomfortable, return immediately.”

“This journey will last one month at most. Meet them once, and leave negotiating the specifics of joint operations to us.”

Hearing his methodical arrangements, Shi Shu gripped the bundle in his hands. Xie Wuchi looked through the garments, opened another compartment of the cabinet, pulled out a rolled pair of undergarments, and tucked them into the bag—precisely the pair Shi Shu hadn’t been able to find.

As for the dagger, Xie Wuchi found a leather strap, stepping close to lift Shi Shu’s hem: “Fasten it here.”

Strapping it around his thigh, Xie Wuchi demonstrated drawing it a few times for Shi Shu.

“This blade can be aimed at anyone.”

Shi Shu spoke: “Xie Wuchi.”

“When you return, tell me clearly what you did wrong by me,” Xie Wuchi said. “I want to know.”

Shi Shu: “I…”

Xie Wuchi: “The way you are stammering now makes me wonder if during that year and a half away from me, you slept with someone else.”

Shi Shu: “I didn’t.”

His messy hair was smoothed flat, like a child about to set off on a long journey having his bag, waterskin, and red scarf tidied by family. Xie Wuchi stood staring at him unblinkingly for a moment.

Shi Shu suddenly remembered something important: “Xie Wuchi, this is your third birthday here.”

“Yes.”

Shi Shu: “If I leave, does that mean I won’t be able to celebrate it with you?”

“It does not matter. Make it up to me when you return.”

Just as Shi Shu was about to reply, an uncomfortable tightness tugged at his thigh—it was that dagger again. Shi Shu unfastened the blade and placed it on the table. The craftsmanship was exquisite, but its timing made him deeply unsettled.

Staring at the dagger, a wave of restless agitation rose within him, impossible to describe. Shi Shu could only nod to Xie Wuchi: “I will definitely come back.”

Atop the ramparts of Yunzhou, massive war drums thundered, dust shaking from the drumskins.

Horns blared repeatedly, echoing through the clouds.

Beneath Yunzhou’s soaring walls tens of fathoms high, several armies collided like dark storm clouds churning before a tempest, grappling, swallowing, and routing. The Min forces could not hold; the battle had reached the moment to reap victory.

Dajing forces surged from the gates to challenge them, flanking reinforcements slamming into the lines, swift steeds scattering the enemy and tearing their formations apart.

Along the undulating battlements, banners bearing the character “Xie” snapped violently in the wind. At the highest point of the parapet, Xie Wuchi stood alongside Feng Zhongshan and numerous commanders, watching the Min forces flee in blind panic, casting aside armor and weapons as they scattered like clouds before a gale.

“My Lord! The Eastern Route Army reports victory!”

“The Western Route Army reports victory!”

“The garrison veterans report victory!”

“…”

Cry after cry resounded as the main host of the enemy routed in headlong retreat, while the pursuit of the victorious army pressed on, relentlessly grinding down the disorganized remnants.

Beyond the fierce clamor of slaughter below Yunzhou’s walls, along a secluded path through the dense forest outside the city, Shi Shu carried his pack through the overgrown mountain trails. An eagle’s cry sliced through the air above; Shi Shu looked up, his brown eyes and fair, handsome face gazing at the towering mountains and rivers dividing the two peoples.

“Second Young Master, once past this mountain lies the border. Sentries guard the checkpoints strictly, so we cannot escort you further. Please proceed alone,” a guard’s voice reminded him.

Shi Shu answered, sweat dripping along his fair chin, his vision snapping back into focus: “I understand.”

He had embarked on this path after all. Venturing alone into Min territory to verify intelligence and establish contact with rear-line forces, to reduce casualties, communicate, and convey goodwill… Yet the road ahead was uncertain, his future veiled. Gazing at the distant starlight, the trail beneath his feet was shrouded in mist, his steps stumbling as the political tides shifted treacherous and deep.

Shi Shu’s Adam’s apple bobbed; stepping onto the earth felt like treading on cotton.

“Hya!” Suddenly, several swift horses surged forward like lightning. Shi Shu and the guards turned their eyes to see tall warhorses galloping precipitously along the narrow mountain trail.

Shi Shu: “Xie Wuchi, why did you come?”

Dismounting, Xie Wuchi said, “I could not rest easy. I came to walk you a stretch of the way.”

A ripple stirred in Shi Shu’s chest: “I will make it back.”

Yet Xie Wuchi seemed to show traces of second thoughts, his expression far from pleased. At border checkpoints, groups of able-bodied men would inevitably be stopped and interrogated about their origins. A lone traveler, however, faced far less suspicion from Min patrols, as civilians lived their daily lives along the frontier.

Shi Shu would have to traverse a long stretch of the defense line alone.

The path was lush and green. Shi Shu stepped over wild grass, a stream murmuring beside him. Shi Shu said again: “I will be careful.”

Passing through the dense woods, the view opened up before them. Sure enough, with the routing Beimin forces scattering blindly or scrambling over roads elsewhere, Min troops had been dispatched to reinforce, leaving the watchtowers far less garrisoned. The route was quiet and desolate, with only scattered Min civilians passing by from time to time.

Glancing around, his palms sweating, Shi Shu prepared to step onto the post road ahead. Raising his hands, Xie Wuchi shed his luxurious outer robe, revealing an ordinary civilian tunic beneath: “I will walk you a bit further.”