UCTOOT CH125

Shi Shu had not seen Xie Wuchi in a long time. Knowing what he wanted, he was naturally willing to cooperate.

At first, Shi Shu felt a bit straight again. Only after Xie Wuchi kissed him for a while, letting him take in his familiar scent, did he curve right back.

Xie Wuchi’s sexual cravings only grew fiercer when he was worn out from labor.

Behind the folding screen, the view was blocked, keeping out the draft as well. Candlelight flickered, casting shadows against the bedposts. Shi Shu’s bare, pale back was exposed, gathered in his embrace as he was pressed inward over and over.

Shi Shu gritted his teeth to stifle any sound, clinging to Xie Wuchi’s neck. Each stroke drove deep, accompanied by slick, wet friction. A bronze glow illuminated the two entwined bodies.

Drained of all strength, Shi Shu was set down upon the mattress. Xie Wuchi asked him, “Are you hot?”

“Hot.”

Shi Shu nodded as heat flooded into him once more. Amid the rumpled bedding, Shi Shu’s back pressed against the bedrail, seated across his lap, rising and falling in rhythm. His voice grew hoarse, burying his head against Xie Wuchi’s shoulder, yielding entirely to the relentless assault.

Within the enclosed space of the bed hangings, they shifted through various positions. The air grew thick and heavy. Shi Shu bit down on the quilt, jostled forward with each impact only to be pulled back by the waist into his grip.

Shi Shu’s voice rasped to a whisper, subjected to his whims until dawn neared before finally being released.

Late autumn in the north was biting cold. There was no hot water in the barracks in the dead of night, but pouring some from the kettle, they washed themselves clean. Shi Shu was gathered back into his arms. Xie Wuchi was remarkably warm. Shi Shu reached out, touching his shoulder one moment, his ear the next. Xie Wuchi seemed truly spent; having exerted himself tonight, being stroked made him reflexively dip his head to kiss Shi Shu.

Shi Shu could not help smiling, falling asleep nestled in his chest.

Autumn temperatures plummeted swiftly.

Yong’an and Bufuzhou had been formally surrendered by King Zhouchi, a monumental matter entailing vast affairs of state and military logistics. Furthermore, while the event was masked on the surface as an accidental border skirmish that led to an early reclamation of territory, court debates were bound to rage. Perceptive officials would inevitably impeach him, and the Emperor would surely be furious, demanding his time and energy to manage.

Throughout the morning, a single excuse kept official business at bay: “The General drank heavily entertaining guests last night and remains asleep.” He focused entirely on sleeping in with Shi Shu.

Waking at noon, Shi Shu got up and dressed, instructing attendants to prepare a meal. Xie Wuchi was still sound asleep, his hair fanned out across the pillow. Sitting by the edge of the bed watching him, Shi Shu could not resist reaching out to stroke his face: “Sleeping beauty, why are you so good-looking even while asleep?”

Slipping his hand under the quilt, it was burning hot: “Winter is here, Xie Wuchi. Starting today, you have to warm my bed every night.”

Shi Shu stood up, but his calves ached, drawing a wincing hiss: “Damn, you’ve got some skill, making me ache all over.”

He had no choice but to sit back down, watching him sleep. He did not want to work, nor did he want to step outside. Maybe he was losing his mind, wanting nothing more than to just gaze at Xie Wuchi.

Shi Shu watched him for who knows how long until Xie Wuchi’s eyelashes fluttered. In a flash, Shi Shu tried to look away, but their eyes locked anyway.

Xie Wuchi: “You’ve been staring at me.”

Shi Shu acted stubborn: “What’s wrong with looking? We slept together last night, didn’t we?”

“Come here.”

“My body is cold…”

Xie Wuchi lifted the quilt. He was not wearing anything; one glance was all it took for Shi Shu to climb back into bed, letting the quilt cover his back once more.

Shi Shu curled under the blanket, hearing Xie Wuchi murmur, “Hands are cold too.” Then Shi Shu was gathered whole into his arms, his hands pressed against Xie’s abs, warmth seeping through bit by bit.

Cradled by a large hand resting against his hair, kisses peppered his ear, neck, and chin until his breath filled his senses again. Last night, that same breath had lingered in his ear throughout.

Shi Shu let him hold and kiss him, enjoying a brief moment of intimacy before lunch arrived outside. Xie Wuchi showing an intention to dine signaled the end of their world of two, and stacks of official paperwork were carted into the command tent.

Due to his bodily soreness, it was inconvenient for Shi Shu to step out. He spent the entire afternoon inside Xie Wuchi’s tent, watching him handle statecraft, receive bureaucrats, and deliver verdicts.

“My Lord, the moment King Zhouchi arrived last night, the decree-bearing eunuch, Eunuch Zhou, fled Yanzhou overnight in a cloud of dust.” Lin Yan looked anxious. “This subordinate suspects Eunuch Zhou feared Your Lordship harbored treacherous designs, and rushed back to impeach you before the Emperor’s Father-in-law and His Majesty. This…”

Xie Wuchi: “The innocent remain pure of their own accord. This commander will send a missive to explain to His Majesty.” Having stated that flatly, he added, “Among the frontier forces today, who among them does not look out solely for their own clan and livelihood? Civil officials seek only flattery, while military officers seek only to recruit troops and preserve strength. The border is inherently volatile and requires formidable military force to suppress. This commander has his own calculations.”

Lin Yan was a shrewd man: “Understood. It is merely that this subordinate fears His Majesty’s reprimand; please weigh the matter carefully, My Lord.”

Sitting beside Xie Wuchi in lazy disarray, Shi Shu secretly toyed with his official robe sash, winding and unwinding it around his fingers. Seeing him play, Xie Wuchi said nothing, continuing to review ledgers and converse with officials.

Shi Shu naturally understood Lin Yan’s underlying hint.

Years ago, when Dasheng, Chuituo, and Yong’an were occupied by the Min, countless lives were devastated and the tears of abandoned subjects ran dry. An inch of mountains and rivers could not be conceded; the loss of these three commanderies had become Dajing’s chronic wound. If the court wished to win the hearts of the people, it had to wave the banner of reclaiming these three commanderies and make grand political capital out of it.

Yet now, out of these three territories, both Dasheng and Yong’an had been reclaimed by Xie Wuchi.

The feat of reclaiming Dasheng had allowed him to return from exile as a convicted criminal, reinstated to high office at court. Adding to that, he had orchestrated the poisoning of the late Emperor on behalf of the Crown Prince, successfully elevating him to the throne and earning profound imperial favor. Zhao Shirui had fallen under Feng Zhongshan’s fatal impeachment, an outcome orchestrated by Xie Wuchi, who naturally inherited Zhao Shirui’s army to “train the new army.” From that point forward, his official career soared unstoppably.

The new army: elite heavy cavalry designed to counter Min riders.

Within two years, he established towering military merits in the Northern Army. In the battle of Yunzhou, the only rival border commander capable of checking him, Feng Zhongshan, saw his host of over a hundred thousand troops bled dry across three months of attrition against the Min, leaving Xie Wuchi as the sole titan with virtually no rivals.

By rights, the Emperor would already be on guard against him. Yet he went on to divide the Min clans, reclaim lost territories, and establish peerless glory, cementing his foundation even deeper.

Needless to say, the Emperor was bound to move against him now.

The only question was what method he would choose.

Lin Yan remarked with deft timing, “This subordinate has already instructed the scribes of the Policy Proclamation Bureau to record the Min king’s submission to Your Lordship, composing a hundred poems in praise, posting notices at the city gates for the populace, and submitting them to the Eastern Capital to highlight Your Lordship’s monumental toil.”

Xie Wuchi smiled faintly: “Keep it simple; there is no need for excessive fanfare. Serving the country and the people is merely one’s duty.”

“No need for excessive fanfare” translated directly to: make sure it is excessively publicized.

Dignified. Truly dignified.

Shi Shu took a sip of water.

Once Lin Yan departed, Shi Shu asked, “Are you a regressor? Why are you so familiar with this routine?”

Xie Wuchi: “My father’s family worked in politics. When I was abroad as a child, I wanted very much to see him. I didn’t get to, but I saw him on television; he happened to visit the country I was in as part of an official delegation.”

“…”

What even was that? Over his head.

Shi Shu: “What about your mother?”

“My mother’s family was in business.”

Xie Wuchi rarely mentioned modern life. Shi Shu yawned: “No point asking too much anyway; we’re stuck here for this lifetime.”

Still.

With Xie Wuchi’s professional, modern training in public opinion management, as expected, his colossal achievements would soon shake the entire Dajing dynasty, jolting corrupt officials feigning slumber and terrifying those with predatory ambitions.

In the afternoon, Du Zihan dropped by.

Hearing him arrive, Shi Shu poured a cup of tea and hobbled outside the tent with some difficulty.

Du Zihan: “Xiao Shu-bao, are we still heading to Li Family Village today? We promised to help them fix their roof.”

Shi Shu took a sip of tea: “Can’t go. See this? I’m drinking medicine. Caught a chill last night, so it’s inconvenient for me to leave for the next few days.”

Du Zihan: “Why is it that every time Brother Xie comes back, you catch a chill, but the moment he leaves, you’re totally fine?”

Shi Shu: “…”

Du Zihan: “Logically speaking, with someone warming your bed in the dead of winter, shouldn’t you be less prone to catching a cold?”

Shi Shu: “Tell you what: when you start dating someone in the future, I’ll ask you every single day too.”

Du Zihan: “…”

“I’m off, bro. Take care.”

Shi Shu watched him walk away. The tea had cooled, so he returned inside and set the cup on Xie Wuchi’s desk. Xie Wuchi remained immersed in the logistics of territorial handover, reviewing regional maps and population registers daily, holding councils, appointing officials, and reorganizing new cantonments.

He was occupied until late into the night before catching a moment of leisure. As the cold worsened, Xie Wuchi’s practical utility became increasingly obvious.

Sleeping cuddled against him in winter was exceptionally warm. What was more, he did not wear clothes to bed, making it cozy and comfortable. Shi Shu burrowed into his embrace and snored softly like a puppy.

Straight? Well, he certainly was not straight anymore. Might as well make the best of it.

Shi Shu slept beside him for three nights before word arrived: the Emperor’s Father-in-law’s army had halted in Xingu Prefecture and refused to advance into Yanzhou. Evidently, they feared that if Xie Wuchi truly intended rebellion, they would be pulverized by Northern Army heavy cavalry until not even their bones remained.

Xingu was Xie Wuchi’s stronghold, so they retreated over a hundred li further, withdrawing to Linjiang Prefecture to set up camp. Every day, they penned urgent dispatches attacking Xie Wuchi, firing impeachments off to the Eastern Capital like a blizzard of snowflakes.

The Eastern Capital was already shaken. The common people first heard ballads celebrating the reclamation of ancestral soil, only afterward hearing the Emperor’s decrees and rumors: the Northern Army harbored treacherous ambition.

Simultaneously, another narrative gained traction: rumors whispered that Xie Wuchi had originally been a lay monk at Xiangnan Temple, yet travelers inquiring throughout his supposed homeland found no locals who recognized him. Could he be a reincarnated deity born in a Buddhist monastery, sent to protect the rivers and mountains of Dajing?

Tales of gods and spirits spread the fastest.

“There’s also talk saying our Lord Xie has a seven-colored halo above his head and auspicious clouds beneath his feet, looking down upon the mortal world with the visage of an immortal!”

After clinging to Xie Wuchi for three days, Shi Shu headed out to the agricultural colonies. Following the return of Yong’an and Bufuzhou, waves of displaced loyalists returned to their ancestral lands, trade flourished, and the movement of travelers grew frequent.

A biting gale blew through the air, the weather growing steadily colder. White mist puffed from Shi Shu’s lips, his handsome face flushed red from the chill as he walked back to the main camp with Du Zihan. Along the road, they came across a merchant caravan from the Eastern Capital chatting at a roadside tea stall.

Dressed as ordinary peddlers with packhorses, donkeys, and mules, roaming travelers from all quarters sat resting, discussing current court affairs. Suddenly, a man drew a wooden plaque from his pouch, proclaiming proudly: “This is General Xie Wuchi’s living ancestral tablet. I specifically went to Xiangnan Temple to seek it, consecrated to bless and protect my family.”

Shi Shu had merely been passing by, but hearing this, he turned his head and felt his scalp tingle. Before him lay a black wooden tablet inscribed with cinnabar characters. Shi Shu: “A living tablet? Isn’t a spirit tablet for the dead?”

“Ah,” the traveler replied displeased, “little brother, you don’t understand. For the dead it’s an ancestral tablet, but for the living it’s a living tablet! In the Eastern Capital right now, households revere General Xie for blessings. It’s all the rage!”

Shi Shu: “There are even living shrines? Shrines for a living man?”

Du Zihan understood: “Holy shit, that stuff is creepy. What ordinary person dares erect a living shrine? It cuts your lifespan short.”

The traveler’s expression grew even more annoyed, arguing back: “A mortal of flesh and bone naturally cannot erect a living shrine, lest he shorten his life and die young! But when General Xie was at Xiangnan Temple, he was already an enlightened monk, a reincarnated Buddha. Why shouldn’t he receive incense while alive?”

Shi Shu: “…”

A living man, receiving incense?

Chilled, Shi Shu rubbed his hands together, looking at the plaque: “At night, isn’t it frightening?”

Meanwhile, thoughts raced in his head: why did Xie Wuchi head straight to a temple the moment he transmigrated back then? Had he been laying the groundwork for this from day one?

Shi Shu stole another glance at the wooden tablet and walked away, cheerful chatter continuing behind him. Returning to camp, normally Xie Wuchi would be swamped with administrative duties and banquets, not returning until late at night. Shi Shu felt hungry and was about to eat dinner alone in the late afternoon.

Unexpectedly, surrounded by a crowd at the camp gate, Xie Wuchi arrived clad in a crane cloak over bright brigandine armor. Walking with steady, upright strides, he had actually returned early, saying: “I have free time today. No staying in the barracks; we’re heading back to the city.”

Shi Shu’s eyes lit up: “Oh? For real?”

“Mm,” Xie Wuchi said. “Once back at the manor, I’ll cook a few dishes for you.”