UCTOOT CH67

Shi Shu: “How did you know?!”

“When we first met, you said your birthday was in February.”

“You remembered after I said it just once?”

Xie Wuchi: “Certain key pieces of information, I make a point of memorizing.”

Shi Shu: “Holy crap, that’s impressive. I thought you had precognition or something.”

In truth, Shi Shu rarely remembered his own birthday; he would forget. But when the day arrived, Ms. Bo Mo would place a steaming bowl of longevity noodles before him, take him out for fun, and buy him things, so there was no need to keep track at all.

Shi Shu: “Oh, looks like there are still a few days left, hasn’t arrived yet. What about your birthday? Don’t keep quiet, you’re on guard against me, aren’t you?”

Xie Wuchi paused, then said, “August.”

“August?” Shi Shu trod over the crunching snow. “That was around the time we met last year. Why did you spend your birthday in secret without telling me?”

Xie Wuchi: “We were together the entire time. Did you see me celebrate it?”

“…”

Last August, Xie Wuchi had been locked inside the Censorate dungeons engaged in a lethal gamble; win, and he entered the imperial court as a commoner in white robes; lose, and his head rolled. Realization dawned upon Shi Shu as he smiled up at him: “With your keen sense of time, you surely remembered it was your birthday. Remembering it while stuck in a dungeon, that must have felt pretty lonely.”

Turning his face, Xie Wuchi said flatly, “I do not care.”

“You don’t care? You really are stubborn to the bone.”

It seemed no hardship could truly shake him.

“Fine then,” Shi Shu scraped the slush from his boots, recalling the drama left unfinished that afternoon. “How did things turn out between Zhao Shirui and Feng Kuizhi? What came of their fight?”

“They went to the military headquarters garrisoned in Yunzhou to settle it before Feng Zhongshan.”

Shi Shu still didn’t understand: “Why such fierce fury?”

“A struggle for power. The day you realize the friend who shared your days and nights has become your greatest rival in ambition, the friendship forged through fighting shoulder-to-shoulder begins to twist and rot,” Xie Wuchi seemed amused, a faint smile touching his lips, “until every trace of sentiment vanishes, leaving only the pursuit of power.”

A chill crept up Shi Shu’s spine. Stepping across the snow as he heard those words, he turned to stare at him.

Was Xie Wuchi hinting at something deeper? His tone felt unnervingly sinister.

There was still some distance to Senzhou. The three walked slowly through the snow as dusk descended. Shi Shu pulled Zihan over from where he was hiding to the side, slinging an arm across his shoulder: “What’s the feud between them? Tell us, something to pass the time on the road.”

Xie Wuchi glanced at their touching hands, then turned his eyes away: “Over twenty years ago, the Min vassals under Dajing rebelled. Their leader, Yuanger, possessed peerless genius, leading the Min clansmen to swiftly overrun Chuituo, Dasheng, and Yong’an. Beneath their iron hooves, everyone trembled, and the Son of Heaven even contemplated fleeing the Eastern Capital. The Zhao and Feng clans were families who had guarded the frontier for generations. Zhao Shirui’s father, Zhao Heng, fought bathed in blood, only to be defeated and killed during the counteroffensive at the Tea River.”

Shi Shu recalled the jagged scar across Zhao Shirui’s face: “Him?”

Xie Wuchi brushed the snow from his sleeves: “Yes. The scar on his face came from wounds slashed open by enemy blades back then. Zhao Heng was originally the most revered general among the frontier forces. Following his death, the imperial forces collapsed like a landslide, losing all will to wage war. That was when Feng Zhongshan stepped forward with a proposal: demarcate the border along the Tea River and cede territory to negotiate peace.”

Shi Shu faintly sensed something wrong: “Why not hold out, why sue for peace?”

Du Zihan plucked up the courage to chime in: “That could only buy temporary peace, right?”

“Mm. You both witnessed it that day. Emboldened by their own martial might, the Min frequently cross the Tea River to wreak havoc, butcher surviving subjects, while Dajing soldiers are strictly forbidden from crossing the river to ignite border conflicts, forced to watch helplessly while they slaughter people.”

“H-How could anyone stomach that? No wonder…”

Shi Shu muttered inwardly: No wonder Song Sinan and his men cursed whenever Feng Zhongshan’s name came up. Suing for peace, trading it for twenty years of kneeling as subservient cowards.

Xie Wuchi nodded slowly, saying, “Feng Zhongshan also relied on this proposal to broker terms with the Min, becoming the first man in Dajing to be enfeoffed as a military governor during his lifetime at the age of forty.”

What kind of post was a military governor? Holding command over military, civil, and fiscal powers across multiple prefectures, no less than a supreme provincial viceroy of later eras.

Shi Shu pressed his lips together, speaking from instinct: “A military governor born from suing for peace. Zihan, what do you say?”

Du Zihan: “Hard to say, but in novels, that type is usually the villain.”

Walking forward into the biting wind and snow, Xie Wuchi continued: “Mm. Zhao Heng died in battle, Feng Zhongshan sued for peace, and Zhao Shirui grew up under Feng Zhongshan’s wing, constantly tempered within the border ranks. Twenty years have passed, and Feng Zhongshan has grown decrepit with age. The mantle of authority is poised to shift, and the pillars of the border army must now become this new generation of rising hawks. Feng Kuizhi and Zhao Shirui are the strongest contenders to lead the border forces next.”

Shi Shu realized: “Power, power, power. Fighting all over again, aren’t they?”

Shi Shu thought of something: “Could Feng Kuizhi have deliberately taken Senzhou’s grain conduit just to flaunt his authority? Because of their rivalry, a bunch of people were whipped, and a male favorite was conscripted…”

Shi Shu kicked at the snow. With Senzhou’s gates right ahead, hearing no reply, he looked back to see Xie Wuchi lost in thought.

“What are you thinking about, Xie Wuchi?”

Shi Shu always felt that ever since arriving in Senzhou, Xie Wuchi had been plotting something, and had been for quite some time.

“I was thinking about how the ‘new’ might supplant the ‘old.'”

Shi Shu failed to watch his footing and suddenly tripped on flat ground, scrambling up clumsily. From behind, Xie Wuchi’s hands caught him: “Are you alright?”

Shi Shu registered the heat of those hands: “How did you pick up on Zhao Shirui and Feng Kuizhi fighting over this right after getting here?”

Brushing the snow clean from his clothes, Xie Wuchi checked him over carefully before straightening up: “This is the progression of human advancement. The old faction ages, yet clutches vast power refusing to let go; the new faction has long matured, demanding room to spread its wings. Thus the ‘new’ and the ‘old’ clash and vie, only to turn into the next ‘old’ while giving birth to a newer ‘new.’ Because of differing interests, everyone consciously or unconsciously aligns with either the ‘new’ or the ‘old.’ No one escapes this rule.”

Power.

Having spoken in a quiet murmur, Xie Wuchi looked up: “Not even merely power. Human civilization advances through such struggles as well.”

The hair at Shi Shu’s temples blew aside in the wind, his fair complexion marked by a nose flushed red from the chill. Silently taking in those words, he took a while to squeeze out a reply: “It’s just that too many casualties get cast aside along the way.”

Conversing along the way, they arrived at the courtyard.

Exhausted all over, the moment Shi Shu stepped through the door he collapsed onto a chair, pondering how much longer this borderland life would last. Would he spend every day reporting for corvée labor, returning through wind and snow? Or would things improve once winter passed?

The cook hired to prepare their meals was a relative of a local military household. Having finished her work, she barred the gate and left.

With Du Zihan joining them, the dynamic among the three shifted. Where Shi Shu used to keep Xie Wuchi company while he wrote in his journal, now that Du Zihan was here, Shi Shu would check on the kittens with him, rummage through the woodshed for cats, discuss what to eat tomorrow, or fool around.

Shifting from a bipolar dynamic to one superpower alongside rising players.

Not that he avoided Xie Wuchi; Shi Shu still went to him, but trivial matters no longer required his presence.

Having finished eating, Shi Shu whispered sneakily to Du Zihan: “Come on, let’s go check on the kittens.”

Barely had Shi Shu finished speaking when an arm suddenly encircled him from behind. Before he could even cry out, he was lifted clean off the ground by Xie Wuchi: “Ah! Save me! Zihan, save me!”

Du Zihan: “M-Me?”

Shi Shu was carried through the doorway, the door shutting behind them. Hauled all the way inside, a dim lamp burned where Xie Wuchi’s letter sat half-written.

Deposited onto a small stool to the side, Xie Wuchi said: “Sit properly, keep me company.”

Shi Shu: “…”

Shi Shu said in all seriousness: “Ge, do you think you’re respecting my freedom?”

“Once I finish writing, I will go with you to see the kittens.”

Shi Shu wanted to roast him, the words sticking in his throat: “Xie Wuchi, you are being far too domineering and unreasonable. I am not your property. I have personal freedom and the right to hang out with whomever I want, hmph.”

Xie Wuchi paused his brush: “Understood. Sit there and do not move.”

“…………”

“I will be with you shortly.”

Shi Shu: “I don’t need your company.”

Bored out of his mind, Shi Shu hopped up from the stool to sit on the edge of the desk, reaching over to fiddle with the drafted parchment, only then noticing: “You are still in contact with the Prince?”

“He is no longer the Prince; he has been enfeoffed as the King of Han. Yes, of course I remain in touch with him.”

Shi Shu picked up the letter to look: “What is this for?”

Xie Wuchi let him inspect the correspondence without stopping him: “The border army naturally maintains contact with court officials. There is nothing strange about me corresponding with the King of Han.”

Shi Shu could read it, but lacked the patience. Catching fragments like ‘Zhao Shirui… rift with Feng Kuizhi… hawkish faction…’, he simply asked: “Read it to me.”

Taking the letter back, Xie Wuchi said: “Zhao Shirui and Feng Kuizhi are at odds. Zhao Shirui holds a hawkish stance regarding Dajing and Min relations.”

Shi Shu finally caught on: “Why does the Prince need to know this?”

“He must decide whether to advocate for war or peace as well. Yet the spoils of the dovish faction were carved up long ago; in all likelihood, he will back the pro-war side.” Xie Wuchi sealed the letter with melted wax and placed it upon the desk, soon to be dispatched back to the Eastern Capital.

Shi Shu’s legs swung restlessly over the edge: “Xie Wuchi, you aren’t living out some pitiful exile at all. You have a whole mountain of schemes going on, don’t you?”

“Mm.”

Barely had the word landed when Shi Shu’s knee accidentally brushed against his robe. He said: “Sorry, didn’t mean to.”

No sooner had he spoken than Shi Shu’s leg was grabbed and pulled forward. “Whoa, whoa, whoa?!” Before he could finish yelping, his whole body was pulled flush into his chest, leaving his hands nowhere to anchor except Xie Wuchi’s shoulders.

Shadows fell before his eyes as Xie Wuchi’s kiss landed upon his lips, soft and warm. Amid the dim, flickering lamplight, he kissed him for a lingering moment, one hand stroking Shi Shu’s earlobe with tender intimacy.

Shi Shu tilted his head up, wiping the corner of his lips.

Why did it feel like he had skipped straight into a honeymoon dating phase with Xie Wuchi?

Is this what it’s like when other people date?!

Shi Shu thought: Hold on, ge.

While Shi Shu tried to process it, Xie Wuchi said: “Let us go see the kittens.”

“…”

Baffled, Shi Shu hopped down from the desk, his hand immediately taken by Xie Wuchi. Halting at first, it gradually shifted into interlocked fingers, their scalding palms clasped tightly together.

The voice of bewilderment in his mind grew louder and louder.

Huh?

Shi Shu had never held hands with anyone before, though his parents occasionally held hands while strolling. Held by Xie Wuchi like this as they walked outside, according to Shi Shu’s memory, they had held hands before, but never with fingers tightly entwined like this.

The gale outside lashed at the door with shrill howls. Stumbling slightly, Shi Shu crouched beside the wooden box of kittens, still carrying residual warmth from the fire.

Shi Shu reached in to scoop up the tiny dumplings, cradling them in his palms. He couldn’t shake the feeling that this looked remarkably like a married couple enjoying a tranquil moment at home after a long day of labor.

Xie Wuchi didn’t touch the cats. Smoothing his lapels, he crouched down, his features refined and upright, tilting his head to watch Shi Shu tease the kittens. Shi Shu had been having fun blowing at the kittens, booping their heads, and squeezing their paws, but the longer Xie Wuchi watched him, the stiffer his movements became, until he couldn’t keep playing and tucked them back into the box.

“…”

Xie Wuchi: “Had your fill of watching?”

“Ah, hahaha.”

Letting out dry laughter, Shi Shu was thoroughly perplexed: When did Xie Wuchi become so gentle and clingy? His gaze no longer felt like looking at a dog, and he was even willing to spend time keeping someone company. What was that supposed to mean? Did he really fall for me? Come on, xiongdi, what is this?

Likes me? Evidence supporting this suspicion mounted higher and higher. Shi Shu stared at the little furballs tumbling inside the box, so tiny, one piling atop another, while Laifu kept vigilant watch to the side, picking up whichever scrambled out and dropping it back inside.

Growing up, Shi Shu never lacked admirers. Once he found out, he would distance himself to avoid the nightmare of being dragged to the teachers’ office together. Especially since his aunts and uncles were all teachers; one could hardly imagine what kind of monitored life he had lived.

This was truly the very first time he had to face someone’s feelings head-on.

Shi Shu sighed, standing up: “Time to sleep. We’ll play tomorrow, still have a pile of work to do. Goodnight.”

Xie Wuchi: “Wait.”

Wait for what? Time to bolt!

Shi Shu dashed toward his room without looking back. Just as he pulled the latch, a hand slipped between the crack of the door. Before Shi Shu could widen his eyes to resist, Xie Wuchi stepped inside.

Moonlight reflecting off the snowy ground spilled into the room, a faint, cool blue-white sheen. In this pale glow, Xie Wuchi caught his collar, letting the fabric slide off one shoulder to reveal smooth, mature skin.

Shi Shu’s peach-blossom eyes went wide: “What are you doing? Hey, Xie Wuchi, what are you doing, don’t be like this!”

Shi Shu pulled Xie Wuchi’s robe back up, straightening his collar: “Don’t strip, don’t strip, people will really get the wrong idea about us.”

Lowering his eyes, Xie Wuchi smiled faintly: “If they get the wrong idea, then let them.”

“No, don’t be like this.”

Xie Wuchi: “I do not wish to sleep alone.”

Shi Shu: “Huh?”

“I will have nightmares.”

“What?”

Xie Wuchi actually has nightmares? Come on, you have quite a bag of tricks. If it were anyone else, Shi Shu might have bought it, but coming from Xie Wuchi, what on earth is a 190-centimeter-tall man talking about?

Xie Wuchi: “I do not know why, but lately I keep dreaming at night, dreaming of… the past. Perhaps staying idle in Senzhou brings it on.”

Shi Shu: “Was something bad about your past?”

“Not very good.”

Unable to tell whether it was a lie or not, but with him putting it that way, Shi Shu’s grip on the door softened: “Xie Wuchi, you really…”

He didn’t truly mind sleeping together, treating him like a giant stuffed teddy bear would suffice, and Xie Wuchi was very warm, at least holding him kept the chill away. Shi Shu set three ground rules first: “No stripping off clothes, no taking off pants, and keep your hands to yourself.”

Just as Shi Shu lay down on the bed, weight pressed beside him. He was indeed wearing clothes, but gradually Shi Shu’s eyes widened.

“No stripping! I said no stripping!”

Shi Shu’s eyes reflected the canopy above, pinned down by the body pressing over him as lips kissed his mouth.

Shi Shu’s scalp went numb. Bracing his forearms against the mattress to push back, he was kissed on the tip of his lips again. I’m done for, Xie Wuchi definitely likes me.

Shi Shu had no words. Staring at the dark hair tumbling before his eyes and the kisses brushing his nose, he inexplicably thought that if he kept staying with Xie Wuchi like this, maybe one day in the future they would go all the way, maybe he’d even end up getting fucked by Xie Wuchi.

By then, they might just default to being together.

Thinking to this point, he didn’t even feel particular revulsion toward that outcome. Though he wasn’t eagerly anticipating it, if that day truly came, he might still just keep living alongside him.

What was this? A disguised form of dating? Whatever.

Thinking and thinking, drowsiness overtook Shi Shu, and he closed his eyes.

***

When Shi Shu woke up, the wind and snow outside had not stopped yet. Occasionally, waking up to the sight of another man right before his eyes would give him a start, taking a few seconds before he remembered what was going on.

Xie Wuchi was awake as well, sitting in bed putting on his clothes. It had to be said that even in ancient times, Xie Wuchi had impeccable taste when finding a tailor to make garments, always dressing in a way that looked remarkably poised and striking.

Shi Shu watched him closely. Xie Wuchi was currently pinning up his hair with a wooden hairpin, his features exceedingly handsome.

Looking this handsome, sleeping with him isn’t really a loss either.

Shi Shu turned around and walked out the door. Du Zihan was awake too, currently sweeping the accumulated snow in the courtyard. Due to the shift in his mindset regarding Xie Wuchi, Shi Shu looked at Du Zihan, briefly imagining whether there was any possibility of dating him.

Du Zihan turned his head, saying excitedly, “Holy crap! The snowman I built last night is still here!”

Shi Shu walked over, kicking aside the loose snow nearby. Better forget about Du Zihan.

Shi Shu crouched down to pack snow onto the snowman, blowing warm breath over his chilled fingertips, only to hear Du Zihan’s voice a moment later: “Holy shit.”

“What is it?” Shi Shu turned around.

“…”

Xie Wuchi was dressed in blue satin, his outer crane cloak embroidered with flowing cloud patterns, carrying an extraordinarily poised and noble grace in the snow. Standing against the white snowy backdrop, he looked remarkably aristocratic.

Du Zihan: “My ge usually looks like he’s walking a fashion runway whenever he steps outside.”

Shi Shu turned his face away, an inexplicable pause in his heart: “Leave your ge alone.”

Just because he had praised him saying that robe looked nice, he wore it a few more times. Thinking about it closely, Shi Shu couldn’t suppress a smile. How amusing.

“What are we doing today?”

Xie Wuchi answered, “Going to the refugee camp to summon a few people for questioning.”

Shi Shu: “I’ll go along with you to take a look.”

The northern gale howled, snapping battle banners in the wind.

Dense yellow clouds hung heavy beneath the dome of the sky. Standing atop the gate towers along the city walls, sentry posts were stationed at regular intervals, their iron armor frozen stiff by the ice and snow, yet they still stood upright and rigid.

Today was Shi Shu’s first time entering the Senzhou military camp. In the distance stood the towering camp gates, planted with a massive banner emblazoned with the surname “Zhao” flapping vigorously in the wind. Beneath the banner stood soldiers poised in rigid formation, while columns of spearmen marched past from time to time, holding long lances.

The military discipline was solemn and imposing. Even with tens of thousands of troops stationed in Senzhou, the camp was completely silent, with no one daring to make a sound.

Shi Shu looked left and right, sighing inwardly: “Such a tight, disciplined military formation…”

Walking into a command tent together, Xie Wuchi sat down. Before long, newly arrived refugees and commanders from the Qiu Army were brought in one after another, waiting to be questioned, while brushes, ink, paper, and inkstone were piled before Xie Wuchi.

The person summoned was a young man. Xie Wuchi asked him, “Where did you come from?”

The man said, “This humble one came from Little Zhou Village, She County, across the Tea River.”

Xie Wuchi: “How did you escape the defense line set up by the Beimin? Where are the Min garrison positions located, and how much do you remember of the terrain and maps north of the Tea River?”

“This humble one remembers part of it. Someone from my maternal uncle’s family led our escape back. In his youth, he ran with the horse caravans and knows the terrain up there inside out. How about summoning my maternal uncle to ask about the routes?”

Xie Wuchi: “Bring them all in.”

Sitting beside Xie Wuchi, Shi Shu listened to the people inside the tent chattering at once, recalling their southward escape routes, saying from time to time, “I remember Chen Village had a garrison,” “Did it? Why do I remember it was Liu Village, garrisoned by several thousand men!” “Once you enter, soldiers patrol back and forth, and if they spot you, they interrogate you,” “Scared the life out of me, whenever I think of the day we fled back, walking a hundred li.”

Shi Shu wasn’t very clear on the meaning of a “defense line” and such, until a clear map was drawn across the paper.

Xie Wuchi: “There are garrisons along the entire bank of the Tea River to prevent sudden enemy assaults and organize responsive forces. A defense line consists of garrisons stationed according to geographic positions, meant to coordinate and defend territory, relaying alerts to surrounding units in emergencies to converge and encircle the enemy.”

Shi Shu pondered: “I get it! If you know where the enemy garrisons are, bypass them, and you can launch surprise raids from time to time?”

Xie Wuchi smiled faintly: “Indeed. Those are unorthodox forces, alongside orthodox forces. The unorthodox and orthodox mutually generate one another.”

“That is why this is a secret. Part of the reason the Beimin forbid refugees from fleeing south is fear of leaking intelligence. Dasheng Prefecture has been occupied for over twenty years, and the old maps are long obsolete. Questioning these newly returned refugees might reveal the Beimin garrison locations, as well as their critical grain routes and wagon paths. Of course, we must remain vigilant against spies.”

Ripples stirred in Shi Shu’s heart: “So that was it. For these commoners to slip past layer upon layer of blockades and return to their homeland, they are truly remarkable.”

Not only fleeing back to their ancestral land, but also supplying intelligence to the military.

Shi Shu looked at the map. Xie Wuchi questioned the refugees, supplementing and completing the map across the Tea River bit by bit. With many more refugees waiting to be questioned, Shi Shu found sitting there a bit stifling, so he stepped outside to catch some fresh air.

A world of ice and snow, biting cold invading, deep winter had arrived. Shi Shu jogged a few paces to warm up, when unexpectedly, his shoulder was patted lightly from behind.

“Xie Shishu!”

Shi Shu turned around to see a bright, cheerful smiling face.

“Song Sinan, what a coincidence.” Shi Shu looked closer; not just him, but other soldiers stood beside him, seemingly all escorts of the Qiu Army.

Song Sinan asked with a smile, “How come you came to General Zhao’s military camp?”

Shi Shu: “I came with my ge. Why are you here? Isn’t the Qiu Army stationed elsewhere?”

Song Sinan: “I came with my ge too.”

Not far away stood a dark-complexioned, handsome, and resolute man, appearing to have military intelligence to report. Shi Shu could only make out a remarkably rugged silhouette standing in the wind. He couldn’t help raising a brow: “Your ge is busy, and my ge is busy too. What should we do then?”

“No idea. We were wondering how to pass the time too. This training ground is wide open. Want to practice some wrestling? Build up strength and health.”

“…”

Shi Shu: “In the dead of winter, I’ll watch you guys first. I’ll join later.”

“Sure! We’re in the army now; how can we manage without a strong physique? Watch us! All of you, have a match!” Song Sinan evidently had organizing skills, quickly directing several young guards, saying, “Come on! The winner gets an extra bowl of meat when we head back tonight!”

Shi Shu couldn’t help laughing, narrowing his eyes. They were all youths; in the army they had their army ways of having fun, just as the wealthy had their own pleasures.

“Damn! Throw him! Ram him with your head!”

“To the left, hook his leg!”

“Pin him down a bit longer and you win!”

“…”

Too thrilling!

Shi Shu couldn’t hold back: “I’ll go too! Who wants to take me on?”

Song Sinan said, “I can’t wrestle with you, I still have injuries on me. Pick one yourself.”

“I get to pick?” It wasn’t polite for Shi Shu to pick the tallest, nor was it fair to pick the scrawniest, so he picked someone right in the middle, saying, “I haven’t trained in this, disclaimer first! I can race you in running, but wrestling is just for fun!”

“Sure, sure, sure, we all get it.”

Shi Shu turned his head: “Zihan, what about you?”

Du Zihan: “Uh, I’m a scholar, I’ll pass on this.” Having spoken, he couldn’t hold in his laughter, crouching down onto the snow.

The voices of the youths soared across the open grounds.

Xie Wuchi was tracing the ravines and mountains onto the map. Hearing the commotion, he stood up and lifted the curtain at the entrance.

And then he saw Shi Shu get flung flying through the air by a burly man with a swift whoosh, followed by Shi Shu laughing and rolling across the snow: “Damn! Holy shit! What did you guys grow up eating? Why are you all so ridiculously strong?”

Amid numerous smiling faces across the snow, Xie Wuchi watched quietly, his expression not exactly cold, yet holding no warmth either.

Not far off, Song Sigui returned from reporting military intelligence, barking a reprimand: “Clamoring and shouting here, look where you are! Making fools of yourselves, move out already!”

Song Sinan quickly shut his mouth, saying, “We’re taking off.”

Shi Shu: “Ah? So soon.”

Shi Shu braced his hands against the snow, sitting lazily, reaching up to brush out snowflakes caught in his hair.

Song Sinan pulled something from his robe: “A gift for you. Until next time.”

Catching it in his hands, Shi Shu realized it was a length of cordage bound with bits of iron wire, the knots intricately tied, a weapon of their own invention.

“Using this thing to bind anything makes it exceptionally tight. We’re heading back to the Qiu Army camp first. See you next time!”

Holding the gift, Shi Shu stood up: “See you next time!”

Shi Shu had initially reined in his smile, shaking the snow from his clothes, but the next moment upon spotting Xie Wuchi, his eyes curved into crinkles again: “Did you see that just now?”

Xie Wuchi walked over, helping him brush through his hair: “I saw.”

Shi Shu: “They’re pretty fun, it’s just that I haven’t trained in it, so I lost. If I had trained and honed my skills a bit more, I would definitely win.”

Du Zihan said, “Mm, hone your skills.”

Not knowing what Xie Wuchi was thinking, appearing somewhat absentminded, he plucked snowflakes from Shi Shu’s face flake by flake: “Alright, let’s go home, guai bao.”

Hearing this term of address, Du Zihan looked up at the sky in sheer despair, and Shi Shu’s heart gave a violent jolt as well. Inwardly wanting to facepalm: Xie Wuchi, you truly are…

On the surface, Shi Shu pretended not to hear, but finding it impossible to keep up the act: “Xie Wuchi, mind yourself!”

Lowering his head in thought, Xie Wuchi watched him in silence for a moment, then shifted his gaze toward the group walking away into the wind and snow.