Xiao Rong smiled again. If Yu Shaoxie were here, he’d recognize it as the same expression Xiao Rong had shown him that afternoon. “You can’t answer, but I know. Because you’re used to it. The battlefield is your personal domain. Anyone who isn’t your enemy is your burden. You charge ahead recklessly because you don’t care about your own life.”

Xiao Rong stepped closer, narrowing the distance between them. In a soft but deadly serious voice, he asked, “Then what am I? If all I care about is your life — then how ridiculous do you think I look?”

Qu Yunmie’s eyes turned bloodshot. He stared at Xiao Rong, unable to speak a word.

—— Clang.

—— Crash!

Outside the tent, Jian Qiao nearly strangled Zhang Biezhi. “Put those damn chopsticks down!!”

Zhang Biezhi, aggrieved and scared, shoved them in his chest to make sure they’d never fall again. Then he nodded resolutely to the others.

Everyone: “…”

Zhang Biezhi had truly earned every scolding he ever got.

They all anxiously looked back at the silent tent — but heard nothing.

Inside, both Xiao Rong and Qu Yunmie heard the sound. Xiao Rong guessed someone was eavesdropping but lowered his eyes and ignored it. Qu Yunmie, however, couldn’t think of anything else anymore.

He opened his mouth, then again — and finally said, “I didn’t… not care…”

He had so many things to do now. He knew someone was waiting for him in Chenliu. He had even… even felt regret after being shot!

He didn’t care, no!

Those words felt so pale. He said he did care—yet what did he do? The moment he got angry, he ignored everything. Not only did he disregard Xiao Rong, he even forgot himself, even his own mother. He jumped easily into the enemy’s trap, forgetting the living and the dead alike. He became a killing machine, yet forgot he wasn’t a machine—he was human…

–and humans die.

Qu Yunmie could no longer explain himself. His throat clogged up, his body still ached badly, and his heart hurt even more. Regret surged in again, sharp and overwhelming, making him involuntarily close his eyes.

In a hoarse voice, he said, “I was wrong.”

“I was wrong…”

“I know I was wrong, A’Rong. I won’t make the same mistake again.”

Xiao Rong pressed his lips together but only gently shook his head at Qu Yunmie. “I’m not you. I learn my lesson after suffering once. I was also wrong, and I truly won’t make the same mistake again.”

Qu Yunmie heard these words, and his body felt as if it was on the verge of collapsing. He felt abandoned—not by Xiao Rong, but by everything. His eyes turned red as he looked at Xiao Rong, but Xiao Rong no longer looked at him. He simply stared at the shadow on the ground, stretched by the lantern light, and forced out the words, “Your Majesty, take care. Please rest well for the next few days. Once Your Majesty is healed, we still need to settle our accounts with the Xianbei.”

Xiao Rong silently waited. He knew Qu Yunmie well, but not completely. At this moment, he guessed Qu Yunmie might try to stall, and be unwilling to leave—Xiao Rong already prepared to deal with that.

However, Qu Yunmie didn’t cling. He stared at Xiao Rong for a long time, realized that Xiao Rong truly no longer softened toward him—so Qu Yunmie turned around, dazed and aimless, and walked out.

What he didn’t know was that the moment he turned around, Xiao Rong had already lifted his head. He watched as Qu Yunmie took those stiff steps, and saw how Qu Yunmie raised his trembling hands.

Xiao Rong kept watching until he couldn’t see him anymore.

Then he collapsed back onto the mat like he had no strength left. The food beside him had long gone cold, but it didn’t matter—Xiao Rong couldn’t eat anything now. He, too, began to repeat to himself stubbornly, like Qu Yunmie once did.

“I wasn’t wrong. I really wasn’t wrong.”

…

Inside the tent, the conversation had been fragmented. The few people waiting outside hadn’t heard much, but from the context, they figured out what was going on.

The five of them stood awkwardly in a row, like candied hawthorn skewers, and Qu Yunmie walked past them without the slightest reaction.

Zhang Biezhi didn’t even dare breathe loudly. He silently watched Qu Yunmie leave, and for some reason, he suddenly felt a wave of sadness.

This was someone else’s matter—and more specifically, the business of the King he had never really cared about, so that sorrow passed quickly. He returned to normal and whispered to Jian Qiao beside him, “Did the King’s poisoning affect his eyesight? Or maybe his brain?”

Jian Qiao: “…”

He slowly turned his head. 

What saved Zhang Biezhi from a punch was a sentence from Gao Xunzhi. “Jian Qiao, tonight you’ll watch over the King.”

Jian Qiao clenched his fist, then gave a muffled reply. Before he left, he vengefully bumped Zhang Biezhi’s shoulder, making him grimace but not dare to yelp.

Afterward, Gao Xunzhi stepped toward Xiao Rong’s tent. Yu Shaoxie’s heart tightened, and he suddenly called out, “Chancellor!”

He didn’t call him ‘Mister Gao,’ but ‘Chancellor’—a title Xiao Rong preferred. Gao Xunzhi turned back and gave Yu Shaoxie a reassuring smile.

“Don’t worry.”

Yu Shaoxie indeed stopped in his tracks and didn’t try to block him anymore, but he watched Gao Xunzhi walk in with growing concern, until he could see nothing. Then he lowered his head in disappointment.

At that moment, Yu Shaocheng walked up beside him. Yu Shaoxie looked up at his younger brother, now grown into a man. “Why do I feel afraid?”

Yu Shaocheng replied, “Because you care too much about them.”

…

The crowd outside gradually dispersed. Inside the tent, Gao Xunzhi and Xiao Rong sat across from each other. Xiao Rong hugged his knees, no longer looking like he did in front of Qu Yunmie.

He said to Gao Xunzhi, “I wasn’t wrong.”

Gao Xunzhi nodded. “You really weren’t wrong.”

Xiao Rong’s expression shifted from stubborn to blank confusion. He couldn’t understand.

“Then why do I still feel so awful?”

Gao Xunzhi opened his mouth as if wanting to say something else—but in the end, he gave Xiao Rong only five words: “I don’t know either.”

Xiao Rong looked at him, pressed his lips together, and after a while, said, “Prime Minister, about what happened to me during the Mid-Autumn banquet—can you not tell the King?”

Gao Xunzhi was stunned. “You want to hide it from him? But A’Rong, this can’t be hidden.”

Too many people knew, and it was too outrageous. Besides, everyone knew—except Qu Yunmie. That didn’t seem fair.

Xiao Rong lowered his head. “If I can hide it for only a while, then so be it.”

Gao Xunzhi looked at him with a complicated expression. “At most, you can hide it until we return to Chenliu.”

Xiao Rong nodded. “That’s fine.”

Gao Xunzhi didn’t understand. “Why? If the King knew what you went through, then he could—”

Xiao Rong suddenly interrupted him. “No need.”

Gao Xunzhi froze. In that moment, Xiao Rong seemed to return to how he had been during the journey. He looked at Gao Xunzhi, word by word, his tone like a warning—though who he was warning, no one could tell.

“I don’t need his pity.”

…

Gao Xunzhi stared at Xiao Rong. His gaze made Xiao Rong frown—and that was exactly the sympathy Xiao Rong didn’t want.

He lowered his eyes and said to Gao Xunzhi, “Chancellor, go check on the King.”

Before Gao Xunzhi could ask why, Xiao Rong told him, “The King’s injuries might have worsened again.”

Gao Xunzhi froze, then immediately got up. Before he left the tent, he couldn’t help looking back and said, “You’re not the only one torn between two sides. Take his mistake as your lesson, A’Rong.”

Once he left, Xiao Rong felt a dull pain in his head. He slowly closed his eyes.

He wasn’t torn. From beginning to end, he only ever wanted to do one thing.

….

On the other side, Qu Yunmie indeed started burning up again. He lay on the bed, looking even more lifeless than during the day.

Jian Qiao summoned the physician, who prescribed two formulas. Aghusejia also came after hearing. Thankfully, the fever wasn’t severe—it seemed like normal post-injury fluctuation. What was worse was a wound on his abdomen, which had somehow torn open again, and badly so.

Aghusejia watched as the doctor dressed the wound. Qu Yunmie lay motionless, completely unresponsive.

A while later, Gao Xunzhi arrived. The two exchanged glances, and Gao Xunzhi shook his head at her.

She didn’t understand what he meant, but she could roughly guess—something had gone wrong again. Judging by Qu Yunmie’s state, it likely had to do with Xiao Rong.

After all the fuss, everyone left. Aghusejia finally sat beside Qu Yunmie and asked in her usual calm voice, “What happened?”

Qu Yunmie’s eyes shifted slightly. He looked at her for a long time before answering, “I did something wrong, Old Lady. He really hates me now.”

After a moment of silence, Aghusejia said, “Hate… is a terrifying word. I don’t know why you’re so sure. Even if he really does hate you, you should know—his hate isn’t like others’.”

Qu Yunmie knew, but he couldn’t help feeling afraid.

“If one day, it becomes the same as others, what will I do?”

Aghusejia looked at him. “Then you accept it.”

“What if I can’t accept it?”

She answered, “Then go die.”

Qu Yunmie froze for a second, then gave a faint laugh. He looked up at the tilted ceiling and muttered, “No, that won’t do. That would only make him hate me more.”

Aghusejia watched him in silence for a while. Then she pulled his blanket up. “Sleep. When you wake up, you’ll know what to do.”

Despite her words, Qu Yunmie couldn’t sleep for a long time.

….

Meanwhile, Xiao Rong was already preparing to sleep when Zhang Biezhi brought in a table full of food again.

Under Xiao Rong’s gaze, he scratched his head. “I figured you probably didn’t eat much…”

Xiao Rong looked at him and suddenly smiled. He didn’t mean anything by it, but Zhang Biezhi looked a bit frightened—as if he had developed a trauma around Xiao Rong’s smile.

Xiao Rong didn’t mind. He told Zhang Biezhi to set down the food, then said kindly, “You’ve always wanted me to teach you how to be an official, haven’t you? Then listen carefully—this is your first lesson, and the most important one.”

Zhang Biezhi blinked rapidly as Xiao Rong smiled and slowly said, “Know your role. Be the kind of person your position requires. Never mix your roles. Understand?”

Zhang Biezhi: “…”

He nodded wildly to show he understood. Before he left, he looked back at Xiao Rong, who had already started eating, and grumbled internally, Why do I need to remember this? What does your business with the King have to do with me? Ugh. Don’t drag me into your lover’s quarrel.

I’m leaving, I’m leaving—before Xiao Rong starts pouring his heart out to me.

……！ 

 

Edited by: Antiope

 

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