It was only a few steps, but Xiao Rong ran as if he was sprinting a hundred meters.

…

 

Under the guards’ strange gazes, Xiao Rong quickly lifted the curtain, but there was no sign of Jian Qiao inside at all. The entire royal tent was empty and deserted; even Qu Yunmie wasn’t in his usual spot. Xiao Rong’s heart tightened instantly. At that moment, he didn’t quite know what he was thinking himself. Fortunately, he wasn’t that impulsive. Before rushing out the door to look for the two of them, Xiao Rong habitually glanced around first. Then he saw Qu Yunmie sitting in his chair — a place Qu Yunmie would normally never go. Now, he was there, rapidly flipping through the bits and pieces he had written down over the past days.

There was nothing that couldn’t be seen, it was either military affairs, official business, or at worst some intelligence reports from the front line. Xiao Rong always kept work and private matters separate, and he wouldn’t leave any leverage outside, so Qu Yunmie could look if he wanted to.

If it were any other time, Xiao Rong would’ve thought that way. He might’ve even felt happy because Qu Yunmie was finally no longer avoiding official business like the plague. Today, however, Xiao Rong had a guilty conscience. As soon as he saw Qu Yunmie act unusually, his reflex was to seize the initiative.

Like preemptively striking first.

 

…

 

“Your Majesty, why’re you looking through my things?” Xiao Rong’s voice was a little tense, but Qu Yunmie lowered his head and ignored him.

He continued reading the paper in his hand, scanning it quickly line by line before immediately pulling out the next sheet.

Xiao Rong’s bad premonition instantly swelled a hundredfold. Actually, when a premonition reached this level, it could be called a judgment because Qu Yunmie had never ignored him before.

Xiao Rong always considered himself an innocent victim caught in the crossfire, but victims shouldn’t feel inexplicably nervous and guilty like he did now.

His fingers twitched slightly by his side. Xiao Rong stepped forward.

He approached Qu Yunmie, and when he was still a few steps away, the paper in Qu Yunmie’s hand stopped moving.

Compared to before, Xiao Rong’s voice was much calmer now. “Your Majesty, what exactly are you looking for? Just tell me, and I’ll find it for you.”

Qu Yunmie was silent for a moment, then carefully put down the half-written official document. He raised his head, his eyes sharp as a blade staring at Xiao Rong. “If I tell you, will you really find it for me?”

Xiao Rong replied, “Of course.”

Qu Yunmie chuckled lightly. He slowly stood up, circled the table, and came to stand in front of Xiao Rong. With the pressure his physique brought, he stared at Xiao Rong intently, then asked again, “Will you really find it for me?”

Xiao Rong disliked how he looked at him like that because that posture made him realize how weak he really was. Usually, Qu Yunmie wouldn’t deliberately show his sharpness—only on the day they first met did Qu Yunmie arrive with great momentum, openly showing his hostility toward Xiao Rong. To be fair, Xiao Rong himself hadn’t performed well that day, so he never minded that.

If he thought rationally, today was partly his fault too. If the roles were reversed, and Qu Yunmie had hidden such a big matter from him, Xiao Rong would have been furious. Still, how many people and moments were really rational? Outsiders could casually say “try to see it from the other side,” but every reaction from those involved was driven by their true feelings.

Xiao Rong wouldn’t let himself show weakness, so he frowned and kept staring into Qu Yunmie’s eyes. Deep inside, a very faint feeling flashed, and that feeling was called grievance.

After one breath, that feeling was forcibly suppressed. Xiao Rong looked at Qu Yunmie and repeated his answer. “Of course.”

Qu Yunmie twisted the corner of his mouth. He might’ve wanted to laugh but really couldn’t. He breathed more deeply, perhaps trying to calm himself, but he still couldn’t. Seeing Xiao Rong remain indifferent as if it didn’t concern him, Qu Yunmie noticed Xiao Rong’s eyes shifting on his face—he was measuring and observing him to know how to deal with him next.

Click — that was the sound of their pretense breaking, the ice they carefully maintained for so long cracking.

Since waking up, Qu Yunmie had behaved well. He hadn’t caused trouble once, and he obediently stayed in the royal tent nursing his injuries. He hadn’t even spoken loudly to Xiao Rong again, but that obedience ended today. With the new situation, he was about to show his true colors.

…

 

Qu Yunmie said, “Good, very good.”

“Having a strategist like you by my side is truly a great blessing in my life. There is one thing I don’t understand. Was my past behavior not clear enough? I have to ask you repeatedly about how many meals you eat daily. Xiao Rong, you know how much I care about your health. Why didn’t you tell me what happened on the day of the Mid-Autumn Festival?!”

As he spoke, he grabbed a few sheets of paper on the table, crushed them into a ball, and shook them hard at Xiao Rong, making a rustling noise.

Qu Yunmie said, “So I came to see what else you’re hiding from me. Do you know how I felt when I heard about this from Jian Qiao? Why didn’t you tell me?! Why did everyone else know, but I was the only one left in the dark?!”

Xiao Rong clenched his fists and suddenly shouted sharply at Qu Yunmie, “There is no why! That’s just how I thought! Everyone else could know, but you couldn’t!!!”

Qu Yunmie was stunned. Just now, his sarcastic and mocking demeanor lost all its momentum from that one sentence. He questioned, but he didn’t want that answer.

Qu Yunmie’s Adam’s apple moved. After a long moment, he spoke again. “Is it because… I hurt you?”

Xiao Rong’s expression changed, but before he could say anything, Qu Yunmie suddenly stepped back. He looked at Xiao Rong, and when the layer of harshness that seemed intended to hurt him faded away, his eyes revealed the original colors: guilt, pain, confusion, and most of all, disbelief.

He couldn’t accept that he had become the one who hurt Xiao Rong. He couldn’t accept that what seemed like a predestined good fate was actually one-sided. Peeling off the outer layer of good fate, inside were two words: “ill-fated bond.”

He didn’t even dare get too close to Xiao Rong. Xiao Rong watched him retreat and opened his mouth to explain, “No, it’s not…”

Qu Yunmie wouldn’t listen. “Then why did you get hurt after I got hurt? You told me before you couldn’t do magic. I knew you didn’t lie, so I trusted you, but not being able to do magic doesn’t mean you don’t have divine mysteries. You know where there’s coal, you know when Mijing will return to the Central Plains. Xiao Rong, I’m not as stupid as you think. Mijing is the head of the Buddhist order. I wouldn’t let him stay in the Northern Army so easily. I sent people to check. Except for you, no one knew he was coming back.”

Xiao Rong didn’t know any of this. His mind was in chaos. He tried hard to clear the messy thoughts and explain as clearly as possible. “I do know some things others don’t, but this has nothing to do with the Mid-Autumn Festival. I—”

His words were abruptly cut off because Qu Yunmie’s gaze stopped him from continuing.

Qu Yunmie didn’t know what he looked like now. He only saw that Xiao Rong was shocked. He guessed he looked pretty bad, so he lowered his gaze to avoid meeting Xiao Rong’s eyes.

He said softly, “Now I understand why you hate me.”

Who wouldn’t hate the one who caused them harm?

After saying that, Qu Yunmie turned and left. He forgot he was still holding those papers. He unclenched his fingers, and a torn, crumpled bunch of papers fell out. Qu Yunmie froze for a moment because it wasn’t intentional. When he got angry, he grabbed those papers casually. Now they were ruined, unusable.

Qu Yunmie suddenly pressed his lips together. He didn’t want to look at those things anymore. He quickly left. Just as he was about to brush past, Xiao Rong was stunned and blurted out, “No!!”

Qu Yunmie stopped. His brow furrowed tightly. Xiao Rong had to run up to him, waving his hands excitedly, looking even more agitated than the day Qu Yunmie woke up.

“I already said it’s not! Why won’t you listen to me? It wasn’t you who hurt me, and I don’t hate you! That day… that day…”

He looked flustered and took a long time to come up with a reasonable explanation. “I could feel you were injured, and I knew it was serious. My body was already weak. Once something happened to you, I worried a lot, so I ended up like that. In the end, it was because I wasn’t steady enough. Do you understand? It was my problem, not yours!”

Qu Yunmie asked him, “Is there a difference?”

Xiao Rong was stunned. Qu Yunmie said again, “To me, it’s all the same.”

He was about to walk away again, but before he could take a step, Xiao Rong suddenly reached out and grabbed his arm, looking like he was grinding his teeth. “The difference is, if it’s my problem, then you don’t owe me anything.”

Qu Yunmie’s muscles instantly tensed. He looked at Xiao Rong, who looked up at him and smiled slightly. “You just wanted an answer. Now I’m telling you, everyone else could know except you because I understand you. I know what you’d think—that it’s all your fault, that you caused me to become like this. But guess what? It’s not you!”

“So you don’t need to put on that look full of remorse. I don’t need your pity! I don’t need you to become timid because of this. Qu Yunmie, please remember this well: you don’t owe me anything. You—don’t owe me anything!”

Things seemed to return to a few days ago, but the one who was furious back then was Qu Yunmie, today it was Xiao Rong.

After a long while, looking at Xiao Rong’s angry face, Qu Yunmie finally spoke, but with some confusion. “Why do you always decide who owes whom, and declare what my feelings are? 

 

Edited by: Antiope

 

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