Qu Fongning had never heard anyone’s voice to contain so much rancor and hatred. His throat was strangled so deadly tight that green veins bulged out on his head, and his breath took up the taste of blood.

“Speak! Where is Xie Konghui!” screamed Cui Yumei, her scrawny hand fixing him tightly.

The taste of blood ran more and more heavy, his vision gradually fell dark, and his hands wobbled ceaselessly, struggling desperately to save his throat. But Cui Yumei’s fingers clasped into his throat like an eagle’s claw, digging in flesh; how could he break free?

Cui Yumei saw his eyes turning white and his face swelling purple, and slightly withdrew the strength in her hand, but still held him in a clutch. “Is the traitor Xie Konghui dead? Did he send you here? Speak! Speak!” she pressed on.

Qu Fongning caught this moment of reprieve and immediately gasped a large breath. Waves of blackness assaulted his eyes, but his mind remained strangely lucid: “Before I took south, Uncle Hwei had bid me never to reveal my kungfu in front of others. So, it’s because he has such a powerful foe and enemy in the Central Plains.”

Cui Yumei took a finger to probe his pulse, her entire body shaking, and dunked him to the ground. “So it’s true…” she said, biting her teeth, “That’s right! That day, your inner force was completely empty, and I had thought… You had concealed yourself well! Small wonder you are the traitor’s successor! Let me ask you, what is your relationship with him? Are you his son? Or his disciple? Is he presently in Fujian? Speak!”

In her furor, this throw conducted seven- to eight-tenths of her strength. Though Qu Fongning had practiced many years of kungfu, his entire skeleton almost collapsed in the impact. Just as he was about to open his mouth, he suddenly heard voices from the opposite street speaking in Northern tongue; Yujien must be nearby. Alarmed, he ignored the screaming pain in his body, knelt on both knees, and knocked several kowtows. “Grandmaster Cui, please excuse me!” he said, coughing. “This disciple does have significant ties with Xie Konghui. Since the Grandmaster has questioned, I should answer accordingly. However, this disciple is currently burdened with a greater duty, and in the pressing circumstance, it cannot be detailed to you. When this disciple… completes the task, I shall come upon Mount Jiuhua to welcome my death,” he finished through coughs and heaves, and again banged his head a number more.

Cui Yumei heard his accent suddenly turning native and fluent, all unlike the previous day, and her heart became befogged with mystery. His gaze appeared utmost earnest, and the thin misty rain wetted his lashes and hairs, making him look even younger than Zhu Jing. She was not one of heart of steel and almost acceded right there. Yet remembering the anguish of child loss torturing her days and nights for over ten years, how could she open her lips? Her heart rose and fell, uncertain in decision.

Qu Fongning sided his ears at the movement of the opposite street. Finding Cui Yumei with no reaction, his agitation drove him to hammer his head again. Then a sudden pain to his jaw; Cui Yumei broke open his mouth and forced a sweet, nasty item down his throat, falling straight into his stomach.

“This is the sect’s sacred medicine, Pale Eastern Wind,” said Cui Yumei, her gaze icy; “godly effective in treating external injuries, only the venous side effect is just as violent. You are subjugated to take my secret antidote annually for moderation.”

Qu Fongning’s throat was terribly uncomfortable from forcing the pill and coughed a number. “… Grandmaster Cui is asking this disciple… to come to Mount Jiu every year for the antidote?”

“Precisely,” Cui Yumei answered coldly.

“This disciple is of low stature, I’m afraid—” said Qu Fongning, worried.

“You can bid others to get it,” she interrupted him.

Qu Fongning was going to open his mouth again. Then he heard familiar footsteps from the adjacent street, and immediately dropped to his knees.

“Much obliged to Grandmaster Cui for bestowing the elixir!”

Cui Yumei stared fixedly at his every gesture. Then a sudden bitterness consumed her heart, and she seized his neck again with one hand, gnashing her teeth, “If you lie to me, I’ll make you wish you rather be dead—”

Before the words concluded, a gust whooshed — a paper umbrella broke through ether and nailed into the wall by seven for eight cun, the air force scraping pain on her face.

“Release him!” Yujien’s voice rang grimly from her rear.

Cui Yumei’s fog of doubt intensified, but gradually freed her fingers. Yujien braced him over with one hand and saw the blood by his lips and his face horribly unsightly. “Grandmaster Cui took me to be… that guy.” Qu Fongning coughed, pointing towards Shi Chaoyin’s carcass, and said meekly, “he used… some poison just now… and Grandmaster Cui breathed some in.” And he leaned on Yujien’s arm, coughing relentlessly.

Yujien recognized Shi Chaoyin’s face and knew he carried Fragrant Sea Buddha; Cui Yumei inadvertently wounding others after the ingestion was not a fault of her own. Despite this, seeing the ring of blue and purple bruise on his neck brought him great fury, and he passed a glacial look to Cui Yumei.

Cui Yumei felt a colossal pressure from this sweeping glance, multiplying her apprehension to the ten-thousandth. Qu Fongning quickly pulled at Yujien’s sleeve, showing that he was alright. Yujien then finally took his hand to wipe the corner of his lips. “Why do you always get yourself like this every other day?”

“Because I’ve got a bullyable face,” Qu Fongning said vexedly.

Yujien scrutinized him: The corner of his eyes drooped slightly, his lashes were long and black. When he didn’t talk, it really looked like he was a little wounded. Whenever people looked at his expression, they couldn’t resist softening down by a third before they even opened their mouth. How was this a look of suffering from persistent grievances? It was obviously a god-send advantage. Finding Yujien studying him, he slighted his lips on purpose, making a weeping expression. Yujien’s gaze softened. “I’m here; who dares to bully you?”

In that moment, figures shifted before the street; it was Jiuhua Sect disciples bringing in a captive. Yang Yan galloped in the forefront, yelling, “Shifu! We caught the treasure thief! It’s a shame that Shi Chaoyin had been kicked out of their doors and estranged from Shi Jingguang… eh?” Noticing the two corpses, he was joyous beyond bounds. “So Shifu already executed the devils, this is… great!”

Cui Yumei finally retracted her gaze from Yujien and regarded the detainee.

“You are Shi Tianqing?” she interrogated.

“It’s this protégé,” answered the one with disheveled hair, draped whole of rags, and full of bruises.

“You stole these two items?” said Cui Yumei, pointing to the jade flute and the guqin.

Shi Tianqing looked, his gaze unfluctuating. “It’s true that this protégé took them from Mount Jiuhua, however… I didn’t obtain them through theft.”

Zong Yan swung his sword sheath for a heavy smack on the back of his head. “Vile thief, still lying!”

“These two treasures have been sitting beneath the Jiuhua Celestial Altar for over ten years. How did land in your hands, if not from theft?” sneered Cui Yumei.

Shi Tianqing’s body shook feebly from eating this smack, almost couldn’t kneel straight, but still upheld himself. “Grandmaster Liu of the Eastern Mount gifted them to me”.

Cui Yumei burst into laughter, her laugh full of scorn.

“The Fourth of the Second month,” Shi Tianqing recounted, his face unchanging. “I ascended the peaks with a thousand gold, wishing to trade a hundred hectares of the fishing farm of Zhoushan for these items. That day, Grandmaster Cui was not on the mount. I thus waited patiently by the Celestial Altar. Grandmaster Liu—I didn’t know him at the time—saw that I was looking about constantly, and asked me, ‘Do you want the things beneath the altar?’ I confessed in earnest a ‘Yes.’ He then inquired, ‘Is it for yourself, or for your loved ones?’ And I answered, ‘It’s for all those under heaven!’ He studied me with several glances and smiled. ‘Good, you can have it!’ With those words, he leaped up and retrieved them for me. I was surprised and delighted and inquired whether I should report a word to Grandmaster Cui. But Grandmaster Liu only waved and said, ‘These belong to m… me. What does it have to do with that girl?’”

Cui Yumei’s laughter ceased not. “Well said! What else did Grandmaster Liu say to you?”

“He also said,” Shi Tianqing continued slowly, his voice as usual, “‘Grandmaster Cui… lives in the mortal haze, and cannot forget the sentiments; she probably cannot understand these hard intentions of mine. And if anyone comes to inquire, as long as you do not mind them, you will be fine.’ So I kept firm to Grandmaster Liu’s words and only wished to extricate myself—”

“Bullshit!” Yang Yan roared in a frenzy. “You sly fiend wrote a letter for help, saying you were besieged with your life on the line. And you wrote we inverted white and black, all without reason; if your Southern Seas member ever came upon us, they were to mug and send us overseas, so as to be dead without evidence! Only wishing to extricate yourself? You can fool three-year-olds!”

“What?” said Shi Tianqing, shocked. “When have I ever written such a letter?”

Cui Yumei assumed he was playing dumb and humphed in scorn. Yang Yan and Zong Yan took forth their steps and surrounded Shi Tianqing. It was a mystery to what methods they used, for he only heard the snapping of bones like the bursting of beans, and Shi Tianqing remained remarkably tough, never making a sound.

Qu Fongning watched him fallen slump on the ground, shivering all over, his back soaked with sweat, and couldn’t bear to watch. As the tip of his feet shifted forward, Yujien braced him around. “Ningning, don’t freely interfere in other people’s business.”

And Qu Fongning had to stay still. Soon, the crowd dispersed, leaving Shi Tianqing motionless on the ground, unknown to be dead or alive. Cui Yumei didn’t spare a look, and gestured towards Yujien: “Great Patron, please excuse the offense today.”

“No day goes without waves on the rivers and lakes. I hope Grandmaster Cui will judge with a clear sight in the future,” Yujien answered mildly.

Cui Yumei humphed and glanced at the jade flute in her hand. “You couldn’t harden your heart to do it in the end. The sentimental one… is it really me, or you?” she scoffed, threw the jade flute to Yang Caihe, and led them away.

~

Yujien brought Qu Fongning back to the residence. After figuring out the order of events, he placed him in the chair to examine his injuries. Qu Fongning found him in proximity and couldn’t help breaking into a chuckle.

Yujien was holding his face, inspecting the bruise on his neck. “What chu chuckling about?” he asked. “You were so menacing just now. No wonder they are all afraid of you,” said Qu Fongning. Yujien arched his brow. “The old crone harmed you. How could I let it go easily? When we take Wannan in the future, Da-ge shall burn down their Jiuhua Hill with a single flare.” Seeing him still grinning at himself, the corner of his lips lifted as well. “What’s with the giggling?”

Qu Fongning considered for a moment. “I want to ask you for a merit.” He took out the Jiangnan weaving process booklet and gave it to him.

Yujien took a skim and stood up, stunned. “Where did you get this?” Qu Fongning explained such-and-such, and stretched out his palm, asking for reward. Yujien perused the booklet in one hand and held his hand in the other. “If you are in my army, I could decorate you with a first-order honor.” Qu Fongning instantly sought to reclaim it, crying, “Then I’ll give it to you later, else I’m eating a huge loss!” Yujien guffawed, looped him up, and raised him into the air. “You already gave it out. How can you retract it?” Qu Fongning wrapped around his neck, bargaining back and forth. “Then you ought to keep it on the books.”

“Mn, I’ll recompense you later,” said Yujien. His gaze moved onto his face, imagining his little features donning the ghost mask, and thought, “This kid following me, how pampered would he be?” Pretending a toss, he gently placed him on the floor.

Yet Qu Fongning was mulling inwardly: “What Pale Eastern Wind, needing antidotes every year. I can’t even take care of my own shit. How would I have time to dilly-dally with her?” He eyed Yujien going out the doors, berating A’chi for not watching him properly, and sending people to acquire vulneraries in speed. And he touched his neck, shuddering in hindsight: “If he arrived a moment sooner, would this old boy still keep his head?”

~

Since the weaving method had been gained, the Jiangnan trip was thus coming to an end. Before their departure, Yujien specially permitted a half day, taking Qu Fongning around the flower streets and night markets, going on a rampant shopping spree. Before long, the red sun dropped to the west, the sky gloomed, and the currents of clouds took on some indefinite plum rains. To bring an umbrella would be an overkill. However, if one was to stroll around with no regard, before long, their clothes and linen would be all soaked, dripping, hair-damped and face-soiled, and totally uncomfortable. The pair came before the bridge just in time for a round of steaming hot lard rice cakes to come fresh from the steamer. Qu Fongning had been wiping away the rain threads all day, was presently most unpleasant, and immediately rolled high his sleeves, charging into the mob to battle for the rice cake. Yujien was watching him from the back until someone called from behind.

“Master Yu.” It was Zhu Jing. Yujien found him haggard, and inquired, “Had your Shifu been hard on you?”

“No,” replied Zhu Jing, slowly wobbling his head. He raised his eyes to regard him, and said, “I heard… You are going back. When will you leave?”

“Right tomorrow,” said Yujien, who watched Qu Fongning abusing his bigger strength, knocking the people in front of the queue left and right, and smiled.

Zhu Jing followed his gaze and saw a warm golden figure, exceedingly striking in the night drizzle. “Is that Boss Junior?”

“Yeah. Look. Isn’t he like a little sun?” Yujien said with a smile.

“Mn, it’s Master Yu’s little sun,” Zhu Jing said bitterly.

Yujien didn’t understand the acerbity of his tone. “The material of that gown is called ‘Nine Bones Ten Hues Snowy Gold¹.’ If Zhu Shaoxia fancy it, take some as gifts.”

Zhu Jing politely declined with the shake of his head. “What am I going to do with it? Can I become a second sun?” he brooded.

Qu Fongning prevailed in the contest for lard rice cake as wished and came back in a jolly sprint. He greeted Zhu Jing warmly upon reception and passed his pastry over to him — he didn’t begrudge any himself, only nibbled two bites and wanted it no more — and with a flop of his butt, he sat down beneath the weeping willow and pulled Yujien to sit next to him, to listen to the old grandpa in the bamboo craft tell a story.

Zhu Jing also sat down with his sword and quietly listened to the low and ancient voice from the boat:

“A long, long time ago, there lived a maid by the river. And unbeknownst to when, a boat came to park by the river, where dwelled a Chuzhou scholar who was going for the examinations in the capital. The two didn’t know each other. From dawn to dusk, one embroidered in the chambers, and the other studied in the boat.”

“One day, when the maid opened the window to pour water, she suddenly beheld this scholar. Upon the sight, it was like a dream, and her bronze bowl dropped onto the ground with a clang.”

“Then on, their days remained the same. They still didn’t know each other. From dawn to dusk, one embroidered in the little tower, and the other studied in the boat. Eighteen days later, the scholar rode the boat to the capital. And thereafter, the maid married to become a wife. From the beginning to the end, they never exchanged a word, nor did they ever cross a glance.”

“Many years later, a great fire started by the river, and the young woman was trapped in the little tower, unable to escape. And in the remaining rubble and debris, people found an object.”

“It was the size of a fist, not of wood or stone. The outer shell was hard, but the interior was peculiarly soft. For eight boroughs and four counties, no one knew what it was.”

“Until one day, a bold soldier raised a blade to piece it in half, and this object finally revealed itself.”

“—it was a human heart.”

“Upon the section, the well-defined texture clearly illustrated several weeping willows and a small building. Before the chambers tied a small craft, there sat a young scholar gazing upon the window, his features as clear as a picture. With more cuts, every section was as such.”

“People exclaimed at the wonder and talked about the strange tale. And so it happened that there passed the Chuzhou scholar’s friend, who found the face on the picture familiar and vividly lifelike. In his amazement, he returned with a slice of the heart. The Chuzhou scholar heard the story and instantly dropped to an anguished wail. ‘Where is the heart?’ he inquired the friend, who took out a small box, and answered, ‘The heart is here.’ The scholar lit the incense in prostration, and raised the lid in tears — the heart was no longer, there left only a pool of jade blood.” ²

Zhu Jing was moved. “I wonder when I die, what will my heart picture look like?”

There must be Shifu, Shixiong, Shijie, and the high Celestial Altar of Mount Jiuhua ascending into the clouds. There will probably be a vast lake, a greenstone bridge, upon it an open red umbrella… And the morning rays illuminating the bones of the umbrella clear in grain and texture, and the paper surface scripted with two lines he can never find again.

Then, within the depths of others’ hearts, whom or what would be etched into that image?

Qu Fongning rested on Yujien and dozed off in the listen. When Yujien took his hand to stand up, he didn’t wake fully. And in this half-asleep and half-awake state, he stumbled and fumbled his way back. Yujien let him move unsteadily on, and only on his occasional stagger of almost falling down, would he chuckle and brace him back to his side.

Zhu Jing quietly followed behind, and in the end, never posed the question.

When they returned to the residence, the rain threads had thickened. Qu Fongning finally woke, found Zhu Jing bidding his farewells and turning to leave, and called in haste, “Zhu Shaoxia, hold on a moment!” He took a paper umbrella from the courtyard, opened it, put it in his hands, and entreated, “Careful of getting wet!”

Zhu Jing didn’t know how to feel in his heart, and could only accept in gratitude. Upon the umbrella spread, petals danced beside “Even heartless it flowers the sensations”; it was the one Yujien bought him the other day.

With the raised paper umbrella, only until the closing of gates sounded behind him did he slowly raise his feet to leave. His heart was at a loss, unsure of where to go.

On the greenstone bridge, someone with a red umbrella was walking towards him.

In the distance of several zhang, a red and a white umbrella stood blooming in the thin rain, neither moving on.

Zhu Jing raised the umbrella a touch to regard the incomer. “Your Highness, Prince Jin.”

Liang Xi watched him quietly, his hair and shoulders all wet.

Zhu Jing stood for some time with the umbrella, and said, “Your Highness once mentioned taking me to tea. Does it still count?”

Liang Xi instantly fuddled his limbs and lost all calm. “Of course, it counts, of course it counts!” He cried in haste and hurried in issuing orders of extreme urgence to his guards, to immediately book the best tea house in the city.

Instead, Zhu Jing descended the bridge by himself, sat down on a stone table on the opposite bank, waved at the tea vendor, and asked for two bowls of round tea.

Liang Xi collapsed the umbrella and obediently sat down on his opposite side. He saw Zhu Jing picking one bowl and also hurried to raise the other. Him of princely nobility, when has he ever ingested such a coarse beverage? That tea-bowl was also greasy to a little sticky to handle, looking quite unsanitary.

“You are not accustomed to it?” said Zhu Jing, watching the white steam above the tea.

“Accustomed! How could I be unaccustomed?” he said, and immediately downed many sips, his tongue scalded numb from the broil, but still praising with held back tears: “Excellent Tea!”

Zhu Jing made a smile, then his expression returned to usual. “You don’t have to force yourself.”

“I’m not forcing,” said Liang Xi, and, regarding him, professed, “I am willing, heart and soul.”

Zhu Jing still had his head lowered at the tea-bowl. After length, he opened his voice, “Your Highness Prince Jin, to be spirited away mind and soul for… someone, what does that feel like?”

Liang Xi’s face was a burning field, and his tongue could not unroll straight, but tried his best to illustrate:

“Mister Zhu, to be spirited away mind and soul for someone, is… to be irresistibly happy when you see them smile; and be wishing to take their place even when they are in the briefest of pain.”

Zhu Jing shook, his long lashes drooped down, muttering with strain, “I… see.”

“Mister Zhu, if anyone wishes you harm, I am also willing to… take your place, and shall have no regrets even in death,” Liang Xi confessed.

Zhu Jing’s head drooped even lower. “Mn, thank you,” he said in an undertone.

Liang Xi startled at the nasal twang in his words. And looking at the tea before him, something had dripped in, for it was waving in ripples.

He stood up in distress, searching all around for silks, and not understanding what he had said that upset the other so much.

Suddenly, he felt someone tugging the corner of his gown. It was the dirty little dim-witted child; his glistening grimy hand was touching his brocade belt.

Liang Xi grimaced and was going to call for his guards. Yet he was forthwith reminded that Zhu Jing was by his side, coughed, and put back his pleasant smiles. He warmly coaxed a few lines and gave him a little gold ingot.

The little dull-witted child took over the gold ingot and put into it his mouth for two bites. He giggled and pointed towards the head of the bridge.

Liang Xi swiveled back his head. The plum rain had fallen quiet, and the weeping willows stood tall. Yet where was Zhu Jing? There remained only the empty table, the lonely umbrella, and the cooled tea.

~

On the second day, Yujien’s company set north towards the borders. Within a dozen days, they had already arrived in the territories of Shanxi. The hinterland was a hard place, vastly different from the Central Plains; the mountains thrusted up in precipitous cliffs, and the stormy sands veiled the sky. Qu Fongning listened to the old man before the customs drawling their tongue, muttering about some “Moiling Pass,” and found the name very odd. When he finally came upon the boundary marker, he couldn’t help letting out a laugh—the three fierce characters of Moli Pass³ glowed as red as blood under the sinking sunset.

Yujien held the reins before the marker and turned to smile at him. “As soon as you pass these gates, you can’t call Da-ge anymore. You better call a number more now, so as to save your nostalgia for the future.”

It was a casual jest; he assumed Qu Fongning would counter him as usual, and would be certain to twist his cheeks away and reply with a “Not calling.”

Unexpectedly, Qu Fongning raised his head from the veil beneath the shawl, seeming to have guessed his thoughts and didn’t wish to follow his assumption, and had to try on him.

“Da— Ge—!” he called long and far.

And he flew him a triumphant glance, swung the horsewhip, and dashed away contently before his face.

Yujien stood in place, and felt a sudden wave hitting straight to his chest, even the ends of his limbs numbed slightly. This situation was not unfamiliar; Early then, on the night within the grand ger of Shezaar City, it happened once. But this time it was much stronger, and the meaning much more apparent.

He frowned at the figure in the yellow sandy haze, dimly sensing a faint foreboding. Qu Fongning didn’t go far; finding him slow to come, he reined his horse around and waited for him there.

Yujien shook his head and galloped after.

~

At the end of the Third month, snowy-white suze flowers brimmed the banks of the Mei waters.

Little Ting’yu regarded the large flower crown on his lap listlessly, silent of words and sound.

Tigerhead Twine grew a little taller, but still kept his baby face. “Little General,” he said, squatting down, “I’ll make another flower wreath and send it to little big brother Qu.”

Little Ting’yu voiced an umm, his spirit growing by a touch. “He’s back?” he enquired.

“Soon! Just these two days,” said Tigerhead Twine. He trailed the white pebble path by Kurze Hill and started picking up flowers along the banks.

Little Ting’yu nodded absently, put on the flower crown and lowered his head to glance at the stiff yellow grass on the ground.

From afar, came a round of boisterous noises, accompanied by cries of cheers, and he lifted his head to look. Ten or so brightly saddled horses raced by the waters; it was the Crown Prince Allonby leading a throng of noble scions on a spring outing hunt.

He furrowed his brows and backed around to leave. But Qu Lyn’s voice rang up languidly, “Yoo, isn’t this my good cousin? Looking not so swell today? Need me to call somebody over to keep you company?”

Little Ting’yu had been angry with him for long. Upon his words, he only responded, “Save your lies, I know he’s not here,”

Prince Allonby heard the exchange and also reined in his horse.

“I’m talking about the young princess,” said Qu Lyn, giving Little Ting’yu a smirk. “That’s another one who likes to blush and speak soft and quiet, just perfect with you. Who else do you think?”

Little Ting’yu ignored him and stretched his hand to actuate the wooden wheels, wanting to turn and leave. Prince Allonby had gained nothing for the day and had been low in his temper. He saw Little Ting’yu’s aloof face, and was reminded of that day when he sold out Cher Vei, and cheering and applauding for the wretched slave on the Autumn Contests. The old and new grievances stacked together, and all broiled onto the surface. Then a scheme came to his head. “Agula,” he turned to ask on purpose: “my Queen Mother had mentioned my sister Tuzai’s matrimony is of utmost importance, and we must be extremely cautious, yeah?”

Agula was utterly confused. At the prince’s sharp glare, he slapped his chest in sudden realization. “Yeah!”

Prince Allonby darted a glance at Little Ting’yu legs. “Character and family, that is something for my Queen Mother to decide, and I cannot intervene. But… regarding my sister’s lifelong happiness, I, as the brother, must naturally be much more mindful.”

Little Ting’yu found him inspecting his lower body with malice, knew he had ill-intent, backed-up in caution, and readied to raise his voice for help.

Before his voice left his mouth, Cher Vei and Agula lunged forth their many arms and legs, sealing his lips and seizing back his hands. Prince Allonby leaped down, rolled up his sleeves, and came in with an insidious smile. “The true heavenly god can contest: It ain’t me who wants to see the thing between your legs! Augh, only for my dear sister, would I aggrieve my own eyes,” he said, raising his hand to peel his trousers.

Qu Lyn coughed from the rear, received a glowering sweep from Prince Allonby, and shrugged his shoulders. “There is a dzeren over there; I’m going to get it. You all be as you please,” he said, and turned to stroll yonder.

Little Ting’yu’ eyes widened to the limit, and he tried all his might in the struggle. But his body was frail and weak. How could he break free? And his lips could only miff in muffled cries. The surrounding villains uncovered their perverted grins, and Prince Allonby finally found the belt in his dress. “Wearing so much,” he grumbled, dragging a ripping tear, and was soon forcing downwards.

Little Ting’yu was distraught with shame, and, without thinking, banged his right elbow on a knob on wheelchair’s arm. And a black beam zoomed out. Allonby screamed and scrambled backwards in evasion. He felt a searing pain on his earlobe, for a large blotch of skin was scraped off, blood ebbing dense.

The accomplices blanched and hurried forth for examinations. Little Ting’yu immediately turned around the wooden wheels, backing off a good distance.

Prince Allonby touched his ear, his hand smeared full of blood, and saw a black blot nailed firmly into the ground. In his indignant fury, he glared deathly at Little Ting’yu and rose, ready to lunge at him. Little Ting’yu held himself against the backboard, his hands clasped up a petite box of mechanical crossbow, and aimed between his eyes.

“You dare!” roared Prince Allonby, furious beyond belief.

Little Ting’yu just escaped from the mouth of the tiger and was heaving profusely, but his hand did not waver a budge. “You dare, then I dare,” he said quaveringly.

Prince Allonby observed the solid bolt digging into the earth all the way to the fletching and knew its power. But he had the numbers and was thus not afraid. He threw a look at Cher Vei, and just as he was going to roll his sleeve up for the jump, Qu Lyn raised his voice from afar: “Lord Brother, Uncle Ting’schi birthday is coming up. If we scrape off the skins, it wouldn’t look good on our faces.”

Prince Allonby finally remembered this layer of relations, and dared not cause any more trouble. But his seething fury was hard to contain. He saw Little Ting’yu still holding the mechanism, and spat at him. “Just you wait,” he said menacingly: “there will be no short of bad days for you!”

Little Ting’yu watched the troops disappearing by the horizon and only felt his body sagging slump and his arms drooping down. Then he looked gratefully at the mechanism in his hands and hugged it tight before his chest.

~

The cold winter had passed, but the cellars remained as chilly as ice.

Qu Lyn swung a rapid strike towards the side of the blade, the chill hissed, and the ten candles on the floor extinguished in a row.

“Master is improving with godly speed. This lowly servant is humbled,” praised Qu Fongning, standing docilely by the side.

“Been out for three, four months. How you doing with your beau?” Qu Lyn sneered, and sliced forth a strike.

Qu Fongning hesitated. “I can’t say. His attitude towards his humble servant has been elusive for the past few days.”

“What?” Qu Fongning withdrew his hand, turning around.

Qu Fongning concentrated on his recollection. “I’m not sure why. The glances he gives this humble servant seem a little irked, and he doesn’t want to talk much anymore.”

“Irked?” said Qu Lyn, surprised. “Did you say something out of line to offend him?”

“Never,” Qu Fongning said resolutely.

Qu Fongning raised his brow as well, analyzing for him for a while, but without avail. “Yujien Tianhung is famous for being impenetrable. By now, we have no time to lose. Whatever you got under the box, let me see you take ‘em all out.”

~

The Third Month in the City of Ghosts, the accumulated snow hadn’t yet receded, the black cliffs remained as frozen as iron rocks, and icicles piled full on the sides of the mountain trail. Yet the fire dragon had been abandoned in the commander’s ger, therein only prepared half a bowl of charcoal flames, burning dimly in wavering luminance. Yujien was reclining on the wolf-head throne, flipping disconnectedly on a book of go records. The footsteps crushing across the icy path outside stopped, and Oyghrmuki greeted with fervent warmth, “Little Syr, haven’t seen you for a long time!”

His brows stirred. Though he kept his eyes on the book, he could take nothing on the page anymore. He listened to the two, talking hands-on-shoulders for a good half of a day, until Oyghrmuki finally came cheerfully in to report: “General, Little Syr will sleep with you tonight.”

Yujien passed him a silent, expressionless look. “My second brother took over my bed,” Qu Fongning immediately added by the side.

Yujien’s gaze fell back on the book. “Mn.”

Qu Fongning stood in place, a little unsure of his limbs. He eyed Oyghrmuki leaving, humming a tune, and closed in carefully and sat by his foot. Finding his entire attention taken by the book, and not sparing an eye to him, he tried to start a topic: “General, do you want to watch me practice bow?”

Yujien took a glance at the long disused martial field. “Tomorrow.”

And Qu Fongning racked his brains trying to find something to say, “General, what are you reading?”

Yujien showed him the cover of the book—Go—and shrunk it back.

“This… can you teach me?” Qu Fongning probed, gauging his expression.

“Later on,” Yujien answered wearily, flipping over a page.

Now Qu Fongning was out of ideas, and could only sit idly by himself, poking singly at the charcoal fire. The night was long, and springs and autumns beckoned for sleep; before long, he started yawning. “Go sleep,” Yujien said from the side, without a tone, and he had to respond. He laid on the bed in his sleeping quarters, pillowing on his roughspun gown, full of anxiety; how could he close his eyes?

He waited for a long time. But when the heavy steps finally strode in and came before the bed, Yujien flipped aside the neat and tidy saber pelt he specially laid-out and took out another thin blanket. Qu Fongning watched him forlornly. Finding Yujien had galvanized his heart to ignore him, and his many devious ploys could only rot in his belly, his heart became exceedingly distraught. After gnawing his finger for length, he decided to give it all and take a try. He peered a few looks at his left hand’s position and surreptitiously extended his hand over and hid it beneath his enormous palm. Seeing he had no response, he emboldened himself to hold his hand. He turned over his body as well and stared unblinkingly at Yujien’s profile in the darkness.

Soon, Yujien slowly opened his eyes and met his gaze with some displeasure. “You can see?”

Qu Fongning wobbled his head on the pillow. “I can’t see, but I can feel.”

Yujien’s gaze moved ever so slightly, and he, without a word, clasped his hand back.

Now with this layer of protection, Qu Fongning gained back his fortitude. “General,” he said, looking at his face, “If I did anything wrong, you tell me, or scold me, is fine too. I’ll change. But you… mustn’t be cross at me.”

“No,” said Yujien, and with a thinner tone, “it’s my problem, nothing to do with you.”

Qu Fongning voiced the obedient hum, his heart faintly disappointed.

~

Unknown to have slept for how long; it was probably before the white touched the east. Between waking and awakening, he felt his entire being enveloped in a thick and warm embrace, and the pillow had turned from the roughspun into an arm. Longhorns rang far and wide in the City of Ghosts; it must be the time for the morning count and drill. The arm that wrapped around him shifted, apparently having felt something different in its touch. Yujien lowered his eyes for a look and released the hand from his waist.

He was comfortably asleep, didn’t want to wake just now, and urged himself back into slumber.

Just in this moment of stupor, he had seemingly slept deep for long, or perhaps it was only a snooze. He felt Yujien push him away slightly, his wide palm holding the back of his head, and the fallen strands on his face were brushed back behind his ear.

In the haze, he gathered Yujien was watching his face, and couldn’t help thinking, “I’ll open my eyes with a paa and give him a scare.”

Before the thought fully turned around, his shoulder was held down, then a heated breath closed in, stopping briefly before him, and pressed on his lips.

His heart sparked a jolt, and the snooze was completely gone. His head was a muddled mush, and his limbs stiffened, not daring to move at all. The tangible sensation faded away. Assuming Yujien would soon notice, he had to pretend a squirm, made a ugh, and slowly opened a slit of his lid, meeting the deep-set eyes within inching propinquity.

“You were sleep talking,” said Yujien, impassive.

Qu Fongning’s heart chilled, and his gaze flickered as well.

“What… did I say?” he enquired quietly.

“I didn’t hear clearly.” Yujien sat up, draped on a thin layer, and walked out barefoot. “General!” Qu Fongning called in haste. Yujien left the ger without turning his head.

This attitude was colder than yesterday by tenfold. Qu Fongning was at his wit’s end, climbed up dejectedly, and returned full of queries.

~

The slaves had started laboring since early morning. Uncle Hwei was also hunched over, silently pounding soy meal by the sheepfold.

Without warning, his back weighed heavy. “Uncle Hwei.” Qu Fongning flopped on his back, mumbling weakly, “the method you taught me to not sleep talk lost its charm today.”

Uncle Hwei listened to his tone of half-truth and turned to eye him suspiciously.

“I didn’t hear it myself, someone else said it,” Qu Fongning uttered vexedly.

Uncle Hwei wiped his hands on himself and motioned for him to extend forth his hand. As soon as he touched his wrist, he became stunned and stood petrified in place. And starring long at Qu Fongning, he started bitterly, “Pale Eastern Wind! You met Cui Shi… Cui Yumei?”

Qu Fongning answered a low umm, “Is she your enemy?”

“She is my… creditor,” said Uncle Hwei, laughing wryly. The hand on Qu Fongning’s wrist quivered. “I’ve ruined you,” he lamented weakly.

Qu Fongning shook his head. “Grandmaster Cui promised to grant me the antidote, as long as I send someone to Mount Jiuhua to claim it every year.”

“She wants to know where I am, so as to shred me into ten thousand pieces with her own hands,” he muttered, watching Qu Fongning’s face.

“Hmm, I’ve guessed it. How can we let this mean hag get her wish?” said Qu Fongning. He hugged his own arms and also chuckled bitterly. “I would assume when this toxin strikes, it shouldn’t be worse than that hell fire and frigid ice.”

Uncle Hwei brushed his head in pity. “You won’t live it,” he said, lowering his head for momentary deliberation and already came up with a plan. “Spring next year, I’ll go get your antidote.”

“I don’t care for that dog fart antidote!” Qu Fongning pulled anxiously on his sleeve. “If you… I’d rather be dead right now!”

“What dead or die,” said Uncle Hwei, his lips tipping by a corner. He took him into his arms, and questioned him with a smile, “did you forget what you’d said?”

Qu Fongning swiveled his head into a rattle drum, his tears surging up.

Uncle Hwei’s heart ached as well and followed to laugh and pat his back for reassurance. “To judge by kungfu, she is a little better. But her ability to play hide-and-seek is nowhere compared to me.” Then he declared viciously, “We need to think of a way to capture her and make her heal all your poisons. How’s that?”

Qu Fongning had already started to cry. With this coax, his tears broke into a smile. “Don’t you take risks,” he insisted.

“I know,” said Uncle Hwei, then in a low tone, “The stomach meridian on your left forearm is sealed absolutely; there should be no worries of sleep talking. Who told you this?”

Qu Fongning finally settled his heart, but became even more befuddled. “Why is Yujien Tianhung lying to me?” Recalling his temperamental attitude, he became all the more depressed and buried his face in Uncle Hwei’s back.

~

Oyghrmuki stood head high and shoulders back before the dense stormy black cloud of a rectangular formation, slanted an eye toward the preoccupied commander general, and coughed.

Yujien returned his attention, threw the name book towards the commander standing militarily staunch by the side, hooked his arms, and glanced at the soldiers before the podium.

“Did Little Syr sleep badly?” whispered Oyghrmuki, peeking at him.

Yujien appeared unheard and watched unaffectedly for a long time, before saying, “Old Oyghr, what kind of matter… annoys you to no end, but can’t stop thinking about it?”

“That there’s too much!” Oyghrmuki said immediately, “For example, eh, why is the wine that Little Syr gives is always gone in a flash? Why is Old Oyghr’s face as ancient as a horse, even though he’s only thirty? So annoying, I get annoyed as soon as I think about it…” Sensing Yujien’s glacial vision, he finally touched his nose in embarrassment. Suddenly, the holy spirit rushed his crown, and in came a mysterious smile. “General, I know what you are troubling with.”

“Oh?” Yujien turned around with a modest surprise.

“The little princess’s match! This little girl is this big now; she’s of the age to marry out! But in our mighty nation of Chienye, there’s not a single young noble suited to match our little princess! According to Old Oyghr, there’s one person who’s perfect for her.” As he spoke, he pointed towards Sky Gale Cliff.

Yujien looked in his direction. A figure was waiting in perch before the main ger. Noticing Oyghrmuki looking at him, he immediately leaped up and waved his hand.

“No!” He refused resolutely without consideration.

“Why not?” Oyghrmuki expounded, “You are a dignified Commander-in-Chief; are you going to fuss about all that class and stature stuff? Moreover, he’s a slave now, but it’s not like he’s going to be a slave all his life. Ain’t he going to be your so… adopted son?”

“I’m not talking about this,” said Yujien, frowning.

Oyghrmuki tsked in regret and started counting through with his fingers. “The Fourth Prince is brave and gallant, but his temper is too strong. If the little princess marries him, they will fight every day. Adiya has a milder disposition, but he’s slow on the lips; Cheri Vei is a prodigal rascal…” With this account, none was satisfactory, and he lamented long and short.

“General,” he asked, suddenly curious, “which family’s girl have you noted for Little Syr?”

Yujien paused. “I haven’t,” he said, and after momentary consideration, requested, “you keep an eye on it?”

As soon as Oyghrmkhi heard he was to be a matchmaker, he was all willing, and agreed, full of promises. Yujien peered a look towards the tents, his irritation ineffable. And thus, he swung his commander’s robes, and went to find Cher Baochi for drinks.

~

Qu Fongning waited outside the ger for a whole day without seeing Yujien come back. Approaching twilight, when he finally waited upon him, Yujien didn’t even spare him a straight eye when he lifted the vesture door and went in with an arched back. Oyghrmuki brought back loads of fine wine and lush mutton from Cher Baochi’s. Upon the scene, he consoled him, “The General is irritated with the matter of the little princess’s match. Let’s not bother him.” He towed him to his own tent, took out the wine and meat to re-roast them over the charcoal fires, picked out the largest leg of lamb to him, and asked him what kind of girl he found to be the cutest.

Qu Fongning considered for a bit. “Good tempered, can work, and won’t hit me for no reason.”

Oyghrmuki listened—Little Princess has no chance—and signed in echoes. “Why are you asking this?” inquired Qu Fongning, curious. “To look for candidates for your wife! By your age, other people’s sons can already call da!” Oyghrmuki confessed frankly.

Qu Fongning chewed the lamb in confusion. “I’ve never thought about it,” he said bluntly.

“Then hurry, think!” urged Oyghrmuki. “Marriage is the chief matter of life. You can’t be sloppy about it—”

The vesture door of the main ger shifted, and Yujien’s voice came through: “Come practice bow.”

“Aye!” Qu Fongning sprang up, answering loudly. He sprinted into the martial court in a cloud of dust, rushed down the bow and held it in his arms. Yujien leaned upon the rustic wooden fencing a whole zhang away and motioned towards the mark. Qu Fongning hastened for display and tried all his best; single shot, connected shots, split shots, and arrows flew like rain. Seeing him still cool without response, he tried a new trick. He nipped off the steel ends of the fletchings. For seven, eight arrows in a row, he connected them into a spiny and curvy arrow dragon. Yujien watched for a moment and swept him a look. “So many tricks,” he said, and took over the bow. And an arrow light beamed, slicing across the arrow dragon from head to tail into two, and impaled right on the red center.

Qu Fongning sucked in a breath of air in immense exaggeration. “General is so amazing!” he said, clapping. Yujien held up the bow and knocked on his head. “Your ass!” he chided. Qu Fongning was found out, and at once laughed. Yujien’s eyes also belied a smile, but his expression remained impassive. “Practice by yourself,” he said, and turned to leave.

Qu Fongning answered on his lips, and a stone finally settled in his heart. “Thank goodness to this old boy’s high methods, finally lulled him back. So, it was for his niece’s marriage; that can’t be helped! That woman’s got some malicious bowels, and uniquely cruel. Whoever marries her will really be bloody damned!” His eyes rocked around in the sockets, and the perfect candidate came to him. He practiced haphazardly for a while and hurried down the peaks to find Qu Lyn.

~

After he finished iterating, Qu Lyn jeered. “This Princess Chao’yoon is famous for being Yujien Tianhung’s deary flesh. The legend says she’s of uncommon worth, and just beneath the Rolling Clouds Mountains she’s got two hundred hectares of enfeoffments. You think anybody can marry her?”

Qu Fongning knelt by the side, massaging his calves. At these words, he lowered his head. “This humble servant only felt… Master and this princess must have a lot of resonance in the regard of whipping this humble one.”

Qu Lyn chuckled. “I’ve hit you? Where?” And he groped him around. Qu Fongning couldn’t take the tickle and giggled, falling onto him. Qu Lyn stroked him a number, caught his chin, and smooched a kiss on his lips.

Qu Fongning finally remembered. “Master, in the morning… do you” he enquired. “Morning what,” urged Qu Lyn. Qu Fongning hemmed and hawed, thinking, “There’s nothing to speak about. He had probably mistaken me for a woman.” Yet Qu Lyn seemed to have understood and nodded. “Oh, men, you can’t control that thing in the morning.” And he eyed him with a smirk. “Why, want the master to relieve you a little?

“I dare not, no need,” Qu Fongning said in a hurry. “So his libido is just like any other man,” he thought. Yujien, in his heart, stood above the commons, was less of a man and more of a heavenly god. For a time, it felt all novel to him.

~

And so it was for seven or eight days, for Yujien was quite normal to him. Only until he was absent for a day, and when he came through the vesture door on the next, Yujien smacked him with an integration upon entry: “Where have you been?” The tone was not good.

He scared Qu Fongning, who answered quaveringly, “The Little.. Little Lord Prince was celebrating his birthday; I attended him for a day.”

Yujien realized his indiscretion as well, cleared his throat, and tempered his tone. “Remember to tell me in the future.”

Qu Fongning gave an obedient answer. “You often go out yourself,” he grumbled.

“Then I’ll tell you as well?” Yujien laughed.

Qu Fongning assessed his own weight and politely declined. Suddenly, the earth shook beneath the peaks, and voices swelled in the city. Just as he was curious, Yujien opened his mouth, “When’s your birthday?”

“Fifteenth of the Eighth moon,” answered Qu Fongning, not understanding the meaning.

“That’s inopportune. It has come too early,” Yujien said mildly, inclining back into the chair.

He was still going to ask. Yujien instead pointed impatiently towards the rear peaks of Sky Gale Cliffs. “Go see it yourself.”

Curiosity compelled Qu Fongning’s heart. He dashed to the rear peaks, and only saw yellow dust rolling in from the horizon, the earth moving and the mountains shaking — sixteen colossal snow-white elephants were trotting across the pasture plains.

In his astonishment, no words could leave his mouth. He watched Yujien coming by his side, gesturing to the Sayam envoys from afar. “General,” his throat cracked, “are these a gift for me?”

Yujien caught his trembling tone, and his lips moved. “Yes, I’ve promised you.” Looking at the elephants, he smiled. “Always as you wish. How can I discredit myself?”

“General,” Qu Fongning looked up to his face, opening his mouth with a heavy twang: “I’m… so happy, so happy that I don’t know what to do. No one… has ever been so good to me.” With these two sentences, the corners of his eyes already surged wet.

“Why crying again,” said Yujien, frowning, protended his hands and rubbed him a wipe. Qu Fongning’s cheeks snuggled into his palm and cried even more. “Cry again, and I’ll butcher your elephants to treat the army!” he thus had to threaten. Qu Fongning really wiped dry his face and dared not cry anymore, and watched the mountain’s foot with a stupid grin.

Soon, the elephant mahouts with rattan strips guided the sixteen white elephants into an empty field before the peaks. Beside himself he was, Qu Fongning tumbled and stumbled his mad dash down and came before the elephants, touching this one and watching that one, overwhelmed in happiness.

In between the communication with the Sayam envoys, Yujien found time to speak to him: “I’ll get somebody to make steel armor and saddle for the elephants in a couple of days. When we next charge the elephant troops into battle, I’ll confer you as the commander, and name you… General Fanear.”

Qu Fongning’s heart stirred at his words, imagining these elephant’s enormous body stomping their strides; no matter what elite troops or valiant generals, they should all diminish into dust. And he’ll sit on the elephant’s backs to conduct the clouds and storms. How amazing would that be! However, this title has no grandeur whatsoever, somewhat of a minor flaw in otherwise perfection.

Just as he was mooning in reverie, another team of men and horses filed in and parked a cage-shaped carriage beside the elephants. The cage opened and several white-gloved servants stood on two sides in deference, ushering something off the cage.

In his wonder, he closed in to look: It was a peerlessly beautiful white horse, with cut-bamboo ears and wind sweeping under its hooves, its entire pelt pure white without flaw, and its mane at least feet five or six cun long. In the passing breeze, it fluttered like drifting clouds and dancing snow.

Upon the first meeting, he was entirely smitten; his feet heeded not his commands and walked themselves over. The white horse appeared weary from the travels, but its handsome demeanor was untouched. Its amber eyes regarded him with caution, its long snowy-white lashes drooped down, and it made a whiny.

Yujien watched him completely spirited away, was chuckling to himself, and then heard him enquire dazedly, “General, is this your horse?”

“Yeah,” he thus said.

“Can I help you feed it?” asked Qu Fongning, brushing the white horse’s long mane.

“Mn,” said Yujien, finding it funny.

Qu Fongning’s eyes glowed. “Can you let me borrow it for a ride, just a bit, okay?” he asked carefully.

“You can ride as long as you like.”

Qu Fongning was flying into the sky. “Really!” he whooped, and instantly caught his arm. If the envoy wasn’t still talking prudishly through the translator, he’d probably already flung himself onto him.

“Mn,” said Yujien, peeling off his hand, “wait a few days. It’s new here, still unacclimatized to the land and water.”

Qu Fongning nodded feverishly, looking at the white elephants, then looking at the white horse, and feeling like he’s having it all under heaven, so happy beyond words.

~

Yujien let him indulge in the excitement for several days, plucking tender grass here and there to feed the elephants, and escorting the equine vet in and out. He put on soft cloth gloves, gingerly fed water to the horse and washed it meticulously, afraid of pulling off a single strand of its slivery hair. And ever since he got these two treasures, he had been exceedingly obsequious to the great patron, warming wine and serving tea, pounding back and rubbing legs; there was nothing he didn’t do to the maximum. This day, Yujien was resting on the wolfhead throne, comfortably recumbent, and saw him furtively kneeling before his feet, took off the gloves, and started earnestly pounding his kneecaps.

His fists weren’t of some common laymen; they were strong and sturdy and soon numbed a patch of Yujien’s knees. “Get up!” he scolded.

Qu Fongning withdrew his fists, and said awkwardly, “I… can’t get up.” Upon Yujien’s penetrating glance, he confessed, “I played on the elephant back… for a while.”

The elephant saddles hadn’t been constructed; his so-called elephant riding was to spread out his legs and sprawl himself to romp on the elephant’s back. With his nature, he would be certain to misbehave, and there would probably be other fancy tricks. Yujien ordered him to pull up his trousers legs for inspection. And truly, his inner thighs were full green and purple, and the bells had pressed deep marks on his ankles. Qu Fongning let down the trousers fumblingly and gave him a simpering smile. Yujien didn’t bother to lecture him, only pointed to the side yurt, and said, “Scram, get on some salves.” And Qu Fongning had to crawl himself up and limp his way over.

Oyghrmuki instead came in, full of mystery, and professed: after mountainous efforts, he had finally identified Little Syr’s intended, who turned out to be the old medic Jorrji’s granddaughter and General Ting’schi’s adopted daughter, a gentle and timid little girl. Yujien also couldn’t help becoming a little curious. “Call her in for a look.” Oyghrmuki giggled: “Already called her in.” And he went out hollering a gruff shout, “Hey, little girl, don’t stand stiff, come in!”

After a long, long time, the vesture door finally moved by a sliver, and a girl in a blue cloth dress and shiny black braids padded in, with her head drooping to the floor, and looking like a little chick first clawing out of the nest. In her hand, the rectangular yellow cloth-wrapped bundle had already wetted a big blotch from her clutch.

Yujien examined her and opened his mouth. “What’s your name?”

His voice had always carried a drift of austerity, and Songshr instantly paled from this sudden inquiry. Even her lips lost its blood.

“Don’t be scared, our general doesn’t bite,” Oyghrmuki rushed to say.

Songshr’s head dropped lower and spoke her name in a teeny voice.

Yujien almost didn’t hear her, knew she was afraid of himself, and tried to be gentle.

“Mn, what is your business?”

Songshr dipped her head in silence, and didn’t open her lips for a long time. Yujien waited for a good-half-a-day, and his eyes met Oyghrmuki: What’s up with her?

And he finally heard Songshr speak whisperingly, “To… present ginseng… to the General.” She knelt on the ground, gently took down the yellow cloth-wrapped bundle, and pushed it a little forward.

“Thank you. You may go,” said Yujien.

Songshr made a kowtow, and still drooping her head low, receded to the vesture door in petite steps.

Yujien eyed Oyghrmuki without expression, questioning: This girl can hold him down? Oyghrmuki was also boggled and scratching his head, picked up the bundle, and said to himself, “Is Old Oyghr mistaken? Why did that old slick Jorrji call grandson-in-law this and that?..”

“Miss Songshr, why are you here?” Qu Fongning’s delighted and surprised voice suddenly chimed outside the curtain door.

Songshr let out a cry, and spoke softly, “It’s, it’s you… You’re here.” Her nervousness obviously hadn’t dissipated, for her voice still tensed tight.

“Did the General call you here?” Qu Fongning asked curiously, and hurried to inquiry, “Is Grandpa alright?”

Songshr clasped a corner of her cloth dress, made a light hum, and said, “He often… thinks of you.”

“I haven’t seen him for a long time, I’ll go tomorrow for sure,” Qu Fongning said apologetically, and inquired, “How is Little General doing now?”

“He was recently absorbed with a strange thing, this big, with many metal parts and seems to shoot out little arrows. He’d smashed many of the things in the yurt.”

“That powerful?” exclaimed Qu Fongning, his gaze dimmed, and said in a low voice, “I really want to go see him.”

Songshr commiserated with him a moment, and consoled, “Ever since Little General got this, he’d spent every day immersed in experiments, and not as depressed as before.”

Qu Fongning buckled back up and broke her a smile of gratitude. “Thank you for taking care of him.”

Songshr shook her head in humility. “What’s with your legs?” she asked in concern, regarding his odd posture.

“From riding elephants.” Qu Fongning didn’t mind at all, and suddenly became excited: “Come on, I’ll take you to see my elephants!” He walked a couple of paces, then his face twitched and his teeth clenched, sucking in a breath of cold air from pain.

Oyghrmuki cheekily stuck out his full-bearded face. “Little Syr, you go rest. I’ll treat your company!”

~

Qu Fongning watched the pair descend the peaks and leave the city, then returned to the deserted main ger, flopped down, and started spreading on the salve. A noise sounded from his rear; Yujien wordlessly sat down behind him, opened his legs, and looped him into his arms.

Now he was finally assured and flung back, full of excuses, relaxing himself into him. Yujien frowned. “Sit properly,” he said accusingly. Qu Fongning instead gained his ground to several humps, and Yujien couldn’t help but laugh. “I’ll snap your hands,” he threatened, and a pair of wrists immediately came before his eyes, showing a large scrape beneath the elbow. He thus took over the salve and helped him.

Qu Fongning relished in the service, while his lips complained, “You are so hard to wheedle! Don’t ever call me big tempered again! You are truly a master in this regard of cold shouldering!” He laid for a while in his arms, let his legs level out, and asked, “General, who did you take me as that morning?”

“… Didn’t take you as anybody,” he said, the movement in his hand paused.

Qu Fongning nodded in understanding and patted the back of his hand. “Men, eh.”

“You know a lot, eh?” Yujien knocked his crown.

Qu Fongning ducked to his shoulders, giggling, and moved his legs over his other knee.

Yujien propped up a leg to support his back. Finding his raven black eyes looking up to him, his heart fluttered, and his vision fell uncontrollably onto his ruddy lips.

Qu Fongning was entirely enveloped in his cradle, very relaxed, and slowly closed his lids, cooing, “General, thank you for the gifts. You are the best person in the world.”

Yujien’s heart quaked and turned away his vision. After a long thought, he let out a sign, lifted the evenly breathing Qu Fongning, and placed him on the wolfhead throne.

---