The bronze pot began to bubble with a milky-white steam as angelica root, goji berries, and red dates bobbed up and down within the rich mushroom broth. Yusheng poured sliced fish, lotus root, yams, and a pile of green vegetables into the pot in turn. As his ladle stirred twice through the liquid, a fragrant aroma wrapped in warmth enveloped everyone sitting out in the rain.
Outside the umbrella were fluttering rain and fine, scattered winds; beneath it were billowing heat and savory, appetizing hot pot. At this moment, Yun Zhensong’s sense of security and contentment reached its peak.
Out of the corner of his eye, Yun Zhensong caught sight of Zhou Si still standing guard by his side, as well as Yusheng bustling about. Glancing toward the other side, he saw Qi Jianshuang sitting quite composedly. Though showing no immediate sign of reaching for his chopsticks, the man looked completely at ease and unconcerned.
Lifting the bowl of hot soup Yusheng had just ladled out for him, Yun Zhensong warmed his hands while sipping it in small increments, then spoke earnestly: “Zhou Si, Yusheng.”
Hearing that tone, the two thought they had somehow messed up. They simultaneously halted their movements and answered in unison, “Here!”
“You startled me. There’s no need to speak so loudly.” Yun Zhensong’s hand gave a slight jolt, and Qi Jianshuang’s hand moved with lightning speed to steady the back of Yun Zhensong’s hand. The wide, burning-hot palm pressed against his cool, delicate skin, causing Yun Zhensong to miss a heartbeat. “…Thank you.”
Qi Jianshuang gave him a faint, sidelong glance, withdrew his hand, and said, “Go on with what you were saying.”
“Oh,” Yun Zhensong immediately averted his shy gaze, straightened his expression, and said, “The two of you, sit down and eat with us. Normally I’m swamped with official duties and my meal times are all over the place, which is why I haven’t had you dine with me. It’s rare for us to take a break today. Come on, sit down.”
Zhou Si didn’t move, while Yusheng looked pleasantly surprised and flustered. “This… this isn’t proper according to etiquette.”
“Since when are there so many rigid rules? Look at Hongke—he doesn’t fuss over such things.”
Zhou Si spoke up: “He is now the commander appointed by you, Master. Since we acknowledge you, we must also acknowledge him.”
The post of commandant in Yuanqing County had stood vacant for a long time, and with the imperial court repeatedly failing to dispatch officials, Yun Zhensong had used his authority as a magistrate to bestow an official post upon Qi Jianshuang. Yun Zhensong had assumed that for a position lacking both establishment and a decent salary, Qi Jianshuang would likely refuse. To his surprise, when he sent someone to sound him out, the man agreed without a second thought.
So that’s where the advantage lay.
This left Yun Zhensong feeling somewhat apologetic toward Zhou Si. Since Zhou Si was responsible for protecting his personal safety, he had no opportunity to take charge of the county’s soldiers, and naturally missed out on the respect that came with it.
No, I’ll have to find a chance to properly establish Zhou Si’s position another day.
Yusheng murmured softly, “Besides, everyone’s picking food out of the same pot like this, how could we…”
“In front of me, there aren’t that many rules.” Yun Zhensong set down his half-finished bowl of mushroom soup. With his stomach feeling warm and cozy, his energy returned. Raising both arms, he grabbed the two of them from either side and pressed their shoulders to make them sit down, teasing, “Don’t you go fighting me on this. I’m as frail as they come—how could I possibly match your strength?”
A very faint, low chuckle escaped Qi Jianshuang from across the table. Yun Zhensong swept a sideways glance at him. “What are you laughing at?”
“Nothing,” Qi Jianshuang set down his chopsticks and remarked with a hint of amusement, “Sometimes I think your self-assessments are remarkably objective.”
“You…” Yun Zhensong recalled the treatment Qi Jianshuang had endured lately—drilling troops at the military grounds from dawn till dusk to whip a bunch of lazy soldiers into shape, only to return for rest and find himself restricted to a cramped, uncomfortable little room with subpar meals.
In name, he had been granted authority, but in reality, aside from an empty title of “Commander,” he had received absolutely nothing.
He had worked tirelessly for Yun Zhensong for free without ever uttering a single complaint.
Qi Jianshuang waited, but no follow-up came. “I what?”
Yun Zhensong said, “You should move into the west wing of my courtyard. I had it cleaned up for you today.”
Qi Jianshuang raised an eyebrow in genuine surprise, finding this sudden decision completely baffling.
What’s this? Still not trusting me and planning to keep me under your own nose?
“Actually, you really don’t have to be so wary of me, I…”
“I just want you to be a bit more comfortable…”
Both sentences sounded at the exact same time, leaving the two of them momentarily stunned upon hearing each other.
Although Qi Jianshuang had been raised in luxury since childhood, he possessed a wild disposition. Coupled with later years spent eating and sleeping alongside ordinary soldiers, he had grown thick-skinned enough to sleep on a simple straw mat right out in the courtyard.
Yun Zhensong spoke first: “And you really don’t need to worry anymore. ‘If you employ someone, do not suspect them; if you suspect them, do not employ them’—I understand at least that much.”
Qi Jianshuang had originally intended to ask why he wanted him to be more comfortable—was he trying to butter him up, or was it a guilty conscience?
On second thought, it didn’t matter. He couldn’t be bothered to probe further.
Qi Jianshuang nodded and simply said, “Fine.”
“Huh?”
“I’ll move to the west wing. Good.”
Yun Zhensong smiled at him and lowered his head back to his meal, picking up a piece of lotus root. Because his palate ran mild and the mushroom broth already carried plenty of flavor, he didn’t bother touching the dipping sauce prepared by the cook.
The pot mostly contained green vegetables. Qi Jianshuang had zero interest in greens; after moving his chopsticks a couple of times, he set them aside, lifting his bowl to lazily sip some home-brewed earthen wine.
His gaze shifted toward Yun Zhensong. Those light vegetables suited Yun Zhensong’s tastes precisely; he ate until the tip of his nose was lightly glossed with sweat, without touching a single drop of alcohol.
Qi Jianshuang possessed exceptionally sharp observation skills. After spending a certain amount of time together, he could judge with ninety percent certainty whether a person’s true nature was black or white.
In Qi Jianshuang’s view, Yun Zhensong was like a lotus uncorrupted by the murky waters of officialdom—pure to a fault.
Initially, Qi Jianshuang had assumed that an official who had passed through rigorous imperial examinations and held prior experience in Zhongzhou must be putting on some kind of act.
Yet no matter the circumstance, Yun Zhensong treated others with absolute sincerity. Sometimes, that sincerity made Qi Jianshuang wonder if the fellow was a bit simple-minded.
His kindness, his radiance—Qi Jianshuang had no idea how long he could maintain them, but he found himself wanting him to hold onto them for a bit longer. Just a little longer.
Yusheng and Zhou Si had long since stepped away from the table—one went to help Qi Jianshuang move his belongings from the side courtyard to the main wing, while the other stood guard outside the courtyard to protect Yun Zhensong.
The rising steam diffused between them, blurring their faces. Surrounded by the sound of rain and wrapped in dampness, the moment their eyes met, Yun Zhensong felt a sudden tremor in his heart.
In Qi Jianshuang’s gaze, he saw appreciation and indulgence.
“Why aren’t you eating?”
Tipping his chin upward, Qi Jianshuang asked a rhetorical question: “…You’ve been nibbling at that single piece of lotus root for how many bites now? Still not finished?”
“Huh?” Yun Zhensong blinked. “I wasn’t counting. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” Qi Jianshuang calmly withdrew his gaze, letting it drift toward the water curtain cascading under the eaves as he said unhurriedly, “Eat slowly.”
Yun Zhensong rapidly shoved the remaining food in his bowl into his mouth. “I eat too slowly, right? Let me speed up.”
Qi Jianshuang reached out to pin down his chopsticks, articulating each word: “Eat slowly. What’s the rush?”
Yun Zhensong lowered his head and cast a silent, sideways glare at him.
If you’re not in a rush, why ask?!
As the rain gradually tapered off, Yun Zhensong set down his chopsticks and looked outward.
On the post-rain spring night, silver droplets still clung to the tips of the grass, and the air remained damp, carrying the crisp fragrance of fresh foliage. Diamond-like stars studded the wet leaves, twinkling incessantly in a scattered array.
He stood up, took a step aside, and beheld the vast, clear, pristine expanse of the starry sky.
Unable to resist sighing in admiration, he murmured, “Truly beautiful. Did you see that?”
With no one else around, Qi Jianshuang played along to humor him. “Saw it.”
Yun Zhensong sighed. “You’re really no fun, seriously.”
“I know.”
“…” Yun Zhensong looked him up and down. “With a build like yours, can you get me up onto the roof?”
“What do you want to do?”
“Want to go crazy just once.” Up until now, in order to endure the hardship of depending on others and avoid becoming anyone’s burden or trouble, Yun Zhensong had never done anything out of the line. But right now, he wanted to live freely and uninhibitedly for once.
If he was refused, he would accept it.
Qi Jianshuang glanced up at the roof and remained silent for a moment. “You surely don’t want to go up there just to stare at stars, do you?”
Yun Zhensong didn’t answer, merely curving his eyes.
On a moonless night, Qi Jianshuang stared straight at the person before him out of the darkness. In a daze, the figure standing before him ceased to be a mere county magistrate, transforming instead into an unrestrained, high-spirited young man following his own heart.
Qi Jianshuang let out a sudden chuckle, turned his back to Yun Zhensong, and squatted down. “Get on.”
Hoisting him securely onto his back, he could feel Yun Zhensong’s breath brushing against his earlobe.
“Hold on tight.”
With feet as light as wind, Qi Jianshuang leaped consecutively onto the roof tiles, which emitted a crisp rustle beneath their tread, before finding a relatively flat spot and gently setting him down.
The roof tiles remained damp from the rain, so Qi Jianshuang stripped off his outer robe and spread it out as a cushion beneath Yun Zhensong.
Shortly after, Qi Jianshuang returned carrying a thick wind-cloak and two flasks of wine, extending one toward him. “Can you handle this?”
To be honest, Yun Zhensong had a terrible tolerance for alcohol; after just a single sip, his entire body would turn flushed red.
He stared at the hand extended before him long-fingered, with prominent veins, hands that radiated immense, controlled power whenever they flexed.
“I can.” Yun Zhensong nodded as if under a spell, and when taking the flask, allowed his fingers to intentionally or accidentally brush against Qi Jianshuang’s skin.
Next, the cloak settled over his shoulders as Qi Jianshuang raised his hands to tie the strings for him. Yun Zhensong silently watched his lowered eyelashes; his brow ridges were high and his nose bridge straight.
Yun Zhensong felt that he possessed a natural, inexplicable reliance on Qi Jianshuang. Not a single thing Qi Jianshuang did for him whether helping him dig trenches, carrying him back to the residence, or draping a cloak over his shoulders did he ever want to refuse.
The night was deep and the estate quiet, broken only by the distant call of a bird. Fearing he might slip, Qi Jianshuang sat extremely close to him.
Yun Zhensong took a small sip of the wine. It tasted remarkably sweet, carrying a faint fragrance of sweet osmanthus. Clearing his throat, he asked, “How are Deng Hua and the others doing lately?”
On the very day he learned who Cheng Sui and Lu Yi were, Yun Zhensong had heard Deng Hua’s name from his subordinates for no other reason than that Deng Hua’s martial prowess was simply too formidable!
Recognizing talent and putting it to good use, Yun Zhensong had quickly appointed Deng Hua as a “Female Commander,” putting her in charge of educating young girls in the county, organizing female militia, and conducting drills. Half a month had flown by, and virtually all the women in the county now viewed Deng Hua as their savior, praising her to the skies day in and day out.
Qi Jianshuang could tell Yun Zhensong was just searching for a topic of conversation. If he, the magistrate, was unaware of Deng Hua and the others’ current status, how much more could a mere commander know?
If they hadn’t been Qi Jianshuang’s trusted confidants, he truly wouldn’t have known how to reply: “The ‘Mian Army’ under Deng Hua’s training is showing quite promising results; everyone is putting in full effort. Cheng Sui and Lu Yi have set a good example for the lagging county soldiers. Judging by their current strength, wiping out a band of a hundred-odd bandits shouldn’t be a problem.”
“Speaking of bandits, are Dahuhu and his men falling in line?”
“They were unruly at first, but a couple of beatings straightened them out. Still, they lack genuine loyalty; you should be prepared for the possibility that they might try to flee at any moment.”
Yun Zhensong tilted his head and chuckled playfully. “Are you blaming me for letting them stay in the first place?”
Qi Jianshuang replied flatly, “I wouldn’t dare.”
Yun Zhensong patted his shoulder. “An enemy is always better than a deserter, wouldn’t you say?”
Qi Jianshuang glanced at him and let out a light, cynical scoff. “Deserters can turn into enemies, too.”
“Are you talking about yourself?” Yun Zhensong blinked.
Qi Jianshuang fell silent.
With a soft smile, Yun Zhensong let it go, swirling the wine in his flask as he continued, “I have one more serious question for you. You mentioned you were from the Ironclad Camp, so you must know the Great Northern General, right?”
Qi Jianshuang’s breathing hitched for a split second. Downing the final mouthful of wine in his flask, he feigned nonchalance as he looked straight ahead into the distance. “Mn.”
“What’s the Great Northern General’s name?”
Since the first three names provided by the system belonged to members of the Ironclad Camp, at least two of them had to be inextricably linked to it. Only by figuring out who those individuals were as early as possible could he navigate subsequent tasks and plot developments with greater composure.
“Qi Jianshuang.”
Yun Zhensong looked somewhat disappointed. “Oh.”
The system offered zero assistance outside of rewards; he had no way of knowing whether Hongke was a good or bad person, nor could he uncover the identities of the other characters.
“Why?” Qi Jianshuang asked coolly.
Yun Zhensong improvised on the spot: “It’s just that news of the Great Northern General’s death only recently reached Yuanqing County. It feels a bit heartbreaking that someone who devoted his entire life to the nation didn’t even get a good ending in the end.”
If that general hadn’t died, how could he possibly bear the pressure of handling nineteen tribes?!
Qi Jianshuang arched an eyebrow. “People everywhere are saying he intentionally delayed and missed the optimal tactical window, causing heavy casualties for the Ironclad Camp…”
Yun Zhensong sharply cut him off: “He was also your commander once; are his words and actions something for outsiders to distort at will? I’ve seen right through the court politics of Great Xuan by now. The grain requested half a month ago is still nowhere to be found; even if Yuanqing County is remote and isolated, it shouldn’t be cut off from every single word. Officials terrified of death play deaf and dumb, while illiterate fools willingly act as pawns spreading rumors. Just how much hardship and suffering there was in that final battle—those who passed away cannot voice their grievances, leaving the living to seek justice for them. As someone who was part of the Ironclad Camp, instead of helping defend the general, why are you slandering him?”
Qi Jianshuang ruminated over his words: So there are still people as clear-headed as him left in this world.
The two chatted for a long time. Unawares, Yun Zhensong had consumed over half his flask, and the dizzying aftereffects crept up, turning his mind to mush. He mocked himself inwardly: Why am I suddenly filled with such grand, universal love? I don’t even have friends, let alone family—where on earth am I getting all these emotions to plead the case of a total stranger? I must be out of my mind.
The man was a grand general after all, powerful and influential in life, and beloved by many. Meanwhile, he was just someone nobody cared about.
Yet who was to blame for that?
Recounting it all, he had virtually no standout traits: a sickly constitution, neither humorous nor refined, lacking in poetry, ignorant of martial arts, and even cursed with a gaunt, pale appearance.
The night was pitch black. Qi Jianshuang hadn’t looked closely at Yun Zhensong just moments ago, but now noticing that the other had suddenly grown quiet, he called his name. Receiving no reply, he reached out and touched his burning skin.
With his thoughts still drifting in the clouds, Yun Zhensong suddenly felt the person beside him stir, unceremoniously cupping a palm against his forehead.
Yun Zhensong went blank for a fraction of a second, blinking in confusion. “What are you doing?”
“You’re burning up.” This time it was Qi Jianshuang’s turn to frown. “Where does it hurt?”
“…I’m not hurting.”
By the moonlight, Qi Jianshuang caught sight of his flushed face and instantly grew irritated, frowning as he scolded, “If you can’t hold your liquor, why drink? Have you got a death wish?”
“What’s it to you?” Yun Zhensong’s gaze lost its clarity, his focus blurring. “I want what I want. If drinking myself to death is what happens, that’s on me.”
Why is he suddenly throwing such a tantrum?
Qi Jianshuang truly couldn’t figure him out, feeling a wave of deep helplessness. “How did I provoke you this time?”
He wrapped an arm around Yun Zhensong’s back, resting it against his shoulder to keep him from swaying and tumbling off the roof.
“It’s not because of you.” Yun Zhensong straightened his arm across his knees, burying his face in them as he muttered in a muffled voice, “Nobody ever cared about me since I was a kid. When I had a fever, I had to tough it out myself; when people bullied me, I didn’t even know who to complain to. I thought things would get better once I grew up that once I could earn my own money, everything would finally be okay…”
Qi Jianshuang pressed his lips together. Cheng Sui had previously investigated Yun Zhensong’s background; he had indeed lost both parents at a young age, relying on meals from a hundred different households to barely scrape by into adulthood.
He was clumsy with words, incapable of comforting others, and utterly clueless about how to coddle someone.
Fortunately, Yun Zhensong was drunk and didn’t require anyone to answer him, only muttering to himself: “I can pity myself all I want, but you’re not allowed to pity me.”
Qi Jianshuang stated dryly, “I never pity anyone.”
“Then why are you looking at me with that kind of gaze!” A hint of grievance sharpened Yun Zhensong’s voice.
The fellow hadn’t even lifted his head, so how on earth could he see what kind of look was in Qi Jianshuang’s eyes? Besides, Qi Jianshuang’s expression hadn’t changed by a fraction.
Who knew which past memory Yun Zhensong was projecting onto this moment.
Probably the memory of being looked at with pity.
A moment later, Yun Zhensong let out a pair of bitter, self-deprecating laughs. “You really are… utterly hopeless at comforting people. What do you mean you ‘never pity anyone’? Is your heart carved out of stone?”
Qi Jianshuang was left speechless, though Yun Zhensong didn’t require an answer.
Lifting his head, he gazed up at the starry sky, and the very next instant he blinked, tears slipped silently down his cheeks, quickly pooling at his chin.
The corners of his eyes were a mess of red, his posture going limp as he leaned his head heavily against Qi Jianshuang’s shoulder in a hazy daze.
“…Hold me.”