The convoy entered the last city in the northern border of Da Ning. It was a grand fortress with walls taller than the Xiao Yun Restaurant in the capital. The walls stretched across the rocky wilderness, banners fluttered atop the towers, and soldiers in black armor patrolled in an orderly fashion.
This fortress had been built over a decade ago by the late Prince Ning’an, and Da Ning’s most elite troops had come from his command. It was said that if these soldiers hadn’t held this city a few months ago, the Northern Di army would have long since swept through the pass and marched straight in; there would have been no chance for peace talks.
Mu Jue was arranged to rest at the city’s courier station. Xia Ming had already been sent back, so now only a few physicians remained by his side to deliver meals and medicine at scheduled times.
The medicines contained herbs meant to calm the heart and relieve depression; every time he finished drinking them, he felt drowsy.
The young man lay on the bed, shrinking into the corner furthest from the wall. He was very sensitive to the cold now; being even slightly close to the wall made him feel chilled. A single quilt was not enough; he needed to wrap himself in two extra layers of clothing.
A physician left with the empty medicine bowl, muttering as he went about how such a high dosage of medicine seemed to be having no effect at all.
Mu Jue closed his eyes to sleep, slowly pulling up his knees and wrapping his arms tightly around himself.
In his grogginess, he was caught in a nightmare.
In the dream, he was also lying on a bed, but he couldn’t tell if it was at Xiao Yun Restaurant or here at the station. The bed was cold and hard against his back, and it was pitch black all around—there wasn’t even anything for his hands to grab.
Only the body heat of the person holding him in their arms was scorching. The other person embraced him, circling him within a narrow space, palms stroking the top of his head like one would pet a kitten.
He was so cold, and the warmth before him was so clear, that he leaned deeper into that person’s embrace like a moth diving into a flame.
He got his wish and was held as he sat up. His dark eyes saw the face of the person in front of him, but in an instant, all warmth was drained away, and he began to shake.
It was Lu Shiting’s face—handsome, cold, and looking as if it were carved from freezing jade.
He bit his lip hard, instinctively wanting to struggle.
Suddenly, a candle was lit in the room. His eyes reflected the candlelight, and he saw Lu Shiting more clearly. The man was not wearing his court robes or official hat; he wore only a thin white inner garment. Mu Jue felt that with a flick of a finger, he could undo the ties of that robe. The man’s black hair was mostly loose, and his distant, tea-colored phoenix eyes stared at him.
Mu Jue looked down at his own clothes… they were neat and tidy; he hadn’t even taken off the fox fur cloak he wore over them.
Mu Jue breathed a sigh of relief and tried to pry away Lu Shiting’s hand from his waist. Out of the corner of his eye, he suddenly saw shadows flickering on a nearby screen—not just his and Lu Shiting’s, but many people.
The candle flickered in the wind. Under the orange-red light, several figures stepped silently from behind the screen.
The Emperor, the Crown Prince, the Ninth Prince even the deceased Third Prince and the guards escorting him to Northern Di.
Those people stood by the screen, their expressions dark and unreadable, staring directly at the way he was being held by Lu Shiting, sitting on the man’s lap like a boy from a brothel.
Mu Jue’s heart shuddered, and he began to struggle like a madman.
Lu Shiting let him struggle. His cold gaze fell on Mu Jue’s clothes, yet it felt as if Mu Jue were the one wearing only an inner garment, as if he were the one about to be left with nothing.
The heat from the man’s palm and the expression on his face were completely different; in his panicked struggle, Mu Jue couldn’t tell which was real and which was fake.
Lu Shiting’s hot breath brushed against the side of his neck, while voices he couldn’t identify rang in his ears.
“Princes who submit to powerful eunuchs never come to a good end.”
“Sixth Brother can try using the skills you used to seduce Chief Lu to climb into the Khan’s bed.”
“Look at his skin—it’s whiter than a woman’s.”
In shame, he remembered being drugged at Xiao Yun Restaurant—how, with just a pinch of his neck or a touch of his Adam’s apple from Lu Shiting, he hadn’t been able to stop himself from moaning.
At that time, he had actually been relieved that it was Lu Shiting who came, and not the Little Khan.
The man’s strength was great. He had never heard that Lu Shiting practiced martial arts, but the Chief of the Eastern Depot would likely have been dead long ago if he didn’t know how to kill. The pads of fingers accustomed to holding blades had a layer of calluses; pressing against his wrist and holding his lower back, they made it impossible for him to move.
“Sixth Prince.”
The man spoke in his ear, as if they truly were the pair from the rumors—the corrupt eunuch and the lowly prince in league together.
“Your Highness, look who has come over.”
Mu Jue turned his face, his eyes wet, and saw his mother standing by the screen at some unknown moment.
He startled awake from the nightmare, panting for a long time before letting go of his grip on the bedding.
He was covered in cold sweat, but his undergarments were also soiled.
The young man sat up, his hair soaked with sweat and his nose beaded with it, his face deathly pale.
He didn’t know how long he had slept; the sky outside was dim, making it impossible to tell if it was dusk or dawn.
The images from the dream faded quickly. He slowly stood up to light a candle, feeling a strange fear as he did so. It felt as if once the flame was lit, he would be back in Lu Shiting’s arms, treated as a plaything, while the Crown Prince and the others watched him with mockery.
Look, they were right to call him a wretch who begs for favor beneath a eunuch.
And his mother… his mother…
He took a moment to compose himself, wrapped himself in the fox fur by the candlelight, took a change of clothes from his bundle, and asked the guard on duty for water to wash.
After hanging his washed undergarments out the window to dry, he thought he heard the sound of a horn outside.
The guard told him it was the horn for the daily morning drills at the military camp.
So, it was daytime. That meant he had to continue his journey to Northern Di. Once he left this city, there would be nothing but desert and rocky plains; the Northern Di camp was on the other side of the wilderness.
He knew he wouldn’t be allowed to watch the drills, so he only asked the soldier for a dagger.
The soldier was not an Imperial Guard but a border guard. Hearing that Mu Jue wanted a dagger for self-defense in Northern Di, he gave him one quite readily, a frank smile on his dark face.
“Actually, many Northern Di cities are at the foot of the snow mountains. There are herds of cattle and sheep there, and the lake water is sweet.”
Mu Jue could tell the man was trying to comfort him, so he spoke a bit about things in the capital.
In truth, the only two times he had ever left the palace were once to go to Xiao Yun Restaurant and once to go to Northern Di as a hostage. He was a complete stranger to the capital; even in the palace, he was only familiar with his side hall.
But this soldier’s hometown was not far from the capital. Having guarded the border for several years without returning home, he listened to Mu Jue describe the city with the rapt attention of someone listening to a storyteller in a teahouse.
Mu Jue searched his memory to describe things: fire-breathing street performers, silks from the south in the shops, and the “Bitterness Ends” wine at Xiao Yun Restaurant.
“Sixth Prince, you take care of yourself in Northern Di. Once we drive them back later, you will surely be able to return to the capital.”
In the eyes of these soldiers, the hostage was sent because of a lost war. Therefore, once they won, Northern Di would naturally have to send him back.