BEGW C88

Chapter 88

The smoky-gray eyes were like an abyss at the bottom of the sea—

calm on the surface, yet filled with storms and hidden currents beneath.

The rear hall of Liuyun Hall fell silent for a breath.

Jiang Yuxun unconsciously tightened his grip on the fabric beneath his fingers.

At the instant that kiss brushed across the Emperor’s neck, he finally realized that what he had done was… perhaps a little too much.

A ripple of panic rose in his chest.

He immediately held his breath and tried to pull away from Ying Changchuan.

“Ah—”

But before Jiang Yuxun could move, his wrist was caught, held firmly.

His body leaned backward, losing balance and falling into the Emperor’s arms.

His once-tidy robes spilled apart.

Wide sleeves scattered onto the floor like bedraggled petals.

Ying Changchuan lowered his gaze, fixing deeply upon him.

One hand still clasped Jiang Yuxun’s wrist, the other gently lifted his chin.

The movement had loosened Yuxun’s collar, revealing a stretch of skin pale as porcelain.

And at this moment, Ying Changchuan… wanted nothing more than to leave his own mark there.

His fingertips traced the skin at the corner of Jiang Yuxun’s lips as he asked in a low, hoarse voice:

“Why did you stop kissing me?”

Jiang Yuxun’s chest rose and fell unevenly.

He looked away, unable to face the Emperor’s eyes.

“I— I don’t dare.”

“And why not?”

“Because… I’m afraid.”

He bit his lower lip as he spoke.

He had grown up away from home in a boarding school.

The closest physical contact he ever had with friends was a casual arm around the shoulders.

He was not used to such intimacy.

And when he recalled… those scenes in the spring palace illustration—

Fear inevitably tightened inside him.

Ying Changchuan’s arms tightened fractionally around him.

Then he bent down and pressed a fierce kiss against Jiang Yuxun’s ear.

He knew—

if he truly intended to go further today,

Jiang Yuxun would not reject him.

But for someone who still didn’t even know how to open his mouth properly in a kiss, it would be too much.

So Ying Changchuan closed his eyes, hiding the desire simmering in them.

Then, just as Yuxun attempted to squirm away, he tightened his embrace again.

“Don’t run.”

Jiang Yuxun immediately froze like an ice sculpture.

The air thickened with unspoken heat.

After some time, Ying Changchuan finally murmured:

“Let me hold you a little longer.”

Dim light flickered over the piles of military reports.

A brush lay to the side, still carrying wet ink.

Beneath the weight of desire, Jiang Yuxun heard something rare—

a faint exhaustion in the Emperor’s voice.

—This was not the omnipotent sovereign in the eyes of the world.

This was a man of flesh and blood, who desired, who tired, who ached.

A strange, indescribable emotion welled up inside Jiang Yuxun.

Both men held their breath.

Gradually, Jiang Yuxun relaxed and leaned lightly against him.

“…All right.”

The candles burned lower, dimming the room until shadows swallowed them.

Yet neither moved to relight the lamps.

They simply surrendered to the gentle darkness.

War loomed.

Nothing could be delayed.

Though Zhaodu seemed peaceful, Xianyou Palace was taut with tension.

Once it was decided that he would travel north with the Emperor—

Jiang Yuxun finished all his pending work at the fastest possible speed and set off with Ying Changchuan.

Their party traveled light and fast, reaching Zefang County within three days.

Zefang, being farther south than Zherou, was less ravaged by the white disaster.

Late spring painted the rolling hills in soft green.

Pale-blue streams wound through the grassland like silk ribbons.

In the distance, purple azaleas bloomed brightly in the wind.

Near noon, smoke curled from the village hearths.

The wind carried the fragrance of food, and children chased each other across the grass field, kicking a bamboo ball.

They seemed blissfully unaware that war was creeping closer.

Inside the main tent, Gu Yejio—who had arrived early—was reporting:

“Your Majesty, Great General, three days ago the vassal under Chuchi Khan departed the territory of Gabor and headed toward the lands of Da’e.”

His expression turned grave.

“Gabor” and “Da’e” referred to the other two kings among the Three Khans of Zherou.

Da’e’s realm lay far west, near the borders of Qiaoluo.

Though untouched by the white disaster, it was far too distant.

Transporting livestock required time and manpower—

useless for urgent need.

Chuchi’s envoy heading there meant—

he had already suffered setbacks with Gabor.

Ying Changchuan’s finger paused above the military report.

“From today forward, reinforce border patrols.”

“Yes, Your Majesty!”

Another general hesitated before asking:

“Your Majesty… does this mean… Chuchi Khan may raid our people while seeking aid from Da’e?”

A hush fell.

Only then did the general realize how improper his wording sounded.

Before his panic worsened, Jiang Yuxun spoke calmly:

“Chuchi Khan fears he no longer has that much time.”

His mellow voice eased the tension in the tent.

Ying Changchuan put aside the report and signaled for him to continue.

Jiang Yuxun’s gaze drifted toward the grasslands outside.

“Moreover… the khan of Zherou lacks authority. The new ruler is far too young to command any real deterrence. The Three Khans once maintained a delicate balance of power, but the white disaster has broken that balance.”

He wore soft armor now, long hair bound beneath a silver crown—

his features all the sharper for it.

“The white disaster struck each territory differently. Their strengths diverged. Those who once stood equal now eye one another with suspicion. Chuchi Khan’s livestock have died, yet his pastures remain. Who can say whether the other two khans will covet them?”

Yuxun finished just as the Emperor stood and walked out of the tent.

Everyone followed.

The arrival of emigrants had revitalized this region once barren.

They settled quickly and prospered.

The village was no different from those near Zhaodu—

chickens, pigs, goats, vegetable gardens.

To Chuchi Khan, who no longer had the capacity for a protracted war,

a southern raid would be far easier than waiting for aid.

…

In the village near the Northern Garrison, several children were running about, wearing makeshift leaf-armor and wielding wooden sticks like swords.

“Chuchi Khan! Prepare to die!”

“Catch him! My horse—where’s my horse?!”

Jiang Yuxun had just stepped in when a loud shout startled him.

A child rode past on a yellow dog as if charging into battle.

Since leaving the garrison, the party had removed their armor and wore plain clothes.

The children paid them no special attention.

At first glance the scene was amusing—

but their earnest expressions betrayed the weight of the times.

“These children live with the troops,” Ying Changchuan said softly.

“Their families are soldiers. They grow up seeing battle drills daily—so even their games mimic cavalry formations.”

Jiang Yuxun watched, marveling inwardly.

Ying Changchuan asked, “What is it, A’xun?”

Ever since they acknowledged their relationship, the term A’qing had grown subtly intimate—

a trace of playful secrecy hidden in propriety.

The nearby officers, hearing the Emperor address him, glanced toward Yuxun.

Jiang Yuxun straightened, clasped his hands, and answered formally:

“In reply to Your Majesty: earlier cavalry emphasized archery and maneuvering. Yet none of these children mimicked archery. They all brandished swords atop their ‘mounts,’ intent on close combat. This suggests Zefang’s cavalry reforms have become thoroughly internalized.”

The officials nodded.

“Indeed, indeed!”

Ying Changchuan smiled.

“A’qing’s observation is keen.”

His tone was polite—like a model ruler.

“You flatter me, Your Majesty.”

Jiang Yuxun bowed again.

But as he bent down—

a small laugh escaped him.

The ministers exchanged confused glances.

Jiang Yuxun quickly looked away toward the child riding the yellow dog, trying to pretend that was what amused him.

Soon after, Ying Changchuan dismissed the officials.

“It’s fine. All of you, disperse.”

Having so many people gather in a small alleyway was conspicuous.

The officials saluted and left.

In an instant, only the Emperor and Jiang Yuxun remained.

Now that they were alone, Jiang Yuxun crouched down and burst into helpless laughter.

“What are you laughing at, A’qing?” Ying Changchuan leaned down.

Clearing his throat, Jiang Yuxun said:

“Does Your Majesty not feel that we were just now… playing house?”

One pretending to be solemn;

the other pretending right back.

The thought made him laugh harder.

They were in a back alley between village homes, quiet at midday.

Knowing no one would appear soon, Jiang Yuxun tried to stand—

but Ying Changchuan pulled him up—

then immediately pinned him against a courtyard wall.

“You’re the one who insisted we maintain distance before others,” Ying Changchuan murmured. “What is it? Already giving up?”

If Ying Changchuan didn’t care for others’ opinions, Jiang Yuxun certainly didn’t intend to be the cowardly one—

but this was a battlefield, and distractions were dangerous.

Before leaving Zhaodu, they had agreed on three main rules—

the first being to keep a low profile in public.

“Of course I can hold on,” Jiang Yuxun said, pushing against him.

But Ying Changchuan did not budge.

Just then, several children rounded the corner again.

Swiftly, Ying Changchuan lifted his sleeve, shielding Jiang Yuxun behind him.

Footsteps halted.

A whisper sounded:

“Let’s go another way!”

“Why? This road is faster!”

“Didn’t you see? They’re about to kiss—”

Jiang Yuxun: !!!!

Who knew northern children were this feral?!

He grabbed Ying Changchuan’s sleeve, mortified beyond words.

Yet the Emperor’s skin was thicker than steel.

He didn’t even blush—

he laughed—

then bent down and kissed Jiang Yuxun’s cheek.

As if cherishing this rare moment of peace.

Before they returned to the garrison, a report arrived from the Imperial Seal Bureau.

Gu Yejio delivered it with a salute, and Ying Changchuan opened it as he walked with Jiang Yuxun.

Lingtiantai had become increasingly restless.

Beyond contacting alchemists to leak firearms to Zherou, they’d begun operating within Zefang itself.

Before the white disaster, Zherou’s southward push might have been territorial.

But now—

they only sought resources.

Among the northern migrants were many devout followers of Lingtiantai.

The shamans approached them, coaxing out information about village locations and garrison points.

Their intent:

bypass the army and attack civilians directly.

Ying Changchuan smiled faintly.

“Do not alert them. Let them dance as they please.”

The border was vast and complex.

Defense was not easy.

If Lingtiantai wanted to highlight the routes for Zherou—

Great Zhou might as well use their map.

Gu Yejio accepted the order and left.

Even knowing Lingtiantai wished to plunge the empire back into decades of chaos,

reading the report still chilled Jiang Yuxun.

For every martyr like Tong Hailin who sacrificed for the greater good—

there were always those who would betray others for personal gain.

Yuxun glanced at the Emperor.

Raised in an aristocratic clan during the previous dynasty, Ying Changchuan had long grown accustomed to such ugliness.

He burned the report, letting it fall to ash.

Jiang Yuxun watched the ashes drift, lost in thought.

Ying Changchuan suddenly stopped, reached out, and enclosed Jiang Yuxun’s hand in his.

“Come.”

They had reached the village’s main street.

Ministers and generals followed behind, heads respectfully bowed.

…Anyone who raised their eyes would see their Emperor walking hand-in-hand with the Minister of Rites.

“Your Majesty?!” Jiang Yuxun jumped.

He tried to pull back, but Ying Changchuan shook his head.

“Relax. They can’t see.”

Yuxun’s sleeve slid down as his hand lowered, concealing their joined fingers.

Warm breeze stirred the fruit trees lining the street.

Jiang Yuxun peeked downward.

Their bodies were pressed close.

No one would notice beneath the fabric.

His ears reddened sharply.

He loosened his fingers slightly, then nudged Ying Changchuan’s palm with his fingertip.

“Your Majesty… loosen a little…”

He glanced backward anxiously—no one looked up.

Perplexed but compliant, Ying Changchuan relaxed his grip.

That was when he felt a faint tickle.

Under the sleeve, Jiang Yuxun’s fingers traced forward carefully—hesitantly—

seeking to interlace with his.

The ticklish warmth spread through Ying Changchuan’s palm.

His heart jolted—

He understood.

Jiang Yuxun wanted to lace their fingers.

The spring wind lifted their sleeves lightly.

Ying Changchuan grasped his hand firmly, fingers weaving tightly with his.

Jiang Yuxun tensed—

then slowly tightened his hold in return.

The northern climate swung fiercely between day and night.

After walking in the sun, a sheen of sweat clung to Jiang Yuxun’s back.

Once night fell, he returned to the command tent to bathe.

But the tent was crowded now that the Fulin Army had arrived.

Space was tight.

Although the Emperor was entitled to the largest tent—

he had given most of it away out of personal preference.

Steam filled the cramped space.

A thick felt screen separated the washing area.

Yet Jiang Yuxun still felt anything but comfortable.

Holding his clean clothes, he said stiffly:

“Your Majesty… should you not go inspect the Fulin Army’s training?”

Silence, then the soft sound of a page being turned.

Finally the Emperor replied, voice utterly proper:

“No need. It is late. They have already retired.”

“…Yes, Your Majesty.”

Jiang Yuxun inhaled deeply, bracing himself, fingers hovering near his belt.

It’s fine. There’s a screen.

We’re both men. Bathing in the same room isn’t…

—Except they had never been unclothed before each other.

And in Xianyou Palace, with its luxurious bath halls and multiple hot springs—

this problem never came up.

Steam thickened.

He set aside his clean robes and slowly removed his outer garment.

He tried again:

“The sky is moonless tonight… a fine time to view the Milky Way. Your Majesty, perhaps you could go and observe the heavens?”

“I only wish to watch the stars with A’xun.”

Ah.

So Ying Changchuan had no intention of leaving.

Resigned, Jiang Yuxun removed his hairpin.

Ink-black hair spilled down like a waterfall.

The curtain of hair gave him a little courage.

Dressed only in his thin inner robe, he approached the wooden tub.

Just as he tried to pretend the Emperor wasn’t there—

Ying Changchuan spoke again:

“A’qing, why haven’t you started the bath?”

Jiang Yuxun flinched.

“…I am… not entirely used to Your Majesty being here.”

A pause.

Then Ying Changchuan chuckled softly.

“Not entirely?”

Cornered, Jiang Yuxun admitted in a tiny voice:

“…I can’t keep hiding from Your Majesty forever.”

“True.”

And just then—

a shadow fell across the felt screen.

At some point, Ying Changchuan had put away the memorials and walked toward him.

“Wait—!”

Too late.

The Emperor stepped into view.

Fortunately—Jiang Yuxun had not removed his inner robe yet.

Ying Changchuan said lazily:

“Since A’qing understands, then perhaps you should adapt sooner rather than later.”

The tent fell quiet.

Ying Changchuan lifted a hand, running it through Jiang Yuxun’s hair before lightly swirling the water in the tub.

Ripples lapped softly against the wooden sides, filling the silence.

The Emperor looked dangerously calm—

fox-eyed, unreadable, a storm hiding in stillness.

But Jiang Yuxun could tell, from the faint curve of those lips—

Ying Changchuan was teasing him again.

With war imminent, the Emperor would not truly overstep.

Confidence blooming, mischief flickered in Jiang Yuxun’s mind.

…It wouldn’t be fair if Ying Changchuan teased him endlessly and he never retaliated.

So he smiled faintly, narrowing his eyes.

“Very well. Then, Your Majesty—

why not bathe together with this minister?”

His voice softened deliberately, dripping with teasing heat.

Steam, felt, and candlelight made the entire tent hazy, intimate.

Droplets gathered at the ends of his hair, dampening the thin white fabric clinging to his skin.

Then he echoed Ying Changchuan’s earlier gesture, slipping his hand into the tub—

and gently stirring the warm water.

As if completely certain the Emperor did not dare lay a finger on him.