It was Zhao Chu who went to receive the imperial edict.

As soon as he heard that the eunuch had brought the tiger tally, Fang Linyuan immediately stood up.

That tiger tally was the very one he had personally returned to the emperor after coming back to the capital last year.

To receive the tiger tally meant there was war at the frontier — a general was needed to put armor and ride into battle. The edict that accompanied it naturally contained orders to the frontier generals.

But before Fang Linyuan could take a single step forward, a hand reached out from the side and pressed against his wrist.

Zhao Chu.

Zhao Chu stood up, blocking Fang Linyuan’s path.

“You’ve told the public you’re still unwell,” Zhao Chu said. “You must not appear rashly.”

“But the tiger tally has come with the edict. The battle in Longxi must be no small matter,” Fang Linyuan said urgently. “Even one day’s delay could shift the course of the war. Zhao Chu…”

“Don’t be anxious,” Zhao Chu said. “The palace doesn’t know more than we do. What the emperor truly intends — that is still unclear.”

Fang Linyuan paused for a moment. “Then what do we do?”

The Turks had indeed invaded. Surely His Majesty wouldn’t use such a critical military situation to test him? Even a ruler who hides his bow waits until the birds have vanished from the sky. If he were to engage in such political games now, wouldn’t that be gambling with the lives of Daxuan’s people and the fate of its cities?

Under his anxious gaze, Zhao Chu lifted a hand and gently touched the crown of his head.

“I’ll go,” Zhao Chu said. “I’ll receive the edict first — then we’ll decide what to do.”

Fang Linyuan was stunned. “You’ll receive the edict? But that’s against palace protocol and ritual law. If the emperor finds out…”

“Forget the rules,” Zhao Chu replied. “He won’t dare to touch me. Just stay calm.”

Under Fang Linyuan’s gaze, Zhao Chu gave him a small nod, then turned and left Huaiyu Pavilion.

An imperial edict was more than the conveyance of an order — it was the embodiment of a ruler’s authority over his ministers. To accept an edict in someone else’s place… such a thing had never happened in the history of any dynasty.

Especially not at such a moment — turbulence in the palace, the empress dead, even the Third Prince held under house arrest by the emperor.

Watching Zhao Chu’s figure step past the gates of Huaiyu Pavilion, Fang Linyuan couldn’t help but take a few steps after him.

But he was stopped at the door by Juansu.

“My lord,” Juansu said, looking at him. “His Highness instructed that you stay inside the pavilion for now.”

“But he—”

Juansu shook her head gently.

“Please rest assured, my lord,” she said. “His Highness never acts unless he is certain.”

Fang Linyuan looked up at Zhao Chu’s departing figure.

Indeed, he never had.

And yet, watching Zhao Chu walk farther and farther away, an inexplicable unease rose in Fang Linyuan’s chest.

His hand at his side clenched involuntarily.

*

Zhao Chu did return with the imperial edict and the tiger tally.

When he walked back into Huaiyu Pavilion holding the edict in one hand, his expression was so dark it seemed as if water might drip from it.

Fang Linyuan met his gaze with concern, but Zhao Chu said nothing — only raised a hand and placed the imperial edict on the table before him.

Fang Linyuan opened it to read.

The edict stated that His Majesty was still in poor health, rising early and resting late, long burdened with the affairs of state. Now, with sudden unrest on the frontier and the Turks tearing up the treaty, His Majesty was gravely concerned. Therefore, he commanded Fang Linyuan to take the tiger tally to Longxi immediately, to marshal the troops, suppress the rebellion, and defend Yumen Pass.

Unlike previous edicts regarding military deployments, this one made no mention of returning to the capital to report after completing the task.

Fang Linyuan looked up at Zhao Chu.

He saw Zhao Chu sitting there, head bowed, his expression unreadable. In his hand, he toyed slowly with a small object, its bronze sheen dim and muted.

It was a tiger, head raised and tail lowered, sculpted with solemn and dignified lines.

To defend Yumen Pass.

Both he and Zhao Chu understood the weight of those words.

He had returned to the capital last time because the Turks had been defeated and surrendered, voluntarily proposing an alliance — to make peace forevermore.

A submissive vassal had no need of fierce generals to guard the frontier. But now, the wolf in sheep’s clothing had cast off its disguise, and the emperor, once more uneasy about the frontier, needed a sharp blade to be raised before them.

Fang Linyuan was that blade.

Whether or not Yumen Pass could be held, the emperor was determined to send Fang Linyuan there — to become the most solid, dependable brick in Daxuan’s wall.

Had this been any other day, Fang Linyuan would already be in the stables by now.

The tiger tally governed only the forces in Longxi — he wouldn’t need to mobilize troops from the capital. With just himself and his horse, he could reach Longxi in three days.

Without even a backward glance.

But it was today.

Too sudden. Not even time for the lie of his illness to run its course. Not even time for him…

To prepare for parting ways with Zhao Chu.

He held the imperial edict in both hands, silent for a long time. Across from him, Zhao Chu sat, and only after a long moment did he finally place the heavy tiger tally onto the table in front of him.

A crisp, quiet clink.

“The situation in Longxi is still unclear,” Zhao Chu said. “I’ve already sent people to investigate. We’ll have news in a few days.”

“As for the eunuch from the palace — I didn’t speak definitively. I said only that you showed signs of improvement, but it’s not certain whether you can travel.”

He lifted his head and looked at Fang Linyuan. “If you don’t want to accept the edict — all it takes is one word.”

Fang Linyuan’s eyes fell on the tiger tally.

Heavy, gleaming. He had pulled it from his chest on countless freezing nights while guarding Hulao Pass, tracing its edges slowly.

Just like his spear, it was his weapon, the hope of the people of Longxi, the spine of the proud soldiers under his command.

And now, their fates were unknown. Perhaps they were locked in deadly combat with the Turkic cavalry amid the icy snows of Yumen Pass. Perhaps they were using blood-soaked bodies to brace a collapsing city gate.

He couldn’t let it go.

But Zhao Chu…

His blood and bones had long since been built into the windblown walls of Yumenguan, yet somehow, his living, beating heart had fallen into the hands of someone as ethereal as an immortal in the jeweled grandeur of the capital.

He looked at Zhao Chu, Adam’s apple bobbing.

His personal love—when placed against life and death, against the battlefield—ought to be the last thing on his mind.

And yet Zhao Chu stood right in front of him. Those eyes, dark as deep pools, were like threads binding him tightly…

At that moment, Zhao Chu stood up.

And truly, he was bound.

The strikingly beautiful man walked over to him in silence, pulled him up, and tugged him into an embrace. Zhao Chu’s arms squeezed so tightly around him that Fang Linyuan’s shoulders and back began to go numb.

“Zhao Chu…”

“I originally planned to tell the eunuch delivering the decree that even if I had to tie you up and chain you here today, I would never let you go.”

Zhao Chu’s voice rang by his ear.

Calm and level, yet laced with a cold, suppressed fierceness, completely unlike the gentle whispers of the past.

“Daxuan has so many soldiers and generals—why can’t they survive without you? Why should so many cities be shouldered by one man, while he gets to live at ease in the imperial palace? If that’s really how it is, then what’s the point of guarding the border? Might as well hand it over early and be done with it.”

At the final word, Zhao Chu leaned his forehead against Fang Linyuan’s, taking a deep, slow breath. “But Fang Linyuan, I’m that kind of person—but you’re not, are you?” Zhao Chu said softly.

“Zhao Chu…”

“The life or death of others doesn’t matter to me, but I know you’re different. You worry about them—the borderland civilians, the soldiers guarding the cities—each and every one of their lives matters deeply to you.”

Fang Linyuan could no longer make a sound.

Zhao Chu hadn’t said a word wrong. For more than ten years, they had all mattered deeply to him—even more than his own life.

But until today, he had never been forced to choose. He had never realized that some things simply couldn’t be weighed against one another.

Such as Zhao Chu.

His own love could be placed behind mountains and rivers—but Zhao Chu?

How could he leave Zhao Chu standing where he was, watching his back, waiting endlessly for his return?

Fang Linyuan’s hand, resting at his side, trembled slightly.

At that moment, Zhao Chu, still holding him, picked up the tiger tally from the table.

He wrapped his arms more tightly around Fang Linyuan, gently grasped the hand behind his back, and pried it open.

He placed the tiger tally into Fang Linyuan’s palm.

“No need to hesitate,” he said by his ear, speaking as he folded Fang Linyuan’s fingers over it, enclosing it within his hand. “Go do what you want to do. With peace in your heart.”

Fang Linyuan was slightly startled. He looked up at Zhao Chu.

“What is it?” Zhao Chu looked back at him and smiled lightly. “Can’t bear to part with me?”

Fang Linyuan looked at him for a long moment, then said quietly: “The imperial edict gave no return date,” he said. “Once a general is stationed at the frontier, who knows what year or month he might come back…”

Fang Linyuan paused—he couldn’t go on.

He wanted to say that in the past, he had never given it enough thought. He had only wanted to marry Zhao Chu into his household, never once thinking that as a general, he would spend more time apart from his family than with them.

His half-sentence trailed into silence, and Zhao Chu, standing in front of him, gently placed a hand on his face.

“What are you afraid of?” he said. “If he won’t let you return to the capital, you just won’t come back? That depends on how long his decree still holds any power. I’m here—soon, everything in the capital will be settled.”

Zhao Chu’s fingertips brushed his cheek.

“Fang Linyuan, this journey north—it's for your peace of mind. It’s for the city you reclaimed with your own hands, to make sure it stays safe and untouched,” Zhao Chu said.

“You’re protecting your own honor—not someone else’s cheap reassurance.”

His honor.

It was the vast wealth and peace of Longxi’s thousand-mile lands. It was the steadfast gravestones of his father and brothers. It was the Daxuan banner flying high above Yumenguan’s walls.

And it was Zhao Chu.

He would drive the Turkic cavalry a hundred, a thousand miles back. He would make sure they never dared encroach again.

Then, Daxuan’s soldiers could water their horses on the grasslands outside Yumenguan. He could return to Zhao Chu’s side, to watch the plum blossoms in winter, to listen to the chirping insects beneath the window in summer.

Hope slowly rose in his eyes—bright and glimmering—as he looked at Zhao Chu.

“All right,” he said solemnly. “I understand. Wait for me to come back.”

And in that moment, in the peaceful world he had longed for, there was finally a place for himself.

He wanted to grow old safely and steadily with Zhao Chu, year after year, season after season.

Zhao Chu lowered his eyes and met his gaze for a moment, then let out a quiet chuckle.

“All right,” he said. “If you keep looking at me like that, I’m afraid I won’t be able to let you go after all.”

Fang Linyuan’s ears flushed slightly red.

The next moment, Zhao Chu leaned in and dropped a feather-light yet deeply cherished kiss on the side of his face.

“I’ll prepare your things,” Fang Linyuan heard Zhao Chu say in a low voice.

“Just go with peace of mind—and wait for me to bring you home.”

*

Zhao Chu, as always, remained the most meticulous person imaginable.

In less than half a day, the luggage, warhorse, saddle and tack, memorials to be submitted to the palace, and thick, warm clothing—all were prepared by Zhao Chu’s hand.

Hearing that General Fang was departing north just after recovering from a high fever, the ever-admiring Emperor Hongyou immediately dispatched two hundred Imperial Guards to escort Fang Linyuan northward.

Fang Linyuan changed into travel attire, then turned to look at Zhao Chu.

Liu Huo had already been led to the mansion gates by Yan Ting, and the Imperial Guards were assembled outside in formation, ready for his departure.

Zhao Chu’s preparations were thorough yet simple. Two maids were already carrying his luggage outside; once it was strapped to the saddle, he wouldn’t need to worry about a thing.

Zhao Chu stepped forward and personally fastened the winter cloak around Fang Linyuan’s shoulders.

“You must take care of yourself, too,” Fang Linyuan said softly, looking at him.

Zhao Chu responded with a soft “Mm,” then looked up.

Those almond-shaped eyes, at that moment, bore into him without restraint.

Blatant, unwavering—deep and unyielding. It seemed that all his recent busyness had only served to mask a gaze that was too possessive.

Perhaps knowing they were about to part, Fang Linyuan looked back at Zhao Chu deeply as well, making no attempt to avoid it.

After a long moment, Zhao Chu gave a small nod. “All right.”

He smoothed Fang Linyuan’s collar, then withdrew his hand. From his sleeve, he took out a small stack of something and pressed it into Fang Linyuan’s hand.

Fang Linyuan looked down.

It was a stack of silver notes—each with a shockingly large denomination—and among them were five folded contracts for banks stationed at the border.

“This is…” He looked at Zhao Chu in surprise.

“If there really is war, there’ll be no shortage of places that eat up silver,” Zhao Chu said. “Take what you need freely. This year’s harvest was good across the realm. As long as there’s money, we won’t lack for grain or fodder.”

…This amount of money was enough for him to push five hundred li beyond the Yumen Pass.

Fang Linyuan held the stack of contracts worth a fortune.

Seeing his look of astonishment and the careful way he didn’t know where to put them, Zhao Chu gave a soft laugh and added, “You can also help me take a look—at the beginning of the year, the silver we sent to Longxi—see where it all went.”

At this, Fang Linyuan’s thoughts wandered for a moment.

When they’d sent silver to Longxi, he and Zhao Chu had been at odds with each other.

He had suddenly been entangled in court affairs, stuck in the capital, and watched helplessly as Zhuo Fangyou rode off. He’d had no choice but to remain in the city, facing Zhao Chu day after day.

And in the blink of an eye, it had come to today.

Now he stood side by side with Zhao Chu. That massive sum of gold and silver must already have turned into mountains of grain and rows of homes.

He couldn’t let them fall into the hands of the Turks.

“Alright.”

His gaze was resolute as he nodded to Zhao Chu and picked up the sword that would accompany him.

Just as he was turning away, he saw Zhao Chu looking at him under the slanting rays of the setting sun, eyes gentle and deep.

“Fang Linyuan,” Zhao Chu called his name.

He nodded.

“I’ve never been a good person,” Zhao Chu said. “Not back then, and not now. I made this decision for one reason only—because of you.”

“If you’re willing to love me, that alone is worth me offering up my life and soul.”

“What nonsense,” Fang Linyuan said quickly, pulling him close. “Don’t talk about giving your life, that’s absurd.”

But Zhao Chu held his hand and pressed it to his chest, eyes locked with his. Reflected in them were two warm arcs of the setting sun.

“When I came back today carrying the imperial decree, that’s what I was thinking. That as long as you took the Tiger Tally and the decree and left, and turned back to look at me once—then from that moment on, even my life would be yours to take.”

As he spoke, Zhao Chu gently squeezed his hand.

He smiled. “But now, I don’t even know what more I can still give you.”

Fang Linyuan looked back at him.

After a moment, he turned fully, lifted his sword in one hand, and pulled Zhao Chu into a light but deeply cherished kiss.

Orange-red sunlight fell gently between them.

“I want this,” he said. “I’m taking it with me.”

*

As twilight fell, Fang Linyuan departed from the marquis’s residence, leading his guards at full gallop northward.

Though it was already late, the warhorses needed food and rest. While there was still some light left in the sky, they pressed on for a few dozen more li, planning to pause for rest under the cover of night without losing too much time.

Once the stars had scattered across the dark sky, Fang Linyuan and his men stopped at a post station near the official road.

After confirming the departure time for the next morning with his men, Fang Linyuan didn’t say much more. He grabbed a piece of dry rations and headed to the stables to feed Liuhuo.

Liuhuo had stayed in the capital with him for several months, and this sudden, fast-paced journey might be hard for the horse to adjust to.

Fang Linyuan circled the stables.

Once he was sure that Liuhuo was still spirited and strong-limbed, he took a few more bites of his dry rations, then added two more handfuls of hay to Liuhuo’s stone trough.

Just then, Liuhuo, munching on the hay, suddenly flicked his mane.

A pair of soft jingling sounds rang out.

Fang Linyuan turned his head and saw it was the engraved, winding-flower-pattern bell hanging from the horse’s neck.

It was the very same one Zhao Chu had given him, from who knew where, after the night of the Flower Festival.

Fang Linyuan stopped walking without even thinking.

He turned and met Liuhuo’s dark, glossy eyes.

“You rascal…”

He laughed helplessly and stepped forward, reaching out to lightly nudge the bell on its neck. “What, are you reminding me to think of him too?”

Liuhuo snorted and pushed its big head into his chest. The bell on its neck jingled in a long, clear series of chimes.

“Alright, alright,” Fang Linyuan cradled its head and laughed quietly. “I’ve been thinking about him this whole time.”

He held Liuhuo close but couldn’t help lowering his gaze, eyes settling on the bell at its neck.

Back then Zhao Chu had said—wasn’t this supposed to be some important token? But even now, it hadn’t shown any clear use.

What it was truly for… he’d have to ask Zhao Chu when he returned to the capital…

Just then, a voice came from behind him.

“General!” a guard called. “There’s an official from the capital here to see you!”

*

Fang Linyuan hadn’t expected to see Lin Zizhuo here.

Since their last meeting in the capital, with the Embroidered Guards’ situation worsening, he himself had been so busy he hadn’t had a chance to find time.

On his days off, he’d gone looking for Lin Zizhuo twice, but each time the man had declined, claiming he was too busy. They hadn’t been able to meet.

Seeing Lin Zizhuo before him now, Fang Linyuan lit up in delight. “Lin Zizhuo! What are you doing here?”

Lin Zizhuo fell silent for a moment, then said, “After finishing official duties today, I heard you were leaving for the Yumen Pass in haste. Not knowing when I might see you again, I rode hard, hoping to catch you and bid farewell.”

Hearing this, Fang Linyuan’s eyes burned.

He’d been riding fast, and if Lin Zizhuo had managed to catch up, it meant he must have traveled with great urgency.

And he’d only just finished official business too.

Seeing how thin he already looked these days, now dusty and travel-worn, Fang Linyuan immediately pulled out a chair for him.

“Sit.”

“These days…” Lin Zizhuo shook his head with a faint smile as he sat down. “You know the situation. If not for that, I probably would’ve heard about your departure sooner.”

Those who navigated court and politics were always under strain. Even more so for someone like Lin Zizhuo, who served close to the emperor—walking on thin ice, missteps were constant risks.

Seeing his face even more haggard than usual, his expression worn and weary, Fang Linyuan quickly raised his hand and said to the innkeeper, “Please, bring us some wine and dishes. I—”

But Lin Zizhuo reached over and stopped him.

“No need,” he said. “I have duty tomorrow. I won’t be staying long.”

As he spoke, he pulled a wine flask from his waist and said, “Zhu Song specially asked me to bring this. It’s his treasured Nu’er hong. He said I should drink it with you—consider it both of us sending you off.”

(NT: Nu’er hong, litt. Daughter’s red. Traditional Chinese type of Shaoxing rice wine, brewed when a daughter is born, and then sealed and stored until her wedding day)

Hearing this, Fang Linyuan didn’t hesitate. He reached for two wine cups nearby. "Alright," he said. "That works—I've got to be on the road early tomorrow anyway."

Lin Zizhuo poured the wine. Fang Linyuan clinked cups with him and downed it in one go.

The fiery taste of the liquor burned its way down Fang Linyuan’s throat instantly. It wasn’t quite the same as the Nu’er hong Zhu Song had brought that night atop the city walls.

This one burned hotter, so much so that it nearly made Fang Linyuan cough.

Across from him, Lin Zizhuo didn’t so much as flinch. He set his cup down quietly and said nothing.

He must have suffered a great deal these past days.

“Zizhuo,” Fang Linyuan said, “Life is full of ups and downs—that's just how it is. You’re still so young. A little setback now may just be a shallow ditch on an otherwise smooth path.”

Lin Zizhuo looked at him, eyes full of complicated emotion, but still said nothing.

There was no need for more words. The wine was already here.

Fang Linyuan reached out and picked up the wine jug again. “This cup is my toast to you, Lord Lin. When we meet again, may you rise to the clouds and get all that your heart desires.”

But just as he was halfway through pouring, Lin Zizhuo pressed down on his wrist.

“Linyuan,” he said.

“Mm?” Fang Linyuan looked at him, puzzled.

“Do you have any ambitions?” Lin Zizhuo asked.

A year ago, Fang Linyuan would have lit up, going on at length with eloquence and flair. But now, when he heard Lin Zizhuo’s question, the first thing that came to mind was Zhao Chu’s face.

He really was past saving.

He paused for a beat, then let out a soft laugh and shook his head helplessly.

“You’ll laugh at me,” he said. “But right now, if I try to talk about ambitions, I can’t really say what they are. Maybe it’s because I just parted ways with my wife, but at this moment, all I want is to crush the Turks quickly, return safely to the capital—and see her again.”

When he looked back at Lin Zizhuo, there was a trace of sheepishness in his expression. He laughed at himself. “Pretty unambitious, isn’t it?”

But Lin Zizhuo just looked at him and, after a pause, shook his head.

“You should’ve said that to His Majesty earlier,” he said. “Still, it’s not too late. I think... that’s exactly the kind of answer he’d rather hear from you.”

Fang Linyuan blinked, confused. “What do you mean…?”

The next instant, a wave of dizziness crashed down over him.

He looked at Lin Zizhuo in shock.

The last thing he saw was Lin Zizhuo’s apologetic gaze.

“I’m sorry,” Lin Zizhuo said. His voice sounded as though it came from somewhere far away.

There was something in the wine!

Fang Linyuan braced himself against the table, trying to stand, but the drug had already taken effect—he collapsed heavily back into his seat.

“But I am a subject first, and your friend second. Linyuan, you can hate me all you want—but remember what I said. His Majesty understands you. He’ll spare your life…”

…His Majesty!

Fang Linyuan’s lashes sank, and everything went dark.

 

--

Author’s Note:

Liuhuo: When you were cuddling me just now, who were you thinking about, huh? QWQ

 

Translator : DarNan