Chapter 11
Page (1/3)
The oppressive summer heat weighed heavily in the air. Only within the reception hall of the Marquis of Luozhou’s residence did the atmosphere crystallize with tension.
Mu Guanghan said, “Marquis Wei, no matter how much you offer as a consultation fee, it merely reflects the regard you hold for Young Master Ye Jintang.”
Though profit was at stake, provocative tactics might not always work. Still, Wei Liuyi was visibly and genuinely infuriated, much to Shao Xiaoling’s quiet satisfaction. He simply enjoyed watching him get riled up—an endless source of amusement.
Wei Liuyi’s hand, holding the teacup, began to tremble, his eyes darkening with a tempest of emotions. “Lord Yuehua, do you truly believe...”
“...that I would allow you to take the provisions and soldiers of my city to support another man?”
Shao Xiaoling raised an intrigued brow.
Mu Guanghan nodded knowingly. “So that is what concerns Marquis Wei.”
“And what if it’s only borrowing troops and grain?”
“Wu Heng Marquis borrows 100,000 soldiers and 800,000 bushels of grain from Luozhou. One year later, Luozhou will repay double,” he said, fixing his gaze on Wei Liuyi, watching for the slightest flicker of reaction on his face. “And then, I will return with you to Wu Heng. What say you, Marquis Wei?”
Shao Xiaoling exclaimed, “Hey!”
Before he could shout, Mu Guanghan kicked him under the table to calm him down.
Patience. He still wouldn’t agree, but let’s see.
Sure enough, such a “generous” offer unsettled Wei Liuyi’s breath, his pale lips growing even paler.
He seemed to restrain himself, as if about to speak, but a hand clamped down on his throat. Struggling fiercely with emotions, he finally lowered his gaze, unable to meet Mu Guanghan’s eyes. With a pained and guilty expression, he ground out softly:
“Though I am Wu Heng Marquis, every grain and seed of Wu Heng belongs to the hardworking people. Our soldiers are all fathers and sons. Ah Han, I…”
“I cannot selfishly sacrifice the livelihood of the people or the safety of my troops just to please you.”
For a moment, the cicadas outside fell silent, and the hall was enveloped in a deadly stillness.
Mu Guanghan sipped his tea. “Hm, that makes sense.”
“Wu Heng Marquis has always been known as a benevolent leader, treating his people like children. Generous with friends, caring to subordinates, considerate in every way, and doting on his beloved cousin.”
“...”
“Yet why, only when it comes to bleeding me dry, are you so merciless?”
“Why do you show me no mercy whatsoever?”
“Even now, you insist I return, yet neither agree to return the marrow bead nor lend troops or grain as consultation fees. Guanghan sincerely wishes to ask Marquis Wei: I believe I have wronged you not, yet you treat me with such disdain. Why?”
“...”
“...”
Why?
Wei Liuyi stiffened, as if struck dumb by a blow.
Why? He racked his brain. Over these past months, he had wandered in a haze. He too wanted to understand how things had suddenly become so.
“Ah Han, I never once... demeaned you. At that time, I truly only…”
He really didn’t know it would hurt you so deeply.
He didn’t know you would bleed so much, didn’t know your hands would grow so cold. The ancient book said extracting marrow would not threaten life; with proper care and time, you would recover fully.
But these words Wei Liuyi could not bring himself to speak.
He feared Ah Han’s anger.
The former Mu Guanghan always looked at him with gentle, attentive eyes.
No matter what he asked, it was granted; no matter what he did wrong, he was indulged. Wholeheartedly understood, protected, cared for, silently bearing grievances, always willing to sacrifice everything for him.
But now, this Ah Han before him felt strange.
Cold words, aggressive pressure, eyes calm and indifferent, as if it were none of his concern.
He was punishing him.
Wei Liuyi smiled bitterly again, unaware that he had already endured a punishment worse than death.
Ah Han could never imagine what kind of heart he had when he placed his cold body into the crystal coffin with his own hands, how heartbroken he was to jump in after him, clutching him tightly and refusing to let go—holding on to someone who could no longer respond.
Many days later, A Ling told him, “Young Master, before Mu Han died, he longed for you deeply. Perhaps he never wished you to see him rot after death.”
Page (2/3)
Only then did he grit his teeth and allow the burial.
But he still thought of those sleepless nights, countless times sleepwalking to the underground tomb, speaking through the cold walls to him.
The crystal coffin was placed in the mausoleum he had built for himself, containing only his own future burial site and the coffin’s position—
That was the place for his life partner; he would be interred only with Ah Han.
Soon, a shaman arrived in Yingdu.
Claiming expertise in binding souls and reviving the dead.
Wei Liuyi believed him, paying handsomely, though he had never trusted such superstition since childhood. Yet he indulged the rituals and mysticism in the palace.
Because if he did not, he feared he would go mad.
Back then, he was truly on the verge of madness.
Unable to eat or sleep, dreaming by day. Dreaming Mu Han had returned, dreaming of his warm body. Though a tall man, he carried the warmth of a small animal. Dreaming of those bright eyes looking at him—humble yet filled with affection, vulnerable and sad but resolute and steadfast.
Many times, he sensed Ah Han beside him, hopeful yet shy, longing for his touch.
He deeply regretted not pulling him into his arms then.
He longed to hold him properly, to embrace the Ah Han who loved him.
But now, the person standing before him looked so much like Ah Han yet was so unlike the Ah Han he knew.
It was as if his Ah Han was gone.
Died coldly in his arms on those days he dared not look back upon.
Who this man was, he did not know.
...
Wei Liuyi clenched his teeth.
He knew all was his fault. He should have understood his own feelings earlier, told Ah Han he loved him too, held him close to ease his unease.
He should have discussed the treatment of Ye Jintang properly, rather than forcibly extracting his marrow against his will.
All these were his mistakes.
He had failed to give enough love and warmth, causing Ah Han’s misunderstanding.
Therefore, Ah Han resented him, hated him; he had no words to say.
But beyond months of heartache and guilt, he could no longer suppress a trace of indignation—
He was wrong in countless ways, yes, he admitted.
But had Ah Han no fault?
The ancient texts said marrow extraction posed no risk to life; otherwise, Ah Han wouldn’t be standing before him now.
“I never wanted you to exchange your life for Xiao Tang’s. Never.”
He never wished for his death.
“I have prepared the most precious medicines and tonics for you, planning to care for your wounds once this was over.”
“After Xiao Tang took the marrow bead the next day, I sent him to Heng City and never saw him again. I promised to devote the rest of my life to you alone; I never intended to break that promise.”
“You know all this, Ah Han.”
“Even if you didn’t know then, you know now.”
Yet knowing the truth, how could he still say he demeaned him? Demeaned? Today, wounded, having cast aside all pride, holding a shattered heart, coming to Luozhou to find him, only to be forced into this charade with the Marquis of Luozhou, burdened with unbearable conditions, and made to watch him drag another man to trample on him.
Between them, who was truly belittling whom?
“I once thought no one in the world could treat my Ah Han better than I did. I thought only Ah Han would never willingly hurt me,” he smiled bitterly. “Lord Yuehua asked me so many questions; I wish to ask you in return. If you truly cared for me, how could you hide your identity and feign death, leaving me alone in hell?”
“If it weren’t for A Ling uncovering the truth, I fear... do you know? Do you even care? Now you only hate me for being heartless, never minding the torment I endured all this time!”
“Who, in the end, has no heart?”
“Have you ever thought how cruel you have been to me?”
...
Such words should have cut deep.
But whether they hurt Mu Guanghan, Wei Liuyi did not know; only that they wounded himself deeply.
The more he spoke, the heavier his heart became, the more anxious he felt, as if his emotions were about to crumble into nothing.
A silence as dead as the grave.
His accusations met no reply. Mu Guanghan seemed absent, as if he had not heard a word.
Page (3/3)
Wei Liuyi felt as if he had been slapped twice more.
Mu Guanghan was not deliberately silent.
He was lost in thought, quietly concluding this experience—both on the ship and today, he had asked Wei Liuyi twice why he treated him so, and both times received only evasive excuses.
No more questions.
The answer brought no solace; better to focus on the extortion to the end.
Once clear-headed, all became clear.
Just days ago, he was haunted by demons. Though resigned to give up, seeing his former love with reddened eyes, he could not bear to see his sorrow.
But now, time had passed.
Once sober, facing the same person with such a vast difference in feeling, all perception was left with nothing but mockery.
He had chosen to love, to lick the wounds; no blame should fall on anyone.
But who else but this man kept provoking him, deceiving him, unwilling to give soldiers, grain, or city, yet hoping to bite back with cheap regrets?
If he did not get angry, he would be a fool.
“Wu Heng Marquis, instead of beating around the bush and pretending, why not just say clearly how much consultation fee you will pay? A dignified Marquis of a province should not be so petty—”
Suddenly, Wei Liuyi lunged forward, catching his lips in a fierce, unexpected kiss.
Mu Guanghan’s eyes widened.
His mind was filled with pain—pain and an absurd intensity. The other came too fast, without rhythm or finesse, exerting too much force, crashing teeth together.
It was their first kiss, like a dire omen, long overdue, soaked in the scent of blood.
Yet, despite the pain, Wei Liuyi refused to let go, grinding and sucking as if a fish gasping for air.
A great force seized his shoulders from behind—perhaps Shao Xiaoling; Wei Liuyi did not know.
He only knew he broke free, the clatter of tables, chairs, and teacups crashing about, ringing in his ears. He couldn’t hear his own breath and didn’t care.
An overwhelming helplessness gnawed fiercely at his heart. His chest, shoulders, and previously fractured, unhealed arm throbbed with raw pain.
Mu Guanghan gripped the most painful spot on his elbow.
As a healer, he knew the bone was still healing. Yet the man who once winced at the slightest scratch now showed no mercy.
“Ah Han…”
Wei Liuyi gasped, a bitter smile in his voice, suppressing earnest frustration and grievance:
“Ah Han, it’s all my fault. I admit it, okay? What I owe you, I will repay with my whole life, alright?”
“I can give up being Wu Heng Marquis for you.”
“Didn’t you once say you wanted to roam the world freely? Then I will leave everything behind and accompany you! If you don’t want to return with me, we can wander the mortal realm, anywhere you wish. If you grow tired one day, we can find a place like the Misty Valley to retire, gather wild vegetables every day, dry herbs, wake late in the morning. Ah Han, I will always be by your side, just the two of us, okay?”
“...”
“I can learn to recognize those medicines with you. I’ll learn to cook and raise chickens. I’m not some pampered noble who can’t do anything, you know. I’ll learn fast. I’ll cook for you three meals a day.”
Wei Liuyi’s words faltered.
He hadn’t meant to lose all resolve and keep retreating, but that kiss just now had momentarily pulled him from the suffocating depths, like a rebirth.
Once tasted, he should have kissed him sooner.
Under the moonlit city walls, beneath the trees in the Misty Valley, every time he looked at him with gentle yet resolute eyes.
Throughout that long year, every day filled with hope yet tinged with loneliness.
All memories were knives piercing his heart, bleeding bitterness and pain.
He cautiously lifted his face from where he hid, gasping, looking at Mu Guanghan.
Hoping to see a trace of former tenderness in those familiar eyes.
But he saw only clear, serene calm.
No passion, no grievance, no hatred.
Mu Guanghan’s expression was blank, as if staring at a lifeless object, tinged with absurdity and a faint condescending disdain.
The heart Wei Liuyi had offered with all his fervor was instantly shattered by that gaze.
“Marquis Wei, you jest. A man who loves his people as his own children would never abandon an entire province for a mere weed like me.”
Though a quaint apricot blossom courtyard, drying herbs, chickens and ducks wandering the yard, waking warmly beside the beloved in the gentle sunlight—such a life was once his dream.
Alas, it was too late.
“Moreover, who would want 800,000 bushels of grain and yet still desire chickens and ducks in the wild?”
Page (3/3)