Chapter 57: Folding a Branch Part 2

No.

Pei Zhou took a deep breath and forced himself to calm. “And if he is? If Fu Chi sent him to kill you?”

Yan Xinfeng: “Then I’ll accept it.”

“You’re sick.”

Yan Xinfeng gave a quick smile, something in his eyes Pei Zhou could not read. “He’s tamed two hundred warhorses. His past wrongs are fully atoned. No need to bring it up again.”

Pei Zhou had nothing left to say.

After all, only Yan Xinfeng had shed tears and blood over that incident; it had not affected them. If he chose to forgive, no one else could object.

Two years of betrayal and pain were thus raised high and set down gently.

He stared into Yan Xinfeng’s eyes, hidden in the darkness, and unexpectedly found the bastard smiling—relaxed and joyful, as if the withered shell had briefly shed, nurtured by oblivious love into revealing his vibrant soul from back then.

Who said the Yunzhong Marquis was clueless about romance? He understood it too well, falling for a relentless demon.

So the bitterness had to be swallowed alone.

…

…

Meanwhile, in the command tent.

Seeing both the commander and deputy leave, Zhou Zhi crawled up from the rug, glanced around slyly, then whispered, “Did you hear?”

“Hear what?” asked someone lying nearby.

“Those horses,” Zhou Zhi said cautiously, “they’re all trained!”

A general sprawled on the ground drunkenly raised his hand. “I know!”

He was Chen Du, vanguard lieutenant under Pei Zhou, six years in the Profound North Army—knew more than Zhou Zhi.

“Those horses are good, real good, but too arrogant. Kept everyone up at night. Now they’re all tame. Pretty good.”

Chen Du slurred, “He’s got the skill…”

Everyone knew who “he” meant.

These days, anyone with eyes could see that the deputy commander was in a bad mood. He often looked worried, sent more and more personal guards to the horse fields each day, and kept the medical officers busier than before. The entire camp was enveloped in a tense atmosphere, subtle but enough to make everyone uncomfortable.

They had thought they would never see him again in this lifetime, and if they did, it would only be to kill each other. But unexpectedly, the commander had brought him back, along with two hundred warhorses.

“What other abilities does he have?” another man snorted disdainfully. “Is that his achievement? That’s Ruo Chi’s achievement!”

Someone chimed in, “Yeah, he just rode around in a circle. Ruo Chi did all the fighting, and he just picked up the scraps from behind.”

“Pah!” Chen Du retorted indignantly. “If you’re so capable, can you make Ruo Chi obey you? If it doesn’t kick you flying with one hoof, that means your ancestors kowtowed their heads bloody underground for eight generations.”

“…”

His drunken ramblings were also the truth.

Wei Tingxia might not have any real abilities, but he could make Yan Xinfeng withdraw troops just to swap him back, and make Ruo Chi fight for the title of horse king for him. That in itself was a skill.

They couldn’t catch up even if they tried to flatter a horse.

Moreover…

Chen Du lay on the ground, squinting at the flickering firelight overhead. Dizzy and uncomfortable, he couldn’t help but recall past events.

Not long after the commander arrived at the Northern Border, they had decided Yan Xinfeng was a good general who could lead them to victory.

One reason was that Yan Xinfeng thought he was about to die, so he fought with a ruthless ferocity that was steady yet reckless. The other was that he had Wei Tingxia.

Wei Tingxia could truly be called a military genius.

With Wei Tingxia, Yan Xinfeng had almost no weaknesses except for his frail body.

With the two of them, the Profound North Army was invincible.

Chen Du exhaled, thinking how the world plays tricks on people.

Someone nearby was still unconvinced, muttering about monsters and such. Chen Du frowned, and before he could speak, a palm as big as a cattail leaf fan slapped over, stunning the man.

“What are you saying?! Is that something you should say?”

Chen Du looked up and, upon recognizing who had struck, immediately lay back down.

The slapped man was about to get angry but shut his mouth the moment he met a face etched with wrinkles and the marks of wind and frost. He instantly behaved.

“S-Section-Holding Supervisor…”

The newcomer was the biggest figure in the camp besides Yan Xinfeng: surnamed Huang, single character Pei—Section-Holding Supervisor Huang Pei. He could temporarily take over the army in the commander’s stead and report major military matters directly.

He should have been waiting for news in Border City, but he must have heard something and rushed over.

“Drunk on wine, your brain’s muddled, and you don’t even know what you’re saying. Right now you’re just badmouthing others—next, will you be cursing the Marshal?”

That was a massive accusation. The man shot upright. “Lord Huang, I wouldn’t dare say that. Even if you gave me a million times the courage, I wouldn’t.”

Huang Pei snorted coldly, straightened up, and slowly straightened his disheveled long robe and beard. Once neatened, his aged yet sharp-as-a-knife eyes swept over the crowd.

“You know you wouldn’t dare, so watch your words from now on. No more talk of monsters—this is disturbing morale! Disperse!”

After that scolding, no one dared speak. They obediently stood and scattered, carrying off a few empty jars on the way.

The command tent fell silent at once. Yan Xinfeng walked in and saluted Huang Pei. “My lord has arrived.”

“Hey, Marquis, no need for that,” Huang Pei hurried to support him. “We’ve known each other for ten years—why stand on ceremony, Marquis?”

Yan Xinfeng straightened and looked earnestly at Huang Pei. “My lord resolved my urgent matter. Cai Yun is grateful from the heart.”

No one else could handle the matter of Wei Tingxia without seeming biased or selfish. Huang Pei was the best choice.

Though he was in the army, as a civilian supervisor, he did not meddle in military affairs. He commanded deep respect, was upright, and all the officers and soldiers admired him.

With him speaking out, fewer people would gossip about Wei Tingxia in the future.

Huang Pei knew what he meant and sighed. As a civilian official, he carried a scholar’s air in his speech and bearing, yet years on the border gave him a straightforwardness rare among civil servants. Few things could make him sigh twice.

“Since the Marquis has made up his mind, I won’t try to dissuade you. I only hope no further incidents arise.” He advised earnestly, “As Section-Holding Supervisor, it is my duty to oversee the commander. I hope the Marquis will be cautious in word and deed, so as not to put me in a difficult position.”

Yan Xinfeng nodded. “I understand. Thank you.”

Huang Pei waved it off. “No need to thank me.”

He turned to leave but suddenly looked back after a few steps. “Marquis.”

Yan Xinfeng waited in place and turned at his words. “What is it, my lord?”

Huang Pei hesitated. “…Does the Marquis not fear?”

He was not the first to ask this. Yan Xinfeng understood. He replied calmly, “Since I could understand the world, I’ve known there is no such thing as perfect certainty in life.”

Whether Wei Tingxia truly cared for him or merely leveraged this affection to secure a way out, Yan Xinfeng accepted it.

He had seen his own heart clearly and knew that taking seven or eight out of ten in fulfillment was already the greatest fortune.

Hearing this, the hesitation in Huang Pei’s eyes grew more evident. He seemed about to say something but swallowed it after several hesitations. He cupped his hands toward Yan Xinfeng, bid farewell, and left.

…

The next day, a familiar scent woke Wei Tingxia.

He rolled over and retched over the edge of the bed.

“Is it that hard to drink?” Yan Xinfeng asked.

Wei Tingxia opened his eyes and shot a sideways glance at the general holding the medicine. “Yes, it’s exactly that hard to drink.”

Yan Xinfeng set the medicine by the bed, and Wei Tingxia immediately scooted toward the wall, afraid the smell would cling to his clothes.

Seeing this, Yan Xinfeng remarked, “You look like a newborn calf.”

“What?”

Wei Tingxia could hardly believe his ears. “I’m a cow?”

“It’s just a metaphor,” Yan Xinfeng corrected. “Besides, there’s nothing wrong with cows.” They were sturdy and strong, with robust bodies that could happily roam the grasslands all day.

“Then I’ll call you Yan Da Niu from now on,” Wei Tingxia immediately handed over the title without hesitation. “What are you doing here? Don’t you have things to handle?”

Yan Xinfeng sat smoothly on the bed’s edge and said steadily, “I do, but someone is handling them for me. It’s mostly taken care of now. In a few days, we’ll return to Border City.”

Wei Tingxia paused in his movements, then said, “Oh, got it.”

Silence filled the tent for a moment.

Yan Xinfeng looked at the back of his head, his Adam’s apple bobbing slightly as if weighing his words. Finally, he spoke. “Have you thought… about where to live afterward?”

The question pierced like a needle, instantly shattering Wei Tingxia’s drowsiness.

He whipped his head around, eyes wide in disbelief. “Yan Caiyun, what do you mean? You swapped me back and now you’re abandoning me?”

He spoke with heartbroken indignation, his voice unusually heavy. “Two years apart, and you’ve become so heartless—utterly ruthless, disloyal, inhumane…”

His muttering complaints fell on ears that should have been annoyed, but Yan Xinfeng only felt more relaxed the more he listened.

Once Wei Tingxia stopped grumbling, he spoke. “Will you come with me?”

“Don’t act like I have a lot of choices,” Wei Tingxia said. “Besides, I didn’t leave the command tent willingly—someone sent me away…”

His tone turned teasing. Wei Tingxia shifted his position and reached out to hook Yan Xinfeng’s fingers.

His movements were restless, carrying an intentional mischief. Yan Xinfeng knew his tricks well and didn’t move, letting their fingers intertwine.

Wei Tingxia asked, “Have you figured out the answer to that question?”

He had.

Yan Xinfeng said, “No.”

Wei Tingxia raised one eyebrow. “Really no?”

Yan Xinfeng nodded. “Really no.”

“Sigh…”

Wei Tingxia sighed, looking regretful, but the sorrow in his eyes lasted only a fleeting moment. Then he sat up and patted Yan Xinfeng’s head like one might pet a dog.

“It’s okay,” he comforted. “Your brain isn’t the sharpest, so it’s normal not to figure it out. No need to blame yourself too much.”

The not-so-sharp Yan Xinfeng said through gritted teeth, in words barely polite, “Sorry about that.”

He stood, looking down at Wei Tingxia on the bed, his tone returning to its usual steadiness. “Pack your things. We’re going back to Border City.”

Wei Tingxia blinked, and a beautiful, obedient smile suddenly lit his face.

“Thank you, General.” he said.

Yan Xinfeng said nothing, touched the medicine bowl to check it wasn’t too hot, then pushed it toward Wei Tingxia, indicating he should drink.

Wei Tingxia didn’t react, so Yan Xinfeng headed for the door.

At the doorway, he paused without turning back and said steadily,

“Huang Pei is here.”

The smile on Wei Tingxia’s face froze instantly. His fingertips curled almost imperceptibly, and a flash of panic crossed his eyes—so quick it seemed an illusion. He quickly lowered his lashes, and when he raised them again, the anomaly had vanished without a trace, as if it had never been.

That momentary lapse and cover-up fell perfectly into Yan Xinfeng’s eyes as he glanced back.

Wei Tingxia was hiding something from him.