Chapter 312 Torn

Chapter 312: Tangled Thoughts

Then, as if that single syllable had drained all his strength, he stiffly turned around, inch by inch, slowly rotating his body away.

The process seemed stretched infinitely, until finally, he left Cui Ji with a back that radiated confusion.

However, he held that position for only a few breaths before he started to sense something was wrong.

So, he slowly turned back again, lying flat, his body rigid as a drawn bowstring, his eyes staring straight up at the bed canopy.

He stared at the canopy for a few seconds, then directly reached out, grabbed the quilt, and with a "whoosh," he covered his head completely, not leaving a single hair sticking out.

Cui Ji: "..."

He looked at the lump under the quilt beside him, and the slow, stiff way he'd moved just moments ago, and fell silent for a moment.

A faint trace of helplessness flickered in his eyes, and then he slowly extended his hand, gently pinching the corner of the quilt that Cheng Ge was clutching tightly.

Gently but firmly, he pulled down the quilt that was covering his head so thoroughly.

Cheng Ge jolted and immediately squeezed his eyes shut.

His already flushed face seemed to heat up even more the moment it hit the air, the redness spreading down to his neck.

Cui Ji's voice came from right beside him, carrying a strangely calming quality, yet it only made his heart race faster: "Stick your head out, you'll breathe easier."

Cheng Ge didn't dare respond, only keeping his eyes tightly shut, desperately trying to keep his breathing steady, pretending to be fast asleep.

But the uncontrollably trembling eyelashes and his body stiff as a plank had long since given him away.

Time crawled in the silence, each breath felt especially long.

The candle burned past its halfway point, wax quietly piling up. Cheng Ge held the same position until his body went numb.

He tilted his head just a tiny bit, secretly opening one eye just a crack to peek at what was happening beside him—

And the moment his vision focused, he found himself staring directly into a pair of wide-awake eyes.

Cheng Ge: "!!!"

His heart lurched violently, like getting caught red-handed, and he nearly jumped out of his own skin.

What the hell is wrong with this guy?! It's the middle of the night, why isn't he sleeping and just staring at me?!

However, before his internal rant could finish, a strong arm suddenly swept across his front, wrapping around his shoulder and back.

The next second, an irresistible force yanked his entire body, pulling him a few inches away from the inner edge of the bed—

Instantly, his back was pressed tight against a scorching chest!

Cheng Ge's eyes flew open in shock, completely forgetting his act.

He looked up in a daze at Cui Ji's jawline, so close, his brain totally short-circuiting.

Cui Ji's voice came from right above his head, "There's a draft in the middle, aren't you cold?"

Cheng Ge didn't feel cold at all now—he felt like he was on fire!

He could hear the steady, powerful thumping of Cui Ji's heartbeat, each beat pounding in his ears, throwing him into a panic.

The chest against his shoulder was scorching hot, nearly melting him whole.

He thought, shouldn't he jump up right now and slap Cui Ji right across the face?

Then tell him, all righteous and indignant: I'm straight, and you've ruined our pure brotherhood!

Finally, turn around gracefully, leaving him with a determined back?

However, his hand, which had just lifted at his side, dropped back down in resignation.

No way... that doesn't seem realistic...

What is he right now? To put it nicely, he's a job-seeker; to put it bluntly, he's living off someone else's charity.

Besides, he's still a bona fide fugitive at the moment.

If he were to have a falling out with Cui Ji right now, where would he go tonight? Sleep out in the wilderness?

Cheng Ge silently imagined himself wrapped in thin clothes standing in the northern frontier's cold night, and couldn't help but shiver.

He'd probably freeze into a solid popsicle before dawn.

Maybe... forget it? Endure a little and the wind calms, take a step back and the sea is wide—better than freezing to death!

Besides, he's got a whole family to support now—besides Sister Lü Rou and Funiang, there's also a nursing baby to raise.

He doesn't have a salary right now, and his savings can only last who knows how long.

What's more, he doesn't have many days left to live anyway; he needs to leave some silver for Lü Rou and the others.

He couldn't help but sigh—that little one is so small, and he's heard raising kids is expensive!

If he stays with Cui Ji, room and board are covered, safety is guaranteed, and it doesn't cost a cent—that's not bad, right?

With that thought, his taut nerves relaxed just a tiny bit.

He closed his eyes like an ostrich, trying hard to ignore the very present embrace behind him and the scorching breath by his ear.

Because he'd spent most of the night doing mental preparation, the warm chest beside him was cozy, and before he knew it, his eyelids grew heavier and heavier.

In the end, he actually drifted off to sleep in that awkward position, held in Cui Ji's arms.

Cui Ji looked at the sleeping man, carefully tucked the quilt tighter, and gently rested his chin on top of the other's head.

The clouds were blown apart by the wind, and at this moment, the bright moon finally shone into the filthy, dark gutter.

...

The thick stench of blood hit his nostrils, choking and nearly making him gag.

As far as the eye could see, there were severed limbs and scattered remains, the soil stained a deep, ominous brownish-red.

A battle flag burned down to half its size stood tilted in the ground, fluttering in the whimpering wind.

Tugging back and forth weakly, making a broken "flap, flap" sound.

Cheng Ge trudged through a swamp paved with flesh and blood, the mixture of half-coagulated blood and mud pulling sticky threads from the soles of his boots.

He didn't know why he was searching through this place, but a primal fear drove him forward.

He pushed aside the cold, heavy objects that had once been "people," one after another, like someone possessed.

His fingers had long gone numb from the cold, with dark, crusted grime packed beneath his nails.

When he touched those stiff, pallid patches of skin, the chill that seeped through cut straight to the bone.

"Where... where is it..." A rasping, guttural sound tore from his throat.

His chest felt stuffed with a lump of waterlogged cotton, and each breath brought a searing, tearing pain.

His vision blurred—from smoke or tears, he couldn't tell anymore.

Suddenly, his movements froze—

There, at the very peak of that pile of corpses, silhouetted against the setting sun, he spotted that familiar dark figure.

He lay there, beneath him, a pool of blood darker than the ground around it, so thick it looked almost black and syrupy.

His dark armor hung in shattered fragments, exposing the mangled flesh and stark white broken bones beneath.

Arrows, thick as a swarm, had nailed him to the ground like a sacrificial dark-feathered bird.

In that instant, the sounds of the world vanished completely.