Chapter 313 Figured It Out?

Chapter 313: Come to Your Senses?

Cheng Ge felt an icy chill shoot from the soles of his feet all the way up to the top of his head, as if the blood in every limb and vessel had frozen solid and started flowing backward.

He opened his mouth, but no sound came out—his throat was parched and aching.

Only the heart in his chest, after a frantic pounding that threatened to shatter his ribs, gave a sudden lurch.

Then, as if clenched by an invisible fist, it stopped dead.

A hollowness colder than death itself seized him in that instant.

"No... no..." Finally, a fractured sob tore itself from the back of his throat.

He crawled and clawed his way over, his knees crashing into the pool of blood, sending thick, dark-red splatter everywhere.

He reached out with a hand shaking so badly it was barely recognizable, wanting to touch that face, only to snatch his hand back like he'd been scalded.

"Cui Ji..." His voice came out ragged and raw. "Cui Ji... wake up... look at me..."

No response. Just deathly silence and the cold seeping from the body cradled in his arms.

He finally broke. He threw himself forward and crushed that ice-cold body against his chest.

With every ounce of strength he had, as if he could grind the other man into himself, weld him into his own flesh and bone.

He pressed his forehead to the other man's icy brow, hot tears streaming down in heavy drops, mixing with the dark, bloody muck.

Every shred of sanity blew apart in that moment. He screamed that name again and again, his voice breaking from raw shouts into strangled sobs.

As if that name were the only lifeline he had left in this pit of despair—a rope that had already snapped.

"Cui Ji..."

"Cui Ji!" His eyes flew open, heart slamming against his ribs so hard it felt like it might punch through.

His ragged breathing sounded deafening in the silent tent. His bangs were soaked with cold sweat, plastered to his skin, sending an icy shudder through him.

His gaze scrambled to focus, landing first on the familiar dark shape of the tent ceiling.

Then he snapped his head toward the space beside him—

Cui Ji was lying right next to him, breathing steadily, his chest rising and falling gently with each breath.

He seemed to have been woken by Cheng Ge's thrashing and was now gazing up at him.

In the dim light, his eyes still held that hazy, just-woke-up look.

And... a concern so clear it couldn't be mistaken—tenderness, even.

A big, warm hand, still sluggish with sleep, rested lightly on his forearm.

Cheng Ge went rigid. His face was wet—tear tracks still fresh.

And his own right hand was death-gripping a fistful of Cui Ji's robes at his chest, knuckles white.

Cheng Ge: "..." Damn. Another huge mess to clean up.

"I..." He opened his mouth, his voice terribly dry, noticeably raspy. "I... I had a... a dream..."

He yanked his hand away from the fabric like it was on fire, his eyes darting everywhere but at Cui Ji.

His cheeks and ears turned bright red so fast you could practically watch it happen. The sheer embarrassment and a strange, fluttery panic made him want to sink into the ground and disappear.

Cui Ji watched him in silence, catching every trace of lingering terror on his face.

He didn't ask what the dream had been about, and he didn't pull his hand away from Cheng Ge's arm. Instead, he gave his back a few gentle pats. "Mm, I heard you."

He slowly lifted his hand and brushed the lingering dampness from the corner of Cheng Ge's eye with his thumb, then spoke: "It's cold out. You don't need to get up so early if there's nothing pressing."

He paused, looking at Cheng Ge's still-dazed eyes, and added, "I'll be back by noon. We'll eat together."

Cheng Ge's head was still a mess—the bloody nightmare images fighting with the very alive Cui Ji right in front of him.

Too rattled to think straight, he found himself nodding like a puppet and mumbling a vague response: "...Mm."

Cui Ji got up, went to the brazier first to toss in a few fresh coals, then took his sweet time getting dressed and strapping on his armor.

Once he was squared away, he glanced back at Cheng Ge—who had already burrowed under the blanket with just the top half of his head poking out—then turned and swept out through the tent flap.

The tent went quiet again, broken only by the occasional crackle and pop of the charcoal.

That nightmare had drained Cheng Ge completely, and he hadn't gotten a wink of solid sleep for the rest of the night.

But now, with the warm blankets and the brazier's heat, his guard came down and he dozed right back off.

He slept straight through until almost noon, when the noise outside the tent finally stirred him.

He'd just bundled himself up in a heavy fur coat and waddled over to the charcoal stove like an overstuffed ball.

He was holding a bowl of goat's milk Funiang had just brought in, adding a spoonful of honey to it, when the tent flap was pushed open.

"Master." Wufeng looked a lot better than he had the past few days.

Cheng Ge set down the small spoon upon seeing him and asked with concern, "Wufeng? How are your injuries?"

"Thank you for asking, Master. I'm just about fully healed." Wufeng answered succinctly.

He stepped up and, with a respectful look, held out a fairly large wooden box to Cheng Ge with both hands.

"His Majesty sent this and ordered that it be placed in your hands personally."

Cheng Ge's eyes flew wide open. Zhou Mingqi? He sent him something?

A box that freaking big—he suddenly remembered the five-hundred-tael banknote the guy had sent last time, and his brain lit up like a Christmas tree.

He hastily set the goat's milk down on the little side table and took the weighty box with both hands.

The box was made of premium wood, warm and smooth to the touch—clearly whatever was inside was something special.

He carefully placed the box on the table and gently lifted the lid.

Inside, a long, narrow object wrapped in imperial-yellow silk. Yeah... you could tell at a glance it was pricey.

Cheng Ge reached out and peeled back the yellow silk—

And suddenly, there it was—a Kaiyuan Bow, wrought in gold and iron, carrying a faint, killing edge.

Cheng Ge's eyes bugged out, his little heart going thump-thump-thump like crazy!

Wait... isn't this the bow he'd asked Zhou Mingqi for earlier?

Back then, Zhou Mingqi said it was a relic of Emperor Taizu and wouldn't give it to him. Why... has he suddenly changed his mind now?!

A surge of excitement he couldn't contain shot straight to his head. Cheng Ge, throwing all decorum aside, hastily took the Kaiyuan Bow out of the box.

It was hefty in his hands, and the craftsmanship was superb. He couldn't resist giving the string a light tug, and a deep hum rang out—damn, it felt perfect in his hands!

Rumor had it this bow was the twin of the one passed down through Cui Ji's family, forged by master smiths at Emperor Taizu's request back then.

In both range and power, it left ordinary strong bows and crossbows in the dust!

Wufeng watched his barely contained excitement from the side, a faint, almost invisible smile tugging at his lips.

He then pulled out a letter sealed with wax from his robe and handed it over: "Young master, and this—a letter from His Majesty for you."