Chapter 352 My Snake!!!

Chapter 352: My Snake!

When the youth's slender frame crashed into his embrace, his dark armor collided with Cui Ji's ribs with a dull thud, yet something sharper stabbed into his heart.

Cheng Ge's entire face was buried against his shoulder guard, his breath seeping through the chainmail's gaps, scorching hot.

The wind over the wasteland suddenly fell silent, leaving only the rustling of grass blades.

Cui Ji felt the body in his arms tremble slightly, unsure if it was from laughter or anger.

He tightened his arms, tracing the clear outline of the spine even through the fabric.

"What's wrong?" He heard his own voice come out lower and hoarser than usual, as if soaked in desert sand and wind.

Cheng Ge turned his flushed face away, thinking, *I can't exactly say I wanted you to taste humiliation between my legs*, his lashes brushing against the other's neck: "The wind's strong... I accidentally ran off course."

Cui Ji: "………" *I don't look like a fool, do I?*

Cui Ji looked up—dusk was settling, the tips of the grass frozen in still golden light.

He suddenly hoisted the person up, bouncing him slightly, startling Cheng Ge into hastily throwing his arms around Cui Ji's neck, his fingernails inadvertently scraping the back of it.

"What the hell! You—!" Cheng Ge jerked like he'd been electrocuted, trying to jump down, but Cui Ji pressed a hand to his lower back.

On a distant mound, Ling Feng was adding firewood to the fire when his peripheral vision caught the two figures that seemed almost fused together in the distance—his eyes lit up instantly.

His grimy hand grabbed Jiyue's wrist, his chin jerking sharply in Cui Ji's direction.

Jiyue had just flipped the roast chicken over; hearing this, he looked up.

The twilight gilded the pair of silhouettes, Cui Ji carrying Cheng Ge steadily forward like two pieces of a map finally clicking perfectly into place on the war table.

Seeing his ship locked in for good, he wiped the soot from his face, his eyes brimming with a fatherly smile.

Wufeng noticed their little exchange and couldn't help glancing in that direction as well.

Then he turned away with a disdainful sniff, scraping his dagger's blade hard against the scorched chicken skin.

Cui Ji's hand still supported Cheng Ge's thigh, his knuckles whitening from the strain.

Cheng Ge's breath sprayed against his neck, carrying the unique heat of youth, interweaving with the chill of the desert night wind into a net.

Cheng Ge looked at Cui Ji, so close in front of him, about to say something.

But before he could speak, a gray blur suddenly plummeted from the sky!

The shadow swept precisely over where Star Frost lay, extending its claws—snatching Star Frost up and away!

Cheng Ge: "!!!"

Cheng Ge was so startled by the sudden turn that his soul nearly fled, the lingering romantic tension scattering to the wind.

He wrenched himself free from Cui Ji's arms, stumbling a few steps as he landed, strands of hair plastered messily to his sweat-damp forehead.

"Damn it!! My snake!!" Cheng Ge exploded on the spot. "What feathered bastard dares to snatch my kid?!"

"Star Frost—!" The youth's clear voice tore through the dusk as he bolted off like a startled antelope, his plain white robes flapping in the wind.

The gray falcon, clutching the writhing little white snake, was about to beat its wings skyward when it seemed to taunt him by circling low in a half-loop, deliberately loosening its talons to let Star Frost nearly plummet.

"You feathered fiend!" Cheng Ge grabbed a stone and hurled it in fury. "Harm a single scale of my son and I'll pluck every last feather off your body!"

The stone grazed past the falcon's tail feathers. It let out a long screech, then abruptly reversed course and flew off into the distance.

The gray shape moved at astonishing speed, already dozens of feet aloft—a magnificent gray falcon, with the desperately writhing Star Frost still clutched beneath its claws.

"Star Frost!!" Cheng Ge chased and shouted, while Dahuang, realizing he'd caused a huge mess, barked frantically as he ran after Cheng Ge.

For a moment, the grassland descended into chaos—two men and a dog sprinting after a falcon, the scene was utter pandemonium.

Cui Ji's gaze sharpened; his wrist-crossbow bolt split the air with a sharp whiz.

The specially made blunt-tipped arrow struck the falcon's foot precisely—enough to cause pain without breaking bone or tendon.

The falcon let out a piercing shriek, shuddering in mid-air as iron-gray feathers drifted down like snow.

Its talons instinctively released, and Star Frost plummeted like a streak of silver!

Cheng Ge's soul nearly left his body, terrified that Star Frost would splatter on impact, his plain white robes blooming in the twilight like crane wings.

He lunged forward, sleeves whipping up dead grass, catching Star Frost steadily just half a zhang from the ground.

The little snake, terrified, coiled into a tight spiral in his palm, its cold scales pressed against the youth's warm pulse.

The falcon wheeled sharply in the air to steady itself, its eyes blazing with fury.

It screamed and reversed direction, iron-gray wings slicing through the dusk, talons like poisoned, curved blades diving straight for Cui Ji's face!

"Watch out!" Cheng Ge cried urgently, but Cui Ji neither dodged nor flinched—he drew the blade from his waist with a reverse grip.

The scabbard clashed against the falcon's talons, sparks flying, the bird's sharp beak mere inches from his throat—

"Chirp—!" A sharp whistle suddenly split the wind.

The sound was strange—half eagle's cry, half wolf's howl—piercing enough to make one's eardrums ache.

The falcon's dive abruptly stalled, wings beating hard as it hovered mid-air, letting out a reluctant gurgle.

It circled twice in agitation before finally turning and flying off toward the source of the whistle.

Atop a distant dune, a gray-brown figure had appeared, seemingly out of nowhere.

The north wind whipped his brown leather robe, the golden-threaded embroidery of a hawk glinting in the last sliver of daylight.

The figure slowly raised a hand clad in a leather bracer, and the falcon obediently landed.

Cheng Ge carefully tucked Star Frost back into his robes, squinting toward the dune.

The silhouette stood against the light, features obscured, yet a certain wildness was faintly visible.

The cold wind swept sand across the wasteland as two pairs of eyes met fiercely in the twilight.

Cui Ji's blade still trembled faintly in its sheath; the falcon on the stranger's arm continued its low, threatening calls.

They faced off across a hundred zhang, as if two invisible killing intents were locked in a silent struggle.

Cheng Ge unconsciously stepped half a pace forward, his robes pressed against his legs by the wind.

He could feel a dangerous tension spreading—not the hostility of battlefield foes, but something more primal, more piercing.

The figure stirred, slowly raising the other hand, fingertips brushing gently over the falcon's feathers.

The falcon's head turned toward Cheng Ge, its golden-brown pupils glinting in the fading light.

Cui Ji suddenly shifted half a step sideways, precisely blocking the gaze aimed at Cheng Ge.

The air around him turned icy, thumb pressing against the sword guard as the gleaming blade slid half an inch from its sheath, a cold glint cutting through the twilight.

The gray falcon abruptly spread its wings, letting out a sharp, defiant cry. Cheng Ge suddenly remembered something and pulled Star Frost from his robe.

Star Frost seemed to sense something, raising its head toward that direction, its forked tongue flickering fast.

Cheng Ge narrowed his eyes, staring intently at the distant figure.

The man raised a hand and pressed it gently atop the falcon's head, and the previously agitated raptor instantly calmed, even its wings folding slightly.

"What's that place over there?" Cheng Ge asked in a low voice.

Cui Ji's blade caught the cold twilight: "The territory of the Northern Di."

"Beidi people?"

Cui Ji withdrew his gaze, his voice carrying a biting chill: "That's Wuliji."

Cheng Ge's face went still for a beat, then he suddenly let out a cold laugh: "So he's still alive, huh..." He turned his head and looked once more at that figure.

Wuliji seemed to sense it, his gaze meeting Cheng Ge's directly.

Across a hundred yards of windblown sand, those eyes seemed to nail him to the spot.

Cheng Ge casually spun Star Frost in his hand, then turned to Cui Ji and said, "Let's head back."

Cui Ji nodded and had just turned to leave when Cheng Ge slowly looked back.

That Northern Di man still stood in place, staring this way like a statue.

Cheng Ge raised his chin, then abruptly flipped him off.

Dusk deepened, the last light staining the dunes dark gold.

Wuliji stood atop the dune, watching the two of them standing shoulder to shoulder in the distance, his eyes flickering.

The gray falcon on his arm ruffled its iron-gray feathers uneasily, letting out a low, throaty sound.

Cui Ji extended his hand toward Cheng Ge, palm up—the gesture so natural it seemed practiced a thousand times.

Cheng Ge turned back, his expression flickering for a moment at the sight of that hand, but he slowly put his hand in it.

Their hands clasped in the twilight, and the instant their fingers touched, the falcon startled and took flight.

Back at the fire, the chicken was nearly done.

Cui Ji knew Cheng Ge's appetite—two chickens were clearly not enough for him, so he'd thrown in five more.

Cui Ji carefully spread his outer robe on the grass, smoothing out every wrinkle.

Cheng Ge sat down cross-legged, and Cui Ji tore off a drumstick and handed it to him.

Cheng Ge took a bite, grease running down his fingers, while his other hand stroked Star Frost, coiled around his wrist.

The little snake still hadn't gotten over its scare, its thin body trembling.

It clung to his wrist, its cold head pressed against the back of his hand, its tongue flickering nervously.

"Almost got eaten by that big bird," Cheng Ge said, running his index finger over Star Frost's smooth scales, his voice muffled by the chicken he was chewing. "All Dahuang's fault."

Dahuang, who'd been circling the fire, immediately drooped his ears at the sound of his name.

He crept over cautiously, his black eyes full of guilt, and gave Star Frost's head the gentlest lick.

Star Frost didn't flinch, instead nuzzling affectionately against his wet nose.

Then it slowly slithered over, looping its silver body loosely around Dahuang's fluffy neck.

As night fell, Cheng Ge, wrapped in a thick fur cloak, walked with Cui Ji along the path between the tents, one ahead of the other.

He stopped before a certain tent and called softly inside.

Soon, Lü Rou and Funiang came out carrying a swaddled baby.

The baby's face was flushed, as if it had been sitting by the fire for a while. Seeing Cheng Ge, the baby boldly reached out a chubby little hand.

Cheng Ge handed the roast chicken, wrapped in oil paper, to Lü Rou, motioning for them to share it, then carefully took the heavy bundle.

The little one was well cared for—so plump its neck was nearly invisible. It could lift its head a little, but not steadily yet.

Cheng Ge held out a finger to tease it, and the baby immediately opened its tiny mouth to suck on it, making him chuckle softly.

Cui Ji stood nearby, watching Cheng Ge's rarely seen soft expression, his gaze deep.

Late that night, after finishing their military duties, they turned in early for once.

In bed, Cheng Ge turned over to face Cui Ji.

Cheng Ge blinked in the darkness, inching closer to Cui Ji, and lowered his voice: "Any leads on the spy?"

Cui Ji was silent for a moment before responding, his warm breath brushing across Cheng Ge's forehead.

"Who is it?" Cheng Ge pressed, his voice so soft it nearly dissolved into the wind outside the tent.

"Only a suspicion, no proof yet," Cui Ji said, taking Cheng Ge's hand.

His fingertip traced slowly across the palm, leaving invisible marks.

Cheng Ge's gaze sharpened, and he traced a reply in Cui Ji's palm: "He doesn't seem like it to me. Could it be a misunderstanding?"

Cui Ji was silent for a long while, his thumb rubbing against Cheng Ge's tiger's mouth, before simply saying: "We'll see."

The two stared at each other in the darkness for a moment, then Cheng Ge suddenly remembered something, tapping lightly: "That bird-flying guy today, that Wu-something—he's the one who broke your leg before, right?"

Cui Ji: "..."

He squeezed Cheng Ge's fingertip, his tone a bit stiff: "It wasn't broken."

Cheng Ge let out an "oh," his fingertip wandering: "He's really big."

Cui Ji hummed in agreement. "The Di people are mostly tall and large." After a pause, he added: "And relatively simple-minded."

Cheng Ge couldn't help but chuckle softly, drawing a dog's head in Cui Ji's palm: "Like Dahuang?"

Cui Ji caught his roving fingers and gave the fingertip a gentle bite as punishment.

Cheng Ge pulled his hand back a little, gazing at Cui Ji who was right there, and his mischievous streak immediately kicked in.

His sneaky fingers silently crept toward Cui Ji's waist, zeroing in on that sensitive ticklish spot and giving it a teasing little scratch.

Cui Ji: "………"

His body went rigid instantly, but he stubbornly stayed silent, just grabbing Cheng Ge's wandering wrist in a firm hold.

Cheng Ge was having way too much fun to quit now; his other hand started creeping over again.

But the next moment, everything flipped upside down.

Cheng Ge: "!!!" Looks like he'd pushed it too far!

A heavy body radiating scorching heat pinned him firmly between the bed and the blankets. He opened his mouth to protest, but it was immediately sealed shut.

A calloused fingertip pressed against his lips with undeniable force.

In the darkness, with his vision blocked, every other sense went into overdrive.

Cheng Ge could clearly feel the weight of Cui Ji pressing down on him, as well as the distinct feel and warmth of that finger on his lips—so unmistakably Cui Ji.

Cheng Ge couldn't resist and gently bit the fingertip pressing against his lips.

In an instant, it was like setting off a powder keg.

The finger on his lips vanished, replaced by scorching lips pressing down hard.

With irresistible force, they swallowed every gasp and cry before he could make a sound.

The breath of another person instantly flooded Cheng Ge's every sense, a strange mix of cool and scorching heat, enveloping him completely.

Cheng Ge's mind went blank for a moment; his hand instinctively pressed against Cui Ji's solid chest, trying to push him away.

But the heartbeat racing beneath that chest—as fierce as his own—made his fingertips tingle and go numb.

The lack of oxygen made him dizzy, and his body instinctively struggled, only to have his wrist seized and pinned to the pillow beside his head, with Cui Ji's fingers forcibly interlacing with his own and gripping tightly.

Cheng Ge instinctively turned his head away, gasping for breath, trying to snatch a hint of fresh air.

That predatory kiss nearly suffocated him; his brain was spinning from the oxygen deprivation.

But Cui Ji would not allow him to escape. A large hand, with irresistible force, gently cupped his jaw and turned his face back.