Chapter 376 What Did You Say?

Chapter 376: What Did You Say?

But Cheng Ge couldn't be bothered to keep up the act now. The rich aroma of the mutton soup stubbornly invaded his nostrils, making his stomach betray him with another traitorous rumble.

He'd planned to wait for Wuliji to put the food down and leave before eating in peace.

But that tall figure just stood there, planted like a post—not leaving, and those eyes fixed squarely on him.

Silent as stone, yet his stare had a weight you could feel, making his skin crawl.

He avoided the look, cleared his throat, and his eyes darted away for a second.

In the end, hunger and that smell got the better of him. He edged his body forward a little.

Then—very slowly, as if just shifting his position—he scooted over to the low table bit by bit.

His fingers drummed absently on the rough wood, making soft "thunk, thunk" sounds that rang out extra loud in the hush of the tent.

He kept his eyes down, watching the steam haze off the rim of the soup bowl. His lips moved, scrambling for something to say, and he blurted out a question in a stiff voice: "You... don't need to go to the battlefield?"

Wuliji's eyes seemed to pause for a beat on his purposely lowered lashes and the tight line of his jaw.

His face gave nothing away, and his tone was so flat it bordered on dull: "Recovering... from injuries."

"Recovering from injuries?" Cheng Ge repeated without thinking, looking up with a genuine flash of confusion on his face.

Wuliji didn't hesitate. He reached up and undid the front of his shirt.

The fabric parted, revealing the sharply defined muscles of his chest.

The lamplight was yellow and low, the dancing flames throwing flickering shadows across his solid skin, but they couldn't hide the two wounds on it—scabbed over, yet still vicious and raw.

One cut diagonally across the upper left chest, the healed scar rough and thick where the flesh had turned, like a centipede lying flat.

The other was on his right shoulder, just as deep, the edges still tinged a dull, dark color.

The air in the tent seemed to thicken, and even the lamp's glow appeared to dim, bearing down on those two scars.

Wuliji's expression remained calm and unruffled. He raised his finger, first tapping the scar on his left chest—the one closer to his heart—speaking slowly, each word clear and heavy as it dropped into the silence: "This one... from fighting Cui Ji... your arrow did it."

His finger paused, then slid down to the one on his right shoulder. He lifted his gaze, looking directly into Cheng Ge's eyes.

His voice got lower, but it carried a blunt, heavy force that cut straight through time: "This one, Wild Fox Valley... the cliff. You stabbed me there with a blade."

Cheng Ge: "..."

The air in the tent suddenly froze solid under the shock of Wuliji's sudden action and words.

Well, damn! So this guy knew all along! Then what the hell was he playing at with all that acting!

A hot wave of shame—being seen through, all that effort wasted—shot straight to his head, burning his ears.

He stared hard at the bowl of mutton soup still steaming its rich scent in front of him, his Adam's apple bobbing just barely.

His tongue unconsciously licked his slightly dry lips. He lowered his eyes, avoiding both the scars and Wuliji's steady gaze, and managed to squeeze out a breezy "Oh."

"So that's how it was." He picked up the porcelain spoon and scooped up some soup, making the motion deliberately slow and elegant.

Only the spoon's rim ticking against the bowl gave away faint, barely audible clicks. "I don't really remember."

The soup went in warm and savory, meant to comfort the stomach, but somehow it caught in his throat. His hand gave the faintest tremor, the broth rippling.

Cheng Ge suddenly found the food hard to get down. His eyes snuck upward for a peek at Wuliji, who was still standing right there.

The man's presence bore down on him, heavy enough to make breathing a chore.

He cleared his throat, trying to sound collected: "As the old saying goes, people on different paths can't work together. In the end, you and I are on opposite sides."

He paused, observing Wuliji's expression. "However, you saved my life, and I'm not the kind to forget a debt of gratitude.

How about this: let me return to the Great Zhou, and my family has a bit of money to spare. I'll give you ten thousand taels of gold, enough to set you up for the rest of your life..."

"You... are going to marry me." The words cut him off.

Wuliji's voice wasn't loud, but it hit like a rock dropped into still water, snapping Cheng Ge's head up, even his put-on calm cracking right down the middle.

Those two words were like red-hot needles, stinging Cheng Ge clean out of his guilty, awkward, let's-make-a-deal headspace.

He dropped all pretense of noble manners and snapped, "I'm a damn man! The hell would I marry you for?!" His voice even rose a notch.

But Wuliji acted like he hadn't heard the outburst at all. His gaze rested steadily on Cheng Ge's face, his pace still slow, but with the calm certainty of someone stating a plain fact:

"In your Great Zhou... men... being with men... that happens too." He seemed to think for a second, then added, "It's... in the books."

Cheng Ge: "..." So the bastard had actually done his research?!

He lifted a hand, limp with defeat, and raked through the messy hair on his forehead, feeling like talking to this guy was just impossibly exhausting.

"Even if... even if two men could be together," he said through gritted teeth, "you and I could never!"

"Why... not." Wuliji pressed on, brow knitting a little, like he genuinely couldn't follow the logic.

Cheng Ge was so stifled by that earnest look he couldn't get a word out.

His gaze swept over Wuliji's tall, sturdy body—still bearing fresh scars—and a nasty, screw-it-all impulse surged up in him.

He deliberately hitched the corner of his mouth into a smirk that was part provocation, part sleaze, lowered his voice, and said word by word:

"Once you're married, you're husband and wife, right? So we'd have to do what husbands and wives do."

He paused, savoring the way Wuliji's expression seemed to freeze for a second, then drawled out the nasty words nice and slow: "A guy like you... you'd let me be on top?"

The tent went dead quiet. The oil lamp gave a faint pop of a spark.

Wuliji was clearly stunned. His thick dark brows knitted together, as if he were working hard to chew through all the twists and the sting buried in Cheng Ge's words.

He looked at Cheng Ge's face, right there, wearing that nasty smile, his lips pressed into a thin line, and he stayed quiet for a long while.

Just when Cheng Ge figured he'd either blow up or finally be grossed out, Wuliji spoke.

His voice carried the flat finality of someone who'd seriously weighed it and said no, no question: "You? No way."

Cheng Ge: "...?"

As if to drive the point home, Wuliji's eyes moved from Cheng Ge's face down to his skinny shoulders and wrists.

His tone had that maddening, just-stating-facts quality: "You... too weak. Last time... when we brushed past,"

He seemed to hunt for the right word, then settled on a plain comparison: "Small."

Then, he looked into Cheng Ge's eyes with a final, summarizing judgment, and delivered his verdict: "No."

The air went dead silent---

The malicious smile on Cheng Ge's face froze completely, his eyes slowly widening in disbelief.

He stared at Wuliji's face, which held no hint of jest, even carrying an expression of "I'm stating objective facts," and his head buzzed as if a thousand thunderbolts had gone off.

"W-what did you just say---?!" The words were squeezed through clenched teeth, trembling on the verge of breaking.

The next second, a shrill explosion that nearly tore the tent apart erupted: "WUSACHI!!! I'll kill you---!!!"

Cheng Ge completely lost it, throwing all thoughts of injuries and decorum to the wind. Like a lit firecracker, he lunged at Wuliji, ready to tear into him.

Only one thought remained in his mind: rip that damn mouth off!

Cheng Ge was bound tightly to the low couch with leather ropes, his wrists and ankles secured, leaving him able to move only his head and neck, and even that with difficulty.

He thrashed around futilely like a fish out of water, but couldn't budge an inch.

"Untie me, damn it!" He craned his neck, the veins on his forehead popping.

His eyes, bloodshot from the earlier rage and current frustration, glared viciously at the bastard standing by the couch.

Wuliji still bore a few fresh scratches on his face, the "souvenirs" from Cheng Ge's frantic struggle moments ago.

He didn't seem to mind, didn't even bother wiping them away. He just looked at the bound and struggling Cheng Ge with those eerily calm eyes, his brows slightly furrowed as if sizing up the other man's condition.

"Don't move," he said, his voice as flat as ever, betraying no emotion. "You'll get hurt."

"Hurt me, my ass!" Cheng Ge's chest heaved with rage, his bound arms straining against the ropes. "If you've got the balls, untie me! Let's go at it for real!"

Wuliji ignored his ranting, his gaze lingering a moment on Cheng Ge's flushed cheeks and heaving chest.

Then he turned, walked to the low table, and picked up the bowl of steaming mutton soup.

Cheng Ge watched his movements, a bad feeling rising, and struggled harder: "Get that away from me! I'm not eating!"

Wuliji walked back with the bowl and sat down by the couch.

He picked up the spoon, scooped up some soup, and brought it to Cheng Ge's lips, saying simply, "Eat."

Cheng Ge jerked his face away, jaw clenched tight. "Get lost! I'd rather starve!" he refused through gritted teeth.

The spoon froze mid-air. Wuliji looked at his resistant profile and tightly pressed lips, said nothing, didn't retract his hand, just held it there. Time stretched on in the silent standoff.

Right then, Cheng Ge's stomach betrayed him with a series of loud "gurgle gurgle" rumbles, loud and clear in the quiet tent.

A flash of embarrassment at being caught, followed by even deeper fury, crossed his face, and his ears went hot despite himself.

Wuliji's gaze fell on his slightly reddened ear, and his thick dark brows twitched, almost imperceptibly.

He didn't wait any longer. With a slight twist of his wrist, he pushed the spoon forward, pressing it against Cheng Ge's tightly shut lips.

"Mmph!" Cheng Ge flinched at the cold porcelain spoon, instinctively opening his mouth to cuss.

The next moment, the slightly cool, rich broth with tender shredded mutton slid into his mouth.

His fierce expression suddenly froze, as if someone had hit pause.

His mouth chewed unconsciously a couple of times, a dazed, surprised look on his face.

He looked up at Wuliji, brows still furrowed, the murderous glare in his eyes not yet gone.

But his chewing got faster and faster, with a venting ferocity.

Wuliji met his glare, face impassive, silently scooping up another spoonful and offering it.

This time, Cheng Ge's resistance was all show.

He still craned his neck, making a show of turning away, and clenched his jaw for show.

But when the spoon touched his lips, that tight defense gave way noticeably faster.

He didn't even wait for Wuliji to push; he just parted his lips a little to let the food slide in.

Then he kept glaring at the other man with murderous eyes while chewing fast with his cheeks puffed out.

What followed was a silent, bizarre contest of wills over feeding.

When the last spoonful went into Cheng Ge's mouth, he unconsciously licked his lips, his expression softening a bit.

Wuliji carefully helped Cheng Ge lie back down. Dahuang lay by the couch, its shiny black eyes darting curiously between Cheng Ge and Wuliji, tail swaying lazily.

After a while, Cheng Ge's eyes moved. He turned his head, his tone still stiff. "Hey."

Wuliji looked up at him, waiting.

"You..." Cheng Ge paused, brows furrowing, the ferocity in his eyes fading a little. "Have you seen my Star Frost?"

"Star Frost?" Wuliji repeated, his eyes questioning.

Cheng Ge clicked his tongue, brows knitting tighter, his tone growing more impatient but unable to hide the urgency in it: "A snake. A small white snake. Pure white all over."

Wuliji looked at him, his thick dark brows twitching slightly, then shook his head, his voice flat: "No."

No...

Cheng Ge's heart lurched, his pupils contracting almost imperceptibly. The irritation and ferocity on his face instantly gave way to a blank, stunned expression.

He pressed his lips together, said nothing more, just turned back to stare at the tent ceiling, his gaze a little vacant, a real bitterness seeping into the tightness in his chest.

Star Frost... that little thing was annoying sometimes, but...

Just as his heart sank, Dahuang suddenly raised its head, barked a few times at Cheng Ge, then abruptly twisted its head toward the tightly closed felt tent door.

It pricked up its ears, stopped its tail mid-sway, and lowered its body slightly.

Wuliji strode to the tent entrance and lifted the heavy curtain a crack.

A clear, powerful sound of wings cutting through the air approached fast, swift and fierce.

In the blink of an eye, a gray shadow, like lightning tearing through the night, shot through the gap, bringing in a gust of biting cold air, and landed square on Wuliji's shoulder.

It folded its broad wings and stood tall, its amber eyes still sharp in the dim lamplight of the tent.

"Star Frost?!" Cheng Ge's voice caught in his throat, his eyes locked on the falcon's shoulder.

And there, coiled around the falcon's neck, was a slender shape.

Not the crystalline snow-white Cheng Ge remembered, but a near-black, shadowy color.

The serpent's body seemed thinner than in his memory, coiled quietly, its slightly raised head hanging limply as it gazed toward Cheng Ge.

Those pure black vertical pupils suddenly flashed bright the instant they landed on Cheng Ge, bound to the bed.

The next moment, its slender body went rigid, head reared high, swaying excitedly left and right, a rapid, faint "hissing" sound escaping its throat.

It looked like it was about to spring off the falcon, charging at Cheng Ge without a second thought.

Yet, just as Star Frost was poised to strike, the falcon perched on Wuliji's shoulder dipped its head with lightning speed, snatching the middle section of Star Frost's serpentine body.