Chapter 385 I’ll Find You Another

Chapter 385: I'll Find You Another One

The rest of his words were cut off as the guard clamped a hand over his mouth, leaving only strangled grunts, but his eyes still bore into Cheng Ge, filled with despair and accusation.

Cheng Ge's scalp crawled. He silently cursed Zhou Ming a thousand times over, but didn't dare let it show on his face.

He had no choice but to steel himself and pretend he hadn't seen Zhou Ming's look.

Painfully slowly, he turned his head toward the tent ceiling and began... examining the weave of the felt?

Mm, the wool was spun evenly, and the dye job was solid. Not bad craftsmanship from the Northern Di...

Wuliji's gaze followed his movements, watching this guilty little quail of a man who was trying so hard to look innocent it was obvious he was guilty, and clearly wishing he could disappear.

He also glanced at Zhou Ming outside the tent, still flailing and desperately trying to catch Cheng Ge's eye (though it looked more like the twitching of a dying man).

He stared at Cheng Ge's pale, shifting profile, his Adam's apple bobbed once. His voice was heavy enough to flatten the tent:

"What were you two just doing?"

Cheng Ge's heart skipped a beat. He knew there was no avoiding this.

He forced himself to meet Wuliji's fathomless gaze, his mind racing a mile a minute.

He scratched his cheek, trying to come up with an explanation that didn't sound totally bullshit.

"We... weren't doing anything... He was cold, so I told him to... uh, grab some clothes, warm up..."

His voice got weaker and trailed off with each word.

Wuliji watched his shifty eyes, remembering the rumpled state of the bed when he'd come in earlier.

And the obvious way the two of them were guiltily covering for each other.

His jaw clenched so hard it looked like it might crack. He looked at Cheng Ge and spoke slowly: "...You... are sneaking around... with him?"

The air went dead silent.

Cheng Ge: "...???"

Zhou Ming: "...!!!"

Even the guard hauling Zhou Ming paused almost imperceptibly.

Cheng Ge's face went completely blank for a solid three seconds, like he hadn't even heard the words.

An... affair? With Zhou Ming? Him?!

Zhou Ming was even more stunned, completely forgetting to struggle. One thought was on repeat in his brain:

An affair? Me and Cheng Ge? Is Wuliji blind?!

After all that effort I put into seducing him, he comes up with "illicit affair"?! This guy's even more straight than Cheng Ge!

The air thickened like congealed fat, each second sticky and suffocating.

Wuliji took in the identical dumbfounded expressions on both their faces—like they'd just been hit by lightning.

To Wuliji, it looked exactly like the panic and speechlessness of lovers caught in the act.

His gaze darkened. He stepped forward, his tall frame casting a shadow that swallowed Cheng Ge whole.

Cheng Ge was still reeling from the sheer absurdity of the word "affair."

His head buzzed like eighteen flies were having a committee meeting, trying to figure out how Wuliji had reached such an outrageous conclusion.

It wasn't until the oppressive shadow loomed over him that he finally sensed the danger and instinctively tried to back away.

Behind him was the cold tent wall—nowhere to go. He just pressed himself harder against it, as if trying to melt into the felt.

Wuliji reached out with his gauze-wrapped hand, going straight for Cheng Ge's arm.

Cheng Ge sidestepped, barely dodging Wuliji's hand.

Wuliji grabbed at empty air.

His fingertips brushed the icy fabric of Cheng Ge's sleeve before dropping into the cold air.

His hand hung in midair for the briefest instant, then slowly curled shut and dropped back to his side.

The blood seeping at the edge of the gauze looked darker in the dim light.

His face stayed blank, but those eyes locked on Cheng Ge—

His gaze rippled like a pond hit by a stone, sending out rings of suppressed emotion that were far more unnerving than plain anger.

Cheng Ge pressed against the tent wall, trying to sort out this disaster: "No, no... Me and Zhou Ming... How could I possibly be..."

Outside the tent, Zhou Ming, half-dragged by the guard, stopped struggling when he heard that.

He immediately chimed in, shouting hoarsely: "Right, right! Misunderstanding! All a misunderstanding!

Me and A Ge are innocent! We were just... keeping warm! Swapping tips on staying warm!"

Cheng Ge heard that and felt an overwhelming urge to go strangle him on the spot! Keeping warm my ass!

Wuliji's gaze swept coldly back and forth between them.

Cheng Ge's frantic denials and Zhou Ming's over-the-top agreement sounded to him like weak excuses and coordinated alibis after being caught red-handed.

Wuliji's voice was heavier than before, thick and strained, like he was chewing on something unbearable, his eyes boring into Cheng Ge's face: "He calls you... A-Ge."

Wuliji continued, "I've heard tell that in some parts of the Great Zhou, there's a custom of calling one's lover 'A-Ge.'"

Cheng Ge: "..."

Cheng Ge heard Wuliji's words and felt a rush of hot blood surge to his head, then turn to ice in an instant.

But before he could recover, Zhou Ming had already piped up.

"What... what's wrong with calling him A-Ge?" Zhou Ming sniffled, his tone dripping with "what's it to you, are you that nosy?" "His name is Cheng—mmph!"

Before he could finish, Cheng Ge lunged at Zhou Ming and slapped his hand over his mouth!

The force was such that Zhou Ming's remaining words turned into a series of muffled "mmph" sounds in his throat.

His eyes went wide instantly, full of disbelief—Why are you covering my mouth?! What did I say wrong?!

Zhou Ming kicked his legs a few times, trying to break free from both Cheng Ge's grip and the guard's hold.

Cheng Ge quickly turned his head, forcing a painfully stiff smile at the equally dumbfounded guard beside him.

"Th-thank you for your hard work! Quick! Drag him away! Feed him to the dogs! Yeah, that's it! Feed him to the dogs! Hurry!"

Zhou Ming: "!!!"

He froze mid-struggle, eyes bugging out as he glared at Cheng Ge, then started kicking even harder than before.

Wuliji watched Cheng Ge desperately clinging to—or rather, muffling—Zhou Ming.

The two were tangled together, one struggling and whimpering, the other red in the face and frantic. The sight just poured gasoline on the fire!

His face was so dark it looked like it could drip rain, the anger bottled up in his chest about to blow through the last of his self-control.

Just then, Cheng Ge suddenly released Zhou Ming, turned, and strode over to Wuliji in a few quick steps.

Wuliji instinctively tensed, his right hand slightly raised.

Cheng Ge reached out and grabbed Wuliji's arm, the move carrying a hint of possessiveness.

"It's getting late. Let's turn in early—I'm starting to feel sleepy."

And with that, he actually started tugging Wuliji's arm, pulling him toward the tent curtain.

Wuliji hadn't seen that coming. Even through layers of clothes and bandages, Cheng Ge's grip on his arm carried an undeniable force.

Cheng Ge grabbed Wuliji's arm with a rough, almost brutish yank.

The sudden contact caught Wuliji off guard—his dark, composed expression froze in a rare moment of surprise.

He looked down at the hand tightly gripping his arm.

His fingers were slightly pale from the strain, nails clean and neatly trimmed, knuckles well-defined—a really nice-looking pair of hands.

Cheng Ge kept pulling with all his might, mumbling about sleep and being tired, but he wouldn't meet Wuliji's eyes.

His jaw was clenched tight, and fine beads of cold sweat had broken out at his temples.

Wuliji didn't resist. He didn't even adjust his pace to match Cheng Ge's pulling.

He just let Cheng Ge strain with every ounce of strength he had, hauling him into the tent like an overstuffed sack of grain.

Cheng Ge was clearly panicking, terrified that if he stalled even a second, the gagged Zhou Ming outside would break loose and spill all his secrets.

And so, under the stunned—and pointedly pretending-not-to-see—gaze of the guards outside, with Zhou Ming's desperate, indignant muffled "mmph-mmphs" as background noise,

General Wuliji got dragged, stumbling, into the tent by a pale-faced man in what basically amounted to a brazen kidnapping.

The felt curtain swished shut, completely cutting off the outside world.

Inside, the brazier blazed, warm and cozy as spring.

The air still smelled faintly of medicine, but now something subtle and hard to name had crept in.

Cheng Ge didn't let go of Wuliji's arm until he'd dragged him all the way inside, well away from the curtain.

He was about to let go, as if he'd just used up his very last bit of strength.

But before he could, his hand got grabbed right back.

The force and heat of that grip hit him out of nowhere, overwhelming. Cheng Ge felt his wrist tighten—calloused fingertips pressing straight against his pulse, no ceremony at all.

Skin hot and rough as sandpaper pressed hard against the softer flesh of his inner wrist.

Cheng Ge's breath caught. On instinct, he tried to pull his hand back, even using a little trick to break free.

But the second he moved, that big hand clamped down, swallowing all his resistance and squeezing even harder.

His fingertips curled inside the other man's grip, brushing against warm, hard knuckles and veins that pulsed slightly.

A barely noticeable tension crept into Cheng Ge. He looked up, brows knit, and his gaze slammed into Wuliji's unreadable eyes.

A tense silence filled the warm tent, broken only by the fire crackling.

After a moment, just when Cheng Ge thought the standoff would go on forever, the pressure on his wrist suddenly loosened.

Not a full let-go—more like shifting from an iron clamp to a hold that still circled his wrist but left some room to move.

Like a predator that's confirmed its prey can't escape, pulling its claws back a little—but keeping its eyes locked on.

Then Wuliji's low voice cut through the silence that made his heart pound:

"Yuli," he said the name, eyes never leaving Cheng Ge's face, like he was watching for every tiny reaction. "He..."

There was a strange pause in his voice—not hesitation, more like he was picking the sharpest knife.

"...is pretty weak."

Wuliji's gaze swept over the loosely held wrist, where skin touched skin and heat kept passing between them.

His voice dropped even lower as he delivered the final, most important line:

"...Not suitable for you."

Cheng Ge: "..."

Cheng Ge turned his head and muttered under his breath, "...I really don't like him."

Even he could tell how hollow that sounded, and he shut his mouth fast.

Wuliji's brow had just twitched, about to say something—"Grrrrrruuuuuumble~~~"

A long, loud, full-bodied stomach growl erupted from Cheng Ge's gut, echoing through the quiet tent with embarrassing clarity.

Cheng Ge went stiff, a flash of embarrassment crossing his face.

He'd skipped meals today because he was in a bad mood, and now hunger was hitting back with a vengeance.

Wuliji paused mid-thought, his gaze instinctively dipping down for a second, then lifting back to Cheng Ge's face.

He was quiet for a moment, then spoke. "Someone... in the tribe... is getting married." He paused. "You want to go?"

"Getting married?" Cheng Ge, still embarrassed by his own stomach's outburst, repeated the words without thinking.

Then a key phrase suddenly lit up his brain—free wedding feast?!

Almost on reflex, his eyes lit up. "Yes, yes, yes!!!"

He whipped his head around to look at Wuliji, his face showing zero attempt to hide his eagerness. "Hell yeah I'm going!"

Wuliji watched the light light up in his eyes, and the corner of his mouth twitched almost imperceptibly.

Cheng Ge was now all about one thing: food! He glanced around, quickly grabbed a thick fur coat nearby, and pulled it on.

"Let's go, let's go! Lead the way!" he urged, tugging Wuliji toward the tent flap.

Wuliji stumbled a step as he was pulled along, but just as Cheng Ge excitedly dragged him two paces forward, he suddenly stopped in his tracks.

As if struck by a sudden thought, he slowly turned around, a rare look of embarrassment on his face.

He scratched his head, looked at Wuliji, and lowered his voice: "Um... do you have any silver?"

He couldn't very well show up at a wedding empty-handed—he had to bring at least some kind of gift. You can't just skip the etiquette.

The sudden change of topic caught Wuliji off guard, and he had no idea why Cheng Ge was suddenly asking him for silver.

But he didn't ask questions. He simply turned and walked to one side of the tent, pulling out a carved wooden box about a foot square from a sturdy low cabinet.

He handed the box to Cheng Ge, who took it—and found it surprisingly heavy.

Figuring it was just a box of loose change, he casually flipped open the lid—

The next second, he went completely still. "Holy shit—!!"

The dim light inside the tent seemed to brighten with the sudden burst of jeweled radiance from within the box.

On the dark velvet lining, colorful gemstones were packed tightly together—warm jade pendants, jade bangles, coral and agate beads. And at the very bottom, gold ingots and silver ingots were neatly stacked in rows!

Cheng Ge's eyes went wide, his mouth hanging open. It took him a beat to find his voice, stammering:

"N-No... I don't need this much! I just need a little—a small ingot or some loose silver is fine!"

He fumbled frantically to close the lid, as if the shine was too bright to look at.

He was just going to a banquet to chip in a gift—not a state dinner. Why would he need to give this much money!

Wuliji didn't reach out to take the box back. He just watched Cheng Ge's flustered state, his brow furrowing even more, as if he couldn't understand the refusal at all.

After a moment of silence, he spoke, his voice low and flat, yet it hit Cheng Ge like a bolt from the blue:

"...You said before... you wanted a bride price."

He paused, his gaze sweeping over the treasures in the box before settling back on Cheng Ge's instantly stunned face, his tone carrying a matter-of-fact seriousness:

"These are... for you, for now. The rest, I'll get later."