Chapter 401 Of Course Not

Chapter 401: Of Course Not

With Wuliji taking the lead in "feigning illness," combined with the old grudge over the forced cattle and sheep taxes, many tribes that had long harbored discontent suddenly found both a rallying point and the perfect excuse, and one after another began to follow suit.

The thing was, the Northern Di men were mostly straight shooters, not much for scheming or sneaky tricks. Unable to come up with any fresh excuses on short notice, they simply copied the same homework.

The smarter ones knew to make small adjustments—swapping "injury and illness" for "horse epidemic" or "insufficient pasture." The more simple-minded ones, however, copied word for word, even sending up the exact phrase "need time to recuperate" without changing a thing.

Thus, in just a few short days, five or six tribes big and small had sent in all kinds of "sick leave" notices to the royal court, refusing to send troops.

When Hutuke first got word, he naturally blew his top, almost trashing the whole royal tent, bellowing that he'd send troops to "invite" those chiefs to "come rest up at court personally."

But unexpectedly, in the past few days, the royal court had gone strangely quiet—no more scolding, no troops breathing down their necks, as if it were quietly letting it slide.

This weird calm, in turn, made a lot of the tribes that had copied the "sick leave" move start to get nervous, their stomachs churning with worry.

Was Hutuke just accepting it? Or was he… cooking up something even scarier? No one knew.

But the arrow was already in flight; there was no calling it back.

That day, after days of overcast skies, it finally started to clear up. Weak sunlight broke through the clouds, spilling over the dead grass, but it carried no warmth.

Cheng Ge sat alone on Snowstep, on a gentle slope, his face blank, only his lashes quivering in the cold wind.

He suddenly raised a hand, pointing at some spot in the sky, and snapped a short order to Grey Cloud, perched on his shoulder: "Grey Cloud! Go!"

The majestic falcon spread its wide wings, shoved off from Cheng Ge's shoulder, and with a whoosh, shot straight up.

It circled a few times, sharp eyes scanning the wide grassland below.

Suddenly it gave a short shriek, folded its wings, and dove like an arrow toward a spot on the far side of the slope!

Cheng Ge's eyes narrowed. He wheeled his horse toward where Grey Cloud had dived and called down to Dahuang, who was wagging his tail excitedly at his feet: "Dahuang! Let's go!"

Before the words were even out, he dug in his heels, cracked the whip, and Snowstep let out a long neigh, tearing down the slope like a white streak of lightning.

Grey Cloud landed neatly in front of a plain dirt burrow, folded its wings, cocked its head, and tapped the burrow opening with its beak, letting out a soft coo.

Dahuang got there almost at the same time, letting out an excited woof! No need for orders—he pounced on the burrow and started digging like crazy, dirt and grass flying everywhere.

Something inside the burrow got spooked. A gray-brown rabbit head poked out cautiously, long ears swiveling.

Dahuang got even more excited, barking again like he was about to pounce.

The rabbit was lightning fast—it zipped back inside and bolted for another hidden exit deeper in the burrow!

But the moment it popped out that end, a dark figure was already waiting—cold forked tongue flicking, slit pupils locked on.

The rabbit nearly jumped out of its skin, leaping straight up in panic, then veered frantically into a third, smaller side tunnel.

Just then Cheng Ge arrived. He swung off his horse in one smooth move, quick as a leopard, tracked the rabbit's path, and threw himself into a full-body dive!

The rabbit felt the world go dark, like a mountain dropping on it. Before it could react, warm, strong hands clamped down hard.

It kicked and thrashed its back legs like crazy, but it was like an ant trying to stop a wagon—no chance.

Cheng Ge grabbed the rabbit by its long ears and hoisted it up.

The rabbit hung there, all four legs dangling, red eyes wide with panic.

Cheng Ge brushed the grass off his robe, walked back to Snowstep, and tossed the new catch into the wooden cage on the saddle.

The cage already held five or six fat rabbits, all looking dejected, clearly nabbed by the same "sky, ground, and ambush" triple threat.

Cheng Ge reached in and counted—one, two, three, four, five… Then he grinned and muttered to himself: "Tsk, just barely enough to get stuck in my teeth."

He dusted off his hands and was about to stand up when he heard steady, familiar footsteps crunching over the dry grass behind him.

He turned and saw Wuliji standing a few steps away, watching him in silence.

His tall frame was backlit by the weak sun, edges a little blurry, but those eyes were as sharp and steady as ever.

The weather was nicer today, and Cheng Ge was in a good enough mood to give him a friendly look.

He raised an eyebrow and asked, all casual: "What are you doing here?"

Wuliji didn't answer. He just stepped up, reached out, and picked up the wooden cage of rabbits like it was the most natural thing.

Cheng Ge didn't stand on ceremony either. He took Snowstep's reins, and the two of them fell into step, walking side by side back toward camp.

Wuliji walked on the west side, his tall frame blocking the weak, glaring sun, throwing a shadow that felt almost warm over Cheng Ge.

Cheng Ge swung his riding whip lazily, the tip whistling faintly through the air.

After a while, Cheng Ge glanced over at Wuliji, his eyes lingering on his sharp profile.

"Back then… why didn't you ever get married?"

Wuliji turned to look at him, not slowing down, thinking it over for a second before answering:

"The Uerha Tribe… has a rule… you can only marry one." He spoke slowly, pronouncing every word clearly.

Cheng Ge: "???" He blinked, not following the logic at all.

"So what?" If you could only marry one, shouldn't you grab a woman who could bear children and run a household sooner rather than later?

Wuliji looked back at the trail Snowstep had worn. His voice was low and calm, but rock-solid: "So… you find someone you love… to spend your whole life with."

That was too plain, too blunt—so direct that Cheng Ge didn't know what to say for a second.

Spend a lifetime together? Coming from Wuliji, it sounded almost childishly serious.

That weird, nameless feeling stirred in Cheng Ge's chest again.

Almost without thinking, with a restless urge he couldn't name, the words just tumbled out: "So you found a man instead? Turned gay?"

Wuliji turned to look at him again, holding his gaze longer this time.

Cheng Ge could see his own awkward reflection in those dark brown eyes.

Then Wuliji slowly shook his head, not bothered by the jab, and just corrected him:

"I didn't 'find' a man." He paused, like he was picking his words, then said: "It's… I met you."

He dodged the sting in Cheng Ge's words and gave a simpler, and way more… devastating answer.

Cheng Ge's breath hitched. His ears went warm for no reason, but he kept up his stubborn front, forcing a casual tone to toss out a more practical question and break the weird mood:

"So what about you finding—uh, meeting a man… aren't you scared of having no heirs?"

Wuliji did not answer immediately this time. He walked in silence for a while, his gaze sweeping over the rolling line of grass in the distance, where his people were tending horses and children ran about.

Only then did he speak again, in a low voice, "My people... are my kin."

He glanced at Cheng Ge, his eyes clear as spring water, without a hint of hesitation or regret.

"Bloodline... is like the grass of the steppe—it grows in crop after crop. But the clan... is the root.

Protecting the roots matters more than... leaving behind my own seed." He paused, then added, "I am not... afraid."

He spoke a little clumsily, reaching for the plainest metaphors of the grassland, but the meaning could not be clearer.

In his heart, the tribe's survival and his people's safety far outweighed any personal continuation of his bloodline.

And the person he chose to love, to spend his life with, didn't seem to clash with that duty and guardianship.

In fact... when he said "I met you," there was a subtle hint of folding Cheng Ge into that "root" he needed to protect.

Cheng Ge went completely quiet. The whip he'd been swinging had stopped at some point, his hand unconsciously tightening around the handle.

He found his deliberately provocative, practical-minded questions looking utterly pale and feeble against Wuliji's simple, direct answers... even a little exposed.

The setting sun stretched their shadows long, tangling them together. The rabbit in the cage shifted restlessly now and then, making a rustling sound.

Cheng Ge said nothing more, just pressed his lips together and stared at the tent tops growing closer ahead.

But before the two could step through the tent entrance, a young clansman hurried over from the side, his face anxious, nearly colliding with Wuliji.

He skidded to a halt, a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead from the rush. His eyes met Wuliji's, and he quickly pressed his right fist to his left chest in a hasty salute, his voice cracking:

"Chief! Bad news! Last night... last night the west sheepfold got hit by wolves! The pack was cunning—they broke in through the leeward gap. Batur, on night watch, got hurt, and the flock's scattered—it's chaos right now!"

Wuliji stopped in his tracks, his face darkening sharply, as if a layer of frost had settled over it.

He set the wooden cage down on the dry ground by the tent entrance, then turned to the messenger.

"I'll go with you." With that, he turned to look at Cheng Ge beside him.

Firelight flickered in his deep-set eyes, showing an unshakable focus and a hint of something almost reassuring.

"Wait... for me to come back."

Cheng Ge met his gaze and nodded, his face giving nothing away.

"Mm. Go."

Wuliji held his gaze for a long moment, then, without further delay, turned and strode off.

Cheng Ge watched Wuliji's retreating back until the tall figure merged with the busy clansmen in the distance and vanished among the felt tents. Only then did he slowly withdraw his gaze.

He crouched down, his fingers absently tracing the rough bars of the wooden cage.

The rabbits inside huddled together, noses twitching nervously.

Cheng Ge's fingertip flicked the ear of one especially plump, round-headed rabbit, making it flinch.

"You," he said to the fat rabbit, his voice flat, as if assigning tasks, "plump and well-fed—perfect for braising."

His fingertip moved to another with sleek gray fur and quick, nimble movements. "You, quick on your feet—meat should be firm. Stir-fry."

Finally, his gaze landed on the big-headed rabbit he'd flicked first, and he pulled his lips into a smile with no humor in it. "Head this big—perfect... for spicy rabbit's head."

...

When Cheng Ge was grabbed, he still had the half-gnawed rabbit leg clamped between his teeth, shiny with oil and smelling of meat.

He hadn't even had time to swallow the last bite. He just felt a sudden grip under his armpits, and his whole body left the ground—like a cat scruffed by the neck, helplessly hoisted up.

Don't ask why he didn't fight back. Simple reason: he'd been eating too intently, so by the time the blade was at his neck, it was already too late.

Cheng Ge froze, his chewing stopping mid-bite.

His eyes darted sideways, catching in his peripheral vision more feet in dirty leather boots, and at least five or six curved blades drawn, encircling him in a semicircle.

Further out, shadowy figures—dozens of sturdy men—silently blocked off every escape route.

...Well, shit.

Cheng Ge very slowly pushed the piece of rabbit meat to one side with his tongue, cheek bulging, let out a muffled "Mm," then, very pragmatically, unclenched his jaw.

The half-eaten rabbit leg dropped with a "thud" onto the ground, which was covered in dirt and grass clippings.

He'd considered putting up a fight, but with the numbers so overwhelmingly against him, he figured he'd just let it go...

Cheng Ge let out a barely audible sigh and gave in, letting the grip under his armpits drag him off the ground.

Forget it. Save the energy. Anyway, it didn't look like they were planning to slit his throat right away.

Cheng Ge was locked in a stone-and-mud room reeking of mold and livestock.

There was only one small window set high up, about the size of a bowl, letting in a sliver of dim yellow light—just enough to see.

On the way there, he'd spotted many others being escorted along, some of them familiar faces from the Uerha tribe.

Cheng Ge leaned back against the cold corner of the wall, flexing his bound wrists.

He licked the corner of his mouth, where a hint of the rabbit meat's savory saltiness still lingered on.

The men who'd grabbed him were strangers—not Uerha tribe, by the look of them.

He lowered his head, staring at his dust-stained clothes, his mind racing.

But before Cheng Ge could sort out the tangled threads in his head, footsteps approached again, stopping outside his cell door.

Keys clattered, the door was pushed open, and two men even burlier than the ones who'd grabbed him walked in.

Without a word, they flanked him, each grabbing an arm, and hauled him out.

Cheng Ge: "..." Caught off guard by this sudden "second move," he instinctively struggled.

"Hey!" he couldn't help blurting out, his voice jostling as he was dragged along. "Do you people... have some kind of screw loose?"

He tried to twist his head to look at the men holding him, but the angle wouldn't let him—he could only see the rock-hard, cold line of their jaws.

"You've already caught me, locked me up—what's this now? Can't you just get it done in one go? Why all the back-and-forth?!"

Half of this was genuine irritation and confusion, half was a deliberate attempt to test their reaction and intentions with this complaining tone.

The two men paid his words no mind, not even sparing him a glance, silently and efficiently dragging him along.

Cheng Ge was practically carried along, his feet barely skimming the ground, his boots occasionally scraping across the dirt, kicking up a bit of dust.

The two men hauled him into a large tent, keeping a firm grip on his arms, and said, "Great Khan, we've got him!"

As the words fell, the figure standing by the table turned around, and Hutuke's gaze suddenly landed on Cheng Ge.

The moment his eyes fell on Cheng Ge, his gaze lingered on his face for a few extra seconds.

His heart jolted, and he thought to himself, where on earth did that stone-faced Wuliji dig up such a... such a heartbreaker? No wonder his soul had been completely stolen!

Cheng Ge's neck prickled under the stare, thinking to himself that this Great Khan must have a lazy eye, the way he keeps staring at people's faces.

"You... are Lin Nanshu?"

Cheng Ge: "..."

"Ha, hilarious..." Cheng Ge let out a cold laugh, looked up at Hutuke, and said with complete and utter frankness, "Well... of course not!"