Chapter 419 Squeeze In

Chapter 419: Bunk Together

Cheng Ge felt like something was off about the atmosphere.

He looked at Yun Xunyu, whose lips still held that faint, knowing smile, but whose eyes were dark and unreadable.

He then looked at Lin Nanshu, whose expression was as gentle as ever, but the fingers of the hand on his waist seemed to tighten slightly.

The air felt taut, like an invisible string, where even the faintest rustle had a razor-sharp edge to it.

Just then, Lin Nanshu withdrew his gaze from Yun Xunyu and turned his gaze to Cheng Ge.

He didn't say anything right away, but turned his head to the waiter who was practically trying to shrink into the corner: "Excuse me, young man, could you bring a hand warmer?"

His voice was as warm and steady as ever, as if the barbed exchange from moments ago had never happened.

As he spoke, his other free hand rose and, naturally, adjusted the slightly askew cloak fastening for Cheng Ge, his fingertips brushing past Cheng Ge's jaw almost accidentally.

The gesture was familiar and intimate, carrying an undeniable air of possessiveness.

Cheng Ge was startled by the sudden contact, then quickly remembered what he needed to do—

Once that realization returned, the physical need that had been forcibly ignored for so long came rushing back like a breached dam.

The dull ache that had been numbed by tension and cold suddenly sharpened into something sharp and clear—his lower abdomen felt heavy and full, his bladder screaming in protest.

Almost frantically, he grabbed Lin Nanshu's wrist—the one that had been adjusting his cloak—then quickly let go, and clutched tightly at his own waistband instead.

He looked up, darting a quick glance at Lin Nanshu, his words spilling out in a rush: "You... wait for me! I'll be quick! I'll be right back!"

With that, he didn't care about anything else anymore. Holding up his pants, he rushed headlong down the stairs.

"Sir! Sir, slow down! Watch your step!" The waiter finally found his voice and purpose, hastily grabbing a lantern and chasing after him. "The latrine is in the back courtyard! I'll light your way!"

The clattering footsteps and the bobbing glow of the lantern quickly disappeared around the stairwell corner.

On the stairs, the two men almost simultaneously looked away from the darkness where Cheng Ge had vanished.

Their eyes inevitably met.

The gentle warmth on Lin Nanshu's face faded a little. He quietly studied Yun Xunyu, his gaze calm.

Yun Xunyu's faint smile remained on his lips, but the amusement in his eyes had gone completely cold, replaced by a deep, cold indifference.

He met Lin Nanshu's gaze, those beautiful phoenix eyes reflecting the flickering candlelight.

Neither spoke.

The veiled verbal sparring from moments ago had dissolved into a wordless battle of wills in the silence.

The candlelight cast their shadows long upon the mottled wall, like two swords drawn halfway from their sheaths, frozen in stillness.

After a moment, Yun Xunyu was the first to move.

He let out an almost inaudible scoff, a barely-there laugh, and slowly turned around. A pale, slender ankle peeked out briefly beneath the loose hem of his sleeping robe.

He ascended the stairs languidly, like a wisp of cold snow silently vanishing into the darkness of the second-floor corridor.

Lin Nanshu remained where he stood, his expression unchanged.

Then he turned and climbed the stairs, slowly, step by step.

...

Cheng Ge practically threw himself against the crude wooden door of the back courtyard latrine.

After taking care of that pressing business, he let out a long sigh of relief.

Cold wind seeped through every crack in the latrine walls—especially from below, whistling up his pant legs and sending a shiver through him. The brief sense of relief was instantly replaced by a chill.

Shivering, he straightened his clothes, wrapped the cloak tightly around himself, and dashed out of the latrine, charging back upstairs with his head down.

He pushed open the door, made a beeline for the bed, and without even looking, scooped up his own quilt. He turned to head out—

"Qingqing, where are you going?"

A voice—not loud, even somewhat soft—froze Cheng Ge in his tracks at the doorway.

Clutching the quilt, he turned his head slowly to find Yun Xunyu seated by the small table near the window.

He was still wearing only that thin white sleeping robe, his long hair loosely tied back with a single ribbon, now slightly undone with a few strands of dark hair falling against his cheek.

The window seemed to have been opened and then closed again, the cold, snowy air still lingering in the room.

He simply sat there, facing Cheng Ge in profile, half his face hidden in shadow, his fingertips absently tapping the ice-cold tabletop.

The dim glow of the oil lamp enveloped him. In the faint light, that thin white robe gave him an air of lonely desolation—a stark contrast to the languid, dangerous figure he'd struck on the stairs earlier.

Cheng Ge's grip on the quilt tightened, his throat went dry.

He looked away, trying to keep his voice steady: "I'll leave this room to you. I'll... go bunk with Yuli."

He paused, remembering Lin Nanshu's words, then added stiffly: "No matter how... how far you've fallen, you're still a prince. Sharing a bed with me wouldn't be right."

With that, before Yun Xunyu could react, he clutched the quilt and bolted out the door, slamming it shut behind him.

The heavy wooden door cut off the room from the hallway.

The room fell silent again.

Yun Xunyu didn't move, still seated by the table.

His fingertips stopped tapping the surface, curling slowly into a pale fist.

The lamplight cast a deep shadow under his lowered lashes.

After a long moment, a barely audible scoff escaped him—almost a whisper to himself.

"Wouldn't be right..." He repeated the words, his voice so low it was nearly inaudible, fading away in the cold, empty room.

Outside the window, the wind and snow seemed to pick up.

...

Lin Nanshu removed his outer robe, damp from the night snow, and handed it to the attendant standing nearby.

The brazier inside the room was burning brightly. The attendant deftly lifted the lid of the copper incense burner just a crack and added a small piece of calming incense.

A wisp of white smoke rose, slowly spreading through the warm air.

He walked to the table and was just pouring tea into a cup when a soft knock sounded at the door.

"Knock. Knock-knock." The knocking was light, with noticeably long pauses between knocks.

Lin Nanshu's hand froze mid-pour, teapot hovering in the air as he glanced toward the door.

A hushed voice drifted in from outside: "Yuli, are you asleep?"

At the muffled sound of "Yuli" from beyond the door, Lin Nanshu immediately set down the teapot, strode over, and threw the latch open without a moment's hesitation.

The door had barely cracked open when a fuzzy head popped out from a huge bundle of blankets.

Cheng Ge's nose was red from the cold, but his eyes were bright, with a pitiful, pleading look: "Yuli, can I bunk with you tonight?"

Lin Nanshu looked at him, a flicker of surprise so faint it was almost invisible crossing his face.

Then, a genuine and tender smile, like spring breeze thawing snow, spread from the depths of his eyes up to his brow.

"It'd be my honor," he said softly, reaching out and pulling Cheng Ge in, blankets and all. Then he shut the door behind them, sealing out the night's chill.

Warmth washed over them, and Cheng Ge let out a comfortable breath.

Lin Nanshu casually took the blanket bundle from his arms, walked to the bed, and carefully spread it out beside his own.

Cheng Ge, meanwhile, shuffled over to the table and poured himself a cup of hot tea. The warm tea slid down his throat, chasing away the last bit of chill deep in his bones.

He cradled the cup, the rising steam blurring his sight and softening the silhouette of the man by the bed—standing straight as a pine.

His gaze drifted to Lin Nanshu's slightly bowed neck and focused profile.

The candlelight traced a face that had grown leaner—jawline sharper than he remembered, faint shadows bruising the skin beneath his eyes.

His fingers idly traced the warm rim of the cup a couple of times before he finally spoke, voice low: "Yuli... why did you come all the way here? This border region isn't like the capital—it's dangerous..."

Though he didn't know the specifics, given who Lin Nanshu was, the dangers of traveling all the way out to this remote frontier were beyond imagining.

Looking at him—travel-worn, thinner than before, clearly having endured no small amount of hardship—Cheng Ge's heart ached.

Lin Nanshu's hands faltered almost imperceptibly as he smoothed the blanket. This journey had been far more than just "troublesome."

Open attacks, hidden arrows, ambushes, assassination attempts—no fewer than a dozen of them. Nearly half of his personal guards—the Qin Wei—had fallen.

But none of it compared to those few words in the secret letter: "Cheng Ge missing."

Those four words had seared into him like a red-hot brand, scorching his insides with pain.

Every calculation of gain and loss, every shackle of status—all of it thrown to the wind in that instant.

Even if it meant walking through a mountain of blades or a sea of fire, he would go. His fingertips curled slightly as he pressed out the last wrinkle at the corner of the blanket.

His lashes lowered, casting a faint, trembling shadow in the warm lamplight.

Without turning around, his voice stayed steady and warm, touched with a casual lightness, as if stating the most ordinary thing in the world: "I just wanted to come see you."

Simple. Direct. No ornament, no excuse.

Cheng Ge's hand around the teacup trembled slightly. The steam seemed thicker now, warming his eyes until they stung.

He lowered his head, staring at the tea leaves floating and sinking in the cup, momentarily at a loss for words.

The room went quiet, leaving only the soft whisper of their breathing.

Lin Nanshu finished with the bedding and turned, his face already back to its usual warm, composed expression.

He walked to the table, poured himself a cup of tea, and sat down across from Cheng Ge.

Through the curling steam, he looked at Cheng Ge with clear, intent eyes, as if he could see straight into his soul.

After they'd washed up, they finally lay down. The two blankets lay side by side, close enough to ward off the cold seeping up from the floor—and close enough to stir a long-missed sense of closeness.

Maybe it was the long separation, or maybe the night's many surprises, but Cheng Ge found himself wide awake, no trace of sleep in him. He lay on his side, facing Lin Nanshu, and began chattering away.

"Yuli, you have no idea—when I first got here, I nearly got blown away by the sandstorms!"

His eyes sparkled in the dark as he gestured wildly. "And the mutton here—yeah, it's gamey—but with their special spices, roasted up, it's incredible! Next time I'll take you to try it..."

He got more and more animated, as if trying to pour out everything that had happened since they'd last seen each other.

His voice rang clear in the silent night, brimming with youthful energy.

Lin Nanshu lay quietly, facing him, listening in the darkness.

Every now and then, when Cheng Ge paused, he'd let out a soft "mm" to show he was listening.

His eyes had adjusted to the dark, and he could just make out the lively, expressive contours of Cheng Ge's face.

Cheng Ge talked until his throat went dry, but oddly, his mood had settled.

As he went on, his words came slower, drowsiness creeping into his voice.

He let out a small, unconscious yawn, his eyelids growing heavy. Just as he was about to settle in and sleep, suddenly—

"Knock. Knock-knock." A soft knock sounded again—crisp and insistent in the dead quiet of the inn.

Cheng Ge's drowsiness vanished in an instant.

He blinked, looked at Lin Nanshu beside him, and mouthed: "Who's that at this hour?"

Lin Nanshu gave Cheng Ge a small, reassuring shake of his head, signaling him to stay put. He slowly sat up, threw on an outer robe, slipped on his shoes, and walked to the door.

He didn't open it right away. Instead, he spoke through the door, voice low: "Who is it?"

There was a moment of silence outside.

Then a voice, touched with the cold of night dew, spoke—pitched just right, clear enough for those inside to hear: "It's me."

It was Yun Xunyu.

Lin Nanshu's gaze stayed calm, no real surprise showing on his face. He reached out and slowly drew back the latch.

The dim glow of the windproof lantern in the hallway cast a hazy light, throwing the figure at the door into sharp relief.

The dim lantern light from the corridor painted the newcomer's silhouette in stark, sharp relief.

Standing at the door, Yun Xunyu was a world away from the thin, solitary figure on the stairs just moments before.

He'd changed out of his plain white nightclothes into a striking deep-purple silk robe embroidered with gold interlocking lotus patterns, layered under a sable fur cloak in a darker shade of the same hue.

The collar and cuffs showed a trim of glossy silver fox fur, which trembled gently with his slightest movement.

A white jade belt hook hung at his waist, with silk tassels hanging down, adorned with a jade pendant of exceptional quality.

His long hair was loosely pinned up with a gold hairpin set with a ruby, and a few loose strands of ink-black hair fell from his temples, making his already striking face even more dazzling.

Yet, in stark contrast to this expensive, almost ostentatious attire, was his current expression and demeanor.

He still had the inn's threadbare cotton quilt draped over his shoulder, which looked especially shabby against the backdrop of his splendid garments.

One hand clutched the luxurious purple mink cloak, while the other was slightly curled, pressed against his lips, as if stifling a slight cough.

His almost too-beautiful face was flushed with an unnatural rosiness—not a healthy glow, but more like the morbid flush brought on by high fever or bitter cold.

His long lashes drooped low, casting a small shadow beneath his eyes, revealing a fragile, pitiable vulnerability.

Seeing that it was Lin Nanshu who had opened the door, a faint glimmer moved through his gaze, but there was no surprise in it.

He first gave Lin Nanshu a very slight nod, a gesture of acknowledgment.

Then his gaze drifted past him, fixing on Cheng Ge, who lay in bed inside the room, with precision and a hint of neediness.

"Master Lin, to trouble you so late at night is truly... shameful." He spoke, his voice even hoarser than before, and in the middle of speaking, he couldn't help but turn his head to cough twice softly before continuing:

"That room of mine... the latch on the south window's rusted through and won't close right."