Chapter 425 Let’s Go

Chapter 425: Time to Go

Cheng Ge's inquiry shifted to Lin Nanshu, his hands slowing over the roasting meat: "By the way, Yuli, when do you return to the capital?"

Lin Nanshu's hand, mid-turn on the grill, froze almost imperceptibly.

He didn't look up immediately, his gaze fixed on the sizzling beads of fat on the venison. After a moment, he said softly, his tone as steady as ever:

"My grandfather wrote a few days back, telling me to reach the capital before the Lantern Festival."

Cheng Ge hummed in acknowledgment, nodded, and didn't press further, just shoved another piece of meat into his mouth.

Across from him, Cui Ji kept cutting the raw meat with steady hands, the soft rasp of the blade through flesh cutting through the brief silence.

Just then, Yun Xunyu, seated beside Cheng Ge, let out a low laugh.

The laugh was low, almost tender, yet it instantly caught everyone's attention.

He tilted his head, the hood's shadow shifting to reveal his expressive eyes. Their gleam caught the dancing firelight as he fixed his gaze on Cheng Ge's spice-flushed profile:

"Nanling at the Lantern Festival has its own kind of charm. Ten thousand lanterns bright as day, gods paraded through the streets, music and song all night long... They say wishing on the holy lanterns with a sincere heart keeps sickness and misfortune away."

"Dear," he leaned in, dropping his voice to a near-whisper, yet loud enough for everyone by the fire to catch, "want to come see Nanling with me?"

Cheng Ge stopped chewing entirely. He slowly turned his face toward Yun Xunyu.

The chili's lingering burn left his lips reddened, and paired with his always-too-direct eyes, it gave him a strangely open, almost transparent look.

He held Yun Xunyu's gaze for a few seconds, then the corner of his mouth quirked up faintly.

"Superstitious nonsense." He spat out the words, muffled by the food in his mouth, yet each one came through crisp and clear.

Then he swallowed, grabbed the waterskin warming by the fire, took a swig, wiped his mouth, and went on in that careless, nothing-gets-past-me tone:

"Burn all the lanterns you want, kneel till your legs give out—people who are meant to die are still gonna die..."

When he was done, he deliberately held up the chili-dusted venison and waved it in front of Yun Xunyu, like it was the most solid truth in the world.

For a moment, no one said a word. Only the "shh-shh" of Cui Ji's blade through raw meat went on, steady and stubborn.

Cheng Ge seemed to pick up on the shift in the air.

He swallowed the meat, his throat suddenly dry, his tongue pressing absently against the inside of his cheek.

A flicker of confusion crossed his eyes, like he couldn't figure out why everyone had gone quiet all of a sudden.

"Muyu..."

Lin Nanshu called out to him, his voice gentle.

Cheng Ge looked up on instinct: "Huh?"

Lin Nanshu reached out and dabbed the tip of his nose with a handkerchief.

The gesture was so natural, and so sudden.

Cheng Ge's eyes instinctively followed the hand, dipping to his own chest, then rising to Lin Nanshu's face—so close, still gentle and composed as ever.

"What's wrong?" he asked, his voice still a bit nasally.

Lin Nanshu had already pulled his hand back.

He casually folded the handkerchief into his palm, fingers closing over the small, startling patch of red that had soaked through the center.

"Nothing," he said, steady and gentle as always, as if he'd just flicked away a speck of dust. "Just a little something on your face."

He paused, his eyes on Cheng Ge's still-confused face.

"Muyu," he said again, his voice clearer and heavier now, "come back to the capital with me."

Cheng Ge's face went blank for a second, like he hadn't heard right, or had heard but didn't know what to say.

Almost at once, on pure instinct, his eyes shot to Cui Ji across the fire.

Cui Ji had stopped cutting. He lifted his head and met Cheng Ge's gaze.

Firelight flickered across his face, shadows shifting, making his expression look darker and harder to read than usual.

He held Cheng Ge's eyes for a long moment, then spoke, slow and clear:

"You go back to the capital with Yuli first." His gaze was heavy, fixed on Cheng Ge, like he was making a vow, or stating a done deal. "Once the fighting's fully over and the peace terms are set, I'll submit a memorial to His Majesty, lay out the case, and ask for leave. Then..."

He paused, his throat bobbing almost imperceptibly, his voice dropping lower, heavier:

"Then I'll come back to the capital to see you."

Cheng Ge's eyes flickered almost imperceptibly at those last words.

He knew exactly how sensitive Cui Ji's position was—commanding the northern army. Leaving his post without an imperial decree and slipping back to the capital on his own was enough to draw suspicion, even disaster.

"Submitting a memorial," "asking for leave"—easier said than done. How could he not see the hurdles and risks in between?

He slowly dropped his head, staring at his fingers, stained with grease and chili powder. For a long while, he said nothing.

The firelight threw a small shadow over his lowered lashes, hiding everything in his eyes.

Leaving behind a quiet, almost lonely figure.

Silence settled over them again.

The frontier wind howled past their ears, biting to the bone.

For Cheng Ge's condition, this desolate, frozen land was nothing short of a death sentence.

Lin Nanshu saw it clearly. Cui Ji knew it too. Even Yun Xunyu, silent all this time, understood the stakes.

Back in the capital, there were the Imperial Medical Academy's top physicians, famous doctors, rare medicines. Even if they couldn't cure him, at least... it could keep him going.

Staying alive—that was what mattered.

Cheng Ge kept his head down, staring at his own fingers, as if they held something worth studying for a long, long time.

In his other hand, he still clutched the venison, now cooled and crusted with chili powder.

After two rare days of clear skies, the northern border was once again smothered under thick, gray clouds. The sky dimmed, leaden clouds hanging so low you could almost reach up and touch the gloom.

Outside the camp gates, the carriages stood ready. Lü Rou hugged a thick roll of fox-fur bedding and nimbly climbed into the carriage to lay it out, making sure no chill could seep in.

Cheng Ge was bundled up tight, the fur trim at his collar fluttering in the wind, making his face look even paler in the gray light.

He stood by the carriage, Dahuang hovering at his feet, refusing to budge, his gaze fixed on the man a few steps away.

"Your wound," Cheng Ge said, his voice soft and half-lost to the wind, "hasn't fully healed. Take care of yourself."

Cui Ji met his gaze with calm, steady eyes and simply replied, "Mm."

Then he gestured to the side, and two shadow guards, silent and composed, wordlessly hauled several heavy chests onto the luggage rack behind the carriage.

The chests looked unremarkable, but as they were moved, a faint mixed scent of medicinal herbs seeped out.

"Don't rush on the road," Cui Ji said, his gaze returning to Cheng Ge's face, his tone as steady as ever but brooking no argument:

"The herbs are all prepared, portioned out by day. If anything feels off, find the traveling physician right away."

Cheng Ge nodded, his gaze dropping to the withered grass stirring at the hem of his cloak. "Got it."

Dahuang seemed to sense the farewell, circling restlessly at his feet.

Funiang came over from the other side, holding the tightly bundled child.

The child, still babbling and oblivious to the sadness, looked around with curiosity.

Funiang gave Cui Ji and Cheng Ge a slight bow, then, holding the child, nimbly climbed into the carriage first.

From inside the carriage came the faint sounds of Lü Rou gently coaxing the child and fussing with the bedding.

Cui Ji reached out and straightened the hood the wind had knocked askew on Cheng Ge.

His movements were steady, his fingertips unavoidably brushing Cheng Ge's icy earlobe.

"Get in," he said, his voice lower now, muffled behind the cold of his armor, betraying little emotion—just one clear order: "The wind's strong out here."

Cheng Ge didn't move or look up. He just stared at the cold mirror-like plate on Cui Ji's chest, which vaguely reflected his own blurry image.

The wind picked up, whipping up leftover snow and grit that rattled against the carriage shafts and armor.

In the distance, the camp's banners snapped wildly against the leaden sky.

After a long moment, Cheng Ge finally stirred. He bent down and patted Dahuang's head; the dog looked up and licked his palm.

Then he turned and stepped onto the footstool, Lin Nanshu moving forward to gently support his arm.

"Careful," Lin Nanshu said softly, his voice half-snatched by the wind but still reaching Cheng Ge's ears clearly.

He said nothing else, just held him steady until Cheng Ge had fully mounted the footstool and ducked into the carriage.

The heavy curtain fell, completely hiding Cheng Ge from view.

Lin Nanshu turned to look at Cui Ji, who still stood by the carriage.

Their eyes met briefly in midair.

Cui Ji's eyes under his helmet were unfathomably deep, while Lin Nanshu's refined, gentle face stayed unruffled.

No words were exchanged—only the howling wind and snow, and the silent weight of the convoy poised to leave.

Lin Nanshu gave a slight nod—a silent farewell—then swiftly boarded another carriage.

The driver cracked his whip, the horses neighed, and the heavy wheels began to roll, grinding over the frozen ground and leaving uneven ruts behind.

The convoy slowly receded, shrinking to a moving ink blot on the horizon, melting into the leaden clouds and the vast snowy plains.

Cui Ji stood alone outside the gate in his armor, the cold wind whipping his cloak behind him with a loud snap.

Yet he stood motionless, his gaze locked on the direction the convoy had vanished.

Only after the last wisp of dust had scattered in the wind did he slowly turn and head back toward the military camp standing in the northern border's wind and snow.

...

The carriage swayed on for days, the land vast and desolate.

Inside, though, was a scene entirely different from the bleakness outside.

The fox-fur bedding was thick and soft, and the small bronze brazier in the corner glowed with lively charcoal, warming the whole compartment until the air itself seemed to laze about.

Cheng Ge lounged against a pile of soft pillows, one foot in a thick sock, resting shamelessly on Dahuang's warm belly.

Dahuang seemed long used to it, letting out contented purrs, his belly rising and falling with each breath—a natural heater.

On his left wrist, the long-absent Star Frost had coiled itself around again.

Its slender body was cold, its head resting on the back of his hand, perfectly still, occasionally using its tail to help Cheng Ge with his tea.

In his right hand, Cheng Ge held a few leaf cards, brows slightly furrowed as he stared at the scattered game on the low table, a hint of barely contained smugness tugging at the corner of his lips.

Across the low table, Lin Nanshu still sat upright, his face wearing its usual gentle look.

The fine jade pendants, the white jade thumb ring, and even the chi-patterned jade ring that marked his status—all of which had been laid out before him—were gone, neatly packed into a small cloth pouch at Cheng Ge's side.

On the other side, Yun Xunyu's situation was even more "pitiful."

His flashy red cloak was now crumpled into a ball in the empty space by Cheng Ge's feet, like a flame that had sputtered out and died.

He wore only a plain inner garment, his ink-black hair loose, a few strands falling by his cheeks, giving his usually amorous, smiling face a hint of dishevelment.

"Slap!" Cheng Ge slammed his last two cards down—a pair of heaven cards.

"All one suit, heaven cards as the base," Cheng Ge said slowly, his eyes gleaming, already locked on the ruby at Yun Xunyu's waist.

He rubbed his fingers together, almost eagerly whipping out the small dagger.

Yun Xunyu watched those gleaming eyes but didn't stop him. Instead, he shifted slightly.

He nudged the gem-studded waist buckle toward Cheng Ge, making it easier for him to get at it.

"Qingqing, do be careful." His fingertip tapped the seemingly delicate joint of the gold waist buckle, his gaze teasing Cheng Ge with a half-smile:

"I left in a hurry this time, and only brought this one belt. If it breaks..."

He drew out the words, his eyes glinting with meaning, glancing down at the plain inner garment he had on, and curled his lips into a suggestive, innocent smile:

"…If I see you again, dear, I'm afraid I'd be too ashamed to face you."

The words were half-serious, half-joking, and the tone was as if dipped in honey—sticky and teasing.

Lin Nanshu's hand holding the teacup gave the faintest pause. He lowered his gaze slightly, pretending not to hear.

Cheng Ge had long been immune to his flirtatious nonsense. He didn't even bother lifting his eyelids, focusing entirely on the delicate standoff between his dagger and the gem's setting.

He held his breath, his wrist steady, the blade tip moving through the fine gold threads, emitting the faintest scrape.

Finally, a crisp, barely audible "click"—the pigeon's blood ruby, along with a small piece of intricate gold mounting, dropped away cleanly, landing dead-center in Cheng Ge's already waiting palm.

The gem felt warm and smooth in his hand, its deep, rich blood-red luster shifting in the firelight, as if it had condensed a single drop of frozen sunset.

Cheng Ge looked down at the treasure in his palm, a grin threatening to split his face.

He sank back into the pile of soft cushions, thoroughly pleased. Star Frost, uncharacteristically eager to please, curled up a piece of pastry and guided it right up to Cheng Ge's lips.

Cheng Ge didn't stand on ceremony—he opened his mouth and took it, chewing while absently patting the snake's head.

This snake had been less surly lately, and he had no idea why. He'd have to get a vet to take a look at him when he had the chance.

He swallowed the pastry in a few bites, licking the sugar off his lips, savoring the last of it.

Then he reached out, gathered the scattered leaf cards back in front of him, and began shuffling and arranging them with practiced ease—like a "gambling god" back in his element.

Clearly, winning so many fine treasures had him feeling a little drunk on winning.

But when he finished arranging the cards and looked up, his gaze sweeping across the low table, his movements froze.

Cheng Ge glanced at Yun Xunyu, then at Lin Nanshu, and shoved the neatly stacked cards forward. "Forget it."

Yun Xunyu raised an eyebrow. "Your luck is running hot, dear. Why stop now?"

Cheng Ge lifted his eyes, a roguish grin curling at the corner of his mouth. "I'm afraid if we keep going, you'll be down to your last pair of shorts."