Chapter 473 Lied to Me

Chapter 473: Lying to Me

Cheng Ge went rigid, his grip on Lin Nanshu's wrist suddenly tightening.

Lin Nanshu turned his head to look at Cheng Ge, his gaze pausing for a moment on his pale face. He didn't ask anything, just quietly stepped to the side, putting himself in front of Cheng Ge.

The figure at the mouth of the alley was tall and burly, broad-shouldered and thick-backed, like a wall rising out of the darkness.

He stepped forward, the soles of his boots landing on the bluestone slabs, and came to a stop before the two of them.

His gaze passed over Lin Nanshu's shoulder, landing right on Cheng Ge. He said in a low voice: "Yuli—"

Lin Nanshu: "???"

Cheng Ge: "!!!"

Lin Nanshu's brow furrowed slightly, his eyes flickering with thought.

He was sure he'd never seen this man before, yet what he'd just called out was definitely his courtesy name.

He hesitated for a moment, took a step back, and offered a bow, his voice steady: "May I ask what business you have with me?"

Wuliji looked at him, not looking too friendly.

His deep-set eyes lingered on Lin Nanshu's face for a few seconds, scanning him top to bottom, coldness in his look.

After a beat, he slowly raised his right hand and flipped Lin Nanshu the middle finger.

The motion was slow, like he wanted to make damn sure Lin Nanshu saw it.

Lin Nanshu: "…………"

Lin Nanshu was taken aback. He had seen Cheng Ge make this gesture before—he knew it wasn't a good sign.

Cheng Ge immediately yanked his sleeve up to cover his face, hiding behind it completely, only his eyes darting around.

He squeezed past the two of them quickly, his steps hurried, muttering under his breath: "You two take your time. I gotta pee, so I'm heading back to the residence first—"

Before he even finished speaking, he'd already taken off several steps away.

But he'd barely gone a few paces when an arm locked around his waist from behind, hoisting him clean off the ground.

Cheng Ge: "!!!"

The moment his feet left the ground, his mind went blank. His legs kicked twice in the air, like a cat grabbed by the scruff.

At that, Lin Nanshu lunged forward, hand going to the sword at his waist. With a sharp *clang*, the blade slid three inches from its sheath, cold light flashing in his eyes like frost.

"What do you think you're doing?!" His voice went low, carrying a clear note of warning.

Wuliji looked at Lin Nanshu, his gaze shifting from the blade to his face, his brow knitting into a deep frown.

His fist clenched, knuckles cracking, veins bulging slightly along his forearm—about to throw a punch—

Cheng Ge quickly spoke up, his voice cracking: "Don't do anything stupid! Wuliji, you son of a bitch, put me down!"

His legs were still dangling, one hand clawing at Wuliji's arm, the other waving frantically at Lin Nanshu to not draw his sword.

Wuliji paused, glanced down at Cheng Ge for a second, then loosened his grip.

Cheng Ge's feet hit the ground, and he stumbled a step before catching himself. He straightened his rumpled collar, panting.

Lin Nanshu immediately sheathed his sword and hurried over to Cheng Ge in three quick steps, reaching out to pull him to his side.

His palm pressed against Cheng Ge's shoulder, easing him behind himself.

His gaze flicked past Wuliji, then he turned to Cheng Ge, voice low: "Muyu, you hurt anywhere?"

Muyu.

The name landed in the alley, clear as a bell.

Wuliji lunged forward like a gust of wind, grabbing Cheng Ge's wrist and yanking him a full step forward.

He stared at Lin Nanshu, eyes blazing, words grinding through clenched teeth: "You... called him... what?"

Lin Nanshu's arm swept out, blocking in front of Cheng Ge, eyes locking with Wuliji's, not giving an inch.

Lin Nanshu had also sensed something off between Wuliji and Cheng Ge. Combined with the "Yuli" Wuliji had called out earlier, there was probably some misunderstanding going on.

He held Cheng Ge's hand and said nothing, just tightening his fingers slightly. The warmth of his palm seeped through the sleeve—not hot, but steadying.

Wuliji's expression was hard to read. He looked at Cheng Ge, walking forward slowly, his steps uneven.

He stopped in front of Cheng Ge, lowered his head, and stared at the top of his head.

Cheng Ge felt like needles were stabbing his back. His head was drooping so low, he looked like he was trying to disappear into his collar.

"You..." His voice was low and hoarse, like sandpaper on rough wood. "Your name... isn't... Yuli."

It wasn't a question. It was a confirmation.

Each word came out painfully slow, like he was trying to convince himself.

Cheng Ge's head drooped even lower, chin almost hitting his chest. His eyes darted left and right under his lids, guilty as a thief caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

"Mmm..." His voice squeezed out from his throat, thin as a mosquito's buzz, trailing off, then adding, "Uh... yeah, I guess so."

The second those words left his mouth, even he felt like he deserved a punch.

The light in Wuliji's eyes went out, his shoulders slumping.

"You... all this time..." He paused, Adam's apple bobbing like he was swallowing something. "Lied to me."

Not a question, but a certainty—a dull blade slowly carving each word out of his throat.

Cheng Ge looked up on instinct: "I—"

The words died in his throat.

He saw Wuliji's eyes—those eyes that always had a wildness to them—now looking like someone had thrown cold water on them.

Something inside them had shattered into pieces, barely held together, but the cracks were clear.

He wanted to explain.

But he had no idea how.

His mouth opened and shut, then opened and shut again, like a fish thrown up onto the shore, gills working a few times without a single word coming out.

Wuliji glanced at him.

Just the one glance.

Then he turned his head and looked at Lin Nanshu.

Lin Nanshu stood where he was, posture straight, one hand still holding Cheng Ge's wrist, not letting go.

His expression was blank, revealing nothing, as he quietly returned Wuliji's gaze without flinching or looking away.

Wuliji looked at him for a long time.

So long that the moonlight in the alley finally slipped out from behind the clouds, stretching the three figures into three crooked shadows cast upon the flagstones.

Then he withdrew his gaze, said nothing, and turned to leave.

He walked away unhurried, neither fast nor slow, each step steady and sure, like nothing had happened at all.

He slowly walked into the shadow of the alley's mouth, moonlight chasing after him, only managing to catch his shoulder before the darkness swallowed him whole.

Cheng Ge watched that departing figure, and something in his chest felt like a needle prick, striking precisely some pressure point he didn't even know he had—a dull, aching feeling he couldn't quite name.

Almost instinctively, he turned to Lin Nanshu and spoke, the words tumbling out fast, like he was afraid he'd change his mind: "Yuli, you go back first. In a couple days, I'll come to the Lin place to find you."

Before he even finished talking, he was already turning away.

He took off after him, his boots slapping the stones, echoing through the alley in a messy rhythm.

"Muyu—" Lin Nanshu's voice came from behind, not loud, but perfectly clear in the quiet alley.

Cheng Ge's steps stumbled for a second.

He looked back and saw Lin Nanshu still standing where he was, moonlight lighting up half his face, the other half lost in shadow.

He couldn't read his expression, but the hand that had been gripping his wrist hung at his side, fingers slightly curled, like they were still stuck in that grip, forgetting to let go.

"Come back soon," Lin Nanshu said.

His voice was flat, like he was saying something totally ordinary.

Cheng Ge nodded and took off running.

Lin Nanshu watched the figure running away, then slowly bent down and picked up the veil from the ground.

Cheng Ge burst out of the alley and looked around.

He spotted Wuliji's figure already a dozen paces ahead, dragging a long, lonely shadow down the street—alone, like a stump sawed off a tree.

"Wuliji!" Cheng Ge yelled, then took off running after him.

Wuliji didn't stop, but he didn't speed up either—he just kept walking, unhurried.

Cheng Ge ran until he was out of breath, finally catching up to him, and reached out and grabbed his sleeve.

"Wuliji, wait—"

Wuliji stopped but didn't turn around. The night wind blew, stirring the hem of his clothes.

Cheng Ge gasped, chest heaving, bending over with a hand on his knee to catch his breath.

"Why'd you run off so fast?" he said between breaths, his voice choppy and breathless.

Wuliji yanked his sleeve free, and Cheng Ge's hand dropped, hanging in the air for a second.

Cheng Ge was speechless: "???"

"You... said..." Wuliji's voice came from ahead, "after drinking the wine... we're husband and wife."

Cheng Ge's hand froze in midair.

Wuliji lowered his head, that massive head sinking low, the vertebrae at the back of his neck sticking out in a ridge, clear in the moonlight.

"But... you... the emperor said..." his voice got lower and lower, until it sounded like he was talking to himself, "you didn't want to see me... told me... to go back to the Northern Di."

Cheng Ge's breath caught for a second.

Then he added softly: "That was fake... he lied to me..."

Those four words landed softly, like a feather.

But they hit Cheng Ge's chest like a stone.

He watched Wuliji's shoulders, now slightly hunched, like someone had stabbed him in the back and he was bent over, hiding the pain, not wanting anyone to see his face.

Cheng Ge's nose suddenly stung, his eyes burning. Something surged up, stuck between his nose and throat—sour and bitter, impossible to swallow or spit out.

Wuliji turned around and looked at Cheng Ge.

The moonlight came out from behind the clouds, lighting up his face.

His deep eyes caught fragments of moonlight, the rims faintly red, like charcoal that had been heated—not burning yet, but already hot.

"That person just now... he's the real Yuli," he said, his voice low and rough, like sandpaper on stone. "You... kissed him."

Cheng Ge's lips moved, like he wanted to say something, but nothing came out.

"And you still like Cui Ji..." His Adam's apple bobbed, like he was swallowing a bone he couldn't get down. "...Maybe there are others too."

He paused, took a deep breath, his chest heaving, like he was holding something in.

"You don't like me."

Those four words came out very softly, almost carried off by the night wind.

But each word was like a nail, hammered one by one into the air, into the fragile silence between them.

When he finished, he lifted his head and looked at Cheng Ge.

His eyes were rimmed red.

Like someone had poked a tiny hole in a dam, and water was slowly seeping out, silent.

"I'm... going back to the Northern Di."

Cheng Ge stared at him, stunned for a long while.

No accusations, no clinging, not even a single "Did you ever like me at all?"

He packed everything into four words, said them lightly, like he was saying, "Guess it's time for me to go."

For a split second, Cheng Ge's mind went completely blank.

Then all kinds of emotions surged up—guilt, a pang of heartache, a flicker of shame, and a restless irritation he couldn't quite put his finger on.

Like a pot of porridge boiled to a sticky paste, it sat lumpy in his chest, impossible to swallow, impossible to spit out.

He turned his head, staring off to the side.

The end of the long street was pitch black, no end in sight, only the faint glow of a night watchman's lantern bleeding a small patch of warmth in the darkness, blurry, as if seen through a veil of mist.

Then, quick as anything, he pulled the dagger from his sleeve and held it out.

"Then I hope you find yourself a good match soon."

He shoved the dagger into Wuliji's hand, his fingertips grazing the other man's palm.

In that instant, he felt a thin film of sweat—warm, faintly damp.

Then he let go and turned to walk away.

His strides were long, his hands hanging at his sides, the hand that had held the dagger still feeling the scabbard's imprint at the web of his thumb.

His shadow stretched long in the moonlight, lying lonely on the ground, like a squashed shadow, trailing crookedly behind him.

Suddenly, a gust of wind hit his back—warm, carrying a person's body heat.

Someone grabbed him from behind.

The force hit like a bull charging, two arms locking around him from behind and yanking him back a step.

Cheng Ge stumbled, his back slamming into a solid chest, and he let out a muffled grunt.

The arms around his waist cinched tight, hard enough to feel like they'd snap him in two.

A warm breath blasted against the back of his neck, urgent and heavy, like a wolf that'd run a long way and finally caught its prey—too spent to speak, but teeth already sunk in, refusing to let go.

Cheng Ge froze.

Wuliji buried his face in the crook of Cheng Ge's shoulder, nose pressed into the hair at the nape of his neck, his breathing deep and heavy.

Every exhale trembled slightly, like he was desperately holding something back but had hit his limit.

Cheng Ge felt a warm drop land on the back of his neck.

It was scalding.

Hotter than Wuliji's breath.

That warm drop slid down his neck and slipped into his collar.

"Not... leaving... anymore."

The night wind swept in from the alley, cold, blowing their hems together and apart, together and apart.

Cheng Ge stood there, that warm drop still lingering on his skin, burning him into a daze.

He opened his mouth to say something, but his throat felt packed with waterlogged cotton, sealed shut.