Chapter 336 How Did You Meet?

Chapter 336: How Did They Get to Know Each Other?

Seeing that he was being so impervious to reason, Cheng Ge's eyes did a quick spin as he decided to switch tactics.

If the hard sell wouldn't work, he'd go soft.

He sneakily scooted closer to Cui Ji, their arms almost brushing against each other under the blanket.

A hand snuck out from under the covers and gave Cui Ji's sleeve a little tug.

He lowered his voice a bit, sounding a little tentative, and whispered: "Cui Ji..."

Cui Ji's breathing stayed even, like he was already asleep, not a single reaction.

Cheng Ge wasn't about to give up. He gave it another gentle tug, with a hint of deliberate buttering-up: "Great General Cui..."

Cui Ji still didn't budge, not even a flicker of his eyelids.

Cheng Ge stared at his chiseled profile, his Adam's apple bobbed on its own as he gulped.

As if he'd made up his mind about something, he breathed out, muffled yet clear, barely above a whisper: "Cheng Xiao..."

The instant that name left his lips, Cheng Ge clearly felt Cui Ji's whole body go rigid, even his steady breathing hitched almost imperceptibly for a second.

Cheng Ge's heart skipped a beat: He was getting somewhere!

He struck while the iron was hot, pushy as ever, squeezing even closer until almost half of him was plastered against the other guy.

Cui Ji finally opened his eyes, slow and deliberate, and turned his head to look at Cheng Ge. He just looked at those eyes, so full of hope.

Just when Cheng Ge figured he'd stay quiet, Cui Ji's hand suddenly shot out.

He reached back and grabbed Cheng Ge's hand dead-on—not hard, but with a firmness that said don't even try to pull away.

Cheng Ge instinctively tried to yank his hand back, but the second his fingers twitched, they got squeezed even harder, the warm palm nearly swallowing his whole hand.

"Why do you insist on going?" Cui Ji's low voice cut through the darkness, impossible to read.

Cheng Ge hadn't expected him to just come out and ask like that. He froze for a moment, then blurted out: "General Han's badly hurt."

"There are other men in the army." Cui Ji's tone stayed flat, just stating a fact.

Cheng Ge pursed his lips, drew in a deep breath, and dropped his voice even lower: "...The spy still hasn't been flushed out."

The moment he said that, the air in the tent seemed to freeze.

Cui Ji obviously knew what he was getting at. Although Han Zhen had brought back some of the grain and supplies, he'd also gotten banged up bad on that mission.

Looking at those wounds, you didn't need to think twice—it had to have been insanely dangerous, a real brush with death.

Sure, the battlefield changes in a heartbeat, and some things just can't be helped.

But for a seasoned old general like Han Zhen, who'd fought a hundred battles, there was no way he should've ended up this banged up, no matter how you sliced it.

That made Cui Ji wonder if the spy had a hand in this too.

This spy was like a viper hiding in the dark, and they still hadn't flushed him out.

So this grain raid on Xiangma River had to be kept under total wraps—the fewer people who knew, the better, and whoever ran it had to be rock-solid reliable.

Having Cheng Ge lead the charge would definitely cut the risk of the plan leaking early to almost zero.

In the dark, Cui Ji's thumb absently rubbed across the back of Cheng Ge's hand.

That tiny motion was full of careful weighing, and a hint of something he couldn't quite hide.

Cheng Ge felt him softening and immediately struck while the iron was hot, spilling his whole plan.

"So here's the deal—you do a feint at the front, or make a big racket to throw the enemy off and pull their main force over to you.

Their rear's gotta be wide open. Then I'll take the boys and sneak into Xiangma River to grab the grain.

As long as we're quick and catch 'em flat-footed... shouldn't be a big deal."

"You don't have to do any of this." Cui Ji's voice was low, his tone unreadable, but his grip on Cheng Ge's hand didn't loosen.

Cheng Ge just went "Pfft," brushing it off like it was nothing. "Every man's got a stake in the fate of his country, right?"

He paused, his voice getting quieter, with a rare note of seriousness: "The sooner this war's over, the easier life'll be for the common folks."

That wasn't a lie—war was the biggest drain on people and money.

With war raging everywhere, fields went to waste, people lost their homes, and taxes piled up. In the end, it was always the little folks at the bottom who took the hit.

As long as the war dragged on, the people would never get a moment's peace.

Of course, Cheng Ge wasn't totally selfless either.

Cui Ji never said a word, but Cheng Ge could see it—lately, the pressure over the grain supply must've been weighing on him heavy.

So many mouths in camp waiting to be fed, the threat of morale cracking, like a hidden undercurrent—all that weight was piled on his shoulders alone.

If this plan panned out, it might take some of that weight off him.

The tent went quiet for a moment, only the sound of their breathing, tangled together, clear in the air.

Just when Cheng Ge thought Cui Ji was about to say something else, he felt the hand holding his squeeze a little and tug him closer.

Cui Ji's arm looped around his shoulders and back, pulling him into his chest.

Cheng Ge tensed up at first, then went totally limp and leaned into it.

Cui Ji's chin grazed softly over the top of Cheng Ge's head, not saying a word.

Three days later, Xiangma River.

It was close to dusk, the dying sun blood-red, painting the winding valley in a wash of red and gold.

Jagged, sheer cliffs rose on both sides of the valley, a dirt road, worn down by endless wagon wheels, snaking along the riverbed.

In a natural notch halfway up the cliff, tucked behind some bushes, a breeze blew by, and a totally unremarkable clump of dead grass shifted slowly.

Through a crack in the weeds, a pair of sharp eyes blinked, warily scanning the quiet grain road off in the distance.

Once he was sure nothing was moving out there, Cheng Ge slowly ducked his head back down.

He carefully fished a little oil-paper bundle out from his shirt, pinched out a piece of dried sweet potato, roasted golden with edges curled up a bit, and snuck it into his mouth to chew on.

The dried sweet potato was roasted just right, nice and chewy, with a faint sweetness spreading across his tongue.

Funiang knew his mouth never stopped moving, so she'd specially roasted these snacks for him.

Cheng Ge polished off a small packet almost every day, and even he could tell his jaw muscles were getting more defined from all the chewing.

He hesitated, then picked out another strip and nudged Zhao Cheng—who was disguised as a pile of dead branches—with his elbow, passing the dried sweet potato over.

Zhao Cheng steadied the hat woven from dry grass and twigs on his head, took the strip without a word, and stuffed it into his mouth, chewing hard.

Time crawled by in the silent wait, broken only by the wind moaning through the cliffs and the occasional chirp of insects.

Cheng Ge breathed a soft puff of warmth into his palm, but his gaze stayed locked on the empty supply road below.

By the look of things, they'd probably be waiting a good while longer before the supply convoy showed up.

Lying still for so long had left his muscles stiff, and his mind needed a break too.

Cheng Ge breathed another puff of white mist into his palm and rubbed his half-frozen fingers together, but his eyes still swept the area below, sharp and alert.

He lowered his voice, trading a few predictions about enemy movements with Zhao Cheng beside him, barely audible to anyone but the two of them.

Maybe the dried sweet potato had put him in the mood for some idle chat, because once Zhao Cheng finished chewing his snack...

He couldn't help himself, edging a bit closer to Cheng Ge, his voice pitched low.

With a mix of curiosity and that rough, gossipy tone soldiers get in camp, he asked, "Hey, Instructor Cheng, can I ask you something?"

Cheng Ge shot him a sidelong glance, signaling for him to spit it out.

Zhao Cheng grinned, flashing a row of white teeth. "It's just... how did you and the general actually meet?"

Cheng Ge: "..." He knew it.

After all this time in camp, he'd heard more than enough rumors about him and Cui Ji—his ears were practically calloused.

At first, when he heard the title "General's Wife," he thought it was absurd beyond belief—ridiculous doesn't even cover it.

But later, he realized there was no limit to the absurdity—it only got crazier.

According to the rumors, not only had he been married to Cui Ji for years, they even had a kid together.

When Cheng Ge first heard that, he felt like he'd been struck by a bolt from the blue. The only thought in his head was: Damn, I didn't even know I could give birth?!