Chapter 355 Rumors

Chapter 355: Rumors

Cheng Ge didn't know what to say for a moment.

Once that impulse faded, all that was left was a hollow, uncertain feeling.

Cui Ji still had a bright future ahead, a long road ahead of him, while he... was like a boat that wasn't tied down tight, liable to be torn apart by the waves at any moment.

At the thought, the ache in his chest spread, and he deflated completely.

He silently stuffed the remaining pastry in his hand into his mouth, chewing and swallowing it like it was wax.

Then, without a word, he turned over, lay down with his back to Cui Ji, and yanked the blanket over himself, leaving only his silent back to the world.

For a moment, the tent was filled with nothing but the faint crackling of candle flames and the wind outside howling louder and louder.

After a while, he felt the mattress dip behind him.

Cui Ji turned onto his side, his warm chest barely brushing against Cheng Ge's back.

He didn't move any closer—just rested his forehead lightly against Cheng Ge's shoulder blade.

It was a tiny point of contact, but it felt heavy as lead.

Outside, the wind picked up, wailing as it tore past the camp.

Cheng Ge kept his eyes closed, but he could feel Cui Ji's steady breath against his back, and that stubborn warmth pressed to his forehead.

... ...

In just a few days, news of the Northern Di's peace offering spread like wildfire through every street and alley of the capital.

In teahouses and taverns, everyone was talking about this sudden peace.

But the hottest, most talked-about topic was not the ceasefire itself—it was a jaw-dropping rumor that came along with it.

Wuliji, the Northern Di's foremost general, had supposedly demanded to marry the eldest young master of Grand Tutor Lin's household, a man famous for his talent.

The news was even more explosive than any war dispatch.

"Hey, Brother Zhang, Brother Li, have you heard the most exciting gossip in the capital these past few days?"

Wang Er, a tea-drinker in blue robes, leaned in with a mysterious air toward his buddies, his voice barely a whisper—but just loud enough for the next table to hear.

Zhang San, in gray, immediately caught on and smacked the table. "You mean the love story between the Lin family's eldest young master and that Northern Di general? I've got the freshest scoop!"

He cleared his throat. "They say that three years ago, when Master Lin went south to study, he found a blood-soaked Di man in a broken-down temple outside Yan Pass. And guess what?"

The crowd perked up right away and pressed, "What?"

"That man was none other than Wuliji himself!" The crowd gasped all at once, nearly knocking over a bunch of teacups.

Zhang San smugly sipped his tea. "Master Lin, being kind-hearted, saved the guy.

When Wuliji woke up and saw Master Lin's silhouette brewing medicine under the moonlight, they say he was head over heels on the spot!"

"As they say—one look at Nanshu and you're done for. Wuliji was a total goner! He confessed his feelings to the eldest young master on the spot."

"But who is the eldest young master of the Lin family? The rightful heir of a noble scholarly family—how could he get tangled up with an enemy general? He turned him down flat.

Yet on the day of their parting, when Master Lin ran into bandits at Shili Slope outside the capital and was about to die, it was Wuliji who rode in alone and took three sword blows for him!"

"Wow—!" The crowd gasped in awe.

Just then, a waiter came by to top off their tea and couldn't help but chime in. "You fellas talking about that 'rescue at Shili Slope' story?

I heard Wuliji was soaked in blood, still shielding Master Lin with everything he had, saying, 'If you want to hurt him, you'll have to walk over my dead body first'!

After all that, even a heart of stone would melt!"

"What a shame, what a shame," Zhang San shook his head with a sigh. "When Grand Tutor Lin learned of it, he flew into a rage and personally had the servants drag the young master back home.

They say he made a solemn vow in front of the ancestral hall: 'Unless I die, you'll never have dealings with that Di slave!' He also had Wuliji trapped in the capital, with soldiers watching him day and night."

Zhao Si lowered his voice. "I have a cousin who serves in the Lin household. He says that during those days the young master was confined to the back courtyard, he played the flute facing north every day, and Wuliji would echo with Di folk tunes from outside the wall—enough to make anyone weep!"

"That Wuliji is a true romantic fool. Later, for Master Lin, he planted ten li of crabapple trees on the grassland!

Beneath every tree, he buried a love poem. The Northern Di civil officials spent three months translating them all and still didn't finish!"

Later, he worked even harder and became the Northern Di's greatest warrior.

Now he's sent envoys to seek marriage, and among the betrothal gifts is a glass bottle containing nine hundred and ninety-nine tears he collected on the battlefield—one drop for every time he thought of Master Lin!"

At this, the crowd wore moved expressions. "No wonder the young master of the Lin family never married—he already had someone in his heart."

An old man at the neighboring table, who had been silent all along, suddenly spoke up. "Do you know why the Grand Tutor opposes it so fiercely?"

Seeing everyone turn to look, he mysteriously stroked his beard. "My nephew works at the Court of Diplomatic Reception. He says that in his youth, the Grand Tutor had a romance with the current Great Khan, Hutuke.

A few days ago at court, the Grand Tutor actually begged to marry Hutuke before all the officials, even declaring, 'If Hutuke refuses to wed me, I'll kill the Northern Di envoys'!"

"What?!" The entire room erupted in uproar...

Lin Nanshu sat in a private room by the window, his slender fingers gently tracing the celadon teacup.

The clamor from the main hall drifted in faintly—those exaggerated tales of "ten li of crabapples" and "nine hundred and ninety-nine tears" brought a trace of helplessness to his face.

Qiao Fangxu carefully observed his expression, leaned in closer, and lowered his voice to ask:

"Brother Lin, you and Wuliji... how did you actually meet? Is it really... really as they say..."

Lin Nanshu's fingertips lightly traced the rim of the cup, his gaze settling on the swaying willow branches outside the window.

"Wuliji and I," his voice was soft, yet each word was crisp and clear, "have never met."

Qiao Fangxu's hand holding the teacup froze mid-air. He let out a dry laugh. "Brother Lin must be joking... If you didn't know each other, why would he..."

Lin Nanshu smiled, but there was no warmth in his eyes. "The Northern Di making such a spectacle—it's most likely an attempt to humiliate our Great Zhou.

Proposing marriage to a man is already against propriety, and they chose to raise it precisely at the threshold of peace negotiations."

Qiao Fangxu, having heard so many melodramatic rumors these past days, was suddenly enlightened and began to see the logic in it.

He nodded thoughtfully. "Indeed... If they were truly as deeply in love as the rumors claim, why stir up such a public storm? It seems deliberately orchestrated."

Outside the window, a storyteller was just reaching the tale of "Wuliji's Night Raid on the Lin Mansion," and the thunderous applause rattled the paper window panes.

Lin Nanshu picked up the teapot to pour tea, the liquid rising in a wisp of white steam as it filled the cup.

Qiao Fangxu, seeing his demeanor, couldn't help but speak up: "Brother Lin, since that's the case, why not take this opportunity to get married and start a family? That'd shut up all the gossip and keep those barbarians from ruining your reputation."

Lin Nanshu's hand holding the teapot paused slightly, the tea swirling in tiny ripples in the cup. He looked down at the shimmering liquid but did not answer immediately.

Qiao Fangxu observed his expression and asked carefully: "Could it be... you haven't yet met a suitable young lady from a good family?"

Outside the private room, the storyteller was holding forth with gusto: "That Wuliji swore that if he could not wed Master Lin, he'd never marry!"

Lin Nanshu set the teapot down gently, with a crisp clink.

"No," he replied, his voice calm and steady.

Qiao Fangxu nodded in understanding. After all, given Lin Nanshu's family standing and personal qualities, the choice of a wife indeed warranted great care.

He leaned in, eager: "I heard the eldest daughter of the Minister of Rites has taken an interest in you—why not consider her? Also, I have a cousin—her family's not as high-ranking as the Minister of Rites', but she's no less accomplished, with striking looks and perfect manners. Shall I introduce you?"

Lin Nanshu lowered his gaze, his slender fingers lifting the teacup for a gentle sip. The warm steam blurred his features.

"Thank you for your trouble, Brother Qiao," he said softly, setting down the cup. "I already have someone I care for."

Qiao Fangxu's eyes lit up at once, and he pressed eagerly: "Tell me, then—who's the lucky lady?"

Outside, the storyteller had reached the climax, and the whole place burst into thunderous applause.

Against that clamorous backdrop, Lin Nanshu's voice came through clear and calm: "It is a man."

"Cough—cough, cough, cough!" Qiao Fangxu choked on his own saliva, coughing violently, his face turning bright red. He fumbled for the table, knocking teacups askew.

"The flu has been rampant lately—the whole family's come down with it."