Chapter 442 Lay It Bare

Chapter 442: Spelling It Out

Cheng Ge was still chewing, and at those words, he shook his head wildly.

His mouth was too full to speak, so he could only wave his hands, waving him off.

He finally managed to swallow, washing it down with a swig of tea before speaking.

"No need, no need. I just came by to see you."

His tone was light, as if it were no big deal.

Lin Nanshu's expression flickered. He looked at Cheng Ge, at that smiling face, and a sudden knot of unease formed in his chest.

It was faint, but he couldn't shake it.

Cheng Ge picked up the last piece of pastry, finished it in two or three bites, and brushed the crumbs from his hands.

Then he looked up at Lin Nanshu. The amusement in his eyes faded, and his expression went serious in a way that was rare for him.

"Yuli." His voice grew earnest too—so earnest it didn't sound like him. "If I don't make it back from this—"

Lin Nanshu's breath hitched. Cheng Ge looked at him, speaking slowly, one word at a time.

"Please look after my parents in Yuanzhou for me," he said, looking Lin Nanshu straight in the eye. "I'll repay you in the next life."

Those words landed in the room, weightless, yet like a stone dropped into Lin Nanshu's heart.

He stood there, looking at Cheng Ge, at that serious face, and his mind went blank for a second.

After the blankness came a flood of something surging up, sticking in his throat, pressing on his chest, suffocating him.

He stepped forward. "Muyu... why are you saying something like that..."

Cheng Ge looked at him and broke into a smile.

That smile was different from before—it carried a hint of forced ease, a touch of devil-may-care attitude, as if trying to break the heavy atmosphere.

He reached out and patted Lin Nanshu on the shoulder. "Pfft, whatever! I don't have long left anyway. As long as I can protect His Majesty, that's still a win for the family name."

He patted him again. "Yuli should be happy for me, right?"

But the moment the words left his mouth, he was yanked into a hug. Cheng Ge's smile froze on his face.

Lin Nanshu held him tightly—so tightly it felt like he was trying to press him into his bones.

His body was trembling, shaking so hard Cheng Ge could feel every tremor.

Then—a faint sting on his shoulder. The feel of teeth sinking in.

Not hard.

But not gentle either.

Cheng Ge went rigid.

He stood there, both hands still hanging at his sides, not sure what to do with them.

His mind went blank again—blank, then all over the place.

"Yuli...?" His voice sounded a little shaky.

Lin Nanshu didn't speak. He just kept biting—biting his shoulder, body still trembling.

After what felt like forever—or maybe just a second—

Lin Nanshu's voice came from against his shoulder, muffled, so soft it was almost breaking.

"Muyu..." His voice shook. "Don't tear my heart out."

Cheng Ge's throat moved. He swallowed. He suddenly felt like something was off.

Something was turning in his mind, spinning into a suspicion that made his heart pound.

The suspicion was too huge, too absurd, too scary to even think about. But standing here, being held like this, bitten like this, hearing those words—

He didn't dare think about it. He didn't dare follow that thought further. He squirmed a little.

"Yuli..." His voice came out dry. "It's late... I... should go."

Before he could finish, his face was caught between two hands. Cheng Ge's eyes flew wide open.

Those hands held his face, fingertips icy cold, yet somehow burning him, making his heart race.

Then—something soft brushed the corner of his lips.

It was light, light as a falling leaf, then slowly pressed down, pressing across his lips.

Cheng Ge's mind exploded. Blank. Nothing left.

The kiss gradually deepened, coming down soft and quick—like rain, but not quite rain.

There was no force, no taking—just a careful tenderness, like holding something fragile, scared to break it, but unable to let go.

Cheng Ge's ears were so red they felt like they were on fire. He wanted to push away, his hands pressed against the other's chest, but he couldn't muster the strength.

The heartbeat came through the fabric—thump, thump, thump—scarily fast, faster than his own.

Breathing grew ragged, all mixed up—he couldn't tell whose was whose anymore.

"Muyu..." Lin Nanshu's lips parted slightly, murmuring his name, voice low, hoarse, and trembling.

"Muyu..." He called again, his lips coming down again—on his eyelids, on the tip of his nose, on the corner of his mouth.

Each call more tender than the last, each one more nerve-wracking than the one before.

Cheng Ge's mind was still blank, completely empty, unable to think of anything.

All he could feel was the lips, the breath, the trembling body.

Then—a drop of warmth landed on his cheek.

Cheng Ge froze. He opened his eyes and met Lin Nanshu's eyes.

Those eyes, so close, dark as a deep well—were now wet.

Tears clung to his lashes, glistening, flickering in the candlelight.

Cheng Ge's breath caught. He suddenly felt something stab him right in the heart, sharp and deep.

The trembling frame, the damp eyes, the voice calling his name again and again...

He still had his hand pressed against the other's chest, but he stopped pushing.

He couldn't bear it—couldn't bear to push away the trembling man.

So he just let him kiss him, let those soft, lingering touches fall on his face, on the corners of his lips.

His heart was pounding chaotically, his mind still blank, but he stayed still.

He just stood there, letting him do as he pleased.

It seemed like an eternity, yet also no more than the blink of an eye.

Lin Nanshu released him, pressing his forehead against Cheng Ge's, their breaths intertwining, burning hot.

Cheng Ge's lips were slightly parted, damp and glistening, catching the candlelight.

He just looked at Lin Nanshu right there before him, at those eyes, at that face, at the tear tracks still wet on his lashes.

He swallowed. He wanted to say something, but didn't know what to say.

Lin Nanshu looked at him for a long while. Then he gently let go and turned his head away.

The candle flame flickered, illuminating his profile. The line of his jaw was tight, revealing nothing of his expression.

The room was utterly silent—so silent you could hear the candle's wick sputtering, a soft pop, then another.

After a long while, a voice broke the silence: "Forgive me. That was out of line just now."

Cheng Ge looked at him, parted his lips, but didn't know what to say.

The candlelight swayed gently in the room, casting their two shadows on the wall—now close, now far, shifting and overlapping.

Cheng Ge swallowed. He instinctively reached out and touched the back of Lin Nanshu's hand.

Just a light touch, his fingertip brushing once—like a hesitant question, or like he wasn't sure what he was doing.

"Yuli..." His voice was dry, rough, as if squeezed out of his throat.

Lin Nanshu's shoulder trembled slightly. He turned around.

The candlelight fell on his face, on that faint curve at the corner of his mouth—

The curve was turned up, but there was no smile in it.

Only something indescribable—bitter, astringent, like chewing on a mouthful of bitter medicine.

"I've always held you dear."

His voice was so quiet, like a wisp of smoke drifting on the night breeze.

"Muyu must know this by now." He paused, and the bitter smile deepened at the corners of his mouth.

Once those words were spoken, everything was settled. There was no taking them back.

Cheng Ge's fingers still rested on the back of his hand, not pulling away.

He looked at Lin Nanshu, at that face with its bitter smile, at those eyes like deep wells—

There was nothing left in that well now, only a clear, unguarded openness, laid bare for him to see.

Lin Nanshu looked at him, his gaze soft, distant—like looking at something he cherished but had to let go.

"Muyu's heart belongs to General Cui," he said, his voice flat, giving nothing away.

"I overstepped." He paused. "Once matters in the capital are settled, I will apologize to General Cui."

Cheng Ge's brow twitched. He was about to speak, but was silenced by a look from Lin Nanshu.

Lin Nanshu looked at him, then spoke, his voice softer still.

"But for now—could Muyu not take this risk?"

He looked into Cheng Ge's eyes, choosing his words carefully. "The General would not wish this of you either."

The light revealed everything in his eyes—worry, reluctance, entreaty, and a cautious hope. He added quietly, "Nor would I."

Cheng Ge turned to the side, leaning against the window.

The moon hung high behind him, its cold light spilling in through the window, casting a faint halo over his form.

Beyond the window was a bamboo grove. The night wind passed through, bamboo leaves brushing against each other, rustling in waves, like the tide.

"Yuli." His voice wasn't loud, but it was steady, as if it were the most ordinary thing.

"The Emperor and the Crown Prince are still in the palace. I'm going to save them."

That tone wasn't asking for permission—it was stating his decision.

Lin Nanshu said nothing. He just stood there, looking at Cheng Ge, at the silhouette the moonlight traced around him.

His lips moved slightly, as if to speak, then he stopped himself. For once, he said nothing.

Cheng Ge waited a few heartbeats. Hearing nothing, he turned back to look at Lin Nanshu.

Those eyes gleamed in the moonlight, watching him, quiet and calm.

"Ding—" The wind blew through the eaves, and a bell chimed softly, stirring the loose strands of his hair.

Cheng Ge suddenly smiled—a faint smile, carrying a hint of helplessness, and something else.

He stepped forward, reached out, and caught hold of Lin Nanshu's sleeve.

With a gentle tug, he pulled him closer.

Lin Nanshu didn't resist. He let himself be pulled, standing before him, close enough to see the moonlight resting on his lashes.

Another gust of wind passed through the bamboo grove outside the window, the rustling sweeping in, mingled with the faint sound of the bell.

Cheng Ge raised his hand. He reached toward the top of Lin Nanshu's head and gently removed the hairpin.

Black hair fell loose, spilling over Lin Nanshu's shoulders, stirred softly by the night breeze, brushing against his cheek.

Cheng Ge's movements were slow and gentle, as if afraid of breaking the moment.

He gathered the scattered hair in his palm, gently smoothing it, then took the hairpin and fastened it back in place.

As his hand withdrew, his fingertip paused briefly in Lin Nanshu's hair.

Then he stepped back, looked at Lin Nanshu, and smiled.

That smile was different from the one before—tinged with sincerity, tinged with tenderness.

"Yuli, truly a gentleman as refined as carved jade—worthy of being called—a jade-like sweetheart."

Those two words, "sweetheart," fell softly in the quiet room, yet slammed into Lin Nanshu's heart like a stone.

The wind outside the window paused for a moment, the wind chimes fell still, and the world went utterly silent.

Lin Nanshu's eyelashes fluttered.

He gazed at Cheng Ge, at that smiling face, at those eyes that gleamed astonishingly bright in the moonlight.

Cheng Ge's hand still rested at the corner of his lips, fingertips warm, bearing faint calluses, gently stroking Lin Nanshu's mouth.

Once, then again, as if tracing a pattern, as if unwilling to let go.

Lin Nanshu did not pull away. He simply stood there, letting those fingertips trail over his lips.

He gazed at the face so near his own, at the light in those eyes.

Moonlight filtered in through the window, layering their two shadows together on the wall behind them.

Cheng Ge slowly drew near, his movements so slow it seemed he was giving Lin Nanshu a chance to pull away.

But he only looked at those eyes, watching as they grew nearer and nearer, until he could see the sweep of those lashes.

Then—a soft kiss fell upon the back of the finger that rested at the corner of his lips.

So light, like a bamboo leaf alighting on the surface of water.

Lin Nanshu's eyes snapped open, his breath rushing against the side of Cheng Ge's face—ragged, chaotic, searing.

Cheng Ge's lips pressed against the back of his own finger, the two of them a hair's breadth apart. He did not move, just remained pressed there, for a long, long time.

So long that Lin Nanshu felt his heartbeat might rend the stillness, when a murmur, barely a whisper, drifted to his ears.

"If all is well, wait for me."

The words were soft, like a wisp of smoke seeping into his ears, yet like a hot iron, branding his heart.

Lin Nanshu turned his head away, a slight curve lifting the corner of his mouth—bitter, wry, a smile tinged with helpless resignation.

"Muyu always understands," he said, his voice so soft it seemed he was talking to himself. "I can't bring myself to refuse."

Cheng Ge looked at him, at that bowed head, at that wry smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

He said nothing, only withdrew his hand and stepped back.

Moonlight fell upon him, etching his silhouette in cool, crisp lines.

"I'm off," he said.

Without waiting for Lin Nanshu's reply, he turned, planted his hand on the windowsill, and swung himself out.

The tail of his robe swept an arc through the moonlight, vanishing quickly into the night beyond the window.

Lin Nanshu stood still, unmoving.

He looked at the open window, at the quiet bamboo grove outside.

He watched the moonlight cast bamboo-leaf shadows on the ground—sliver by sliver, fine and fragmented.

...

Horse hooves sounded on the bluestone road, one beat after another, striking the silent long street.

Shadows rose and fell on the ground, now long, now short, dragging from one end to the other, then back again.

The hooves crossed the last bluestone slab and came to an abrupt stop.

Two lanterns hanging by the gate swayed gently in the night breeze, casting the words "Embroidered Uniform Guard" in flickering light and shadow.

Several patrol guards stood before the gate, hands on their sword hilts, standing straight as rods.

The moment the hooves stopped, they all looked up in unison.

"This old man is truly fickle-hearted, fond of them all... but what's a man to do..."