Chapter 447 Won’t Leave

Chapter 447: Not Leaving

Lin Zhufeng nearly choked.

He opened his mouth, wanting to explain, but his throat felt like it was stuffed with cotton.

Minister Wang and Reader Li beside him both turned away. Wu Zhongzi gripped his blade, his face red from holding in his laughter, the tip of his blade trembling.

Minister Wang, being older, was shaking so badly he nearly slipped from the guards' grip, before the man beside him caught him.

Lin Zhufeng took a deep breath, then another.

He waved Zhang Gelao off: "Fine, fine—! Let's go, let's go—!"

Zhang Gelao was still shouting from the other side: "Once we're out—! I'll send you two baskets—!"

Lin Zhufeng: "…"

Meanwhile, Cheng Ge raised his hand and chopped down a man blocking his path.

Another pursuer lunged at him from the side. Wuliji punched the man square in the face, sending him flying sideways into two people behind him.

Wuliji stayed close at his side the entire time, using his massive body to block every blade that came near.

Cheng Ge didn't look back, only hearing the sounds of bones breaking behind him.

And Wuliji's breathing—heavy, but steady.

Suddenly, Wuliji stopped.

Cheng Ge sensed something wrong and jerked his head up—

In the distance, a dark tide of pursuers surged toward them.

The front row had already stopped, kneeling on one knee, bows drawn, arrows nocked, the arrowheads glinting coldly in the firelight.

"Release—!" At the command, arrows filled the sky like a swarm of locusts, blotting out the light!

Cheng Ge's eyes darkened as he braced to dodge and block—

Without a second thought, Wuliji grabbed Zhou Hao, yanked him forward, and hoisted him up as a human shield.

Zhou Hao's eyes flew wide, the bun in his mouth chewed to mush: "Mmph—!!!"

Cheng Ge's expression changed: "No!"

Zhou Hao was their bargaining chip—he couldn't die yet.

Wuliji paused for a split second, then tossed Zhou Hao backward.

Zhou Hao hit the ground and rolled twice, his insides nearly rattled loose.

But the arrows were already upon them.

Cheng Ge had no time to dodge. All he could do was watch the cold glint grow larger and larger in his eyes—

He felt his waist tighten.

A tremendous force yanked him into a hard embrace.

Wuliji grabbed him and rolled to the side.

"Thud, thud, thud—" The arrows slammed into the ground where they'd just stood, sinking three inches into the stone.

They rolled twice before Wuliji sprang up, snatching a long blade off the ground.

He stood in front of Cheng Ge and swung the blade.

He wasn't good with a blade.

The blade looked clumsy in his hands—awkward, stumbling, nearly slipping out several times.

But he stood there anyway, knocking down arrow after arrow.

Arrows clanged against the blade.

One arrow slipped past the blade, grazing his shoulder and drawing a trail of blood.

He just furrowed his brow, not even glancing at it.

Cheng Ge stood behind him, watching that clumsy blade in his hands, watching the wound on his shoulder slowly seeping blood.

His throat worked, as if he wanted to say something, but nothing came out.

More pursuers were closing in.

Dark figures surged from every direction, blades flashing, war cries shaking the sky, crashing toward them like a tide.

Wuliji stood in front of him, swinging the blade over and over, cutting down anyone who charged.

Cheng Ge gritted his teeth, grabbed Zhou Hao, and pushed forward.

"Go!" he roared, dragging Zhou Hao as he charged forward.

Wuliji guarded his flank, using his massive body to slam through anyone in their path.

More and more people appeared ahead, the wall of blades growing denser.

Suddenly, a shout came from ahead.

"Lord Cheng—! This way—!"

A squad of men burst in from the side, blades gleaming! Zhou Xing's people had arrived!

They cut into the pursuers, blades spinning, carving a bloody path.

The man in the lead charged up to Cheng Ge: "Lord Cheng! His Highness ordered us to meet you! Quick, let's go!"

Cheng Ge didn't have time to think. He grabbed the half-dead Zhou Hao and hauled him up.

Zhou Hao stumbled two steps as he was dragged along, the half-eaten bun already chewed to a pulp, hanging sticky from the corner of his mouth.

"Go!" Cheng Ge roared, dragging Zhou Hao toward the Qianqing Palace.

The Imperial Guards flanked him on both sides, blades facing outward, blocking the pursuers surging from every direction.

Steel clashed and whistled past their ears. Men fell, others took their place, but Cheng Ge never looked back.

He just kept charging ahead, with Wuliji staying right at his side.

He knocked down anyone who tried to get near Cheng Ge, one after another.

Blood seeped from the wound on his shoulder, trickling down his arm, yet he didn't even spare it a glance.

"Out of the way—!" A shout rang out from up ahead, and the guards outside Qianqing Palace suddenly parted, opening a path. Cheng Ge and the others charged straight in.

Zhou Xing stood at the entrance, giving a wave.

A flood of shield soldiers poured out, arraying themselves in front, their shields clashing together with a thunderous roar, like an iron wall sealing the doorway.

Through the gaps in the shields, a row of archers dropped to one knee, drawing their bows with arrows nocked. The arrowheads glinted coldly in the firelight, aimed straight at the oncoming pursuers.

The pursuers skidded to a halt, their steps faltering.

They looked at the shield wall, the drawn bowstrings, and Zhou Xing standing before the hall.

No one dared move another step. Without Chen Zhengqi's order, they didn't dare make a move against Zhou Xing either.

………

Cheng Ge quickly found a corner, dropped Zhou Hao to the ground, and spun around to face Wuliji.

He whipped out a handkerchief and pressed it against the still-bleeding wound on Wuliji's shoulder.

The blood quickly soaked through the cloth, warm and sticky, seeping between his fingers and dripping to the ground.

"How the hell did you get in here?" he muttered, not stopping his hands. "Are you trying to get yourself killed?!"

Wuliji didn't answer. He just stared at Cheng Ge, his gaze unwavering, as if scared he'd bolt.

Cheng Ge felt a chill run down his spine at that look. His hands hesitated for a beat, then continued pressing on the wound.

The wound was deep, and blood was still seeping out. He pressed several times, but it wouldn't stop.

"What are you staring at me for?" he snapped. "I'm asking you a question."

"I..." His voice was low and hoarse, carrying the distinct accent of a nomad, each word spoken with a clumsy accent. "I'll take you back to the Northern Di."

Cheng Ge's hands went still.

"The Great Zhou... isn't safe," Wuliji said slowly, as if struggling to make every word clear.

"The bride price... I've got it ready." His expression was especially earnest. "We'll marry."

Cheng Ge's hands, still pressing on the wound, went completely rigid. Blood welled up between his fingers, dripping to the ground, drop after drop.

He didn't speak. He just lowered his head, staring at his own blood-soaked hands, at the wound still seeping on Wuliji's shoulder, at the blood trailing down his arm to the ground.

After a long moment, he finally moved.

He pulled out the dagger and cut away the fabric around Wuliji's wound.

Bending down, he tore a strip of cloth from the hem of his own robe and pushed Wuliji's sleeve up a bit.

Wuliji's arm was wrapped in a thick layer of gauze, already somewhat loose, with the edges curling up, revealing the skin beneath.

The gauze was yellowed and darkened, no telling how long it had been since it was changed.

Some parts were already worn through, exposing red, swollen, and festering flesh underneath.

"How did this happen?" Cheng Ge's gaze fixed on the wound, his voice tight.

Wuliji's eyes remained locked on him, unblinking, as if scared he'd vanish.

"They said you were..." He paused, furrowing his brow slightly, as if trying to recall. "In the fire."

Cheng Ge's breath hitched.

"I went in... looking for you." His tone was flat, as if stating the most ordinary thing. "Couldn't find you."

"I got burned." After those three words, he went quiet.

He just watched Cheng Ge.

Cheng Ge listened, feeling every word slam into his chest, making it hard to breathe.

He dropped his gaze to the gauze, at the curled edges, the seeping pus, the scabs half-healed and scraped raw again.

He gently peeled back the gauze, his movements slow and careful, the flesh stuck to the bandage.

Halfway through, he saw Wuliji's arm tremble slightly, so brief it was almost imperceptible.

Cheng Ge's hands stopped there, not daring to go further.

Blood from his shoulder flowed down, soaking into the wound, mixing together, no way to tell which was the new wound and which was the old.

Cheng Ge didn't move. He just kept his head down, staring at the blood on his hands.

After a long while, he gently moved Wuliji's hand aside, lowered his head, and continued treating the wound.

He cut away the gauze that had stuck to the skin piece by piece, cleaned out the festering areas, sprinkled clotting powder over them, and rewrapped the wound with clean cloth strips.

Neither of them spoke the whole time.

He just watched him, taking in the way he focused on the bandaging, the slight tremble in his fingers, the faint glisten of moisture on his lashes.

Cheng Ge tied the last knot without looking up.

"I'll find a way to get you out of the palace," he said quietly. "Back to the Northern Di."

Wuliji didn't speak. Cheng Ge waited for a while, but there was no response.

He looked up, meeting his unblinking gaze.

"You hear me?"

Wuliji nodded.

"Then why aren't you talking?"

Wuliji thought for a moment, then said, "Mm. Together."

Cheng Ge's words caught in his throat. Wuliji looked at him, still staring without blinking.

He spoke slowly, enunciating each word with deliberate clarity, as if trying to make sure Cheng Ge understood his meaning.

"You're coming back north with me—to the Northern Di."

Cheng Ge listened, his chest feeling tight. He clutched the blood-stained cloth, his knuckles going white. "I'm not going."

Wuliji's eyes dimmed for a moment, but Cheng Ge didn't look at him and made to leave.

Suddenly, an arm snaked around his waist—Wuliji pulled him back.

The grip was even stronger than before, holding Cheng Ge so tight he could barely move. "You... don't want me anymore?"

His voice was low, carrying that slightly funny foreign accent.

But underneath the humor, there was a cautious, hesitant question.

Cheng Ge opened his mouth to say something, but his throat felt clogged, and not a word came out.

All he could feel was the arm locked around his waist, the chest pressed against his back.

Cheng Ge sighed and just gave up, letting Wuliji hold him.

"Fine, if you wanna hold on, go ahead. Just don't pee on me if you gotta go."

Wuliji's arm tightened a bit more, and Cheng Ge, nearly choked, reached back and patted his arm.

"Hey! Ease up. If you squeeze me to death, you'll be a widower!"

Wuliji loosened up a bit but still didn't let go. The two of them stood there, wrapped up in each other, leaning against the corner.

Outside, the sounds of battle kept going—shields clashing, arrows slicing through the air—each noise drifting in.

But in this moment, it was quiet here, so quiet that only the sound of their two heartbeats remained.

After days of nonstop travel and exhaustion, a rare sense of peace and calm settled over them.

Cheng Ge looked down at the hand around his waist.

That hand was big, with rough knuckles and a few fresh cuts on the back, the blood already dried into dark red scabs.

He reached out and touched those wounds, his tone flat and cold. "Does it hurt?"

Wuliji glanced down, like he was just noticing the injuries.

"Don't hurt."

Cheng Ge didn't buy it.

He'd seen Wuliji kill, seen him snap a man's bones with his bare hands, seen him charge like a wild bull with pure brute force.

But that didn't mean he couldn't feel pain. They were all flesh and blood—it had to hurt.

Cheng Ge didn't ask again. He just stayed there, held in his arms, staring at that hand, at those wounds, at those scabs.

The sounds of battle outside seemed to fade a little—or maybe they didn't.

Cheng Ge closed his eyes, about to say something when—

"Shameless..."

A voice suddenly cut through, cold and eerie, as if rising from the depths of the earth.

Cheng Ge's eyes snapped open, and he looked down.

Zhou Hao lay on the ground, face turned to the side, staring at them with a look you couldn't quite describe.

That look held contempt, disgust, and the clear message of "this prince has truly seen it all today."

The bun in his mouth had fallen out at some point, with a bit of sticky residue still stuck to the corner of his lips.

He lay there, straining his neck upward, desperately trying to keep up the air of "even as a captive, a prince must keep his dignity."

But the pose was hardly graceful—he looked like a turtle flipped onto its back.

Cheng Ge: "…"

Zhou Hao, seeing him look over, cleared his throat and spoke slowly: "Lord Cheng, this prince has something to say, if I may be so bold."

Cheng Ge didn't even bother to look up. "No, you may not."

Zhou Hao choked for a moment, but quickly recovered and plowed on anyway.

"Bold or not, this prince will speak! Two grown men, embracing like this, cheek to cheek, tucked in a corner, acting like no one else exists..."

He dragged out his words, his tone getting more and more sarcastic.

"I wonder, have either of you read the classics? Do you even know how to write the phrase 'men and women differ'?

Even if you're both men, this kind of behavior is hardly proper—it's indecent, indiscreet, unsightly, and just unbearable to look at..."

He rattled off a string of phrases, paused to catch his breath, then added:

"This prince, though young, knows the saying 'arising from feeling, restrained by propriety.'

The two of you—this—this—" He stumbled, fumbled for a moment, then blurted out:

"This is so improper, it truly pains this prince to even look at it."

Cheng Ge: "…"