Chapter 38: Estrangement
The winter of that year was bitterly cold. Snow had fallen early, and countless soldiers' corpses lay scattered along the path, staining the red snow a brutal crimson that stretched endlessly toward the pale white sky in the distance.
The snow stopped, fell, stopped again, fell again—like a stumbling fate, bringing hope, burying despair, wandering aimlessly in the mortal world. Though it lingered in the sky's tranquil purity, it found itself caught in the chaos and turmoil of the living, unable to turn back.
The Yuanliao army, sent to reinforce the Kingdom of Deng, dealt a crushing defeat to the Yongzhao army. Fang Guangda led his surviving forces in retreat spanning a thousand miles, fleeing far away from Deng. The Yuanliao army triumphantly marched home through the endless snow.
Inside the Yaoji Hall, nine towering pillars, each ten zhang high, stood resolute. Lifelike dragon figures coiled around them, as if about to soar into the heavens.
On the dazzling elevated platform draped in brocade, a single figure sat upon the dragon throne, his face cold and stern beyond compare, surpassing even the bone-deep chill of the terrifying white snow beyond the hall.
The court official read aloud the imperial decree of rewards, his voice clear and resonant, echoing beneath the gilded and magnificent ceiling.
The man standing beneath the hall had his handsome face bleached white by the frigid air. His lips quivered, unable to express the unspeakable bitterness. Silently, he gazed upon the ruler seated on the dragon throne.
The one looking down from on high pressed his lips together, his eyes filled with cold indifference.
The one gazing up from below closed his eyes slightly, his gaze dazed, his heart wounded and weary.
The two men's gazes crossed a lifetime's passage like flowing water, meeting silently in the space between them. Like the countless millennia of distant watching between heaven and earth, yet their hearts would never truly connect.
After a long while, the one who still vainly sought understanding and comfort turned his body away. Without kneeling, without offering thanks, he ignored the heated discussions of the civil and military officials throughout the court. Step by step, he strode out of Yaoji Hall.
Behind his crimson military uniform, it seemed as though every step left a vivid bloodstain, etched into this hall that represented the highest authority.
The one who once longed to admire the snow leaned by the pavilion's window day after day, carefully counting the snowflakes that slipped past his vision. He listened intently for the sound of two snowflakes colliding and merging. His gaze passed through the misty expanse of white snow, falling upon a residence in the distance, unable to look away for a long time.
Day by day, each day felt like a year.
That familiar figure finally appeared at the entrance of Rongxi Garden, finally entered her line of sight.
Weiyang forced himself to sit up, supporting his waist. Hearing those footsteps he had longed for day and night, ascending step by step toward the pavilion, a layer of mist immediately clouded his eyes.
"Weiyang..."
That voice—so haunting, so soul-binding—the voice he had dreamed of endlessly.
"You... have lost so much weight." Mancheng said, drawing closer, kneeling on one knee before her feet.
Weiyang wept as he gently stroked his face. "I'm sorry, Mancheng..."
"What are you sorry for?" Mancheng gripped her hand, his expression unable to conceal the desolation and exhaustion within. He softly tried to comfort her: "How could someone like me deserve a child? It was Heaven's punishment for me, harming you instead. I should be the one saying sorry. You... don't be sad, don't cry."
Weiyang leaned against him, sobbing, soaking his shoulder with tears.
Zhongshan gently lifted Mancheng's blanket, reaching out to support him. His palm touched the stifling, drenched garment. "Mancheng, you've been sweating profusely this whole time and still refuse to see a doctor. Sigh... If you won't see a doctor, fine. The physician at Qiuting gave you some tonic before. I got the prescription and grabbed a few doses. Drink them for a few days."
Lanxing offered the medicine bowl. Zhongshan took it, took a sip, and said: "Perfect timing. Drink it now before it gets cold."
Mancheng leaned against his arm, took the bowl, and slowly drank. As if he couldn't taste any bitterness at all, he finished the medicine and handed the bowl to Lanxing with an expressionless face. Then he shifted, pressing close to Zhongshan's chest.
Lanxing withdrew. The moment the door opened and closed, a gust of biting cold swept in, and the damp back beneath his clothes shuddered with a chill.
Zhongshan held him tightly and asked: "You've been in poor spirits ever since you came back. What's really going on?"
"Nothing..."
Zhongshan reached out to wipe the dampness from his brow, his heart aching: "You say 'nothing'? You're sweating profusely over nothing. Tomorrow, you really should see a doctor!"
"What's the point of seeing one? I don't have many years left anyway. No matter how skilled they are, they can't give me a few more years of life. Why should I suffer by taking such bitter medicine?" Mancheng's face was indifferent, his tone flat: "Stop secretly trying to get me to take medicine. I only swallow it to humor you. What's the point?"
"You're perfectly fine right now! Why speak such morbid words?"
"My father the King was also perfectly fine before. Suddenly one day he fell ill without any warning, and never got up again." Mancheng closed those empty eyes and softly said: "Someday, I'll be like him, lying in bed unable to move, counting the days as I wait for death. When that time comes, even if there are people I can't bear to leave, even if there are things I desperately want to do, I'll be powerless." Mancheng raised his arm to embrace Zhongshan's neck, then added: "But then again, maybe I'll die a clean death on the battlefield..."
Zhongshan remained silent, his lips brushing against Mancheng's hair at his temple.
After a moment of silence, Mancheng's voice trembled as he asked: "Zhongshan, I have something to ask you."
"What is it?"
"Do you feel disgusted when you sleep with me?"
Zhongshan froze, then smiled: "I'm so happy I could die. How could I possibly have such a feeling? Why? Do you feel disgusted with me now?"
"No..." Mancheng tried to suppress the cold bitterness in his heart, but tears flowed endlessly onto Zhongshan's shoulder: "But Zhangzhou said he feels disgusted just thinking about having slept with a man..."
Zhongshan's whole body stiffened: That bastard! How could he say such a thing!
"I don't need him to kiss me, I don't need him to hold me, I don't need him to sleep with me. I just need him to say a few comforting words! Just one glance to show he still cares about me would be enough! But now he doesn't even want to see me. He's avoiding me... I feel like even seeing me from afar makes him disgusted... Before, I always hated that my life was so short, because I was attached to him. With him in this world, how could I bear to leave? Now he doesn't want me anymore. I feel like every extra day I live is unnecessary... What's the point of me living? Why should I see a doctor? Why should I take medicine? I wish I could just die and get it over with..."
Zhongshan closed his eyes in pain.
The person crying endlessly in his arms—how pitiful he was! And himself—how pitiful he was too!
Very well. I won't secretly try to get you to take medicine anymore. Die then. And then, I'll die with you.
Prior Events
Before Mancheng even opened his eyes, he felt the warm breath on his forehead. The person holding him pressed his lips forward and kissed him, saying: "You're pretending to sleep, aren't you? I saw through it right away. Idiot."
Mancheng made a sound of acknowledgment, grabbed a fistful of blanket, and burrowed into it. "Let's laze in bed a bit longer!"
"It's already noon. Bohe is calling us over to Princess Li's quarters for the meal."
Mancheng remained hidden in the blanket without a sound.
Zhangzhou frowned, then coaxed: "Get up quickly. Your sister came twice to hurry us along, scolded me thoroughly, then took Mandu and went ahead."
Mancheng poked his head out from the blanket, his face full of curiosity. "What did she scold you for? I didn't hear any of it?"
"You sleep like a pig. A thunderclap wouldn't wake you! How could you hear anything?" Zhangzhou paused, then said: "What else would she scold me for? She called me a scoundrel, shameless, despicable, lewd, inhuman..."
Mancheng's face flushed slightly pink. "She's right."
Zhangzhou pretended to be angry, got up, and reached for the blanket. Mancheng pounced on him hastily, grinning foolishly.
Zhangzhou pulled his beloved into his arms, laughing: "If I don't torment you a few more nights, when I leave in two days, I'll..."
He didn't finish before he saw Mancheng's smile freeze in place.
"You... just got back." Mancheng sat up, looking at him with disappointment.
Zhangzhou felt a pang of guilt. "It's only one Liucheng. My and Peng Hong's two armies combined. Once we're there, we can take it as easily as taking something. I'll be back in ten days!"
"You're lying to me again! Just the round trip takes six or seven days!" Mancheng's eyes filled with tears. His voice trembled: "Every time you say ten days, when have you ever returned on time? Last time you were actually gone for over three months." As he spoke, Mancheng watched Zhangzhou's expression, then pleaded: "Don't go! That old man specifically sent you! You..."
"Mancheng!" Zhangzhou cut him off, frowning: "Your uncle has treated us with immense kindness, and he promised to lend me troops for revenge. How could I make excuses? Bojia and the others keep giving me every chance to earn merit. How could I let them down?"
Mancheng was stunned into silence.
It was autumn now. The palace of Dudong was far colder than Anqing. How could it have become so cold here with just the arrival of autumn? It felt like an ice cave. The cold wind blew in, making Mancheng shiver all over.
Zhangzhou hastily wrapped him tightly in the blanket, pulling him into his arms. "Wait a bit longer. Your uncle promised me that next summer he'll lend me troops to march south and attack Zhang Shun. When I kill Zhang Shun and become King, the first thing I'll do is come back for you. From then on, I'll be with you every single day."
Mancheng sighed softly. "Is that true?"
"Of course it's true. You don't believe me?"
"I do! Of course I do!" Mancheng pressed close to Zhangzhou's chest, listening to the steady heartbeat beneath his skin. His expression showed a dreamy longing. "I'll believe anything you say."
Prior Events
The Xiongzhou forces, unable to recover Liqi, received orders to withdraw all troops back to Guide.
At that moment, Yang Daochun felt as though he had lost the very breath that sustained his life. His face阴沉, he stared at Mancheng in silence.
Mancheng drew close, seeming to carry a trace of guilt. Softly he asked: "Daochun, why did you call me here?"
"I'm leaving today."
"I know." His voice was so low it was barely audible.
"Mancheng!" Daochun grabbed him and pulled him into his embrace, pleading: "Come away with me! I'm begging you!"
Mancheng broke free, tears streaming down as he moved his lips: "Daochun, we took things too far. If I'd known it would come to this, I never would have played around with you!"
Daochun nearly collapsed. He hissed: "Mancheng!"
Mancheng startled, twisting away to leave. But Daochun gripped his hand tightly, fury blazing in his eyes: "I wasn't playing with you! I'm taking you away no matter what! Whether you agree or not!" He forcefully dragged Mancheng over and pressed him onto the bed, reaching for a rope to bind him.
Mancheng flew into a rage. He drew his blade in an instant. Daochun saw the flash of silver light and dodged hastily—but his shoulder still seared with pain.
"You..." Daochun clutched his wounded shoulder, staring at Mancheng in disbelief, unable to speak.
Mancheng drew his palm across the blade. His hand was covered in blood, and tears immediately fell. "I'm sorry, Daochun! I didn't want to hurt you." He forced himself to stand, preparing to leave.
Daochun, ignoring the searing pain in his shoulder, grabbed him desperately. His legs gave out and he dropped to his knees. This man who had only ever knelt before heaven, earth, the gods, and his ancestors—now he did not spare his dignity at all. Tears poured forth uncontrollably. "Mancheng, I'm begging you! I love you! Since I met you, you're all I can think about. I don't know how I'll go on living without you! Mancheng, give me a chance. I'm begging you!"
Mancheng calmed considerably. His tone was peaceful yet ice-cold: "If you persist, we'll have a real fight. Kill me, and you can take my corpse."
"Mancheng! Why do you treat me this way?" Daochun was nearly beside himself with desperation, tears and mucus streaming down his face. "Mancheng, what must I do to have you? There must be a way! Mancheng, just tell me and I'll do it! What must I do to have you?"
Mancheng was taken aback. He smiled bitterly. "Unless you were Zhangzhou."
Daochun froze where he stood, staring up at this youth who could be at once so innocent, so bashful—a person who had driven him to lose his senses. The three months of inseparable passion—only now did Daochun clearly understand it had all been his own wishful thinking. He had been a flirtatious soul his whole life, yet he could not compare to Mancheng's slightest hint of ruthlessness.
Mancheng said: "Daochun, we end here. Forget me." Then, dragging his bloodied broad blade, he walked out of the tent where the two of them had once entwined in passion. He did not look back even once at the man kneeling on the ground, heartbroken and weeping for him.