Chapter 51

The tent flap swayed gently behind him, but Shengxuan's footsteps didn't falter. He strode towards the stable, his boots making a rapid sound as they crunched over the gravel. The lingering feeling in his heart hadn't dissipated; instead, it felt as if something was pulling him away from the direction of returning to camp.

"Prepare the horse!" he shouted in a low voice, startling the groom on night watch. A magnificent black horse named "Snow-Treading" with its hooves treading on snow was led out.

Sheng Xuan nimbly mounted the saddle, flicked the reins, and said, "To the right flank wounded soldiers' camp."

Ta Xue seemed to sense its master's urgency, let out a long neigh, and galloped off into the night.

The lights of the main camp were quickly left behind, and the cold night wind howled past their ears, making their black cloaks flutter loudly.

The moonlight spread across the dirt road leading to the right flank position, like a river shimmering with silver light.

Sheng Xuan lowered his body and urged the horse, Ta Xue, to speed up. The clattering of the horse's hooves on the ground was particularly clear in the silent wilderness, and it also pounded on his anxious heart.

It was indeed quite a distance from the main camp. After galloping for a while, the mixed smells in the air gradually became clearer—the heavy, unyielding stench of blood, the bitter taste of medicine, the sour odor of sweat, and a faint, almost imperceptible, refreshing herbal scent that belonged to Su Zhelan.

The outline of the position was revealed in the moonlight, with several makeshift canvas tents resembling crouching giants.

Shengxuan reined in the horse at the edge of the camp. Ta Xue snorted and stomped a few steps in place.

He dismounted, casually tying the reins to a half-dead stake, his gaze sweeping eagerly over the camp. One tent emitted a faint glow, like a beacon in the darkness.

Want to take a look? Just one look.

The idea grew wildly like a vine. He moved quietly, as if on a secret stealth mission, nestled in the shadows of the tent, and silently moved to the side of the tent that emitted a halo of light.

The canvas tent is made of a rough and thick material with almost no gaps.

Sheng Xuan held his breath and carefully moved halfway around the tent. Finally, near the corner, he found a slightly curled edge due to wear, revealing a gap about the width of a finger. He tilted his head slightly and peered into the gap.

The tent was dimly lit, with only a small oil lamp on a low table in the corner.

However, Su Zhelan did not sleep.

He was sitting on a simple mat on the floor with his back to the crack, his head slightly lowered, seemingly organizing several medical books or prescriptions spread out on his lap.

The dim light outlined his slender shoulders and focused profile. He seemed to sense something, and his movements as he tidied the books paused slightly.

Shengxuan's heart skipped a beat, and she instinctively tried to pull it back, but it was too late.

Su Zhelan slowly turned around, her gaze precisely fixed on the direction of the crack.

His face showed no surprise, only a knowing helplessness, and even a faint, almost weary smile at the corners of his lips. His voice, clear even through the rough canvas, wasn't loud, but it carried like a pebble dropped into still water:

"Since you're already here, why are you standing outside in the wind? Come on in."

Sheng Xuan's body stiffened instantly, as if he had been frozen in place. The embarrassment of being caught peeping instantly turned his ears red. He opened his mouth, but his throat felt blocked, and he couldn't utter a single word.

He straightened up instinctively, the rolled edges of the canvas tent making a slight rustling sound, which was particularly clear in the quiet night.

The soft rustling of fabric came from inside the tent, followed by the sound of Su Zhelan getting up.

A moment later, a corner of the curtain was lifted from the inside.

Su Zhelan stood at the door, wearing a thin, moon-white outer garment. Her face appeared somewhat pale in the dim light, but her eyes were clear and bright, carrying a calm that seemed to have seen through everything.

He looked at Sheng Xuan, who stood frozen in the shadows, at a loss for what to do, and sighed softly. There was no blame in that sigh, only a barely perceptible hint of indulgence:

"Just standing there like a doorman? Come in, it's cold outside."

A chilly night wind swept by, making Sheng Xuan shiver. He snapped out of his daze, his Adam's apple bobbing laboriously. Somewhat embarrassed, he lowered his head and mumbled, "...Mm."

Then, almost simultaneously, he stepped into the small tent, which was filled with the fragrance of herbs.

The curtains were drawn, shutting out the sound of the wind outside.

Su Zhelan sat cross-legged on the straw mat, the glow of the oil lamp casting small shadows under his lowered eyelashes.

He twirled a medicinal herb, his voice as if veiled by a layer of mist: "I heard from my master that you are going to the Vanguard Camp?"

He looked up, his clear gaze sweeping across Sheng Xuan's dust-covered face. "That kind of place, where you're practically licking blood from a knife's edge, is a hundred times more dangerous than this place." The herb between his fingers snapped with a "snap." "Just a few days ago you were cursing me for being reckless, and now you've forgotten?"

Sheng Xuan's throat tightened, and he just opened his mouth to squeeze out the word "I—"

"Here." Su Zhelan had already reached out her hand, her fingertips hooking a small, cool object, and without a word, she stuffed it into Sheng Xuan's sweaty palm. "Take it."

The small glass bottle, no bigger than a thumb, was cool and slippery to the touch. Inside was a dark red, viscous liquid, as thick as half-dried rouge. Only when Sheng Xuan unconsciously shook it did it slowly swirl into a tiny vortex.

Shengxuan subconsciously reached for the cork with her finger—

"Thump!"

A merciless flick on the forehead made his temple go numb!

"You're being nosy?" Su Zhelan's voice suddenly rose, his tone trembling with anger. He practically lunged forward and grabbed Sheng Xuan's restless wrist, his knuckles turning white with force.

"'Nine Deaths Resurrection Powder'! It's made from bone-corroding grass mixed with the venom and gall of the seven-step snake! It dissolves evil energy upon exposure to the wind!" He stared at Sheng Xuan's jawline, which tightened instantly, and spoke rapidly and in a low voice.

“When you’re really facing death—” he suddenly released his grip, pointing his fingertip at the bottle, “smash it! Smash it as far as possible! Got it?”

Sheng Xuan didn't hear clearly which medicine names Su Zhelan had vaguely mentioned—was it 'Bone-Eating Grass' or 'Seven-Step Fall'? And maybe 'Snake Gallbladder' too? Whatever! Whatever Zhelan gave it, it must be useful.

The coolness of Su Zhelan's fingertips still lingered on Sheng Xuan's wrist. He looked down at the bottle of dark red, viscous "poison" in his palm, and the slight unease in his heart was overwhelmed by an even stronger surge of soreness.

He abruptly clenched his fingers, the hard edges of the glass bottle digging into his palm. The viscous, dark red liquid swayed slightly inside, like a lump of congealed blood.

"Hmm." A hoarse syllable rolled out from Sheng Xuan's throat. He didn't look into Su Zhelan's eyes again, carefully put the bottle into the innermost pocket of his chest, and pressed it through the fabric. "It's safe now."

The flame of the oil lamp inside the tent flickered in the breeze brought in by Sheng Xuan, and the light and shadow danced on Su Zhelan's face.

He sat cross-legged on the straw mat, his moon-white outer robe slightly open, revealing the collar of his plain inner garment.

He watched Sheng Xuan clutch the glass bottle, looking both precious and helpless. He unconsciously twirled the broken herb stem between his fingers, his voice carrying a hint of lingering anger from just hitting someone on the head, mixed with a touch of helplessness: "In the middle of the night, you ran all this way just to get hit like this?"

He paused, his gaze sweeping over the dried scabs at the corner of his mouth, his brow furrowing almost imperceptibly. "...What exactly happened?"

Sheng Xuan's throat tightened when asked the question.

He stood there, his tall figure almost blocking half of the tent entrance, his dark cloak still damp with the chill of his night run. Su Zhelan's gaze was like a probe, piercing his heart and making him uneasy. He wanted to say something... but the words caught in his throat, blocked by Su Zhelan's clear eyes.

He opened his mouth, but his throat felt like it was filled with sand, and he couldn't squeeze out a single word. Only his heart was pounding in his chest, making his eardrums buzz.

The tent was eerily quiet, with only the faint crackling of the oil lamp and the two people breathing so close together.

Sheng Xuan's gaze was fixed on Su Zhelan's face, greedily tracing every inch of her features—from her almost transparent earlobes under the light to her slightly pursed, bloodless lips.

This might be... the last look. The emotions that had been suppressed all the way, mixed with fear, resentment and something deeper, exploded like a lit fuse the moment the word "farewell" was thought!

The bitterness and despair surging in his chest almost tore him apart, transforming into a savage force that propelled him forward.

“I…” He finally managed to squeeze out a broken syllable, his voice hoarse and trembling with a sound he himself didn’t recognize, a tremor that carried a dying sob, “I miss you.”

This is no ordinary longing. It is clearly the last bit of attachment squeezed out from the depths of the soul before parting, a desperate gamble to grasp at the glimmer of light before one's eyes, even knowing that an abyss lies ahead!

Before he finished speaking, the other person had already stood in front of Su Zhelan, so close that they could feel each other's breath.

He still clutched the glass bottle tightly in one hand, his knuckles turning white from the force—it was the only "way out" Su Zhelan had left him, a concern he could not express.

With an almost reverent tremor, his other hand slowly rose, carrying the coolness of the night wind and the lingering smell of blood from his lips, and aimed directly and irresistibly at the back of Su Zhelan's neck!

The calloused fingertips brushed against Su Zhelan's cool skin, sending a slight shiver through her.

Then, he suddenly lowered his head, with a desperate, all-or-nothing resolve and a deep-seated sorrow, and kissed her fiercely!

It was as if he wanted to imprint all his warmth, all his unspoken words, all his longing for life and his premonition of death into this kiss.

Su Zhelan froze. The sensation on her lips was hot and dry, mixed with the smell of dust and rusty blood, and a hint of the reckless and immature scent unique to young people.

But in this recklessness, Su Zhelan tasted an overwhelming sense of sorrow—Sheng Xuan's kiss was haphazard, like a wild beast charging headlong into a cliff, urgently and forcefully grinding against his lips, bringing a slight sting.

It wasn't about the pursuit of lust; it was more like using the last of one's strength to confirm the existence of the person before them and leave a final mark.

Su Zhelan's pupils suddenly contracted, her body tensed instinctively, and her fingers curled up, almost digging into the dry grass beneath her.

Su Zhelan was completely dumbfounded! What did this mean? Everything was fine just now, how could it suddenly...?

He tried to push him away, to yell at him, but the hand gripping the back of his neck was incredibly strong, with an unyielding resolve that left no room for escape, like a drowning person clinging to the last piece of driftwood.

Su Zhelan's pupils contracted sharply, his body tensed instantly like a bowstring, his fingers curled up, almost digging into the dry grass beneath him. He instinctively wanted to push him away, to shout, but the hand gripping the back of his neck was incredibly strong, carrying an undeniable brute force that rendered him unable to move.

He could clearly feel Sheng Xuan's heart pounding violently in his chest, a frighteningly fast heartbeat carrying a frenzied, almost collapsing quality that Su Zhelan couldn't comprehend. That mumbled "I miss you" sounded to Su Zhelan more like some kind of out-of-control babbling; aside from shock and confusion, he couldn't decipher any deeper meaning from it.

Sheng Xuan's kiss lasted for a few breaths, more like a savage outburst and an uncontrolled possession. Only when he felt Su Zhelan's body remain stiff as iron, and even begin to tremble slightly, did he pull away abruptly, as if burned!

As if realizing their own lapse in composure, their lips parted.

Sheng Xuan's forehead pressed against Su Zhelan's forehead, their noses brushing against each other, their hot breaths spraying onto each other's faces.

He was panting heavily, his chest heaving, but his eyes were fixed on Su Zhelan's eyes, which were so close to his own. In those eyes were the flickering firelight and his own disheveled reflection—as well as a look of utter astonishment, shame, and bewilderment.

Su Zhelan's cheeks flushed red with shock and anger, her lips were slightly swollen from the kiss, and she was breathing rapidly with her mouth slightly open.

Sheng Xuan looked at Su Zhelan, whose usually calm and collected eyes were now filled with disbelief, shock, embarrassment, and an overwhelming sense of confusion.

Su Zhelan opened her mouth, wanting to ask, "What's wrong with you?", but the words got stuck in her throat. In the end, she could only use all her strength to suddenly turn her head away, breaking free from Sheng Xuan's grip, and concealing the anger and confusion surging in her eyes.

Inside the tent, only the heavy, intermittent breathing of the two men and the faint crackling of the oil lamp remained.

Sheng Xuan remained in that position, the cool touch of Su Zhelan's neck skin still lingering on his palm, his fingertips trembling slightly.

He watched as Su Zhelan turned her face away, her whole body radiating resistance, and the despair and longing surging in his eyes deepened—he knew he had frightened her, but he couldn't explain, and there was no time to explain.

He took a deep breath, a breath filled with bitterness and resolve.

Finally, he slowly and with great difficulty released his hand, his fingertips lingering on Su Zhelan's earlobe, leaving a barely perceptible tremor.

He looked at Su Zhelan one last time, deeply, as if trying to imprint her image on his retina, then abruptly turned and strode out of the tent. His black cloak drew a resolute arc in the dim light, without the slightest hesitation or looking back. The moment the tent flap fell, it separated the inside from the outside.

Inside the tent, Su Zhelan stood frozen in place. The lingering burning sensation and bloody taste on his lips, along with the complex emotions in Sheng Xuan's last glance that chilled him to the bone, all felt like a tangled mess in his chest.

Shock, anger, shame, confusion… a whirlwind of emotions surged within him. He had absolutely no idea what was happening! Why was Sheng Xuan acting like this all of a sudden? What did that look mean? Where was he going?

The air still seemed to carry the scent of Sheng Xuan, a mixture of dust, rust, and youthful energy, as well as... a faint, inexplicable heaviness that made Su Zhelan's heart pound.

He raised his hand, his fingertips rubbing hard against his lips, which were numb from the kiss, trying to erase the disturbing sensation. His brows furrowed, his mind in turmoil.