Author Archives: Thandar

The bamboo house and its surrounding forest were under constant watch. The watchers disguised themselves as villagers or passing merchants, appearing to be ordinary people while secretly tasked with protecting Qin Zhao’s family.

Whenever anyone approached the area, Qin Zhao would receive advance notice.

The visitor openly identified himself with the surname Qi, making it clear who he was.

Qin Zhao straightened up and asked, “He came alone?”

“Yes,” the young man replied. “We’ve checked; no one followed him.”

Qin Zhao nodded. “Let him in.”

The young man left to carry out the order, and not long after, Jing Li emerged from the house, having changed clothes and leading Yu Zai.

“Who’s here?” Jing Li asked.

“Qi Xuan,” Qin Zhao answered.

Jing Li was startled. “How did he find this place?”

“Xiao Yue probably told him,” Qin Zhao said, his tone indifferent, showing little surprise.

He glanced at Jing Li and noticed that he and little fry were wearing clothes made from the same fabric. The pomegranate-red jackets had collars and cuffs trimmed with white rabbit fur, both warm and adorable.

Qin Zhao adjusted Jing Li’s collar and said, “The sweet potatoes are roasting. Keep an eye on the fire in a bit.”

“Okay!” Jing Li nodded obediently.

The sweet potatoes had just been put in the pot and needed some time to cook, but little fry could hardly wait. As soon as he stepped outside, he eagerly ran toward the stove, only to be swiftly caught by Qin Zhao.

The two little buns on top of little fry’s head, tied by Qin Zhao earlier that morning, had already started to come loose and swayed as he moved.

“They’re not ready yet,” Qin Zhao said. “Don’t rush.”

Little fry, caught by the back of his collar, kicked his legs before leaning into Qin Zhao’s arms. “Hungry…”

The little one had grown taller recently, and his features had become more defined, looking more and more like a carbon copy of Qin Zhao.

“Just wait a bit longer, and they’ll be ready,” Qin Zhao said, squatting down to rub little fry’s head. Then he glanced at Jing Li. “Did he learn these tricks from you?”

He was getting better at being adorable.

“How is that possible?” Jing Li denied immediately. “Do I ever act like this? Ah Qi, what do you think?”

“…” Ah Qi, who was unexpectedly dragged into the couple’s playful banter, blushed furiously. “Sub—subordinate doesn’t know.”

Jing Li burst out laughing at the young man’s embarrassment. Qin Zhao sighed helplessly. “Stop teasing him.”

When Qi Xuan walked along the secluded mountain path, this was the scene he saw.

The family was chatting cheerfully, completely ignoring the fact that a guest was about to arrive. Qi Xuan stood outside the fence for a moment, seeing no acknowledgment from anyone, and cleared his throat loudly.

“Ahem!”

Qin Zhao turned his head, his smile fading. “You’re here?”

“…” Qi Xuan immediately became timid, nearly stepping back. “Y-yes, I’m here.”

Qin Zhao handed little fry back to Jing Li, giving Jing Li’s hand a reassuring squeeze before letting go. Then, glancing at the young emperor dressed in plain clothes standing outside the gate, he said coolly, “Come in.”

Today, the young emperor had swapped his usual attire for a simple, light-colored outfit, with a folding fan tucked into his belt. He looked like the wealthy son of an ordinary family.

Jing Li thought that this appearance suited him better.

Qin Zhao led the young emperor through the gate, while Ah Qi stayed behind to serve tea. Jing Li sat in the courtyard, holding little fry as he watched the sweet potatoes roast in the stove. The sweet aroma of the roasting sweet potatoes gradually filled the air, but Jing Li seemed to lose interest.

“Why would he come looking for him now…” Jing Li muttered as he glanced at the main hall’s doors. “It feels like he’s up to no good. What do you think?”

Little fry was fully engrossed in staring at the roasting sweet potatoes and didn’t respond.

“Little fry, your little dad is talking to you!” Jing Li said, dissatisfied.

Little fry turned his head and gave Jing Li a blank look, clearly clueless about what his father was worrying about.

“Forget it,” Jing Li sighed in disappointment at his food-obsessed son. “I’ll figure it out myself.”

Inside the house, Qi Xuan sat uncomfortably on a chair.

As an emperor, he was used to being offered the seat of honor wherever he went, but his former teacher clearly had no intention of extending such courtesy. Qin Zhao occupied the main seat, and after Ah Qi served them two cups of tea, he quietly left the room.

The atmosphere was heavy.

Qi Xuan fidgeted with the teacup, forcing a sheepish smile as he tried to make conversation. “Your son… he’s very cute.”

“Thank you,” Qin Zhao replied calmly, sipping his tea.

“…” Qi Xuan was at a loss for words, and the awkwardness deepened.

He wanted to facepalm. Wasn’t the Regent supposed to have mellowed out after getting married and having a child? Why was he still this intimidating?

Qi Xuan had always found it difficult to talk to Qin Zhao. It had been like this since the beginning.

Still hesitating, Qi Xuan finally heard Qin Zhao place his teacup on the table. “If you have nothing to say, you can leave.”

“No, no, no, I have something to say!” Qi Xuan panicked, fearing he’d be thrown out. “I came here with something very important to tell you!”

Qin Zhao raised an eyebrow.

In truth, Qin Zhao had never been particularly harsh toward Qi Xuan. Though strict, he had always supported him. Yet, perhaps due to a natural fear students feel toward their teachers, Qi Xuan had been terrified of Qin Zhao since childhood. Even after all these years, that deeply ingrained fear hadn’t diminished in the slightest.

Swallowing hard, Qi Xuan barely dared to meet Qin Zhao’s eyes. In a low voice, he admitted, “That day at the temple, I didn’t tell you the whole truth…”

“I know about your poisoning.”

Qin Zhao’s gaze darkened.

“I… I only found out later,” Qi Xuan said anxiously. “You have to believe me—I would never harm you, let alone poison you!”

Qin Zhao closed his eyes briefly, struggling to keep his voice steady. “Explain. What happened?”

“Six years ago, when you headed south to arrange your retirement, not long after you left the capital, I discovered that my mother was secretly plotting to dispatch soldiers to assassinate you,” Qi Xuan said. “When I received the news, I rushed to find you and managed to rescue you from the chaos, but… I found that you were poisoned.”

“You were unconscious, without memory, and unable to recognize anyone. I didn’t dare bring you back to the capital in that state, so I had someone fake your death and secretly hid you near Jiangling, arranging a few people to take care of you.”

“But one day, during an episode, you injured them and ran off.”

“My men caught up to you, but all they found were traces of where you had fallen off a cliff.”

Qin Zhao frowned slightly and asked, “Why didn’t you tell me the truth that day?”

Qi Xuan fell silent.

Qin Zhao’s tone grew colder. “If the poisoning has nothing to do with you, why didn’t you tell me directly back then?”

Qi Xuan shrank back, his voice trembling. “The poisoning… isn’t entirely unrelated to me.”

Qin Zhao froze.

“After returning to the capital, I had the matter investigated thoroughly,” Qi Xuan continued, his voice low. “Eventually… traces of Chenhuan Powder were found in the incense you frequently used.”

Incense.

The moment the word left Qi Xuan’s mouth, Qin Zhao instantly understood.

The poisoner hadn’t administered a large dose of Chenhuan Powder at once. Instead, they had placed it in the incense, causing him to inhale it day by day, year after year. Over time, the accumulated poison finally erupted.

What a meticulously calculated scheme.

Qin Zhao took a deep breath, his voice slightly hoarse. “Did you find out who was behind it?”

“Yes,” Qi Xuan replied. “A servant from your household confessed under interrogation. He said… he was acting on my father’s orders.”

With a sharp crack, the teacup shattered on the ground, its contents spilling everywhere.

“…I didn’t execute the servant. He’s being held in secret custody. If you wish to see him, I can arrange it.”

Qin Zhao didn’t respond.

All he could hear was a ringing in his ears, his blood boiling, drowning out the words of those around him.

Qi Xuan stepped forward, intending to support him, but Qin Zhao pushed him away. Lowering his gaze, Qin Zhao suddenly laughed.

“Truly worthy of the late emperor,” he said, his voice dripping with irony.

Still smiling, he raised his eyes to Qi Xuan. “Your Majesty, have you learned something? This is what true imperial power looks like.”

He should have known. How could the late emperor have trusted him to deal with the empress without concern? Wasn’t he worried that the regent’s growing power might one day threaten the throne?

The late emperor had tasked the regent with destroying Chenhuan Powder and developing an antidote, yet secretly kept a portion for himself.

Bit by bit, the poison was administered to the regent, ensuring that in a few years, as the young emperor matured, the regent would be rendered a cripple by the poison coursing through his body. By then, no one would be left to challenge his son for the throne.

The young emperor hadn’t dared to speak the truth back then, fearing that if Qin Zhao knew, he would no longer support the Qi family and might even overthrow the court.

“It’s my Qi family who wronged you, Prince Rong,” Qi Xuan said. “On behalf of my father, I apologize to you. Back then, when you had your accident, I feared my mother would turn against me next, so I had to return to the capital quickly to stabilize her. Over the years, she has kept a close watch on me, never truly trusting me. I didn’t dare to search for you…”

“What use would it have been to find me?” Qin Zhao’s voice was low and raspy. “You knew I was poisoned to the core, with no memory and no ability to fight the empress. Hiding me in Jiangling, if anything, was saving my life.”

“You…”

“Qi Xuan,” Qin Zhao interrupted, his voice sharp. “Do you truly want to be emperor?”

Qi Xuan froze mid-movement.

The timid and fearful expression on his face vanished. Straightening his posture, he lightly brushed the folding fan at his waist and let out a soft sigh. “I just want to survive.”

He had never been given a choice from the moment he was born.

As a child in the cold palace, he lived in constant fear, struggling to survive each day and enduring countless hardships. Later, he was fortunate enough to be named crown prince by the late emperor, thinking he could escape such a life. Instead, he was thrown into an even deeper and more inescapable vortex.

At just over ten years old, Qi Xuan had no choice but to become a puppet, struggling to stay alive between two opposing forces.

Having been raised by Qin Zhao himself, how could he not be intelligent? But he understood all too well that in the treacherous depths of the imperial palace, being too clever would only hasten one’s demise.

Qi Xuan considered himself an ordinary person. He had no grand ambitions or lofty aspirations.

For him, preserving his own life was already an exhausting challenge.

Qin Zhao said softly, “Even now, I believe you could be a good emperor.”

If Qi Xuan didn’t have the potential to rule, why would the late emperor have made him crown prince?

But he never had the chance.

Six years ago, Qin Zhao had been the one dragging him forward.

Six years later, the empress dowager held the reins behind him.

He had neither opportunity nor the courage to resist any of it.

After all, he was just a boy, only a few years older than Jing Li.

Qin Zhao’s turbulent emotions gradually settled. Leaning back in his chair, he looked fatigued. “Let this matter end here. I won’t blame you for what your father did. Both you and I are victims of this struggle for power, and blaming each other is meaningless.”

“Prince Rong…”

“Don’t call me that anymore. Whether it’s Prince Rong or the Regent, they no longer exist,” Qin Zhao said. “Before you now is just a scholar, Qin Zhao.”

“You…” Qi Xuan hesitated for a moment before asking softly, “Do you really have no intention of returning?”

Qin Zhao looked at him, a trace of surprise in his gaze. “Why? Does His Majesty still wish for me to drag this poisoned body around and work myself to death for you? Isn’t having Xiao Yue enough?”

Qi Xuan wasn’t responsible for the poisoning, so Qin Zhao had no qualms about Xiao Yue assisting him. Although the situation in the capital remained unstable, the fact that Xiao Yue had been able to secretly arrange for the young emperor to meet Qin Zhao suggested that stability wasn’t far off.

“Lord Xiao… is so intimidating,” Qi Xuan muttered with a hint of grievance. “I’m a little scared of him.”

Qin Zhao: “…”

Qin Zhao chuckled. “Are you afraid of me?”

“…” Qi Xuan looked as though he was about to cry. “Yes.”

Qin Zhao reassured him. “The Xiao family has been loyal for generations. While Xiao Yue may look fierce, he is a good man. Your Majesty can rely on him without worry.”

Qi Xuan let out a muffled “Oh,” still sounding unconvinced.

“By the way, Deng Qing told me about your condition,” Qi Xuan said. “I’ve already sent people to search for renowned physicians. Your health will surely improve.”

Qin Zhao nodded. “Alright.”

Qi Xuan fell silent again.

Standing stiffly by Qin Zhao’s side like he was being punished, Qi Xuan didn’t move, his face filled with hesitation and unspoken words.

Qin Zhao pressed his fingers to his brow. “When will you stop being so indecisive? No wonder Xiao Yue scolds you.”

“I… I’ll change. I swear I’ll change as soon as I return,” Qi Xuan promised. He then stole a glance at Qin Zhao’s expression. Seeing no trace of anger on his face, Qi Xuan cautiously asked, “Prince… Ahem, Mr. Qin, I heard you entered the capital under the guise of taking the imperial exams?”

Qin Zhao glanced at him, clearly knowing what he wanted to say.

“Well…” Qi Xuan began slowly, “I’ve already appointed someone as the chief examiner for next spring’s imperial exams, and the entire examination bureau has been replaced. No one would recognize you. If you’re still willing to…”

“This matter is not up for discussion,” Qin Zhao interrupted.

He had taken the exams merely as a pretext to enter the capital. Now that his plan was complete, whether or not he participated in the next stage was no longer important.

Qi Xuan’s words were effectively cut off. Before he could muster another argument, there was a knock at the door.

A crisp, childish voice called out from outside, “Daddy, the sweet potatoes are ready!”

Qi Xuan watched as the previously stern Qin Zhao’s expression softened instantly. Standing up, Qin Zhao walked over to open the door. When he did, the little one was still knocking and toppled straight into his arms.

“Careful,” Qin Zhao said as he caught the child firmly. Looking up, he saw Jing Li still sitting by the stove, though his gaze had been discreetly fixed in their direction.

Noticing Qin Zhao’s glance, Jing Li quickly looked away, focusing on pulling the sweet potatoes out of the clay stove.

Qin Zhao understood.

His little husband was worried about him.

Carrying the little one, Qin Zhao turned back and issued a dismissal. “Just in time, His Majesty and I are done talking. Ah Qi, see our guest out.”

Qi Xuan: “?”

We’re done?

Ignoring Qi Xuan’s confusion, Qin Zhao carried the child over to the stove.

The sweet potatoes were perfectly roasted, filling the courtyard with their fragrant sweetness. Qi Xuan couldn’t help but swallow as hunger pangs struck him.

Ah Qi, oblivious to the emperor’s inner turmoil, respectfully said, “Your Majesty, please allow this commoner to escort you out.”

“…”

Qi Xuan stood in silence for a moment before resigning himself to follow Ah Qi out of the courtyard.

Before leaving, he turned back and saw Qin Zhao personally pick a plump, round sweet potato from the basket. He broke it in half, blew it cool, and fed one bite to the child and the other to his husband.

The care and tenderness were unmistakable.

Qi Xuan resentfully looked away.

It’s just roasted sweet potatoes. What’s so great about them?

I’ll go buy some myself when I get back!

Lin Shuishi half-asleep, lay in the warm wolf’s den for most of the day. His stomach began to grumble, waking him up, but as he tried to sit up, he froze. Enduring the embarrassing pain, he gritted his teeth and lay back down.

Fuli, full of energy, leaped up from the hillside below, carrying a large leaf filled with green herbal paste. The wolves around wanted to come up and greet him, but Fuli avoided them, heading straight for his beloved den at the mountain’s peak.

He nimbly leaped into the den, crouching in front of Lin Shuishi, and lowered his head to sniff his breath. Then, with a knowing look in his golden eyes, he gently kissed Lin Shuishi’s swollen lips.

However, Lin Shuishi dodged the kiss. Fuli patiently followed his movements, trying to kiss him again, but each time, Lin Shuishi would turn his head away. When Fuli was about to use his hands, Lin Shuishi opened his eyes wide and covered his mouth with both hands.

“No kissing, no kissing!”

Fuli tilted his head, observing Lin Shuishi with slightly quickened breathing, then moved to pounce. Lin Shuishi turned away, covering his mouth.

“They’re swollen! No kissing!”

Seeing the bruises and bite marks on the back of Lin Shuishi’s neck, Fuli calmed his breathing and took out the herbal paste, using his long, slender finger to apply some gently to Lin Shuishi’s neck.

Lin Shuishi felt the burning pain on his neck ease into a cool sensation and curiously turned around to watch Fuli apply the medicine with a tender gaze. He brought his nose close to Fuli’s fingers and sniffed. The fragrance was familiar! This was the same ointment used on him the first time he woke up in the cabin. He wasn’t sure what it was made of, but its effects were excellent.

As Fuli watched the little one sniffing at his fingers, he smeared a bit of the paste on Lin Shuishi’s nose, then lifted the fur covering him, reaching to apply more of the ointment.

“What is this?” Lin Shuishi asked, grasping Fuli’s hand curiously.

Fuli, caught off guard, instinctively responded in a strange, deep, and complex language that resonated from his chest—a sound no human could make.

Realizing what he had done, Fuli hesitated before replying in human language, “Medicine.”

Lin Shuishi was still trying to recall the peculiar tone Fuli had used, not expecting him to start applying the ointment on his body.

After quite a bit of fussing, they finally managed to apply the medicine, leaving both of them slightly out of breath. But soon after, Lin Shuishi felt much better; the wounds on his skin began to heal, even the burning sensation in that area eased, and he felt significantly more comfortable, able to move freely again.

Fuli leaned in to kiss him again, and Lin Shuishi squinted, dodging several times. But as he gazed at Fuli’s strong, striking features, he couldn’t help but reach out, wrapping his arms around Fuli’s head, holding that ruggedly handsome and wildly captivating face, and planting several kisses on his swollen lips.

However, the moment Fuli tried to take things further, Lin Shuishi playfully pulled away, laughing and refusing to give in.

After such an intense connection, he no longer feared this beast. They had become one, inseparable from now on. Fuli was his world, and he was Fuli’s other half.

Lin Shuishi turned and leaned against Fuli’s broad chest, squeezing his firm arm.

“Clothes, or even animal hides—anything will do. I don’t want to be naked among the wolves!” The white wolves were as clever as humans, making it impossible to treat them as mere animals.

Fuli, holding him, walked over to the corner of the wolf’s den where items were stored. Hidden away was a crumpled white fur bundle, which Lin Shuishi recognized upon closer inspection—it was the sweater he had knitted for Fuli.

It turned out that night was a full moon, and Fuli, anticipating it, had already left Lin Shuishi and the village, returning to Dongshan to prepare for what might happen. He had carefully removed the sweater, tucking it away in the deepest part of the den, before settling on the mountain peak to wrestle with his primal instincts.

He had nearly managed to suppress them when he heard the warning from the sentinel wolf at Lin Shuishi’s home. Overcome with rage, he raced down the mountain and, seeing his mate threatened by a wild bear, his beastly nature took over. When he regained consciousness, all he saw was blood and gore scattered across the ground and the frightened look in Lin Shuishi’s eyes.

Lin Shuishi looked at the intact sweater, momentarily speechless. He held it to his chest, the fabric now imbued with Fuli’s scent. He unfolded the sweater and put it on.

However, the sweater, stretched by Fuli’s broad muscles, now hung loosely on him, with the neckline plunging all the way to his navel! Lin Shuishi couldn’t help but glance back at Fuli, laughing, intending to show him the vast difference in their sizes. But when he saw the look in Fuli’s eyes, memories of the previous night’s intense moments came rushing back. He coughed, straightened his expression, and quickly pulled the sides of the sweater together, wrapping himself up tightly.

With his head down, he ignored the heated gaze from behind and stepped out of the wolf’s den.

Lin Shuishi finally saw daylight and took a deep breath of fresh air. The sun warmed him, and the ground in the wolf den was heated, making it comfortable even on bare feet. However, the breeze that slipped under his oversized sweater made his already sore and medicated area feel even chillier.

Just as he was starting to relax, he heard a faint whimper. Looking down, he saw the little white wolf pitifully resting its small head at the entrance of the wolf king’s den, too scared to come out. When it noticed Lin Shuishi, it let out a sigh, almost human-like.

With a smile, Lin Shuishi walked over and gently rubbed its head, coaxing the little cub out under the watchful eye of the mother wolf king. Once freed, the little wolf dashed down the mountain ridge and quickly disappeared from sight. Neither Lin Shuishi nor the mother wolf king worried, as the area was the white wolves’ territory, free from other wild beasts.

Fuli, standing at the den’s entrance, watched Lin Shuishi from behind, his figure silhouetted by the light. He observed his mate, now carrying his scent, wandering among the wolves, sometimes petting a cub, sometimes stroking a furry bundle.

Fuli secretly thought that his partner loved young animals, and they should raise their own someday—at least a litter bigger than the wolf king’s, given that he was the elder brother, after all.

Lin Shuishi suddenly felt a chill run down his spine and sneezed, unsure of the cause. But as he looked up, he saw a wolf leaping onto the ridge, carrying a small bench in its mouth! He was taken aback and, upon closer inspection, realized it was the small stool from his kitchen.

When he ran a few steps down the ridge to get a better view, he saw a line of wolves carrying all sorts of items across the grassy slope. Their usual disciplined formation was in disarray, with pots, pans, chairs, and benches clanking together as they moved.

One wolf, struggling to hold onto a slippery porcelain bowl, had it balanced on its head like a hat—quite secure!

Lin Shuishi stood there, dumbfounded, staring at Fuli.

Fuli let out a howl, and the wolves quickened their pace, leaping up the ridge and placing the items neatly in front of Lin Shuishi. Among them was the wolf king, who hadn’t been in the den earlier. He walked up to Lin Shuishi with a proud air. The wolf king was so tall that he stood eye to eye with Lin Shuishi.

The wolf king sniffed Lin Shuishi, but a growl from his brother made him step back. He then lowered his head, opened his mouth, and spat out five fluffy, wet objects, then proudly raised his head.

Lin Shuishi took a closer look and was speechless. Five small, saliva-drenched chicks lay on the ground, looking dazed and droopy-headed.

He looked up at Fuli, who appeared nonchalant. Fuli then slowly and carefully said, “Got clothes.”

Lin Shuishi glanced at the heap of miscellaneous items and the wolves, who seemed one step away from tearing down the house and dragging the bricks back. He took a deep breath and asked, “Got clothes?”

Despite the chaotic pile of belongings, with not even a needle missing, Lin Shuishi felt happy. He politely thanked the wolf king and cheerfully ran off to sort through the items, secretly thinking that the wolves really knew how to move house! In modern times, the wolf king could probably start a business from scratch with his brothers—after all, they didn’t even leave a single chick behind…

No wolf dared to enter Fuli’s den. Seeing Lin Shuishi carrying things inside, Fuli decided to place all the items in a large basket that had been used to carry firewood, and with one trip, he brought everything in.

Lin Shuishi, however, was worried about the few “chickens” they had. The chickens were terrified in the wolf den, frozen in place by the scent of wolves. He wondered how he would ever raise them under such circumstances! For now, he placed them in a small, sheltered spot behind the hot spring in the forest, where they could hide among the grass and rest. He also took out some grain from a bag to soothe their frightened hearts.

Returning to the wolf den, Lin Shuishi looked over all the items that had been brought in. There wasn’t just food, but also the various seeds, spices, and cookware he had bought during his last trip to town. Besides the small clay pots and bowls, they even brought back the large iron pot used for boiling water and preparing game that had been left in the courtyard—a pot that belonged to the Zheng family.

Lin Shuishi had seen two wolves carrying the pot back together, with soot smeared all over them. The white wolves had turned completely black…

To thank these creatures, he asked Fuli to help him. They set up a cooking station, and using a fire striker that had wolf slobber all over it, they lit a fire. He took out the frozen meat from a bag and cooked a big pot of flavorful meat stew, distributing it among the wolf pack. The two “black wolves” were especially pleased to receive an extra deer leg as a reward.

The wolf king, along with his mate and a bunch of cubs, ate their fill. Just as the wolf queen was about to head back to the den, the wolf king licked the corner of her mouth, gently nibbling at it before opening his mouth wide and biting down on hers, causing her to close her eyes.

Lin Shuishi watched with a twitch at the corner of his eye. He finally understood the origin of Fuli’s unusual behavior—this must be the wolves’ version of a “big kiss.” Sigh.

After a busy day, the sun set, and the wolf king led his elite pack down the slope again, continuing their patrol to secure the territory. It was at this time that the little white wolf returned. It tugged at Lin Shuishi’s newly changed pants, leading him into the dense forest, where he saw the little black horse beside the horse king.

The horse king was still in good spirits, though it was hesitant to approach the wolves’ territory. The little horse, seeing that Lin Shuishi was safe and sound, was relieved and nuzzled him, reluctant to leave. Lin Shuishi patted the little horse’s braids and asked Fuli to carry a bag of soybean meal, placing it on the horse king’s back.

The horse king, wary of Fuli, who was now fully awake, began to paw the ground uneasily. It had dared to carry the unconscious Fuli, but the awake ruler of the mountains exuded a previously unfelt aura that made it uneasy.

Seeing this, Lin Shuishi didn’t insist on them staying. He patted the little horse’s long neck and let it go off with its mother. Living with the horse herd would be far better for them than staying among the wolves.

Because of Fuli’s earlier relentless actions, he was especially obedient to Lin Shuishi, trying in every way to make him happy. Now, seeing his partner looking a bit tired, Fuli felt a pang of pity. His towering frame moved forward, embracing Lin Shuishi and carrying him gently as they headed toward the direction of the broken cliffs.

Lin Shuishi wasn’t afraid. The full moon had waned in the sky, stars hung over the vast plains, and the sky was like a canopy covering the earth.

He nestled in his lover’s strong arms, feeling the night breeze, as this ancient being carried him to an unknown destination.

The crimson morning sun chased away the last traces of moonlight as the creatures of Dongshan Mountain awoke and began their busy day.

Lin Shuishi slept lightly with his eyes closed, but he felt the massive body wrapped around him trembling and convulsing. His heart tightened with worry. Though he hadn’t fully overcome his fear of Fuli in this beastly form, he instinctively sprang into action.

He rolled out from the warm fur of Fuli’s belly and crawled up to the wolf’s neck. His bare skin prickled with pain as the coarse, long fur of the wolf’s neck brushed against him, but he still clung to the wolf’s head, watching the ever-changing colors in Fuli’s eyes.

“Fuli! What’s happening to you? Look at me, Fuli!”

The giant beast seemed to be in unbearable pain, its sharp claws trembling as it carved deep white marks into the hard rock beneath it. Fuli, afraid of hurting Lin Shuishi, lifted his chin to protect the small, naked human in his chest.

In a matter of moments, Lin Shuishi witnessed something extraordinary—he saw the fierce, terrifying giant wolf undergo a violent transformation. The wolf’s muscles and bones contracted painfully, its fur receded, its fangs withdrew, and its sharp claws turned into thick hands as its beastly spine transformed into broad shoulders.

Under the bright morning sun, Fuli, in agonizing pain, shed his beastly form and became human again. He panted heavily, beads of sweat forming on his honey-colored skin, and, utterly exhausted, he rested his head on Lin Shuishi’s lap, squinting his beast-like eyes as he gazed down the cliff at the world below, everything on Dongshan Mountain in his sight.

Lin Shuishi had never seen anything like this in his life, but as he looked into those still golden eyes, he quickly went from panic and shock to a calm acceptance.

Lin Shuishi didn’t say a word or ask any questions. He simply reached out with his trembling hand and gently smoothed the damp hair away from Fuli’s face, revealing his deep, handsome features.

The emotions of losing and regaining something so precious overwhelmed him, leaving him feeling both sorrowful and tender. With tears brimming in his eyes, Lin Shuishi leaned down and kissed Fuli’s forehead before pressing his own against it.

The two survivors rested quietly on the cliff, their shadows stretched long by the morning light.

While everything seemed serene and still on this side, the other side was full of frantic activity! The little white wolf and the black horse were anxiously pacing the mountainside! They had only gone for a short walk, and upon returning to the “human den,” they couldn’t find even a single trace of Lin Shuishi. In a panic, the wolf and the horse immediately bolted, scouring the mountains to find him.

Relying on information provided by the wolves along the way, the little white wolf and the black horse finally found the scene of the incident. The area was drenched in a bloody stench, which made the black horse uneasy, but the little wolf paid it no mind and darted around, searching frantically. Unable to find Lin Shuishi, the wolf sniffed the air carefully, but the overwhelming scent of Fuli’s beastly presence masked everything. The more it sniffed, the more its legs trembled, unable to detect where Lin Shuishi had gone!

With no other options, the two companions decided to return to Dongshan Mountain for help. They were still young, lacking endurance and speed, and had to rest several times during their journey. By the time they returned, exhausted and disheveled, they noticed that the mountain’s animals were unusually solemn. The cattle and horses had stopped grazing, and the wolves and leopards had paused their hunts. All stood still, ears perked, facing the same direction—the ridge of the mountain, towards the highest peak.

Pausing to listen, the wolf and horse halted in their tracks as they heard an ancient howling sound emanating from the mountaintop. It was neither entirely human nor entirely wolf, a long, resonant call that echoed across the wilderness, reverberating in the hearts of every living being on Dongshan Mountain. They bowed their heads in reverence to the god of the mountain.

At that moment, Fuli, now fully transformed, showed no signs of the pain or exhaustion from his metamorphosis. His strong arms cradled Lin Shuishi as they stood atop the towering peak, howling towards the sky.

After his complete transformation, it was as if Fuli had suddenly understood the world, grasping the essence of nature. He knew where he had come from, and as he gazed down at the human nestled against his chest, he felt he also knew where he was headed.

He was declaring his awakening to the mountains and his ancestors, announcing that he had found his mate—this was his coming-of-age ceremony.

In the lineage of the wolf god, maturity wasn’t marked by age but by the moment of true awakening. In the prosperous times of the clan, after finding a lifelong mate, the wolves would make their vows before their ancestors, drink a drop of blood from an already matured pack member, and thus awaken the bloodline within them, transforming into wolves and reaching full maturity.

But Fuli had none of that. He was the last of his kind, the final wolf god descendant in the world. His bloodline had lain dormant for twenty-seven years, and without Lin Shuishi, without the love that forced his transformation, he would have remained an ordinary beast of the mountains forever.

However, his previous attempts had ended in failure. Instead of completing the ritual, they had only stirred his beastly instincts, disrupting the peace of Dongshan Mountain.

Fuli howled into the wind, holding Lin Shuishi tightly. Their bodies were so close that there was no space between them. Lin Shuishi pressed his ear to Fuli’s chest, feeling the deep resonance of the howls, which made his ears and cheeks tingle slightly, but he had never felt so at ease.

Fuli’s howls shifted, becoming softer and more drawn out, lingering with a mix of tenderness and melancholy. Lin Shuishi looked up, watching the beastly markings on Fuli’s neck, which flickered in and out of sight. The intricate golden patterns seemed to vanish and reappear, spreading from his neck to his face and eyes, giving him an air of both wildness and solemnity.

After a series of long howls, Fuli paused, then lowered his head to nuzzle Lin Shuishi’s cheek, locking eyes with him. His gaze was intense and profound, filled with a cherished admiration that also harbored a fierce possessiveness.

Lin Shuishi’s slightly chilled body started to warm under Fuli’s gaze. The friction between their subtle movements made him feel both shy and overwhelmed. Fuli, breathing heavily, leaned in and bit down gently on the tender skin of Lin Shuishi’s neck, causing a mild itch. Then, with a strong grip, he hoisted Lin Shuishi onto his shoulder and began to leap across the mountain ridges.

Lin Shuishi’s breath became a bit rapid. He didn’t dare to look at Fuli’s powerful body, but he still tightened his grip around Fuli’s neck with one hand. This was his now! On this slightly chilly winter day in Dongshan Mountain, he wanted to absorb the searing warmth and the fulfilling love from this majestic figure.

Lin Shuishi compliantly let Fuli carry him to the wolf’s den. Even though they were deep in the secluded mountains, with not a thread of clothes on him, he still felt the strong sense of shame instilled in him by modern civilization. It was only when he was placed inside the familiar wolf’s den that he began to relax a bit.

But soon, his tension returned. In the warm den, with both of them fully exposed, there was no way to hide their gazes, and no desire that could be concealed.

The moon, held by the beast, melted into a gentle stream of passion.

By the time dusk approached, the little white wolf finally returned to the pack, wobbling and exhausted. After a day of searching and trekking, the young pup was utterly worn out. It tried to climb up the mountain ridge below the wolf den, but halfway there, it let out a soft whine and collapsed. Eventually, it was picked up by the scruff of its neck by the wolf king, who, with a flick of his head, tossed it up the mountain.

The little white wolf, dizzy from the throw, was indignant but dared not protest. It knew it needed to find its “backer” and return to Lin Shuishi’s side!

As it gathered its strength, preparing to howl for attention, its nose twitched, catching the scent of the two people. Finally, it had found them! Suddenly feeling reinvigorated, the pup’s aches vanished, and it wagged its little tail as it scurried towards Fuli’s den.

But the scent along the way was odd. The pup assumed Lin Shuishi must have been cooking up something new again and didn’t think much of it. However, as it approached the entrance of the den and peeked inside, it was met with an unusually ferocious growl from Fuli, who usually indulged it. The little wolf was so shocked it froze in place, only to be quickly grabbed by the leg by the wolf king. The once-mighty ruler of the wolf pack hurriedly and somewhat sheepishly dragged the pup back to his own den.

As the little pup sat in its den, trying to piece together what had just happened, its siblings approached, trying to engage it in play. But the pup was distracted, thinking about how it had heard Lin Shuishi’s voice inside the den—calling out intermittently, even crying! It seemed so unfair; how could they fight like that, piling on top of each other? That was too much, even the pup didn’t play that rough with its own playmates!

The little wolf decided that once it grew into a brave and strong wolf, it would stand up for Lin Shuishi. But for now… it glanced at its father’s disappointed expression and tried to mimic Fuli by bullying its siblings to show off its strength, only to be kicked away by the wolf king.

The still-young wolf king had already made up his mind: he would have to sire another litter and carefully select one to raise properly. This little fool wouldn’t do.

When Lin Shuishi woke up again, it was already the next morning. The sky outside the wolf den was bright. He gritted his teeth in frustration, determined to escape this endless cycle of exhaustion! He wanted to see the sky, to breathe fresh air!

He struggled to lift the strong arm wrapped around his waist, but as soon as he moved, the insatiable beast behind him suddenly opened his eyes, instinctively tightening his grip around Lin Shuishi’s sore waist. Lin Shuishi, feeling the ache, reached out to slap the offending arm.

“Hiss, let go!”

Fuli reluctantly released him, and Lin Shuishi watched as the beast slowly crawled out of the animal skins. But then, he found himself kneeling on the ground…

In the end, Lin Shuishi, completely resigned, was placed on the only remaining dry piece of deerskin, staring blankly as Fuli efficiently tidied up the den. Fuli’s robust body seemed even more powerful, his strong arms gathering up all the wet hides to hang them out to dry. It was only when he turned around that Lin Shuishi noticed the fine scratches on Fuli’s broad back—thankfully, they were shallow and hadn’t broken the skin.

Fuli was about to leap out of the den when he heard Lin Shuishi’s hoarse voice from behind, weakly saying, “Clothes.” After a pause, he added, “I need to go down the mountain to get some things.”

Fuli hesitated, unwilling to leave, and moved closer to nuzzle Lin Shuishi affectionately. But just as things were heating up, Lin Shuishi shot him a stern look, forcing him out of the den.

Standing in the warm sunlight, Fuli thought for a moment, draped himself in a still-damp sheepskin, and with a sharp call, led a pack of white wolves down the mountain.

Back in the Rehe village, the men of the Zheng family had been unusually quiet lately. Their wives, unaware of the situation, assumed that Lin Shuishi had somehow escaped and disappeared. They were worried but had no idea what the men had experienced in the woods.

After the incident, knowing there was no turning back, the men of the village agreed to keep everything secret. They pretended they hadn’t followed anyone, that they knew nothing, and then returned home. The next day, they went to Yuanshan village and claimed that the shaman had taken their village chief up the mountain to perform a wolf sacrifice, but they were all eaten by wolves and bears!

The villagers were shocked and didn’t believe it at first, but when they saw the bloody scene and the traces left by wild beasts at the site, they were convinced.

Within days, everyone in Yuanshan village, whether they had family involved in the sacrifice or not, quickly moved away to seek refuge with relatives. The village of Yuanshan disappeared, and the truth behind the events was buried.

But the Zheng family still couldn’t rest easy. They were haunted by fear and remained on high alert. One day, Old Man Zheng decided to tidy up Lin Shuishi’s house, thinking it was at least a way to hold on to some memories.

But when he entered the house, he heard the clattering of pots and pans. Alarmed, he grabbed a weapon and kicked open the door, thinking there was a thief!

Inside, he was greeted by the sight of over a dozen large white wolves scattered around the room. Some were holding bowls, others had pots in their mouths, and one was standing on a cabinet, passing down a ball of thread with its mouth.

When Old Man Zheng opened the door, all the wolves stopped what they were doing and stared directly at him.

Their eyes met, big eyes staring into smaller ones. The hair on the back of Old Man Zheng’s neck stood up as he slowly lowered his stick and, with a respectful “creak,” gently closed the door. The wolves, seeing him leave, returned to their tasks, busy clattering about as they continued moving things…

When Old Man Zheng got back home, he urgently instructed his family not to go up the hill carelessly. His eldest daughter-in-law, who was quick with her words, asked why. Old Man Zheng felt a chill down his back.

“Trouble with wolves!” he muttered.

On the way back, the wind and snow gradually stopped.

Qin Zhao dismissed his escort and, after having lunch at the temple, rode back to the capital alone. Along the way, he recounted to Jing Li everything about his conversation with the young emperor.

After listening, Jing Li asked in confusion, “That’s it?”

“What else do you expect?” Qin Zhao held the wooden bucket containing the little koi in his arms, one hand on the reins, leisurely riding up the mountain.

“It feels too simple…” The little koi swam back and forth in the bucket to aid digestion, its soft tail fin gently swaying. “How can he be such a spineless emperor?”

Although he had already heard from Qin Zhao about the young emperor’s disposition, seeing it in person still felt unbelievable. For a ruler of a nation to be so easily manipulated—it was truly strange.

As Jing Li pondered this, he started reflecting on whether his hostility toward the young emperor had been excessive.

Back when Qin Zhao intended to retire, it wasn’t long before he was poisoned and attacked. With such incidents, anyone would suspect the young emperor.

Was the young emperor truly uninvolved in those events?

“The truth will come to light eventually,” Qin Zhao said calmly.

Jing Li sensed an underlying meaning in his words and asked, “Do you also think the young emperor wasn’t truthful?”

Qin Zhao replied, “There’s no evidence, just speculation.”

The little koi wagged its tail at him. “Then why not speculate?”

“Alright, I’ll speculate,” Qin Zhao chuckled, then countered, “If you were the young emperor and suddenly saw the regent—who was supposed to be dead—appear before you, what would your reaction be?”

“Uh…” Jing Li thought seriously before answering, “If I had something to do with the regent’s death, I’d probably be very scared.”

“Scared of what?” Qin Zhao asked.

“Scared of revenge, of course.” Jing Li continued, “Think about it—if you were the young emperor, today you went on a trip, encountered a blocked mountain road, ended up at that rundown temple with few guards, and suddenly met your old nemesis. You’d definitely think it was all premeditated, right? I’d be terrified.”

Qin Zhao lowered his gaze and looked at him thoughtfully.

“W-what is it?” The little koi tilted its head up. “Did I say something wrong?”

Qin Zhao shook his head. “No, you’re absolutely right.”

“But I was just wondering—since when did you get so clever?”

The little koi was about to wag its tail proudly but paused at the last sentence, sensing something amiss. “Are you saying I was dumb before?”

Qin Zhao coughed lightly. “I didn’t mean that.”

Jing Li huffed, unwilling to fall for his tricks.

Seeing this, Qin Zhao returned to a serious tone. “What you said is correct. But think about it—if the events of that year had nothing to do with him, what would he do then?”

“What else could he do?” Jing Li was confused by the question. “If your misfortune wasn’t related to him, he should be happy you’re back, right? After all, the empress dowager currently holds power over him. He should be glad for someone to break the stalemate.”

Qin Zhao asked, “But how would he prove it had nothing to do with him?”

Jing Li fell silent.

He vaguely understood the implication in Qin Zhao’s words.

“He is indeed afraid of me, but it’s not necessarily because he feels guilty,” Qin Zhao sighed. “Six years have passed. While I’m wary of him, he’s also wary of me. He doesn’t know why I’ve returned or what my intentions are. His behavior today was simply out of fear that I might act impulsively and take his life.”

Qin Zhao had meticulously prepared for this audience. In this matter, the young emperor was in the light while Qin Zhao was in the dark.

Faced with such an unexpected situation, even Qin Zhao wouldn’t have remained entirely composed.

In other words, if the young emperor had truly displayed composure and eloquence today, Qin Zhao wasn’t sure he would have let him leave that temple.

“That guy never knew much before—do you know what he’s best at?”

Jing Li: “What?”

Qin Zhao: “Crying.”

Qin Zhao spoke indifferently, “Qi Xuan has been like this since he was young. He knows that crying makes him appear weak, and the weaker he seems, the less seriously people will take him. Even before he was crowned prince, he already understood how to manipulate this.”

The little koi was momentarily stunned. Seeing this, Qin Zhao chuckled softly. “You wouldn’t seriously take him for some weak and useless person, would you? Wake up—he’s the sole surviving prince from the bloody struggle for the throne.”

Qin Zhao looked into the distance, letting out a quiet sigh. “In the royal family, how could there ever be someone truly mediocre?”

Jing Li felt a headache coming on as he thought about all this. He gave up trying to untangle the complexities and directly asked Qin Zhao, “So what now? Have you agreed to help him deal with the Empress Dowager?”

“Who said I agreed?”

“What?”

Qin Zhao raised an eyebrow. “Did I explicitly promise?”

“Stop playing word games!” The little koi splashed some water angrily. “You took a token from the young emperor, didn’t you? Aren’t you planning to help him regain power? Then what do you intend to do?”

Qin Zhao remained unhurried. “I’m neither a civil official nor a military general. Such matters aren’t for me to handle.”

Jing Li calmed down and thought of a possible candidate. “You mean… Xiao Yue?”

Qin Zhao nodded slightly, his tone firm and upright. “He brought his personal guards all the way to the capital; he can’t leave empty-handed. He has to accomplish something.”

Jing Li: “…”

The sheer audacity of using someone so openly left Jing Li speechless.

As Jing Li mulled it over, he understood Qin Zhao’s plan.

Given the current situation, their primary enemy was no longer the young emperor. The Empress Dowager held actual power and was likely the mastermind behind the assassination attempt on Qin Zhao years ago. Targeting her was undoubtedly the correct move.

And for this, Qin Zhao didn’t even need to get involved personally.

The Xiao family would never allow the Empress Dowager to continue holding such overwhelming power. All Qin Zhao needed to do was hand the young emperor’s token to Xiao Yue and convey the emperor’s current predicament.

What followed would no longer concern Qin Zhao.

Jing Li: “So you’re just planning to sit back and reap the rewards?”

“Of course.” Qin Zhao was unabashed. “It’s called delegating to the capable. What can I do? My health isn’t great, and I have no military power in my hands.”

As for uncovering the truth behind the past events, that could wait until real power was regained.

And all of it could be handled by that distinguished general.

“But what if the Empress Dowager strikes first?” Jing Li asked. “She’ll surely hear about your return soon, especially since you’ve used your real identity. If she sends someone to investigate, what will you do?”

“No worries, I’ve already made preparations.”

Qin Zhao didn’t elaborate further.

Perhaps because he’d resolved a major concern, Qin Zhao seemed to be in good spirits during the return journey. He even had the leisure to chat with Jing Li and admire the snow.

Unfortunately, Jing Li hadn’t brought any clothing with him and could only stay in his fish form, carried by Qin Zhao.

“You could wear my clothes,” Qin Zhao suggested as a solution.

He still had a spare set of clothes in his travel pack.

Jing Li firmly refused, “Absolutely not!”

“What’s there to be shy about? It’s not like you’ve never worn my clothes before,” Qin Zhao said.

The little koi swished its tail and sank to the bottom of the bucket, giving Qin Zhao no chance to negotiate.

It wasn’t the same as before! Besides, they still had to ride back to the city—what would it look like if someone saw them?

Sullen but secretly pleased, the little koi wagged its tail underwater. Qin Zhao sighed helplessly, “I told you not to follow me in the first place.”

“I was worried about you,” the little koi blew some bubbles. “Anyway, no one can recognize me in fish form. If you ran into danger, I could save you, couldn’t I?”

Qin Zhao countered, “And if you got lost or encountered danger in the mountains, who would save you?”

Jing Li fell silent.

Qin Zhao halted his horse and looked down at the little koi in the bucket. “Don’t do this again, Xiao Yu.”

“Meeting me by chance this time doesn’t mean it will always turn out this way. I don’t want you risking your safety for my sake.”

“I understand…”

Calming down, Jing Li admitted that his actions had been impulsive. He swam back to the surface and said seriously, “I won’t do it again. I promise.”

“You’ve said that before,” Qin Zhao sighed, lightly touching the little koi’s head with his finger. “But this time, you’re the biggest hero, so I’ll forgive you.”

“I think I’m the biggest hero too.” The little koi swam circles around Qin Zhao’s finger, smugly saying, “If it weren’t for me, you probably wouldn’t have seen the emperor yet. I’m quite useful, aren’t I?”

“I’ve told you before, you shouldn’t—”

“—rely on the luck of a koi,” Jing Li interrupted. “I know. But I wasn’t relying on luck. I was just enjoying the occasional surprise it brings, which you also told me I should do.”

It was Qin Zhao who had taught Jing Li how to accept the advantages and influence brought by his unique traits, even as he repeatedly reminded Jing Li not to depend on them too much.

“Sometimes, you really sound like an old man,” Jing Li remarked solemnly. “You’re only in your early thirties—try showing a bit of youthful energy! Just because people call you ‘sir’ doesn’t mean you have to act like an old man.”

“…”

Qin Zhao raised an eyebrow, and the little koi immediately dove back to the bottom of the bucket, too afraid to surface again.

The two traveled at a leisurely pace, stopping occasionally, and only returned to the capital near sunset. Qin Zhao entered the city on foot, stopping at the marketplace to buy pastries and candied hawthorns for the little fish at home before carrying his koi husband back.

---

The next morning, Xiao Yue, stationed secretly near the capital with his troops, received an encrypted letter.

The letter bore no signature. As Xiao Yue opened it, a delicate jade ornament slipped out.

He recognized it immediately—it was something left by the late emperor to the current sovereign.

The letter contained a detailed account of the capital’s defensive arrangements, military deployments, and even the size of the Imperial Guards accompanying the emperor on his visit to the ancestral temple. To top it off, it thoughtfully included the sender’s proposed strategy.

Only one concise line of text followed:

“An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth.”

After reading the letter, Xiao Yue remained silent for a long time. Finally, he kicked over the brazier in front of him. “That bastard Qin Zhao used me again!”

Of course, a general of his caliber wouldn’t be easily manipulated. Even if it came down to a standoff between armies, he wouldn’t let the former regent emerge unscathed. Xiao Yue immediately sent someone to the capital to find Qin Zhao, but the news he received was that Qin Zhao’s family had already left their residence, leaving no trace behind.

---

December 16: The emperor departed for the ancestral temple for a three-day ceremony.

December 18: On the return journey, the emperor was ambushed by an unidentified group. Fortunately, the emperor was unharmed, though the Empress Dowager was greatly alarmed and ordered a thorough investigation.

The following day, General Xiao Yue suddenly arrived in the capital, claiming he had captured the assassins.

Under severe interrogation, the captured culprits confessed they had acted under the orders of a key minister aligned with the Empress Dowager.

Using this as a pretext to “purge the court of traitors,” Xiao Yue demanded a full investigation into the Empress Dowager’s faction. Naturally, the Empress Dowager refused to back down. The two clashed fiercely in the capital, with Xiao Yue ultimately stationing his army outside the city as a show of military might.

“Typical brute,” Qin Zhao commented, setting down the letter in a remote bamboo house hundreds of miles away from the capital. “He’s not even afraid of being accused of treason by the young emperor later. But things should be close to resolution now.”

Ah Qi responded, “Congratulations, sir.”

“Save your congratulations until it’s truly settled.” Qin Zhao threw the letter into the brazier, watching it burn. He turned his head and asked, “Where’s my husband?”

As soon as the words left his mouth, a voice rang out from outside. “I’m back!”

Jing Li burst into the house, rushing in with their little fish fry.

The mountain had seen a snowfall the previous night, and the two had been out exploring all morning. Snow clung to their clothes and hair, quickly melting in the warm room.

“Where have you been now?” Qin Zhao asked.

After meeting with the emperor, Qin Zhao knew he couldn’t stay in the capital for long. Thankfully, he had prepared in advance, finding a secluded mountain forest several hundred miles away and building a bamboo house there.

The house was far safer than their former residence in the capital, with intricate defenses in place. They had been living there for nearly a month.

Jing Li winked at the little fish fry, and the two loosened their clothes, spilling out a dozen small wild sweet potatoes.

“We spent ages digging these up!” Jing Li said happily. “Let’s eat them for lunch!”

“…”

No wonder the two were covered in dirt as if they’d rolled in mud—they’d been digging for sweet potatoes.

Qin Zhao chuckled.

He’d worried that Jing Li might find mountain life boring, but instead, he was thriving, enjoying daily excursions with their son to the mountains and rivers.

Qin Zhao fetched a bamboo basket and helped Jing Li gather up the sweet potatoes. “I’ll roast them. Take your son to wash up and change. Look at the two of you, filthy as stray cats.”

The father and son exchanged a glance. Jing Li relented. “Fine, but keep an eye on the fire and don’t burn them.”

Satisfied with Qin Zhao’s promise, Jing Li carried the little fish fry away.

Meanwhile, Qin Zhao and Ah Qi headed to the courtyard.

The bamboo house, hastily built, was smaller than their old home in Linxi Village. It lacked bamboo walls or a pond but had a fenced yard and a simple outdoor kitchen.

Qin Zhao brought the sweet potatoes to the stove, while Ah Qi volunteered to wash them. Qin Zhao added firewood to the stove.

By the time Ah Qi returned with the cleaned sweet potatoes, Qin Zhao had the fire going.

Roasting sweet potatoes wasn’t difficult—simply bury them in the stove’s embers. As luck would have it, thanks to Jing Li and the little fish fry’s koi-like good fortune, the sweet potatoes they’d found were exceptionally plump, better than anything sold in the capital.

Qin Zhao roasted seven or eight sweet potatoes at once. Just as he finished burying them, footsteps echoed outside the courtyard.

A young man dressed as a villager stood respectfully outside the fence. “Sir Qin, someone in the forest requests to see you.”

“…Their surname?” Qin Zhao asked.

“Qi.”

The last rays of daylight had long since faded, and in the shifting clouds of the night sky, the full moon hung like a mirror.

Lin Shuishi, drawing in sharp breaths of the cool air, stared in shock at the massive beast before him.

It was a white wolf, even larger than the grizzly bear. Its four claws were as sharp as blades, and the fur on its tendons flowed like clouds beneath its feet. The creature’s body was sleek and muscular, with an especially long mane around its neck that resembled the wild, unrestrained hair of a man.

But the wolf only showed its back to Lin Shuishi, never once turning to look at him.

Its presence sent the wolf pack into a frenzy, making them even more savage and brutal. They tore apart the still-struggling shaman, scattering blood and entrails across the ground.

The giant white wolf was even more ferocious and wild. It adjusted its stance slightly, dug its hind legs into the ground, and with a thunderous roar, charged at the grizzly bear that had killed so many. The bear, now wounded, was driven mad by the pain and the scent of blood, and despite the odds, it charged forward to meet its foe.

This kind of battle between beasts was something no human could interfere with. They clashed with their powerful bodies and sharp fangs, rolling and slamming into the ground. In moments, they had flattened a section of the forest, leaving broken trees and branches scattered everywhere. The grizzly bear’s flesh was torn by the giant wolf’s bites, its blood splattering the ground.

The villagers of Rehe, hiding behind rocks in the distance, had already been paralyzed with fear when they saw the wolves tear apart the shaman. Now, witnessing this battle between colossal beasts, they trembled uncontrollably. Even the experienced hunters from the Zheng family stood frozen in terror.

This was not a scene from the human world.

In just a few exchanges, the grizzly bear was covered in blood, its flesh hanging in shreds. The fear of death finally sobered it, and it tried to flee. But the giant wolf, with bloodied fangs, lunged at the bear’s spine. With a bone-chilling crack, the once-dominant beast suddenly went limp.

Lin Shuishi thought it was over, but to his horror, the giant wolf clenched its fangs and, with a powerful jerk of its head, tore out the bear’s entire spine, muscles and all, sending blood and flesh flying in every direction. The sight was terrifying beyond words.

A battle between beasts of this magnitude was not something a “human” could interfere with. They clashed with their powerful bodies and deadly claws, rolling and crashing into the trees. In just a short time, the forest around them was flattened, and the ground was littered with broken branches and chunks of bear flesh ripped off by the giant wolf.

Lin Shuishi’s teeth chattered, and he leaned against a tree for support, barely able to stand. His throat dry, he managed to croak out a few words, “Fu… Fuli?”

The giant wolf’s ears twitched. Still holding the bloodied spine in its mouth, it suddenly turned to look at Lin Shuishi. And for the first time, the small human leaning against the tree saw the wolf’s eyes clearly.

Those eyes were blood-red, filled with nothing but murderous intent and madness, a sight that sent chills down his spine. Two streaks of golden fur ran from the wolf’s eyes to its ears, adding to its menacing and overpowering appearance.

The giant wolf stood in place, panting heavily, and finally let go. The bear’s spine fell to the ground with a thud, echoing the fear in everyone’s hearts. No one doubted that the next one to be torn apart could be them.

But the wolf seemed to come to some realization. The cold, white moonlight illuminated the forest, casting the bloody scene into sharp relief. It finally understood that it was nothing more than a wild beast, unworthy of any delusions. No “human” would ever become a companion to a beast. It couldn’t suppress the brutality and savagery in its blood; it would end up tearing its moon apart.

The giant wolf panted, its mouth filled with the taste of blood. It cast one last, heavy glance at the small, pale-faced human standing under the tree, as if trying to etch him into its memory.

Then, with a low growl, it turned and bolted toward Dongshan mountains, disappearing in an instant. It had no lingering attachments; it didn’t belong in this world. There was no place for it among humans, nor in the eastern mountains. It would take its savagery and destruction and end it all.

Lin Shuishi watched as the terrifying giant beast gazed at him, its eyes shifting from blood-red to dark gold and back to blood-red, before finally turning away and leaping into the forest.

That last look was utterly decisive. Lin Shuishi silently sensed that if he didn’t follow, he would never see Fuli again. He would spend the rest of his life in this quiet village in the strange world, forever separated from that person.

Lin Shuishi trembled as he gasped for breath, standing alone in the dark and blood-soaked forest, bathed in the cold moonlight. His mind flashed through memories of his past and present lives, realizing that all his deepest emotions were tied to that person.

But in the end, he couldn’t even recall Fuli’s face; all he could remember was the scent of him, a scent that had imprinted itself on his soul—a scent that was strong, brooding, wild, turbulent, and sincere…

A cold wind swept through, jolting Lin Shuishi awake. He saw the Zheng family cautiously approaching in the distance, careful and wary. Uncle Zheng, as dependable as a father, was calling out to him, beckoning him to return to Rehe, to return to the human world.

But Lin Shuishi found himself unconsciously stepping back, retreating into the shadows where the moonlight couldn’t reach.

From a distance, Old Man Zheng watched as the boy, pale and dazed, shook his head while backing away into the forest. Finally, Lin Shuishi knelt down, bowed deeply, and then disappeared into the woods, running in the direction where the giant wolf had vanished.

Dongsheng was still shouting, “Shuishi, come back!” but was pulled back by Old Man Zheng. The old man’s face, illuminated by the faint moonlight, held a deep and knowing expression as he gazed into the forest. He understood many things. Ever since that imposing and unusual man appeared, he knew this day would inevitably come.

In the courtyard on the slope lived a young wolf from the mountains, a king of wild horses from the plains, a fat ram from the surrounding forests that had never been seen before—all were extraordinary creatures that did not belong to this humble mountain village. In the end, they were all destined to return to the mysterious and loving embrace of Dongshan Mountain. He had brought that child out of the mountains, allowing him to see the human world for a brief moment, and then, the child returned to the wilderness.

The night fell, the frost spread, and as Lin Shuishi stumbled and pushed on, love and fear coexisted in his heart.

Exhausted, with his hands and face scratched by dense branches and his knees scraped on the rough path, there was still a light in his eyes.

Finally, as more wolves gathered around him, they led Lin Shuishi to a quiet pool of water. He searched frantically, even shouting, calling out the name of the wild beast—Ashina Fuli.

Suddenly, the bushes behind him rustled, and a massive figure burst out, roaring as it pinned Lin Shuishi down in the shallow water, sending ripples that shattered the reflection of the moon in the center of the pool.

Half of Lin Shuishi’s body was submerged in the water, and a sharp wolf claw pressed against his heart. A slight increase in pressure could make this small human disappear into the water.

The giant beast couldn’t suppress its rage, roaring threateningly at Lin Shuishi, with its sharp teeth already against his throat. Lin Shuishi’s heart raced, the sound and rhythm of his heartbeat transmitting through the beast’s claw on his chest. His throat was dry, and his teeth clenched tightly, but when he looked up, he saw the wolf’s eyes slowly turning golden.

Breathing heavily, Lin Shuishi stared into those golden eyes, and suddenly, he lifted his arm, wrapped it around the wolf’s neck, and kissed its head.

Startled, the beast recoiled. It hesitated, caught between its human and animal instincts, and was about to flee.

But Lin Shuishi rose first, his lower body still soaked in the cold water, shivering uncontrollably. Facing the giant beast before him, he cried out.

“Fuli! I know it’s you. Don’t go.” Whether it was from the cold or from overwhelming shyness and emotion, his voice trembled, “No matter what you are! I… I’ll follow you. I understand you, submit to you, and am loyal to you, but please don’t leave.”

He had run through the desolate forest, accompanied by the howls of the mountain wolves, and love had triumphed over fear.

The beast was begging for death, all that it could not express hidden in those golden, slit-pupiled eyes.

Finally, the beast surrendered. It cautiously approached the fragile human as if afraid to breathe, panting heavily, and pressed its head against Lin Shuishi’s chest, listening to the strong heartbeat within the small body. The giant wolf carried Lin Shuishi out of the pool, and Fuli lifted his moon out of the water.

Fuli brought Lin Shuishi to the top of a cliff. He used his sharp teeth to tear away the wet clothes clinging to Lin Shuishi, curling around him, warming him with his strong wolf body and the soft fur of his belly.

Lin Shuishi lay against the wolf’s body, speaking softly, “Yes, just like this, let me slowly get used to this version of you.”

As dawn gradually broke over the cliff, Lin Shuishi leaned against the giant wolf, his eyes half-open, watching the rising red sun on the horizon with Fuli.

In his heart, he thought, this is a dangerous beast.

But it is my beast.

The loud knock at the door was accompanied by a booming voice, startling the monks inside the temple. One of them, hearing the commotion, quickly went to open the door without delay.

Standing outside was a young man dressed as an Imperial Guard, his head and shoulders dusted with snow. The moment the door was opened, he barked at the monk, “What’s taking so long? Hurry and welcome His Majesty inside! If the Emperor catches a chill, can you bear the consequences?”

The monk, who was still young and inexperienced in dealing with officials, turned pale with fear.

At that moment, a gentler voice came from outside. “Commander Yang, don’t frighten the young monk.”

Jing Li immediately recognized it as Deng Tianyou’s voice.

The lotus pond was in the center of the courtyard, partially obscured by a decorative screen, so Jing Li couldn’t see the situation outside. Swimming closer to hear better, he listened intently.

Deng Tianyou was explaining to the monk, “Don’t be alarmed, Master. The person outside is indeed His Majesty. The Emperor was on his way to the Ancestral Temple for a ceremony when he encountered this auspicious snowfall. The main road ahead is blocked. His Majesty has sent people to clear it, but in the meantime, he wishes to rest here in your temple.”

So that’s what happened.

The journey from the capital to the Ancestral Temple required crossing several mountains. Although the roads had been maintained, they were treacherous, especially in heavy snowfall like this. It was no surprise that the path ahead had become impassable.

But wasn’t it too much of a coincidence for the Emperor to be stranded near this very temple? And Qin Zhao just so happened to be here as well…

Jing Li glanced toward the main hall. The man was still seated, quietly sipping his tea, showing no reaction to the commotion outside, not even lifting an eyelid.

However, the elderly abbot who had been speaking with Qin Zhao hurried outside.

Jing Li quickly hid among the lotus leaves. Soon, he heard the abbot’s polite voice. “So it is His Majesty. My deepest apologies for our lack of preparation. I beg forgiveness from His Majesty and the officials accompanying him.”

No one dared to stop the Emperor from entering the temple. However, the imperial carriages couldn’t pass through the temple gates, so everyone traveling by horse or carriage had to dismount and proceed on foot.

The abbot greeted them with impeccable manners, while Jing Li, the koi spirit, peeked curiously from the edge of the pond.

He was finally about to see the legendary Emperor.

Since learning about their shared history from Qin Zhao, Jing Li had been eagerly anticipating this moment. He wanted to see what kind of person the Emperor, who had been raised and taught by Qin Zhao, truly was.

The little koi fish didn’t bother to hide. Straining to lift his head out of the water, he feared missing a single detail.

The first to appear were several armed guards.

Then came a young man dressed in a black brocade robe, his hair tied neatly under a crown.

The young man showed no signs of frailty. Surrounded by attendants, he looked nothing like the Emperor Jing Li had imagined. At twenty-two years old, the Emperor had delicate, refined features and an air of gentle curiosity. As the abbot explained the temple’s layout, the Emperor glanced around with interest.

He looked more like a white rabbit surrounded by wolves than the ruler of a nation.

“…”

No wonder Qin Zhao never believed it was the Emperor who had tried to harm him.

This man didn’t even look like he could kill a chicken, let alone orchestrate anything sinister.

Inside the temple hall, Qin Zhao was also watching the figure.

It had been six years since he last saw Qi Xuan. Six years was enough to change many things. He had grown taller, and his features had matured. Wearing the black dragon-embroidered robe, he finally resembled a proper ruler.

But as a monarch, he was still sorely lacking.

A ruler of a nation should not be so devoid of gravitas.

Did he think he was out for a casual stroll?

Qin Zhao withdrew his gaze just as the first few blade-wielding guards entered the temple hall.

The moment they stepped in, they spotted Qin Zhao sitting calmly to the side.

“How dare you! The Emperor has arrived, and yet you remain seated without paying your respects!” bellowed Commander Yang, his voice booming through the hall.

Commander Yang, tall and well-built, carried an air of rugged heroism between his brows. Yet, as a man of action rather than finesse, his loud voice intimidated everyone present, including the monks, who shrank back in fear.

But it was hard to blame him.

Qin Zhao’s subordinates were still tending to the horses in the rear courtyard, and the other monks had gone to the front gate to greet the Emperor. In the vast main hall, only Qin Zhao remained seated with an air of nonchalance, standing out starkly.

“Commander Yang, calm down. There’s no need to shout,” the Emperor’s voice rang out, gentle and patient. “We’re only here to take shelter from the snow for a short while. Let’s not disturb the other worshippers.”

As he spoke, the Emperor stepped onto the stone steps outside the main hall, his attention fully focused on Commander Yang, failing to notice the figure seated inside.

Commander Yang, however, was indignant. “But, Your Majesty, this man has shown you disrespect—”

The soft clink of porcelain interrupted him.

Qin Zhao had placed his teacup back onto the table, the sound ringing gently yet distinctly in the hall.

He rose from his seat and took a half-step forward. This single movement finally drew the Emperor’s attention to the unassuming man dressed plainly and exuding a strong scent of medicinal herbs.

One glance was all it took for the blood to drain from Qi Xuan’s face.

Under the Emperor’s stunned gaze, Qin Zhao lifted his robes and knelt sharply, his posture straight and resolute.

“This humble commoner pays his respects to Your Majesty,” Qin Zhao said, his clear voice echoing in the quiet, empty hall. It was soft yet carried an indescribable depth.

The Emperor did not respond.

He stood frozen, pale-faced, his eyes fixed intently on the kneeling man before him. His lips moved, but no words emerged.

Qin Zhao remained silent as well, head bowed, waiting patiently.

The atmosphere in the hall grew heavy.

The court officials accompanying the Emperor had just arrived at the hall, their expressions puzzled by the scene before them.

Earlier, in a nearby valley, the sudden snowstorm had blocked the road, forcing the Emperor’s procession to halt on their way to the Ancestral Temple. Most of the carriages, including the Empress Dowager’s, had already passed through the valley. Left behind were only the Emperor, his bodyguards, and a few officials at the end of the procession.

Now, while most of those left behind were still clearing the road, Commander Yang had escorted the Emperor and a few officials to the temple for shelter.

Among them was Deng Tianyou. Walking with the officials, he immediately recognized the figure kneeling before the Emperor.

Qin Zhao.

What on earth was happening?

Was he seeing things?

Deng Tianyou had spent countless sleepless nights planning for this ancestral ceremony, rehearsing every possible scenario. After the failure at the tea house and the unexpected snowstorm, he had already resigned himself to the likelihood that the plan would fail.

But could someone please explain to him how, while merely seeking shelter from the snow, the Emperor and the Prince Regent had ended up meeting by sheer coincidence?

Not only had they dared not plan for such an eventuality, but even in fictional stories, such a turn of events would seem too far-fetched to write.

For a moment, Deng Tianyou was at a loss, unsure how to react. Fortunately, his response wasn’t required. The Prince Regent had been absent from the capital for six years, and the court officials who had once allied with him had either been reassigned or executed. Among those present, only Deng Tianyou and the Emperor could recognize that face.

The Emperor, as if forgetting Deng Tianyou’s presence, took a deep breath and stepped forward—only to nearly collapse down the stone steps as his legs gave way.

Commander Yang reacted swiftly, stepping in to steady him.

“I’m fine… I’m fine,” the Emperor rasped, his voice hoarse. Closing his eyes briefly, he said softly, “I am tired. Abbot, take me to the guest quarters.”

Without looking at Qin Zhao again or entering the main hall, the Emperor bypassed it entirely, heading directly to the inner courtyard.

---

By midday, the mountain winds and snow had finally lessened.

Qin Zhao made his way through the temple corridors to the tightly guarded inner courtyard. As he approached, he was stopped by none other than Commander Yang.

“You again?” Commander Yang snapped irritably. “The Emperor is resting inside. What are you doing here?”

Qin Zhao replied calmly, “This humble commoner wishes to request an audience with His Majesty.”

“The Emperor isn’t someone you can meet just because you wish to!” Commander Yang barked impatiently. “Leave now, or I’ll have you arrested as an assassin!”

Qin Zhao, unfazed, continued evenly, “Please inform His Majesty that I am Qin Zhao, the top scholar of Jiangling Prefecture this year, with some knowledge of medicine. I’ve heard of His Majesty’s prolonged illness and humbly offer my services for a diagnosis.”

Commander Yang hardly listened and waved dismissively. “The Emperor will see no one. Leave!”

No sooner had he spoken than the door to the main chamber opened, and a maid stepped out. “Commander Yang, His Majesty has instructed that this gentleman be invited inside.”

“What?”

A directive from the maid was effectively an imperial order, and the commander had no choice but to comply.

But instead of obeying, Commander Yang retorted, “The Emperor is unwell. How can we let an outsider see him so casually? If anything happens, will you bear the consequences?”

Qin Zhao frowned.

A mere commander daring to challenge the Emperor’s orders? What kind of ruler tolerated such insubordination?

Before Qin Zhao could respond, another figure emerged from the room.

Deng Tianyou strode quickly to the gate, speaking in a conciliatory tone to Commander Yang. “Commander, this is Qin Zhao, whom I have met before. I can vouch for him. Qin Zhao is highly skilled in medicine. I have already consulted His Majesty, and His Majesty has agreed to let Qin Zhao take his pulse. I ask for your cooperation.”

With the Emperor issuing the order twice, Commander Yang, though clearly reluctant, could no longer refuse.

He huffed coldly and stepped aside. “Fine. Go in.”

Qin Zhao bowed respectfully and stepped into the main room.

The guest quarters of this mountain temple were modest, with sparse furnishings that left little to the imagination. The room was quiet, and as Qin Zhao closed the door, his gaze fell on the young man seated on the low couch.

Approaching him, Qin Zhao bowed again. “Your Majesty, this humble commoner has arrived.”

The Emperor kept his head lowered, responding with a muffled acknowledgment but saying nothing further.

Qin Zhao frowned slightly but remained patient. “Please extend your hand, Your Majesty, so I may check your pulse.”

He took a wrist rest from his medicine box and placed it on the small table beside the Emperor.

The Emperor obediently extended his hand, allowing Qin Zhao to take his pulse.

After a moment, Qin Zhao withdrew his hand. “Your Majesty’s health is normal, but you must maintain a calm and steady mindset. Avoid emotional extremes and overthinking.”

“What… what do you mean by ‘overthinking’?”

“Relax, don’t be so tense,” Qin Zhao sighed. “Qi Xuan, after all these years, you’re still the same—hiding whenever something happens. Is this how you rule as Emperor?”

Qi Xuan instinctively straightened his posture, sitting rigidly upright.

Qin Zhao felt a headache coming on.

After all these years apart, he had hoped Qi Xuan would have grown more assertive. But here he was, still the same timid and hesitant figure.

When they briefly met in the temple hall earlier, Qin Zhao had thought the Emperor would come find him. Yet as noon approached, he received no word, forcing him to take the initiative.

… If he waited any longer, his husband back home might starve.

Qin Zhao decided not to waste any more time and cut to the chase. “There are rumors circulating that you’re gravely ill. What’s going on?”

“I… I’m not sick,” Qi Xuan muttered. “It’s the Empress Dowager…”

Just as Qin Zhao suspected.

The Empress Dowager had been orchestrating the situation, using the Emperor’s supposed illness as a front.

“Has the Empress Dowager been managing state affairs behind the scenes all these years?” Qin Zhao asked.

It wasn’t difficult to deduce. If the Emperor had even a modicum of authority, his guards wouldn’t have grown as arrogant and insubordinate as they were—ignoring their sovereign’s orders outright.

Qi Xuan lowered his gaze, remaining silent.

“You don’t seem particularly surprised to see me alive,” Qin Zhao remarked. “How much do you know about what happened back then?”

Qi Xuan hesitated before responding. “It was the Empress Dowager who ordered the attempt on your life. I only learned of it after you left for Jiangling. She had intercepted my messages, and by the time my men reached you, you were already gone.”

“My people found traces of your fall by the cliff. They searched along the river but couldn’t find you.”

At that time, Qin Zhao had already been rescued by Chen Yan’an.

Qi Xuan continued, “Later, the Empress Dowager sent people to look for you several more times, but when they found nothing, she assumed you had died.”

“So you weren’t aware of the poison I was inflicted with?” Qin Zhao asked.

“Poison?” Qi Xuan’s expression shifted to one of genuine shock. “What poison? You were poisoned?”

Qin Zhao didn’t answer.

Qin Zhao stared at the young man in front of him for a moment before averting his gaze. “Forget it. Let’s not talk about that for now. The snow is almost stopping, and you’ll likely be setting off soon. Let’s discuss the important matters first.”

“… Do you still want to be Emperor?”

The scene was rather surreal—this former Prince Regent, now a commoner, openly asking the reigning Emperor such a question, as if it were a casual matter to negotiate.

Even Qi Xuan was momentarily stunned before responding in confusion, “Can I choose not to?”

“You can,” Qin Zhao replied flatly. “But only if you die.”

“I want to!” Qi Xuan replied without hesitation.

Qin Zhao nodded slightly, seemingly satisfied. “When you return, forget everything that happened here. Do nothing unnecessary. Soon, there will be upheaval in the capital. Once it passes, you should be able to focus on being a proper Emperor.”

Qi Xuan hesitated and probed cautiously, “You… are you planning to assassinate the Empress Dowager?”

“You don’t need to know the specifics,” Qin Zhao said. “However, before that, I’ll need something from you—something to prove my identity.”

Qi Xuan, ever cooperative, rummaged through his belongings before untying a jade pendant from his waist and handing it to Qin Zhao.

Qin Zhao accepted the jade and tucked it away before pulling out a sheet of paper from his medicine box, quickly jotting down a prescription. “The fact that I’ve treated you will likely reach the Empress Dowager once the roads are cleared. This prescription is for strengthening your body—an excuse to allay any suspicion.”

“Will the Empress Dowager believe it?” Qi Xuan asked cautiously.

Qin Zhao looked up at him, and Qi Xuan quickly added, “I mean no disrespect. I’m just worried… if the Empress Dowager learns that someone got close to me, she might become suspicious. Your safety…”

“Rest assured, Your Majesty,” Qin Zhao said. “This humble commoner has his own plans.”

Packing up his things, Qin Zhao rose to leave. As he reached the door, he paused, as if recalling something.

“Is there anything else?” Qi Xuan asked.

“There is,” Qin Zhao said. “Your Majesty, could you arrange for someone to fetch me a wooden bucket?”

“A wooden bucket?”

“Yes. It doesn’t need to be large, just big enough to hold water.”

---

Jing Li swam aimlessly in the lotus pond, bored out of his mind.

The temple’s backyard had no accessible water source, so he couldn’t explore beyond the pond. Ever since the Emperor entered the temple, guards had been stationed everywhere, making it impossible for any idle person to linger in the courtyard.

By now, it was nearly noon, yet there was still no news.

What’s taking so long…

Jing Li’s stomach rumbled with hunger as he flicked his fins in frustration.

He hadn’t eaten anything all morning.

As he sulked, he noticed someone approaching from the distance.

It was Qin Zhao.

Startled, the little koi quickly darted under the lotus leaves to hide.

The water surface remained calm for a long time. Peeking out cautiously, Jing Li slowly poked his head above the water—only to lock eyes with Qin Zhao.

Jing Li: “…”

“I saw you ages ago. Why are you hiding?” Qin Zhao raised an eyebrow, setting a wooden bucket filled with clean water by the edge of the pond. With a faint smile, he said, “Come on, silly thing. It’s time to go home.”

Early in the morning, Lin Shuishi got up with messy hair, swollen lips, and a small piece of skin bitten off the corner of his mouth. He looked dazed and decided that he would never do such a thing again! In the end, he was the one who suffered, while the other person had already disappeared without a trace.

At that moment, Fuli was leaping through the mountains, his blood surging after such an entanglement. His entire body ached to transform, with his bones calling out for change. He had known that the full moon was approaching and that on this night, when the moon would fill the sky, he shouldn’t return to the human by his side. But despite this, he couldn’t resist going down the mountain and entering the house.

This only hastened the primal beast within him, compelling him to flee in disarray under the cover of night.

His moon was still in the water; if he reached out to grasp it, it would scatter. Even the fiercest and most cunning beast in the mountains harbored fear in its heart, feeling both humiliated and terrified, so in the end, it retreated.

In the morning, frost still lingered on the ground, blanketing everything in a white layer. The little wolf and the black horse slept soundly by the stove, their furry bellies rising and falling with soft snores.

Lin Shuishi was in the courtyard, preparing the game that Fuli had brought back the previous night, dividing it into portions to give to the households he hadn’t yet reciprocated with gifts. It was a roe deer, and skinning it took some time. By the time he was nearly done, it was already afternoon.

The day was somewhat overcast, with the sky a leaden gray, casting a dull shadow over the surroundings. The horse and wolf cub had long since woken up, and being wild animals, they disliked being confined to one place for too long, so they went up the mountain to frolic.

After dumping a basin of dirty water, Lin Shuishi stood at the gate and heard a commotion coming from the village entrance. It was winter, and such gatherings were rare in the village. As he looked closely, he was shocked to see that the group was heading toward his house. He soon realized that the people from Yuanshan Village were among them.

Some villagers surrounded the old village chief of Rehe, insisting on what the shaman had decreed about sacrificing to the wolf god. The group was now approaching Lin Shuishi’s residence. The situation was so serious that the people of Rehe Village came out in force. The old village chief, full of vigor, stepped out of his warm house and blocked the group, demanding to know their intentions.

Lin Shuishi saw the group stop near the village entrance, arguing with the villagers of Rehe. Aunt Qi saw an opening and hurried up the slope, pulling Lin Shuishi into the house. “Quick, hide somewhere, those heartless people brought a shaman with them, saying that the wolf god was angered and the sacrifice cannot be lost. You need to hide.”

The people of Zheng’s family also came out, and with both villages gathered in one place, things quickly grew tense.

The shaman, seeing how united the people of Rehe Village were and how stubborn the old village chief was, insisted that they should not allow the group to search for and take anyone away.

The shaman’s eyes shifted cunningly. “Hmph, you ignorant commoners, do you know the consequences of offending the Wolf God? How dare you harbor the sacrifice!”

Some people hesitated upon hearing this, but the members of the Zheng family, nearly bursting with anger, were ready to fight. However, they were held back by their neighbors. The old village chief of Rehe Village laughed heartily, “Ridiculous! Our village of Rehe has always enjoyed the blessings of the Wolf God, coexisting peacefully with the creatures of Dongshan Mountain. This has allowed us to thrive and multiply. It is your greed that leads you to demand the living sacrifice of someone from our village.”

The old village chief struck the ground with his cane, thumping his chest. “That is not going to happen!”

Old Man Zheng added, “Shuishi is the only surviving bloodline of Brother Lin. Back in the day, Brother Lin helped so many people in Rehe and saved many families from disaster. Now, we absolutely cannot allow his child to be bullied. I’m telling you right now, if you want to take him, you’ll have to deal with me first!”

Everyone knew that if Shuishi were taken away again, it would surely be a death sentence. Some recalled the boy’s kindness, how he always smiled and had even made rice cakes to give as New Year’s gifts to the neighbors.

Others, however, thought of the Wolf God’s wrath. The people of Rehe had grown up hearing stories of how the Wolf God saved villagers, filling them with both reverence and fear for Dongshan Mountain.

The situation became tense, with the two villages on the brink of a confrontation. But the shaman didn’t care if things turned violent; he raised his voice and shouted, “Hurry up and bring him to me! If you delay, and the Wolf God becomes angry, none of you will escape!”

Hearing this, the people of Yuanshan Village, recalling the fear and suffering they had endured, gritted their teeth, grabbed their weapons, and prepared to storm the village.

At that moment, someone shouted, “Stop!”

A young man emerged from the crowd of Rehe villagers. He was delicate-looking, with fair skin and a faint pregnancy mark on his brow.

Old Man Zheng was alarmed, “Shuishi, why are you here? Go back inside!” But the wife of the Sun family glared at him and demanded, “Tell us, where did you take your uncle?”

Ignoring her, Lin Shuishi walked straight up to the village chief of Yuanshan. He recognized the man from the day he was taken; he had been respectfully following behind that “old rat of a shaman,” orchestrating the whole sacrificial ceremony.

Lin Shuishi wasn’t afraid of returning to Dongshan Mountain to be sacrificed; after all, the wolf pack there was part of Fuli’s lineage, and they were a group of dear friends. But he needed to ensure a way out for himself.

“I went to Dongshan Mountain to be sacrificed, but I was so cold and delirious that I encountered the Wolf God. He told me that the Wolf God cherishes life and protects Dongshan Mountain, but the people of Yuanshan have come here to kill indiscriminately. This is a grudge he will not forget! He ordered me, an innocent person, to return, because with a body as weak as mine, how else could I have survived the beasts of Dongshan Mountain and come back alive?”

Upon hearing this, the crowd grew even more agitated, especially the villagers from Yuanshan, who immediately became anxious. However, the shaman knew that Lin Shuishi was spouting nonsense—there was no Wolf God, just a fabricated story to deceive the ignorant villagers. But this little boy had managed to exploit that lie!

“Hmph! Nonsense from a mere child! The Wolf God is clearly furious that you escaped and is ready to bring calamity upon both villages. Seize him at once and take him away!”

The priest wouldn’t allow Lin Shuishi to speak any further and immediately incited the two villages to clash. Lin Shuishi grew anxious; he didn’t care much about the people of Yuanshan, but the villagers of REHE, especially the Zheng family, had treated him well. If a fight broke out, it would end badly for everyone. He decided it was better to return to Dongshan Mountain.

So, without hesitation, Lin Shuishi urged the villagers not to act rashly and then followed the people from Yuanshan Village.

The Zheng family and several villagers from Rehe, unwilling to let things go, secretly followed behind, hoping to find an opportunity to intervene.

As the group moved along, the shaman ordered that Lin Shuishi be tied up, intending to take him back and present this “anomaly” to his superiors. They weren’t heading towards Dongshan Mountain at all, instead claiming they needed to perform another ritual at the temple.

Lin Shuishi immediately sensed something was wrong. He had already hidden a sharp bone shard in his palm, planning to cut through the ropes binding his hands and escape into the dense forest, where he could easily disappear.

But before he could act, the situation took a sudden turn.

The howls of wolves, growing closer and closer, echoed through the forest as if a pack was swiftly approaching from afar. Nearby, the rustling of the forest revealed a group of wolves, their coats varying in color, emerging from the underbrush. They bared their teeth menacingly, surrounding the group and blocking all paths.

Panic set in immediately! Except for the shaman, the rest of the group was composed of villagers from Yuanshan, who, upon seeing the wolves, felt their legs go weak, their minds flashing back to the bloody scenes in their livestock pens and the memories of wolves attacking their village.

Lin Shuishi quickly scanned the area but didn’t see Fuli, only a wolf that appeared to be from the white wolf pack guarding the area. While the people were in disarray, the wolf quietly approached Lin Shuishi and bit through the ropes on his hands, which he had partially cut earlier.

However, the commotion caused by the wolves also attracted the attention of another predator lurking in the mountain. As the two sides were at a standoff, an ear-splitting roar echoed from the depths of the forest, followed by the sound of snapping branches and leaves as the beast made its presence known.

Not far behind, Old Zheng suddenly caught his breath. Most of the villagers from Rehe had quickly retreated after seeing the wolf pack, but those who remained were determined to rescue Lin Shuishi. They had deep ties with Lin Shuishi’s father and knew the cause of his death. This was the same giant bear that had killed Lin Shuishi’s parents!

The bear ahead was massive and ferocious! When it stood up, it was over two meters tall, and one of its ears had been chopped off by a human hunter it had killed, making it look even more savage. Its mouth snarled, revealing that it was a beast that had grown accustomed to the taste of human flesh.

The wolf pack carefully defended themselves, and the white wolf silently positioned itself in front of Lin Shuishi. The shaman, realizing the situation was dire, immediately turned to flee. The wolves could not let him escape and immediately pounced on him. The grizzly bear, smelling blood, was driven into a frenzy and, with a single swipe, broke a thick tree before charging straight at the group of people.

The white wolf protected Lin Shuishi and began to run, but the shaman, who had managed to break free from a few of the wolves, picked up the severed arm of a villager that the bear had torn off and threw it toward Lin Shuishi.

In no time, the villagers were either dead or gravely injured by the bear’s attacks, all lying on the ground. With no more moving targets in sight, the bear’s attention was instantly drawn to the bloodied arm thrown before it, and it turned its gaze to the white wolf and Lin Shuishi fleeing into the forest.

The bear roared, its mouth dripping with fresh blood, and lunged toward Lin Shuishi.

The few people from Rehe Village who witnessed this scene were filled with dread. They knew they couldn’t stop the giant bear in time, and even if they could, none dared to try. Even Old Zheng held back Dongsheng, who was ready to charge forward, gritting his teeth as he shook his head. Rushing to certain death would be foolish!

The shaman, after throwing the severed arm and drawing the bear away, tried to escape but was quickly caught by the wolves, who tore him apart, leaving him a bloody mess. The white wolf tried to block the bear, but it was still young and was knocked aside with a single swipe of the bear’s paw, crashing into a tree and unable to rise.

The grizzly bear lunged, its claws about to tear open Lin Shuishi’s back!

Just then, a blur shot out from the forest, leaping over Lin Shuishi, and with a loud “thud,” collided with the massive bear. In the powerful impact of the collision, there seemed to be the sound of bones breaking.

The bear howled as it was sent flying. The blur also came to a stop, finally allowing Lin Shuishi to see it clearly.

All the fierce roars of the beasts and the pitiful cries of the humans around him slowly faded from Lin Shuishi’s ears. At this moment, it was as if he were watching a slow, silent film.

Standing—no, crouching—before him was Fuli, yet it wasn’t Fuli.

In an instant, its bones had shifted, transforming from the tall and robust human form into a fierce beast.

Just like in his dreams…

Beyond the Great Wall, the winter was bitterly cold. The wind and snow, mixed with flying sand, battered against the thick curtains of a military tent.

Inside, a middle-aged man dressed in a feathered robe and wearing a golden crown adorned with beast horns was kneeling upright before a blood-red jade tablet. He carefully held a black arrow in his hand, closed his blue eyes, and bowed low in reverence.

“Reporting to the Grand Shaman, the location for the palace construction has been selected. We await your permission to present the ancestral arrow to our king, who will shoot it to establish the main palace’s position,” a soldier said respectfully, approaching to retrieve the arrow. However, the middle-aged man put away the black arrow and casually handed the soldier a different arrow from a silk box brought by an attendant.

“Take this and go,” he said with a dismissive wave, then resumed his meditation on the prayer mat.

The soldier accepted the silk box and glanced at the arrow inside. Although it was made of gold, it appeared quite ordinary. “This… may I ask, Grand Shaman, is this really…” But before he could finish, the middle-aged man slightly opened his blue eyes, and the sharpness in that small glance made the soldier quickly fall silent. He carefully closed the box and respectfully exited the tent.

As the soldier stepped outside, he noticed a tall, thin man with a pallid face kneeling by the tent’s entrance. The man seemed completely impervious to the cold, as if his senses were dulled to the extreme. His face was a purplish hue, and his skin appeared dry and withered. The soldier knew that the Grand Shaman was known for his mysterious and eerie practices—who knew what kind of dark magic this was! Quickening his pace, the soldier hurried away from the area.

Inside the tent, a faint noise was heard, prompting the purple-faced man to rise and enter. His movements were stiff. Once inside, he knelt again, crossing his arms over his chest in a gesture of respect. In a hoarse voice, he reported, “Master, a squad of vine-armored soldiers has gone missing in the Central Plains. The secret arts cannot establish contact.”

The middle-aged man sat up, pondering for a moment. “Where exactly was contact lost?”

“The last communication was near the northern region of Dingping Prefecture.”

“Dingping area?” He mused over the current complicated situation, thinking that they might have encountered some local force. However, the two prefectures around Dingping were still guarded by capable generals, making it difficult to act openly.

“Stir up the spies we’ve placed there, and send another squad of falcons. Be cautious in your investigation. If it was a mistake, let it be, but if the vine-armored soldiers have truly found the main target, we may not be able to capture them immediately. We’ll need to think of other strategies.”

The purple-faced man acknowledged the order with a respectful bow and left the tent. Braving the wind, snow, and sand, he remained expressionless as he assigned men to head for the Central Plains, thousands of miles away.

In the desolate skies over the Gobi Desert, hawks soared through the wind like bolts of lightning, circling above, their sharp eyes scanning the barren land below for any sign of life or desire.

Meanwhile, in a small mountain village in the northern Central Plains, the only birds in the blue sky were sparrows searching for food. Unlike the hawks, they had no sharp beaks or talons and could only chirp as they landed on the courtyard walls of peasant homes, waiting for a chance to steal some food. At that moment, someone rushed in, crying and knocking on the door, scaring the sparrows away with a flutter. After a while, they returned to their watchful perches.

The person who had come crying was none other than Lin Shuishi’s aunt. Awhile ago, she and Ru Ge’er had exchanged a few words with Bighead Sun, who left in a huff to Rehe village and never returned, leaving the two of them waiting anxiously.

Who would have thought they’d be waiting for so many days! Ru Ge’er couldn’t wait any longer. If too much time passed and the lord found someone else he fancied, things would turn bad for him. So, he decided to leave everything behind and follow the house guards sent by the city to fetch the concubine. This left his mother alone, who then ran to the village chief’s house, crying and wailing.

The village chief, irritated by the weeping woman who kept glancing at him with a fierce look, felt a surge of resentment. He had initially planned to buy an orphan with no ties and offer them as a sacrifice to the wolves on Dongshan to settle the matter. But who would have thought that this couple insisted on selling Lin Shuishi, asking for only five taels of silver, claiming it was their contribution to the village?

At the time, he didn’t think much of it. The local shaman was pressing for a person, and the price was cheap, so he agreed. But who knew it would cause so many problems later on! Lin Shuishi was an orphan with a weak and greedy uncle, but he still had friends of his father and old acquaintances of his mother. When they came looking for him, it gave the village chief quite a headache.

Now, he had heard that Lin Shuishi had been brought down from the mountain by those old friends. What a waste of effort! The sacrificial offering escaped, and how could the wolf pack remain peaceful? The villagers were terrified every time they heard the wolves howl. Just recently, the wolves’ howls echoed all over the mountains, scaring several families from the distant mountain village into moving away. If this continued, he wouldn’t need to be the village chief anymore!

“Chief, you have to stand up for us! Our Old Sun is so timid, never daring to offend anyone. Now he’s missing, dead or alive, isn’t it all the fault of those people from Rehe? Our family only sacrificed the child for the village to appease the wolves, and now we’re being bullied like this!” she cried, her wailing continuing as even the village chief’s wife couldn’t console her.

“Now that the wolf problem hasn’t been solved, I think we should bring Lin Shuishi back and have the shaman perform another ritual!”

Hearing her earlier complaints, the village chief initially sneered inwardly. This couple had sold their orphaned nephew for money and now came to him pretending to be the victims! But when he heard the last part, his mind began to turn.

No one cared about Bighead Sun’s fate, but if it was to stabilize the villagers and ensure he could continue to comfortably be the village’s local tyrant, it might be worth a try.

He rolled his eyes and had his wife help the woman up. “Mrs. Sun, the village can’t ignore this matter. After all, it was for the wolf sacrifice. Now that something has gone wrong, we need to bring in the shaman to ask for guidance so we can all be at peace.”

Hearing that there was hope, Bighead Sun’s wife instantly stopped crying, quickly thanked him, and went home to wait for news. After Ru Ge’er left, she searched everywhere but couldn’t find her husband. She had thought of going to the county town to find her brother, who worked in the government office, but hearing that there were many refugees outside the city and that it was chaotic, she didn’t dare take action and returned home to wait.

As soon as she left, the village chief’s house fell silent. His wife, a bit worried, asked, “Are you sure about this? Inviting the shaman isn’t cheap, and we’ll need to buy someone for the sacrifice. The village can’t afford that right now.”

The village chief waved her concerns away. “You don’t understand. We’ll see what the shaman says when the time comes. Buy someone? Why bother with that when we already have someone ready? Even though many villagers have left, there are still plenty of strong men here. Do you think we can’t handle a few hunters from Rehe?”

With that in mind, he hurriedly gathered a few men while it was still daylight and went to the nearby temple to invite the shaman over.

The shaman at the temple was a charlatan, with only a basic understanding of divination and feng shui, learned from a few teachers. He set up his altar and performed rituals, deceiving people into believing he had divine powers. Many had died under his watch, but he always managed to shift the blame onto spirits and demons, taking advantage of the ignorance of the people in these small villages.

However, things hadn’t been going well for him lately. There had been some unrest in the south, and with people on edge, it was hard for him to find work. More importantly, his master, who had taught him all these tricks, had tasked him with keeping an eye out for any strange occurrences and reporting them. If he failed to do this, his career would be over.

So, when the people from Yuanshan Village came to him, saying that the sacrificial offering meant for Dongshan had returned alive, he was secretly pleased. This was an opportunity! Not only could he extort more money, but he could also investigate this strange occurrence. If he confirmed anything unusual, he could capture the person and deliver them to his master, earning himself some credit in the process.

With this in mind, the shaman chuckled to himself, prepared his robes, and grabbed his nearly bald whisk. Stroking his beard, he left the temple and was “carried with divine grace” by the villagers all the way to Yuanshan Village, a journey that took a full day and night.

Meanwhile, in Rehe Village, Lin Shuishi had been busy these past few days. He was preparing supplies for the New Year and building nests for the newly hatched gray chicks. Fuli had also been helping with the heavy lifting around the house. He had become quite adept at carrying water and chopping wood. He even started sitting by the stove to tend the fire while Lin Shuishi cooked.

The atmosphere between the two was thick with unspoken tension. Fuli often stared at Lin Shuishi, even when he was awkwardly crouched by the crackling fire, adding wood. He would steal glances at the smaller figure, who was busy cooking with sleeves rolled up, sweat glistening on his face. Sometimes, the wood would burn through, and the end would fall out of the stove, causing Fuli to scramble to fix it. He didn’t mind the heat, picking up the glowing embers with his bare hands and shoving them back into the stove. Lin Shuishi would always scold him, frowning and puffing out his cheeks, telling him to let go because the fire would burn him.

After discovering Fuli’s digestive issues, Lin Shuishi no longer had him eat the same meals. Instead, when Fuli was tending the fire, Lin Shuishi would occasionally fish out a few tasty pieces of meat from the hot pot, blow on them to cool them down, and then turn around to feed them to Fuli.

Sometimes, in the middle of the night, Lin Shuishi would half-open his sleepy eyes and see Fuli gazing at him with intense focus, or feel him leaning over to sniff him. Fuli’s large, imposing figure would block the light from the oil lamp, casting a shadow over Lin Shuishi.

Lin Shuishi’s heart would ache and soften. Occasionally, he would glance back at Fuli, their eyes locking in a gaze that neither could break. They would stare at each other for a long time, until Lin Shuishi’s face flushed with heat, his body warming up. Then, he would quickly pull the blanket over his head and hide away with a muffled sound.

A few days later, Lin Shuishi finally finished the edges of his wolf-fur sweater. On the day of the New Year, he happily put it on. It was warm and lightweight, just as he had hoped.

But that night, things took an unexpected turn. Lin Shuishi took off his thick outer cotton coat, wearing only the wolf-fur sweater underneath as he slipped into bed. He sighed contentedly, ready to sleep.

When Fuli returned, he hung the freshly bled prey on the wooden pole in the side room, waiting for Lin Shuishi to boil water the next day and take care of it. He shook off the snow and cold air from his body and entered the main room, lifting Lin Shuishi’s blanket to press his face close.

But as soon as he leaned in toward the pillow, he paused, his nose twitching, his expression turning dangerous and agitated. He had caught the scent of another male wolf on Lin Shuishi. With a low growl, Fuli leaped onto the bed, pinning Lin Shuishi beneath him.

Startled, Lin Shuishi was instantly wide awake. He saw Fuli lunging toward him, and before he knew it, the man’s fingers had extended into something sharp, easily slicing through the sweater Lin Shuishi was wearing. With a rough tug, Fuli ripped the wolf-fur sweater off and flung it far away.

Then, Fuli’s chest emitted a series of growls, and he bared his fangs, rubbing himself vigorously against Lin Shuishi, marking him with his own scent. It took Lin Shuishi a moment to realize what was happening. But by then, he was already naked, being thoroughly rubbed all over!

This left Lin Shuishi both embarrassed and annoyed. Apparently, Fuli could wear wolf fur, but he couldn’t! No matter how many times he had washed that sweater, Fuli could still smell the scent!

After a long while of rubbing, Fuli suddenly sat up, lifting Lin Shuishi into his arms and holding him up close. The moon outside was nearly full, and by the light filtering through the window, he spoke.

“Moon.”

Lin Shuishi, who had been pushing against Fuli’s broad shoulders, was stunned. “What?”

Fuli’s voice was deep and resonant. “My moon.”

Lin Shuishi’s breath caught in his throat, his heart racing. He looked into those warm, dark golden eyes and was at a loss for words.

It wasn’t until Fuli buried his head in Lin Shuishi’s chest, listening intently to the frantic heartbeat within, that Lin Shuishi lifted his arms, gently cupped Fuli’s rugged, wild face, and cautiously leaned in for a kiss.

Fuli froze, his muscles tensing up. For a long moment, he didn’t move, but then he tightened his embrace, holding onto his moon.

The mountain village was quiet and secluded, with only the occasional interaction between neighbors. Life was simple, filled with daily routines of eating and drinking.

In these simple and peaceful days, Lin Shuishi thought that life would continue in this tranquil rhythm, a thought that brought him contentment and joy.

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A few days prior, a public notice had been posted in the capital, announcing that the Emperor would depart for the Ancestral Temple today at si hour (9-11 AM). The main roads of the city and the city gates along the Emperor’s route would be closed and cleared starting from chen hour (7-9 AM).

As such, Qin Zhao had to leave the city before chen hour.

Once outside the city, time became less of a constraint.

Qin Zhao’s prepared carriage exited the city and traveled along the official road for about half an hour before stopping at a teahouse.

This teahouse was situated conveniently by the roadside on the way to the Ancestral Temple. Its location offered excellent visibility in all directions. Although it was still early, a few patrons were already chatting inside. When Qin Zhao entered, they acted as if they hadn’t noticed him, not even sparing him a glance.

The teahouse owner stepped forward to greet Qin Zhao. Without needing any explanation, the owner led him to the most private and best-placed room on the second floor.

“Rest assured, sir. Everything here has been taken care of, and everyone present is one of our own,” the owner said as he served a pot of tea before discreetly leaving.

Over the past half month, Qin Zhao had meticulously arranged for all the personnel he might encounter on this mission. To ensure security, each individual only knew their specific task and was unaware of the bigger picture or who they were ultimately working for.

Qin Zhao stood by the window, observing for a moment. Once he was certain there were no anomalies, he closed the shutters and retrieved a patched, coarse cloth robe from his luggage.

Today, he was to play the role of a wandering physician, a healer known for traveling far and wide to save lives.

For the past few months, the young Emperor’s illness had not improved, leaving the court officials worried and restless. Many had recommended renowned physicians to the palace, but they were all turned away by the Empress Dowager and the Imperial Medical Bureau.

Frustrated by their inability to send anyone in, the officials had grown increasingly vocal in their criticisms.

Now, with the Emperor traveling to the Ancestral Temple, Deng Yuyou had seized the opportunity to recommend this “divine healer.” While unexpected, it was, in hindsight, a move that made perfect sense to the court officials.

The robe had been pretreated with medicinal herbs, and as Qin Zhao put it on, the pungent, herbal scent enveloped him. He now fully looked the part of a physician accustomed to working with herbs.

In addition to the robe, he carried a medicine chest containing various jars and ointments essential for a traveling healer.

These items had all been prepared by Jing Li.

Jing Li often felt he couldn’t contribute much, but Qin Zhao believed otherwise. Along this journey, Jing Li had been his greatest support. Having such a capable and beautiful companion was, to Qin Zhao, a great blessing—though the little guy could sometimes be stubborn and a bit silly.

Thinking of Jing Li now, Qin Zhao began to feel uneasy.

He hadn’t allowed Jing Li to accompany him on this mission, partly to ensure Jing Li’s safety and partly to execute the plan flawlessly. He had explained this to him several times, but every time the topic came up, Jing Li insisted he could disguise himself and follow, refusing to agree otherwise.

If Jing Li truly disguised himself and tagged along, Qin Zhao doubted he could focus entirely on the plan.

…Worrying about him was already enough to distract him.

Though Jing Li eventually agreed to stay home, the expression on his face when he bid Qin Zhao farewell this morning made it clear he wasn’t happy about it.

Qin Zhao sighed. When he returned, who knew how long it would take to coax him back into a good mood?

He sipped his tea, already dreading the challenges of the days ahead.

Qin Zhao waited in the teahouse for over half an hour. By si hour and three-quarters (10:45 AM), a cloud of dust rose in the distance along the mountain path.

The Emperor’s ancestral rituals were a grand event, accompanied by numerous officials and guards. These individuals departed the city in staggered groups, per the Ministry of Rites’ arrangements. Historical records noted that the most extravagant ancestral ceremony in this dynasty saw the procession stretch from the imperial city gates all the way into the countryside—a scene rivaling the grandeur of the founding Emperor’s triumphant march into the capital.

What Qin Zhao now observed seemed to be the vanguard of this year’s ceremonial procession.

The ancestral worship procession consisted of numerous carriages and horses, with rest stops planned along the way for resupply. This teahouse was one such stop. According to the plan, Deng Yuyou had bribed a young eunuch close to the Emperor to ensure the procession would pause here briefly.

This would be Qin Zhao’s opportunity to meet the young Emperor.

Qin Zhao partially closed the window beside him and waited quietly.

The tea on the table boiled softly, but the sound was completely drowned out by the clatter of hooves and footsteps outside the relay station. The vanguard of the guards passed quickly, followed by the Minister of Rites, and next—

Qin Zhao peered through the narrow gap in the window, his eyes narrowing slightly.

Following the Minister of Rites, the Emperor’s palanquin should have appeared.

But instead of the Emperor’s carriage, it was… the Empress Dowager’s phoenix sedan.

In this dynasty, black was the color of highest honor. Through the layers of black gauze draped over the phoenix sedan, one could vaguely see a regal woman seated inside, engrossed in reading something. As the sedan passed the teahouse, she seemed to sense something, briefly lifting her gaze toward the second floor.

The windows on the teahouse’s second floor were all partially shut, revealing no suspicious activity from the procession’s vantage point.

The Empress Dowager lowered her gaze again and spoke softly, “Changshun.”

“Here, Your Majesty,” the elderly eunuch beside her responded promptly.

The Empress Dowager’s voice was light, almost youthful, but carried an innate authority. “Pass down the order. The weather today looks ominous—there may be rain later. Tell them to hurry and not linger unnecessarily.”

“Understood, Your Majesty.”

As the eunuch turned to leave, she added, “And send someone to search all the relay stations and teahouses along the route. The Emperor is frail—ensure no miscreants take advantage of the situation.”

The Empress Dowager’s decree quickly spread. By the time Deng Yuyou heard about it from the imperial guards, several relay stations and teahouses had already been searched, including the one where Qin Zhao was hiding.

Deng Yuyou sat restlessly in his carriage, holding his breath and listening intently for any commotion, fearing a report of suspicious individuals being caught.

But none came.

Even after the procession left the relay station’s vicinity, no new developments were reported.

Letting out a long sigh, Deng Yuyou realized his palms were slick with sweat.

Not far away, Qin Zhao emerged from the dense underbrush. The teahouse owner, who had been waiting for him, approached and asked, “Sir, what should we do now?”

Watching the departing procession, Qin Zhao remarked dryly, “It seems luck isn’t on my side today.”

Was it because he didn’t bring his little husband along?

Traditionally, only the reigning Empress was permitted to accompany the Emperor for ancestral worship. Other consorts, including the Empress Dowager, were prohibited. Moreover, prior to today, the royal family had explicitly stated that the Empress Dowager would remain in the capital and not join the ceremony.

Clearly, plans had changed.

Yet, Qin Zhao wasn’t overly surprised.

The meeting at the teahouse was the simplest part of his plan. He hadn’t pinned much hope on it working, as seeing the Emperor in person was no easy feat.

Gathering his thoughts, Qin Zhao ordered, “Bring the horses.”

The horses had been prepared in advance. If the teahouse plan failed, Qin Zhao’s group would take a shortcut on horseback to the Ancestral Temple.

Qin Zhao selected five companions to ride with him.

But luck truly seemed to have abandoned him. Shortly after crossing a mountain, it began to snow.

This was the first snowfall they had encountered since arriving in the capital.

It seemed as though the heavens wanted to make up for the late arrival of winter, as the light snowfall quickly turned into thick, heavy flakes. A dense fog rose in the mountains, severely limiting visibility.

The combination of snow and wind made progress nearly impossible. After struggling through the snow for nearly half an hour, Qin Zhao had no choice but to stop.

Although the horses could still move, the people could not.

Qin Zhao’s body hadn’t fully recovered, and he couldn’t risk his health in such conditions. When they came across an old, dilapidated temple, he immediately ordered the group to seek shelter inside.

This temple was isolated, with no villages nearby and no inns in sight. It was sparsely visited, with only an elderly abbot and a few young monks residing there.

Qin Zhao was led to the main hall to rest. Outside, in the courtyard, there was a large lotus pond. The pond was filled with lotus leaves, and the falling snowflakes melted upon hitting the water, creating ripples on the surface.

“Please enjoy some tea, sir,” the elderly abbot said, handing Qin Zhao a cup of tea.

Qin Zhao thanked him and then gestured toward the lotus pond in the courtyard. “Why doesn’t this pond have any fish?”

Having kept two koi fish at home, Qin Zhao was now quite knowledgeable about fish-keeping and immediately noticed that the pond didn’t seem suitable for raising fish.

The abbot smiled. “You might not know, sir, but the bottom of that lotus pond is connected to an external stream, so it’s running water—not suitable for fish. Occasionally, fish will swim in to scavenge for food, but with the weather turning cold, they haven’t come in recently.”

“I see,” Qin Zhao nodded.

Perhaps it was the beauty of the snow-covered temple scenery, but despite being stranded here, Qin Zhao felt no irritation.

He sipped the warm tea and even struck up a conversation with the abbot. “We also built a running water pond at home, and we keep a koi fish in it. But our koi never swims away. It’s very obedient and well-behaved.”

The abbot pressed his hands together in prayer. “Koi fish are known to be spiritual creatures. It seems your bond with it was predestined.”

The words pleased Qin Zhao immensely. “That’s quite true.”

A faint smile played on his lips, but as his gaze drifted toward the lotus pond, he suddenly spotted a flash of bright red in the water.

Qin Zhao: “…”

The smile froze on his face.

The little koi darted quickly to the bottom of the pond, hiding among the lotus leaves.

Not daring to make a single ripple, it held its breath and waited. After a moment of stillness, it cautiously poked its head out of the water to check.

In the distance, seated in the temple’s main hall, was a familiar figure quietly sipping tea.

It seemed… like Qin Zhao hadn’t noticed him.

… Hopefully.

Jing Li let out a sigh of relief.

He hadn’t expected to run into Qin Zhao here of all places.

Over the past half-month, Jing Li had gone over every route between the capital and the Ancestral Temple with Qin Zhao, memorizing every detail of the plan. That morning, he had snuck out of the house through the drainage ditch, swum into the city moat, and successfully caught up with a passing convoy heading toward the roadside teahouse.

But when he arrived, the teahouse was already empty.

Guessing that something had gone awry with the plan, Jing Li wasted no time and joined another convoy headed for the Ancestral Temple.

Who could have expected heavy snow to start falling just after entering the mountains?

The snow blocked the mountain path, forcing the convoy to stop at a relay station and wait.

Jing Li was in despair.

The convoy could rest, but he couldn’t afford to. He’d already set out later than Qin Zhao—if he stopped now, how would he ever catch up?

Left with no other choice, Jing Li swam upstream along the mountain stream.

But another problem quickly arose. The water routes didn’t fully align with the mountain roads, and Jing Li was only familiar with the land paths. He had no idea how to navigate to the Ancestral Temple via water!

Before long, Jing Li was lost. The rushing waters, intensified by the snow, tossed him around several times. When he finally regained his bearings, he realized he had somehow ended up in this lotus pond.

Rising to the water’s surface, the first thing he saw was Qin Zhao’s familiar face.

… Absolutely ridiculous.

Not wanting Qin Zhao to know he had secretly followed him, Jing Li had no intention of revealing himself. He swam a circle around the pond, observing Qin Zhao’s companions and trying to figure out a way to blend in.

However, the group was traveling light and on horseback, without the usual large water barrels often carried by caravans. Jing Li’s plan to sneak into a barrel was completely unfeasible.

He flicked his tail in frustration.

The moment the snow stopped, Qin Zhao’s group would set off again, and catching up would be nearly impossible.

What should he do?

The little koi was so anxious that even its fins drooped in despair.

Just then, the sound of approaching hoofbeats broke through the snowy silence outside the temple.

The hoofbeats grew louder, and soon someone banged forcefully on the temple door.

“Is anyone there? His Majesty is passing through and wishes to take shelter from the snow. Open the door immediately!”

Jing Li: “…”

Jing Li: “???”

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As soon as Lin Shuishi finished speaking, the room fell into a sudden silence.

His face gradually turned red, the blush spreading all the way to his ears. Aunt Gao and the others were left speechless. “He, who?”

Seeing the situation, Lin Shuishi quietly added, “Um, my husband.”

The women, who usually forgot their fear when it came to matters like this, even in front of the intimidating Fuli, began questioning him fluently, “When did this happen?” “You’ve been hiding this from us, haven’t you? If you already had someone, you should’ve told us earlier! Now, what are we supposed to think?”

Their chatter filled the room, buzzing so much that Fuli frowned.

Lin Shuishi had come up with this idea on the spot, thinking that since Fuli didn’t understand much of what people said, he likely wouldn’t know what was being discussed. This way, there wouldn’t be any awkwardness later, he could refuse the kind-hearted matchmaking efforts, and he wouldn’t have to “find someone”—a win-win situation, even if it meant sacrificing some dignity.

Clearing his throat, Lin Shuishi boldly lied, “Well, we fell in love on the mountain, but since we’re both without parents or relatives, it was, uh, an unmediated union! How could we dare to announce it to the village? I didn’t want to waste everyone’s time, so we kept it quiet.”

The women were still suspicious, but when they heard it was someone from the mountain, they figured the customs might not have been followed properly and let it go. After all, no one would joke about their own marriage! So, they believed him.

Aunt Gao, being so enthusiastic, was also driven by her fondness for Lin Shuishi’s late mother. They had been like sisters back in the day, so hearing that Lin Shuishi had to hide his marriage made her feel even more determined to help.

“Don’t worry, Shuishi, I’ll take care of it for you! Forget this unmediated union nonsense. I, Gao Shanhong, will be your matchmaker. Since you two got together in a rush, I’m sure the proper rites weren’t performed. That won’t do; we need to pick a day and make it official!”

Lin Shuishi was immediately at a loss for words. He had completely underestimated the enthusiasm of these middle-aged women. Did this mean he’d have to go through with a wedding ceremony just to maintain the lie? He couldn’t possibly manage that! The thought alone terrified him. “We’ve already performed the rites, really, there’s no need for any more trouble!”

Not giving them a chance to say more, he quickly took charge, “It’s getting late, so you should all head home and rest. I’ll prepare the New Year’s gifts and visit you soon!”

The women, a bit bewildered, were ushered out by Lin Shuishi. Fuli didn’t block the doorway; he simply dropped the deer, wiped the blood from his mouth, shook his hair, and stepped back into the house. His eyes, however, remained fixed on Lin Shuishi, eyebrows raised, as if deep in thought.

As Aunt Gao reached the door, she couldn’t resist turning back to whisper to Lin Shuishi, “You know, your husband is indeed handsome, but he’s quite intimidating. You should teach him some manners in the coming days. During the New Year, he’ll need to visit people, and we don’t want him scaring anyone.”

Lin Shuishi knew he couldn’t say much more, so he quickly agreed and politely saw off the group of women.

He exhaled deeply, closing the door behind him, only to find that imposing figure leaning against the doorframe, staring at him with deep, penetrating eyes. The moonlight streaming through the window accentuated Fuli’s already striking features, making his tanned skin seem to glow.

Lin Shuishi nervously fidgeted with his hands, his gaze wandering away from the muscular form standing so close to him. Despite the distance between them, he could almost feel the powerful, masculine aura emanating from Fuli.

His throat moved as he swallowed, still blushing, his heart pounding a little too fast. Lin Shuishi chalked it up to the anxiety of lying and didn’t dare think more of it.

Trying to act casual, he let out a dry laugh, “Ha, haha, it’s late. Let’s go to bed.”

He tried to walk into the room, but his path was blocked. He moved to the right, but Fuli blocked him again. The intense heat radiating from Fuli’s body made him even more flustered, and his throat felt even drier.

Lin Shuishi quickly backed away, retreating several steps. “Uh, I was just saying that to get them to leave. You probably don’t even understand what it meant, so don’t be mad, okay? Let’s just go to sleep.”

Fuli tilted his head slightly, then guided the smaller figure into the main room, closing the door behind them with his arm.

The little white wolf, seeing that the noisy “two-legged” creatures had left, finally returned. It had been following Lin Shuishi and was about to squeeze onto the warm bed, but the door slammed shut in its face. Furious, it scratched at the wooden door a few times in frustration before sighing in defeat. It then turned and pounced on the still-warm deer carcass outside, angrily tearing into it.

Lin Shuishi saw that the little wolf had been shut out and moved to open the door, but Fuli stopped him. Fuli lowered his head, his gaze fixed intently on Lin Shuishi. His once neatly tied hair was now disheveled, with stray strands falling across his face, partially obscuring his piercing golden eyes.

Sensing something different in Fuli’s demeanor, Lin Shuishi became even more nervous, backing away instinctively. But Fuli closed the distance, pressing forward as Lin Shuishi found himself against a wooden cabinet, with nowhere left to retreat. Fuli loomed over him, leaning in close, brushing and rubbing against him, then buried his prominent nose in the crook of Lin Shuishi’s neck, inhaling deeply as he nuzzled him, his hot breath fanning over the sensitive skin there.

Like a wolf trying to be close to someone, but not knowing how.

Lin Shuishi’s face flushed red, and his limbs softened from the rubbing. He leaned against the cabinet, his breathing uneven, and his heart tingled. He didn’t want to move away, seemingly craving this closeness.

The two of them acted out a silent play, neither speaking, just nuzzling each other in silence. But as Fuli’s actions grew more urgent, Lin Shuishi panicked. With weakened legs, he crawled into the bed and wrapped himself tightly in the covers, refusing to come out.

He couldn’t come out, embarrassed and confused by the state of his body.

Lin Shuishi, curled up under the blanket, eventually fell asleep, missing the sight of Fuli, who stretched his bones with audible cracks under the moonlight, his golden eyes glowing with a faint green hue. His fangs, unable to retract, pressed against his lips as he panted heavily, struggling to control himself.

The next morning, when Lin Shuishi woke up, Fuli had already gone back to the mountains, leaving no trace behind. Seeing the neatly untouched bedding across from him, Lin Shuishi breathed a sigh of relief but also felt a bit lost. As he got up, he realized something was amiss! So early in the morning, he found himself in the courtyard, hanging up his freshly washed undergarments to dry.

At that moment, Dongsheng was coming up the slope to deliver some New Year’s goods to Lin Shuishi. Seeing him hanging up his intimate clothing, Dongsheng felt a bit embarrassed, scratching his head as he placed the fried dough he brought on the ground. “Shuishi, my mom made these with the mutton fat you gave us. We wouldn’t usually get to eat these, so she asked me to bring some for you to try.”

After speaking, he was about to head back down the slope, but Lin Shuishi, unaware of Dongsheng’s discomfort, didn’t think much of it and called out to him, “Brother Dongsheng, wait a moment!”

Lin Shuishi had cleaned up the deer that Fuli hunted the day before. Aside from the part that the little white wolf had torn into, there was still quite a bit left. Recently, there was an abundance of meat at home, and without the means to preserve it through salting, he decided to tie it up with ropes and give it all to Dongsheng. Dongsheng’s family had many mouths to feed, especially growing children who needed the nourishment.

“We have plenty of hunted meat at home, and we can’t preserve it all. I really can’t eat it all myself, so it’s perfect for you to take it back!” A few days ago, Lin Shuishi had thought about preserving the meat that Fuli brought home by salting it and then giving it away. But when he looked at the salt sack, he remembered that this wasn’t Dongshan Mountain, and salt, being government-regulated, was expensive and couldn’t be wasted.

Sometimes, Lin Shuishi wondered how fortunate it was that no one dared to enter Dongshan Mountain, and how lucky the wolf pack was to guard it so well. If not, the natural resources alone, not to mention the salt and other minerals, would have been enough to attract a lot of attention.

Dongsheng looked at the pile of meat in front of him, knowing where it came from, but still amazed. “Huh? So much!” He bent down to examine it closely. There was deer meat, beef, and some cuts of meat he couldn’t even identify, but all appeared to be from strong, healthy animals, with rich fat and firm muscle fibers.

Dongsheng glanced around, and seeing that Fuli wasn’t around, he finally dared to bring him up. “He’s the one who hunted all this! Goodness, it’s more than what a group of us could catch in an entire winter, and there are some big animals too. Shuishi, you should…”

He hesitated, then said, “You should talk to him. Hunting isn’t safe, no matter how skilled he is. His wounds have just healed; if he gets hurt again, especially his bones, that could be serious.”

Lin Shuishi’s mind suddenly flashed to the thought of Fuli’s burning body and strong arms, making his heart skip a beat. He took several breaths before replying, then hurriedly handed the meat to Dongsheng, telling him to hurry home—there might still be time to get the meat cooking for lunch.

After sending Dongsheng off, Lin Shuishi rubbed his cold hands together and started to head back inside. But he suddenly felt a rustling in the woods behind the slope. Ever since the bandits’ attack, he had become more alert, so he immediately grabbed a knife and shouted, “Who’s there? Come out!”

Lin Shuishi was about to call for help when he saw something rustling in the forest. Suddenly, a wolf’s head popped out. Wolves don’t bark like dogs, so when the wolf saw Lin Shuishi tense up, it opened its mouth and let out a few low grunts, keeping the noise down so that no one nearby would hear.

Seeing that it was just a large white wolf and that it seemed calm and relaxed, Lin Shuishi let out a sigh of relief, figuring there was no immediate danger.

This was his first time noticing the wolf, unaware that ever since Fuli had recovered and started leaving the village intermittently, he had instructed the most alert and strong white wolves in the pack to take turns watching over Lin Shuishi. At the first sign of trouble, they would alert him immediately.

The little white wolf, seeing that its pack had finally been caught, stopped pretending not to notice and climbed up the slope to playfully nip at the larger white wolf’s neck and face, showing affection. This larger wolf was its mother’s brother. Watching the two white wolves rolling around together, Lin Shuishi laughed and went inside to get some food to treat this “sentry.”

From then on, the white wolves realized that coming down the mountain to “stand guard” meant they’d get treats that weren’t available up in the mountains! So the wolves became more enthusiastic. What was once a dull task became highly sought after!

Later, when Fuli occasionally called a wolf to guard, a whole group of wolves would eagerly crowd around, each one trying to outdo the others in enthusiasm.

Fuli was puzzled for a long time, until one day he caught the wolf king—his own brother and leader of the pack—standing guard at the foot of the mountain, looking mighty and dignified…with a roasted goose egg in his mouth.