Chapter 138.

The one chosen to secretly travel to the Oirat to scout its situation was none other than Xue Shu.

He knew the Uju well and had led troops in the northern campaigns in his past life, making him intimately familiar with the conditions of the northern deserts. No one else could inspire the same level of trust in Yin Chengyu as he did.

After careful deliberation, Yin Chengyu finally decided that Xue Shu would undertake the secret mission to negotiate with Oirat. The departure could not be delayed, and the date was set for the 15th of July.

The night before his departure, Xue Shu stayed overnight in the Yangxin Palace.

After his bath, Yin Chengyu emerged in loose sleeping robes, retrieved the pre-written imperial edict and tiger seal from the secret compartment behind his writing desk, and handed them to Xue Shu with a clear, firm command: "This is your imperial edict as General for the Northern Campaign. The Xuanfu garrison consists of 110,000 soldiers. If circumstances change, you may use the tiger seal to summon troops from Xuanfu."

This was the worst-case scenario.

However, if Xue Shu confirmed that the cooperation proposed by Oirat was feasible, Yin Chengyu would quickly gather provisions and troops to lead the army personally.

Xue Shu accepted the edict and tiger seal, then raised his gaze toward Yin Chengyu. "If all goes well in Oirat, it will take at least half a year to return to the capital."

Facing the prospect of a long separation, even before departure, Xue Shu could already feel a rising longing. He moved closer, his chin resting on Yin Chengyu's neck, silently pressing against him, feeling their body heat intertwining.

In two days, it would be his birthday. He had secretly anticipated what kind of gift Yin Chengyu might prepare for him this year. Yet, before the day arrived, plans had already been upended—he was to leave for Oirat.

Although Xue Shu remained silent, Yin Chengyu could easily discern his thoughts. With a slight smile, Yin Chengyu adjusted his loose robe, gently pushed him away, and rose to fetch a long wooden box from the table.

"Your birthday is in two days, but since you're leaving tomorrow, I have to give it to you in advance."

The wooden box was handed to Xue Shu.

His earlier mood lifted, Xue Shu took the box and opened it to reveal a scroll tied with a red silk ribbon.

He untied the ribbon and slowly unrolled the scroll to reveal a portrait.

The figure in the painting was dressed in a serpent robe and black boots, standing in the snow with his sleeves drawn up, bowing his head to sniff a plum blossom. The half-visible profile exuded a cold and severe demeanor, especially those narrow eyes that radiated an unpredictable, ominous aura.

—This was clearly Xue Shu from his previous life, known as the "Jiu Qiansui-Nine Thousand Years."

Last year, for his birthday, Xue Shu had not yet recalled his past life, and Yin Chengyu had given him a similar portrait—one showing a youthful, fearless figure, dressed in fine clothes and wielding a silver blade.

At the time, Xue Shu could not help but feel uneasy, fearing that Yin Chengyu's love was for the untainted, bloodless version of him—the one who had yet to stain his hands or devise any dark schemes.

He had carefully stored that portrait, never daring to look at it again.

But now, as he stared at the painting in his hands, all the hidden unease and uncertainty inside him began to dissolve, replaced by a heavy, overwhelming feeling of love.

His fingers brushed over the painted figure. Memories from a past life surged, and his gaze deepened. His fingertips traced the lines of the image until they landed on the inscription at the bottom— the date.

It was the 14th of July in the 19th year of Longfeng.

Yet, the inscription did not match the present date but was written as "The 23rd year of Longfeng."

A great many things had happened that year, but there was one event he would never forget.

—That was the year he met Yin Chengyu at the imperial tombs, where they made a deal.

Everything that followed stemmed from that moment, an entanglement with no resolution.

Now, they were starting over from scratch. All that remained of their past were memories between him and Yin Chengyu. In this lifetime, Yin Chengyu ascended the throne ahead of schedule, and after the 19th year of Longfeng, the era was renamed Yongguang.

The Longfeng era ended with the 19th year, and what followed was only the Yongguang era.

The year "23th of Longfeng" no longer existed, and only they knew what it truly represented.

It was a secret expression of affection, a quiet compensation, something private between them.

Xue Shu lifted his gaze to look at Yin Chengyu, his expression still a bit stunned.

Yin Chengyu curled his lips in a smirk, his long eyebrows arching slightly as he seemed thoroughly pleased with Xue Shu’s reaction. "From the 23rd year of Longfeng, the birthday gift I owe you, I’ll make up for it, year by year," he said, raising his hand to cover Xue Shu’s and guiding it to his waist. "Now, it’s time to unwrap this year's birthday gift."

Xue Shu’s eyes shifted, his fingers closing around the delicate white string.

With a soft pull, the snow-white robe, which had been tightly bound, unraveled—

Amidst the snowy expanse, a tree of red plums blossomed. Yin Chengyu had meticulously painted that portrait onto his own skin, but the figure that had once been a delicate flower admirer was now replaced by a fierce, unidentifiable beast.

His skin, like fine porcelain, was adorned with scattered red plums, the contrast making the beast’s savage presence even more striking.

The exquisite, fragile beauty fused with the brutal creature, creating a striking contrast that held Xue Shu’s gaze captive. He cautiously traced the shape of the beast with his fingers.

It had two horns on its head, a body like a jackal, a long, thick tail naturally draping down to the ground, winding its way along the abdomen.

"What is this?" Xue Shu’s voice was raw, husky as he spoke.

"Fierce beast, Yazi," Yin Chengyu responded, tapping the painted beast on his skin, his finger inadvertently brushing against the red plums beside it.

The touch stained his fingertip with the rich red pigment. This red wasn’t the common cinnabar used in painting; it was the finest rouge, intentionally bought from the palace by Zheng Duobao. It was thick, smooth, and glistening, with a faint, delicate fragrance.

"According to ancient legends, Yazi was the second son of a dragon, fierce by nature, courageous, bloodthirsty, and murderous." Yin Chengyu ran his fingertip along the red stain, then, with a smirk, traced it along Xue Shu’s eye, leaving a lingering mark. "I think it suits you."

Xue Shu’s chest heaved, his grip tightening around Yin Chengyu’s wrist as he stared at the remaining red smudge on his finger for a long moment. Lowering his head, he leaned in and licked it off.

Yin Chengyu, feeling the intense restraint beneath Xue Shu’s controlled passion, squinted and leaned in, biting his earlobe lightly. "Seems like you really like this gift."

Xue Shu didn’t respond verbally but answered with a fierce, deliberate action.

……

Dawn broke, the tempest of flesh indulgence finally subsided. Exhausted, Emperor Yin Chengyu draped a rumpled, rouge-stained robe over his spent form. Crimson blossoms bloomed across the pristine white silk, the sash torn, barely clinging, revealing glimpses of the passionate artistry beneath.

Xue Shu, his features softened by satiation, yet still edged with a predatory gleam, pressed the Emperor back against the disheveled bedding. “I will change and depart. Your Majesty need not offer escort.”

Yin Chengyu, too drained to protest, simply caressed Xue Shu’s cheek. “Await me in the Northern Desert.”

A low growl rumbled in Xue Shu’s chest. “I shall.”

He smeared the remnants of rouge across the Emperor's full lips, staining them a deeper, more carnal red. Then, with a possessive bite, he reclaimed the color, devouring the mark of his intimacy. Rising, he delivered a final, resonant pronouncement: “I await Your Majesty’s arrival in the Northern Desert.”

*

On the morning of July 15th, just as the dawn was breaking, Xue Shu led a hundred elite cavalrymen toward Xuānfù. From there, they departed the pass and secretly made their way to the western territories to engage in negotiations with the Oirat.

By July 26th, intelligence from the Eastern Bureau confirmed that the Tatars were preparing to attack Oirat. The new Tatar ruler, Muduo, had yet to consolidate control over the Oirat tribes, and internal discord weakened their unity. Muduo had no choice but to seek assistance from the Great Yan.

However, Xue Shu, in his correspondence, warned that after several rounds of talks with Uju and Muduo, he had realized the Oirat's feigned submission. Moreover, Muduo was already aware of Uju’s true identity. While a joint offensive against the Tatars was feasible, caution was advised—Oirat might seize the opportunity to strike.

Upon reviewing this intelligence, Yin Chengyu summoned the Grand Secretariat for an urgent meeting at the palace, followed by a series of court conferences to discuss a northern campaign.

Despite his best efforts, the opinions of the officials—both civil and military—were unanimously opposed to a northern expedition.

Their concerns were not without merit, but their vision was short-sighted. The Tatars had long been amassing strength, and should the Great Yan ignore them, the Tatars would likely swallow up Oirat, only to grow stronger and soon turn their eyes southward to disrupt the Yan borders.

Although the northern campaign was fraught with risk, its potential rewards were far greater. If successful, one of the northern threats would be eliminated, ensuring at least five years of stability along the Yan frontier.

Furthermore, with summer nearing its end, there would be sufficient time to mobilize troops and supply lines, setting the stage for battle in early winter. The winter months, often void of warfare, offered a perfect opportunity to strike the Tatars by surprise. Even if the campaign faltered, the fortifications could be reinforced with ice and water, making them harder to breach. Retreating behind the walls, the army could regroup and prepare for another assault come spring.

From every angle, the northern campaign promised more gains than losses.

In an unprecedented show of determination, Yin Chengyu dismissed all opposition, issuing an imperial decree to begin troop mobilization and supply preparations.

Troops were selected from the Northern Zhili, Shandong, Shanxi, and Henan military regions to form the northern expeditionary force, with responsibility for logistics assigned to various military units. Eighty thousand civilians from these regions were conscripted to transport supplies to Xuānfù.

He summoned He Shan and Ying Hongxue to the palace, appointing He Shan as the General of the Broken Barbarian Army and Ying Hongxue as the army’s military strategist. Four other commanders were appointed as deputies. The main camp would be organized into five divisions, led by generals like Yu Jing, who would command the central army. Other commanders were tasked with leading the left and right flanks, rear guard, and vanguard.

Troops and supplies gathered in Datong and Xuānfù, and preparations took a month and a half to finalize.

On September 13th, Yin Chengyu relinquished his power to the Grand Secretariat, appointing Zheng Duobao, the head of the Imperial Secretariat, to oversee the decree review. This system of checks and balances between the Secretariat and the Imperial Court would govern the administration.

After swearing an oath at the De Sheng Gate, Yin Chengyu personally led the army into battle.

The northern expeditionary forces passed through the Juyong Pass, Huailai, and gathered at Xuānfù before advancing further north.

Along the way, Yin Chengyu maintained communication with Xue Shu through secret agents, finalizing plans for a pincer attack.

With the northern and southern forces poised to encircle the Tatars, they would have nowhere to flee.

Once the final dispatch was sent, the northern army reached the Luchu River.

It was mid-October, just after the beginning of winter. The northern plains were frozen and bitterly cold. The soldiers, already wearing their armor, now layered thick cotton clothing beneath. The Tatars had not anticipated the Great Yan's timely offensive, and when the Tatar Khan received word, it was already too late—Yin Chengyu's forces were closing in, the two armies separated only by the Luchu River.

In desperation, the Tatar Khan commanded his chief minister, Aharu, along with his eldest and second sons, to lead the troops in different directions in an attempt to scatter and evade battle.

Yin Chengyu ordered the construction of a fortified position at the crossing, while He Shan, Yu Jing, and the other commanders led the remaining forces across the river, driving the Tatar troops northward, leaving them no room to maneuver.