Chapter 65.

Yin Chengyu woke up early to the news that Xue Shu had regained consciousness.

After a quick cleanup, he rushed to Xue Shu's tent without delay.

By the time he arrived, the physician had already checked Xue Shu’s pulse and was packing up his medical kit. Xue Shu lay on the bed, weak yet steady, while a young attendant carefully spoon-fed him medicine.

The moment Xue Shu saw Yin Chengyu enter, his gaze locked onto him, unflinching and intense, like a predator zeroing in on its prey.

Yin Chengyu pretended not to notice, turning instead to the physician for an update.

“No fever last night, so the danger has passed. He just needs to take his medicine on time and rest well while the wounds heal. Your Highness need not worry.”

Hearing this, Yin Chengyu finally relaxed. After rewarding the physician generously, he dismissed him. Only then did he approach the bed to inspect Xue Shu for himself.

Xue Shu’s eyes shifted slightly, meeting his.

With a wave of his hand, Yin Chengyu dismissed the young attendant, taking the seat by the bed. He picked up the bowl of unfinished medicine and stirred it casually.

“Why are you staring at me like that? After spending a few days buried underground, you’ve forgotten who I am?” His words carried a faint teasing edge, and his lips curved into a knowing smirk as he raised a spoonful of medicine to Xue Shu’s lips.

Xue Shu obediently opened his mouth, swallowing the bitter liquid without protest, but his gaze never wavered, still fixed on Yin Chengyu. His voice was low, deliberate: “Last night, I dreamed of Your Highness.”

“Oh?” Yin Chengyu’s eyebrow arched, his movements leisurely as he reached out to wipe a stray drop of medicine from Xue Shu’s lips. His touch lingered, his thumb brushing against the corner of his mouth, rough and deliberate. “And what exactly did you dream of?”

Xue Shu’s eyes lowered, shadowing his unease. “I dreamed… you were angry with me. That you wouldn’t forgive me.”

It was a lie mixed with truth.

The memories of their past life had surged back with agonizing clarity when they met again. Only now did Xue Shu realize that their relationship could take a completely different path—one without the toxic entanglement of power and ambition. In this life, they could share something softer, purer—a bond built on trust and unrestrained intimacy.

It was a taste of heaven, one he had never achieved in their previous life, no matter how hard he had schemed. Now that he had it, he couldn’t bear to let it go.

This time, Yin Chengyu had saved him before he ever entered the palace, keeping him close. Their fates had veered sharply from the tragic course of their past lives, and it was clear Yin Chengyu also remembered everything. Yet he never spoke of it. Instead, he would sometimes throw out casual, cutting remarks about how his anger still lingered, an unspoken reminder of his resentment—his hatred, even.

You can blame him all you want, even hate him if it makes you feel better.

Xue Shu didn’t dare dwell too deeply on it. All he could do was cling to the warmth Yin Chengyu still offered, desperately trying to hold onto whatever affection remained.

Those past events? Far from enjoyable. If His Highness wants to forget them, he can keep pretending they never crossed his mind.

“If you behave yourself, I won’t stay angry,” Yin Chengyu murmured, his fingers trailing over the faint scars on Xue Shu’s wrist. His eyes softened, but his tone remained commanding.

These scars—Xue Shu had suffered them twice now.

Xue Shu’s hand shot out, gripping Yin Chengyu’s tightly. His voice was low, almost pleading. “From now on, I’ll do whatever Your Highness says. If I ever disobey, you can punish me.”

“Punishment, hmm?” Yin Chengyu’s lips curled into a sharper smile, his gaze dropping meaningfully. His fingers slid from Xue Shu’s grip, trailing downward, pressing just firmly enough to elicit a reaction. “It’s only been a moment, and already you’re like this?”

The sudden, overwhelming sensation had Xue Shu stifling a groan, his hand snapping up to still Yin Chengyu’s wandering fingers. His jaw tightened, and a faint blue vein throbbed at his temple as he whispered hoarsely, “I… I can’t control it.”

At least he was honest. The sensation was alien to him—intense, unfamiliar, consuming.

In his past life, Xue Shu had been castrated at seventeen, serving as a eunuch until his death at thirty-three. Sixteen years without ever feeling like a man.

Back then, whenever they tangled together in bed, he would watch Yin Chengyu succumb to the pleasure he could bring him—pleasure and lust he controlled. It left Xue Shu both elated and tormented.

He reveled in the knowledge that he alone could drag Yin Chengyu into that abyss of desire. But he also hated that he could never truly claim him.

So he compensated by filling their nights with endless games, using every trick, every toy he could find to weave a web of lust so intricate that Yin Chengyu had no choice but to drown in it, unable to leave him. Those fleeting moments of passion were all he could steal, his only solace in a life of restraint and longing.

But if given the chance to start over, he would still choose to become a eunuch.

Even now, as Yin Chengyu’s palm rested against him, Xue Shu could feel the heat searing through him like a brand.

Yin Chengyu locked eyes with Xue Shu for a moment, before pulling his hand away from that pleading gaze. With deliberate ease, he pinched the soft curve of Xue Shu’s earlobe, leaned in close, and whispered against his ear, his voice low and teasingly firm, “You’re still injured—don’t even think about draining your energy again. Control yourself. And don’t you dare handle it on your own behind my back. Understood?”

His warm breath ghosted over the sensitive shell of Xue Shu’s ear, sending a jolt of shivers that tickled deep into his core.

That tingling itch settled low in Xue Shu’s chest. Turning his face, their cheeks nearly brushed as his voice dropped to a husky rasp. “Then when I’m healed, Your Highness will take care of it for me.”

Yin Chengyu straightened, studying him for a moment with an unreadable expression before a slow, wicked smile curled his lips. “That depends on how well you behave.”

For a while, the tension between them softened into quiet, intimate murmurs before Yin Chengyu finally turned the conversation to more serious matters.

“You were unconscious that day and missed it, but Cui Ci brought Ying Hongxue here to confirm something. She’s your sister—Xue Hongying. Unfortunately, last night, I had to send her and He Shan to lead the remaining Hongying Red Army to rescue the wounded at Xieshi Fort. They left at dawn and aren’t in the camp right now. I’ve already sent a messenger to summon them back. They should return soon.”

“She’s alive. Your sister is alive.”

Yin Chengyu’s gaze lingered on him, but his thoughts drifted to another lifetime, another Xue Shu.

In that life, Ying Hongxue had died young, and fate took a cruel turn. Xue Shu, burdened with duty, had been forced to execute his brother-in-law, He Shan, to quell a rebellion.

If he had known, it would have broken him.

But not this time. Not in this life. The tragedy had been averted. There was still time to rewrite it all.

This time, Xue Shu wouldn’t be left utterly alone.

“I thank Your Highness on behalf of my sister,” Xue Shu murmured, hiding the storm of emotions swirling in his eyes.

“There’s no need to thank me.” Yin Chengyu’s thumb brushed lightly against Xue Shu’s lips, his touch brief but commanding. “I have duties to attend to. Rest and recover. When Ying Hongxue returns, I’ll have her brought to you.”

With that, he rose to leave.

Xue Shu knew how busy he must be, so he didn’t try to stop him. But his gaze followed him, full of longing, emotions roiling beneath his calm surface.

Desire and love—just one word apart, yet the outcomes couldn’t be more different.

In that previous lifetime, their entanglement had been nothing but raw passion, never the tenderness and warmth of now.

Xue Shu closed his eyes, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

This time, it was different. This time, his painstaking efforts had finally earned him another chance.

*

Ying Hongxue and He Shan returned much later than expected, only making it back by dusk.

They weren’t alone. Marquis An Yuan arrived with them, looking utterly wrecked. Trailing behind him was a team of soldiers, one group carrying a stretcher. The figure on it was barely recognizable beneath a white sheet.

It was none other than the long-missing Yin Chengzhang.

Yin Chengyu had already heard the news and rushed forward. Pulling back the cloth, he took one glance and knew it was Yin Chengzhang.

A West Bureau spy who had been tailing Marquis An Yuan from the shadows provided the details. Yin Chengzhang’s group had been ambushed at Fuhu Ridge, only to be caught in a landslide. They were buried alive.

During the disaster, the accompanying guards shielded Yin Chengzhang with their bodies, keeping him alive—barely. He was trapped beneath the rubble, his lower body crushed and immovable. For four agonizing days, he clung to life, waiting for rescue.

But fate had its own cruel plans. When Marquis An Yuan finally cleared the debris and reached him, they discovered the devastating truth. A sharp rock had impaled Yin Chengzhang’s waist, skewering him through. The pressure of the rubble had staunched the bleeding just enough to keep him breathing. But as soon as the debris was removed, the rock was dislodged. Blood gushed like a burst dam, spilling his guts for all to see.

It was over in moments. Yin Chengzhang died right there, and Marquis An Yuan nearly fainted on the spot.

Ying Hongxue and He Shan had been delayed because they stayed behind to help recover the bodies and clear the wreckage.

Yin Chengyu gently draped the white sheet back over the corpse, a calculated flicker of grief crossing his face. Letting out a heavy sigh, he placed a firm hand on Marquis An Yuan’s shoulder and said solemnly, “Take care of my brother’s remains. Send someone back to the capital to report his death to the Emperor.”

Marquis An Yuan nodded sluggishly, the fire in his eyes extinguished, looking like a man whose world had crumbled. He followed behind as Yin Chengzhang’s body was carried away.

Once they were gone, Yin Chengyu turned his attention to the state of Xieshi Village.

Most of the military effort had been focused on clearing the debris at the army camp, leaving Xieshi Village to fend for itself. Marquis An Yuan had sent only a token force to assist the villagers, using most of his men to search for Yin Chengzhang.

It wasn’t until Ying Hongxue arrived that the village received any real help.

“Xieshi Village was built halfway up the mountain,” Hong Xue said, her expression cold and voice low. “The ones who fled early enough survived. The rest…” She paused, her tone sharpening. “The rest are all dead. I found the bodies of Gao Youwen and Shi Hu buried in the rubble.”

It wasn’t unexpected. Xieshi Village had taken the brunt of the disaster, and with the delay in rescue efforts, survival was nearly impossible.

Yin Chengyu sighed deeply. “With Gao Youwen and Shi Hu dead, the remnants of the rebel forces won’t pose a threat. They were just desperate peasants with nowhere left to run. There’s no need to pursue them further. As for the survivors…” His gaze shifted to Ying Hongxue and He Shan. “You two and the warriors of the Hongying Army have done much for me these past days. The court is in dire need of capable people. If your men are willing, I invite them to join the army. For those who prefer to return to their homes, they’ll be free to go, with no charges against them.”

He Shan instinctively glanced at Ying Hongxue, who remained quiet for a moment before responding. “Thank you for the offer, Your Highness. I’ll relay it to my brothers and let them decide.”

Her calm acceptance exceeded Yin Chengyu’s expectations. With a slight nod, he added, “Xue Shu has regained consciousness. His injuries are no longer critical. If you wish, you may visit him.”

After bowing in thanks, Ying Hongxue and He Shan made their way to Xue Shu’s tent.

The young servant led them inside, where they found Xue Shu stepping out to meet them.

The reunion between the siblings was wordless. Both were steely and restrained, emotions flickering only in their eyes.

They sat in silence until Ying Hongxue finally broke it. “At least you’re still alive.”

She gestured casually to He Shan, who looked tense and awkward. “This is your brother-in-law, He Shan. We’re not married yet.”

Xue Shu glanced at He Shan, his expression betraying a fleeting moment of astonishment.

The man who once took everything he had to bring down in his previous life was unmistakable to him.

Back then, when Xue Shu investigated He Shan, all he discovered was that He Shan’s wife had died during a court campaign to suppress rebels, and it was in that battle he’d lost an arm. Refusing any offers of amnesty from the imperial court, He Shan was driven by a singular, unrelenting purpose—avenging his late wife.

What Xue Shu didn’t know in that life was that He Shan’s wife was his own long-lost sister.

By a cruel twist of fate, the two became mortal enemies.

Now, Xue Shu silently observed the man who sat before him, an old acquaintance turned something far more complex.

He Shan was tall, broad, and rugged—a man who embodied the northern frontier’s raw masculinity. Even though Ying Hongxue was tall for a woman, next to him, she looked positively delicate.

In his previous life, He Shan had been far more cunning and shrewd, someone impossible to deal with.

But the man sitting before him now? He still carried the rough edges of a northern warrior, but there was an unpolished sincerity about him—his thoughts lay bare for anyone to read.

As He Shan fidgeted under Xue Shu’s unwavering gaze, Xue Shu finally broke the silence, calling him “Brother-in-law.”

He Shan, clearly not expecting such a straightforward acknowledgment, stumbled over his response, the grin on his face barely contained.

Neither brother nor sister dared to ask about the years they’d spent apart or the hells they’d endured to survive. In times like these, survival itself was a miracle. Asking for more would only invite sorrow.

After exchanging some casual words, Ying Hongxue noticed the late hour and urged Xue Shu to focus on recovering. Then, she and He Shan left the tent together.

Once they were far enough away, He Shan hesitantly broke the silence. “I’ve been asking around these past couple of days… The people of the Western Bureau —they’re all eunuchs.”

And Xue Shu was one of the Bureau's officers.

Ying Hongxue shot him a sidelong glance, utterly indifferent. “Eunuch or not, being alive is already a blessing. Who has the luxury to care about the rest?”

After killing the mountain bandit leader, Ying Hongxue had once returned to Yutai in search of Xue Shu but found no trace of him. The few fragmented rumors she uncovered suggested he’d traveled south with a grain fleet.

How could a lone woman search all of the two capitals and thirteen provinces of Great Yan?

With no means to track him, all she could do was chant sutras for him, praying for his safety.

But times grew harder. Famine claimed lives with cruel efficiency, and even the monastery she’d taken refuge in struggled to survive. Ying Hongxue joined Gao Youwen in performing rites for the dead, hoping to earn some money under the guise of being a “Holy Mother” or “Saint.”

What she didn’t expect was how many followers would flock to her and how the Red Lotus Sect would grow into something far beyond her control.

She wasn’t naive. She knew the sect’s growing influence would eventually catch the court’s attention, and when it did, the crackdown would be merciless.

That was why she’d changed her name and identity—so that if disaster struck, her connection to Xue Shu would remain buried, keeping him safe.

She never imagined she’d see her brother again in this lifetime.

Simply being alive felt like the heavens’ favor.

He Shan noticed her calm demeanor and finally allowed himself to relax. With a grin, he teased, “Exactly. Later, we can have a couple of kids. Let’s register one under Xue Shu’s name to take care of him in his old age.”

Ying Hongxue stopped in her tracks, fixing him with an unblinking stare.

He Shan stiffened under her gaze, a hint of nervousness creeping into his expression.

“You’ve certainly thought this through,” she said, her tone sharp as a blade. Then, with a swift kick to his shin, she added, “I’m tired. Carry me back.”

Seeing she wasn’t actually angry, He Shan’s tension melted away, replaced by a wide smile. He crouched down to let her climb onto his back, then carried her steadily toward their camp.

———Author's Note: Big loyal dog: ??? Wait, I’m good now! I can do it!