Chapter 76.

From the shadows, the maid watched Mubai'er’s expression with sharp, calculating eyes. Without a sound, she slipped back into the main hall, her movements fluid and deliberate.

Emperor Longfeng was in an unusually good mood tonight, indulging in more wine than usual. By now, he had been helped back to his quarters by Gao Xian and two charming women. Taking her time, Noble Consort Wen lingered behind, whispering softly to her attendant, "Well? What’s the verdict?"

"Judging by his face, it's in the bag," the maid replied confidently, then casually recounted the scene she had just witnessed—Mubai’er cornering Yin Ciguang along the corridor, his intentions plain as day.

"So the rumors were right." A satisfied smirk tugged at Noble Consort Wen’s lips.

Over the past few weeks, she had made a point to dig into this young prince from Oirat. On the surface, Mubai’er looked every bit the proper, well-mannered noble—a youthful face and respectable demeanor masking the darker truths beneath. But her spies had uncovered the dirt: the prince had an insatiable appetite for women, coupled with a slew of depraved habits that he kept well-hidden, thanks to his father’s favoritism shielding him from scrutiny.

If Yin Ciguang were to marry into Oirat as part of the peace alliance, there was no doubt her life would be a miserable one.

Fingers adorned with sharp, intricate gold nail guards traced a slow line over the armrest as Noble Consort Wen chuckled darkly. "Keep a close watch over them in the coming days. That mother-daughter pair is eager to curry favor with the Crown Prince. But here, in this harem, let’s see if the Crown Prince can truly protect his precious playthings."

*

The day before, several squads of cavalry had already driven the beasts into the designated hunting grounds. By the next morning, all the teams participating in the winter hunt were ready to enter the fray.

The high stands were packed with onlookers eager to witness the spectacle.

Dressed in battle-ready armor, Yin Chengyu rode in from the distance, his expression grave as he issued a sharp order to the standard-bearer: “Close the circle.”

Before the hunt could begin, the defensive ring had to be secured. The standard-bearer relayed the command, and messengers with flags galloped off in all directions. In moments, the sound of horns echoed through the air, accompanied by the flashing signals of intersecting banners. Cavalry units responded swiftly, splitting into teams—some tightened the flanks, others reinforced the rear. They moved in seamless unison, their formation contracting steadily, encircling the beasts with precision.

This was merely the first line of defense.

The innermost human wall was tightly packed, with men standing just an arm's length apart, ready to intercept any wild creature attempting to break through. The second line was looser, with archers spaced two arms apart, bows drawn and ready to unleash a volley should the first line falter.

When the formation was set, and all preparations complete, Emperor Longfeng finally made his entrance, flanked by an entourage of guards and attendants.

Below the royal viewing platform, the parade ground bustled with activity. Massive drums and long brass horns were set up, their booming sounds reverberating across the open air, startling a flock of birds into the sky.

Yin Chengyu, Yin Chengjing, Princess Uju, Mubai’er, and the young nobles from prominent families waited with their retinues at the entrance to the hunting grounds, poised for action.

From the stands, Emperor Longfeng surveyed the crowd below. With a gesture, he called for something. "Bring it up."

Gao Xian signaled, and two robust eunuchs wheeled out a beast cage. Inside was a wolf, its silvery-gray fur gleaming under the light. The animal prowled restlessly within, baring its sharp fangs in a low, menacing growl. Its hind leg bore an iron ring etched with inscriptions—a mark of dominance. This was no ordinary wolf; it was the king of the wild, personally captured at the emperor’s command for this day’s entertainment.

Emperor Longfeng smirked at the wolf and addressed the eager crowd below. “The rules of the Danxi Winter Hunt haven’t changed in years—frankly, it’s grown dull. This year, I’ve added a twist. Once the hunt begins, I’ll have this wolf king released somewhere in the hunting grounds. Whoever brings it down will not only claim the title of champion but also win a thousand taels of gold!”

With that, the cage was wheeled away, the wolf destined for the hunting grounds.

Outside the enclosure, every team’s gaze burned with fervor, fixed on the wolf like predators eyeing prey.

Moments later, the horns blared again, signaling the opening of the gates.

As the barrier lifted, the assembled teams surged forward on horseback, slicing through the frigid air like blades. Yin Chengyu, clad in silver armor, charged ahead, his bow curved and ready. Xue Shu and fifty others followed close behind, their formation swift and relentless. In mere moments, all the teams had entered, leaving behind a snowy plain churned to slush by thundering hooves.

From the stands, the spectators whispered and wagered, placing bets on who would deliver the first kill. The gathered teams weren’t small; their resources were robust. Each carried hunters, hounds, and auxiliary soldiers responsible for hauling back their spoils.

The hunting grounds spanned an immense area, and retrieving kills was a grueling task. Every transport had to deliver at least ten beasts, with larger game like deer or boars to make an impression. This urgency turned the opening minutes of the hunt into a chaotic scramble, each team vying to outshine the others.

Onlookers sipped tea and bantered idly, their eyes scanning the horizon for signs of action.

In a quiet corner, Yin Ciguang sat apart from the chatter, his tea replaced with a bowl of thick, bitter medicine. Like the others, he waited, though his thoughts were elsewhere. He didn’t participate in the lively discussions but silently believed that the crown prince would be the first to triumph. The prince, in his silver armor with a bow at the ready, exuded a sharp, commanding presence that stood in stark contrast to his usual composed demeanor.

Yin Ciguang lowered his gaze, swallowing a mouthful of his medicine, the bitterness lingering on his tongue. A faint sense of regret stirred within him. If only his body weren’t so frail, he might have been out there alongside the prince instead of sitting here, waiting in frustration.

*

Once inside the hunting grounds, the teams immediately fanned out in different directions, each pursuing their prey. Yin Chengyu took the southeastern route, galloping deep into the forest until the pace slowed to a calculated crawl.

“Have you spotted any tracks?”

They had bagged a decent haul of pheasants and hares along the way, but Yin Chengyu wasn’t here for trifles. If he was going to claim victory, small game wouldn’t cut it. His sights were set on larger, worthier beasts.

In the dead of winter, most animals, plump and ready for the season, had gone into hiding. Though herded into the hunting grounds, the area was vast, making tracking them a challenge. Footprints in the snow, scat, and other clues were the only guides to their whereabouts.

A pair of hunters led the group, guiding two sharp-nosed hounds to sniff out the trail. Not long after entering the grounds, they found fresh deer droppings. Deer, known for their herding behavior, promised a significant reward if they could locate the group. Following the scent, the hounds led them deeper into the forest, but suddenly, they hesitated, circling as if unsure of the next move.

“It’s definitely nearby,” one of the hunters affirmed.

Yin Chengyu considered for a moment before issuing orders to Zhao Lin and Ying Hongxue. “We’ll split into three groups. Spread out and search the area. Use signal arrows to call for backup.”

More than fifty men divided into three teams, scattering in different directions.

Yin Chengyu led his squad of a dozen further into the woods, his sharp eyes scanning for signs of the deer herd. A startled hare darted out from the underbrush, and without hesitation, he drew his bow and shot it down in a single, fluid motion.

Their horses were already laden with trophies, the bulk of them felled by Yin Chengyu’s own hand.

The court and common folk alike praised the Crown Prince for his scholarly brilliance and gentle rule, prophesying he would one day be a wise and virtuous emperor. But few realized that beneath his refined exterior lay a keen strategist and a master archer.

In the palace, these talents had been hidden. Clad in armor now, he was like a sword drawn from its scabbard—razor-sharp and impossible to ignore.

Xue Shu followed closely behind, barely lifting a hand to hunt, his gaze locked on Yin Chengyu. Each time the prince nocked an arrow, the admiration in Xue Shu’s eyes burned brighter.

In their past life, after Yin Chengyu’s death, Xue Shu had fulfilled his last wishes, supporting Yin Chengxuan in securing the empire. He had quelled rebellions, expanded the borders, and turned the tide of public opinion in his favor. Ministers who once slandered him now sang his praises, calling him a rare blend of intellect and martial prowess. Even Yin Chengyue admitted that half of the empire’s glory belonged to Xue Shu.

But they had all forgotten whose vision Xue Shu had been following. The policies that brought peace, the tactics that unified the northern tribes—it was all Yin Chengyu’s design. Xue Shu had merely executed his beloved’s plans, step by step, long after his passing.

He couldn’t let go of the past. If only Yin Chengyu had lived, he would have done it all better.

Standing on the northern plains with his army, Xue Shu often imagined what it would have been like to ride into battle alongside Yin Chengyu. He had even commissioned paintings of the two of them, side by side on horseback. But none of them captured what he truly yearned for.

He’d thought the artists lacked skill, but now, watching Yin Chengyu in his element, he understood. No painter could ever recreate the commanding, vibrant presence of this young general in his prime.

Silver armor gleaming like a river of stars, his confidence was intoxicating. [1]

The longer Xue Shu looked, the deeper he fell.

After taking down another roe deer, Yin Chengyu lowered his bow, frowning. “We’ve covered quite a bit of ground, yet there’s still no sign of the deer herd. Zhao Lin and He Shan haven’t signaled either. Could the herd have moved elsewhere?”

Xue Shu’s eyes flickered, and he pointed toward a hollow not far away. “Earlier, I spotted fresh droppings near that ravine. There’s a stream below. The herd might be heading there to drink. If not deer, there’s bound to be something big.”

Yin Chengyu’s interest was piqued. He moved to send men ahead to set an ambush, but Xue Shu stepped in to stop him. “Deer are skittish and easily spooked. Too many people will scare them off. Let me go scout it out first.” After a pause, he added, “Would Your Highness care to join me?”

Their eyes met and held for a moment before Yin Chengyu’s lips curved into a smile. Dismounting, he said, “Then I’ll go with you.”

The two dismounted and began a silent descent into the ravine, their steps light and deliberate as they approached their prey.

At the base of the valley, a narrow river winds its way, its surface frozen over, though patches of ice have fractured here and there. The snow-covered banks are a messy mire, dotted with what appear to be animal tracks. But they’re old—so weathered by time that their origins are indecipherable. Yin Chengyu circled the area, scanning carefully, yet found no trace of the "fresh droppings" Xue Xu had so boldly claimed were here. Raising a brow, he turned to look at him, a glint of suspicion in his gaze.

“Where’s this deer herd of yours?” he asked, voice edged with cool challenge.

Xue Shu took a step closer, closing the distance between them with practiced ease. He leaned in, brushing his lips lightly against the tip of Yin Chengyu’s nose. His voice was low and rough, barely restrained. “Seems they got scared off and ran,” he murmured.

Of course, it was all a lie. He had no intention of hunting any deer. The story had been a ploy, nothing more—a trap to lure him here.

Yin Chengyu instinctively took a step back, but his retreat ended abruptly as his shoulders met the solid trunk of a thick tree. Xue Shu had planned this well; even the positioning was deliberate.

“To deceive me is treason,” Yin Chengyu warned, narrowing his eyes in mock indignation. Yet no true anger colored his tone, only an amused menace that dared him to go further.

Xue Shu didn’t hesitate. His lips grazed the sharp bridge of Yin Chengyu’s nose before descending with urgency to claim his mouth. Teeth grazed, nipped, tugged—impatient and raw.

He’d been holding himself back for too long, the earlier crowd forcing his restraint. Now, with no one around to interrupt, he gave in completely.

Yin Chengyu allowed the invasion, lips parting but remaining passive, a deliberate lack of response that only stoked the fire.

The absence of reciprocity frustrated Xue Shu, driving him to tighten his grip. One hand slid to the nape of Yin Chengyu’s neck, fingers firm as he pulled him closer. His other hand tilted his chin up just so, forcing their mouths to meld tighter, his teeth tugging roughly at Yin Chengyu’s lower lip.

Between heated breaths, Xue Shu growled against his lips, voice hoarse and unsteady: “When we get back, punish me however you like. Make me copy The Virtues of Men a hundred times if you must.”

Yin Chengyu let out a low, amused hum, the corners of his mouth curving upward as his eyes glimmered with something wicked. Without warning, he shifted his hands to Xue Xu’s shoulders and yanked him down, matching his hunger with a raw, animalistic intensity.

The kiss was no longer a surrender gentle caress anymore but a battle—tongues and teeth clashing, neither willing to yield.

Behind them, the sturdy tree trembled faintly under the force of their movements, its snow-laden branches shedding their burden. Powdered flakes cascaded over them, dusting their hair and shoulders as they pressed on, unrelenting.

———Author’s Note: Big Wolf: "Virtues of Men? Fine. A hundred copies. Whatever. I’ll never finish anyway."

Note [1]: Inspired by the phrase from "Field Poems, No. 6": "Draped in dazzling clothes, they shine in Luoyang, brimming with unrestrained pride and spirit."

———TN: Big Dog: This debt is going to stick with me for life.But hey, let’s be real—His Highness isn’t actually going to punish me.

(And honestly? I’m loving it.)