中文人妻久热无码

‘Why aren’t you back?’

The war continued in Wuji, and King De’s vanguard was nearing Jingcheng. Of course, while Yang Mi did not attack the city and seize the palace of the throne, King De was convinced of the possibility of betrayal. Pressed, he urged his army day and night, leading many soldiers to scatter and escape while other thousands of them died from starvation and the extreme cold.

Wuling wasn’t the only grain depot in the southern border, but in the process of King De’s army march, the agreed upon waiting ground, Huazhou, had also met with a delay. Events played out like in an unpredictable chess game. Subtle movements were made, slowly altering the tendency and situation of the whole affair. The butterfly effect was put in place.

In fact, Meng Fuyao was oblivious to those subtle changes. She sank further each day, gradually becoming thinner if that was even possible. It wasn’t visually obvious, but soon, every bone in her body started to protrude along with the tightening of her skin, which made her eyes appear increasingly big and sorrowful.

Zhan Beiye and Zong Yue stayed by her side throughout. Despite their hostility toward each other, they took good care of Meng Fuyao. Tie Cheng and Yao Xun had joined them as well, burying their heads in hard work. Worried for her safety, Ya Lanzhu followed Meng Fuyao everywhere, including the bathroom, with the pretense of wanting to catch the adulterous couple in action.

Everyone watched her closely in fear that anxiety would drive her to do crazy things. Nevertheless, all she did was wait in silent determination for news of him. Meng Fuyao occasionally took a stool to sit by and watch the two men bicker, or watch as Ya Lanzhu stuck closely to her, or watch Tie Cheng take on all the work in the courtyard just so he could appear before her sight more often, or watch as Zong Yue prescribed medicine non-stop as though he couldn’t wait to get rid of all the herbs in the garden.

The spring sunlight was faint and carried a refreshing radiance. Amid the atmosphere, Meng Fuyao thought about how lucky she was to be able to experience something so warm and beautiful like it. It was all worth it, she felt.

Nights were harder to bear. Meng Fuyao suffered from insomnia, and whenever the leaves rustled outside, she would wonder if he was back. She would then blame herself for being so hard-headed. Slitting her own throat? Dragging the secret guard leader down with her? Couldn’t she have just fought to avoid dying by the Rongs’ hands? Why did she choose to end her life to prevent her corpse from falling into their hands? The ‘Great, throat-slitting Meng Fuyao” had gotten his attention and caused him to speed miles across and be plotted against.

Such thoughts kept her wide awake despite the complete darkness.

Meng Fuyao’s night routine was pretty much consistent. While it hadn’t been many days since news broke, she had been tossing and turning every night, and seconds felt like long, arduous years.

Unbeknownst to Meng Fuyao, she wasn’t the only one who had trouble sleeping.

On the big tree in the courtyard rested two men. They, who couldn’t lay still on their beds, had left their room, one holding a pot of wine and the other deep in thought.

“He’s not dead,” Zhan Beiye mumbled with a cup of wine in his hands, “I dare bet that he’s out there somewhere, and is up to no good.”

Zong Yue watched him silently before speaking up. “Why aren’t you telling her?”

“She’d think that I’m only comforting her. She’d only believe what she sees,” came the response between gulps. “I’m also waiting. If I’m right, news should come within two days.”

After some time Zong Yue commented, “You’ve been drinking a lot lately, Prince.”

“I’m angry!” Zhan Beiye took another big gulp, almost smashing his cup when done, but stopping himself after some thought. He placed it down lightly, but lost control and shattered it nonetheless. Blood oozed from his hand, and without looking, he dumped it into the wine pot.

“Zhangsun Wuji, that bastard. Doesn’t he know how worried and guilty she feels? Why isn’t he reporting his safety?”

“I thought you’re angry with Meng Fuyao,” Zong Yue stated.

Instead of answering, Zhan Beiye gobbled down the wine. A short while later he wiped his mouth and added, “She’s only upset because of guilt. I’ll make her fall in love with me.”

Zong Yue dusted off a speck of dirt on his sleeves, his white robe soaking in the silvery moonlight and lighting up his silhouette. A long while later he let out, “What a bully.”

“We’re the same.”

As the moon set, the courtyard was filled with layer of silver frost. The conversation that went on on the tree did not reach ears within the house. Troubles of the heart that settled deep into the night were only known to the sufferers themselves.

Meng Fuyao had been wide awake again, and it was day time when she finally fell into a hazy sleep. Some time later Lord Yuan Bao crawled out of his mini bed on the table in his pajamas and looked over her from above. After a pause, he nudged her with his claw.

‘I’ve already given such an obvious hint, pighead.’

He smoothened out his red robe. It was a promise made between his owner and himself, and it represented joy and safety. As a Divine guinea pig, which shared a telepathic connection with his owner, he couldn’t understand why Meng Fuyao was being so anxious when he wasn’t.

He had forgotten that that was a secret between the two of them and that Meng Fuyao knew no telepathy or guinea pig magic.

Lord Yuan Bao stared at her, his eyes sweeping under her quilt and spotting a vaguely frail face. He then looked at his own blossoming figure, gradually becoming aware of the conscience he had been lacking.

Lord Yuan Bao retrieved the biscuit box, rummaged through it and took out a few words, placing them neatly on the table.

When that was done, he conveniently went back to sleep, anticipating the tears of happiness that awaited Meng Fuyao.

Awakened by hunger at midnight, Lord Yuan Bao turned to his side and reached for snacks that he had a habit of keeping by his bed. Feeling a piece of biscuit, he quickly gobbled it up while still half asleep.

The next morning he was roused by Meng Fuyao’s agitated yet curt shout. He saw her eyes lighting up immediately after.

‘Ah, the tears of joy.’

Those eyes became increasingly bright, as though crystals were rolling inside before falling down his face. Soon, she lowered her head and covered her face.

She pressed her fingers hard against her scalp.

Lord Yuan Bao studied her in astonishment, noting that her “tears of happiness” did not seem normal.

A long, long time later he saw Meng Fuyao shrug her hands off her head, raise her red, puffy face and stare at the word before her. She suddenly reached over to grab him.

Meng Fuyao’s touch was gentle and carried a warmth he hadn’t experienced from her since their first meeting. She placed him lightly onto her palm and combed his snow-white fur with a fingertip.

He was shocked silly. Glaring at her he thought that she must have gone mad from the good news.

Meng Fuyao kept quiet as she combed him gently. Lord Yuan Bao couldn’t believe that her movements were actually more comforting than his owner’s. ‘What has come over her? Is she going to caress, and then strangle?’

Following that thought, Lord Yuan Bao felt a cold sensation above his head, as if something moist had contacted his body. He reached a claw up and felt it becoming wet.

Meng Fuyao had rested her chin on his head. “Poor Yuan Bao, you’re an orphan now…”

Meng Fuyao’s words sent a punch right at his heart as a sourness overtook him. Feeling something amiss he struggled about and looked at the words he had pieced together, before letting out a yelp.

‘Why is “shi” gone!’

‘Oh, God!’

Lord Yuan Bao sprung off his bed and dove into the biscuit box, urgently looking for another “shi.” Realizing that the only one was now missing, he turned around, upset. He saw her looking tenderly at him, her eyes seemingly saying: “Poor you… driven to madness by grief…”

Seeing her expression, Lord Yuan Bao thought to himself, ‘She’s actually crying over my loss…’

After a short pause, Lord Yuan Bao let out another squeak, running before her and gesturing with his whole body in an attempt to tell her that a word was missing.

Meng Fuyao simply smiled and stroked his head despite the tears streaming down her face.

Unable to bear it he let out a helpless cry before rushing out of the room.

‘I’ve done wrong, Master… I’ve failed to convey the news… please come back soon…’

…

As Zhan Beiye had predicted, the warring situation had undergone a major

change that day.

On the 2nd of March, Yang Mi’s army, which was pressing in on Jingcheng, encountered Wuji national army about 2.5kilometers outside of the city. Yang Mi had initially thought that they were the guards of Jingcheng and was about to display King De’s flag when he saw that the other army’s flag was already rising, while its general approached with a cold smile on his face. Beside him, under the bright yellow flag, stood the main commander, wearing a copper mask and smiling at him as well.

Yang Mi’s heart sank in awareness that he had fallen into a trap.

That day, 100,000 vanguard soldiers unbuckled their armors, and Yang Mi committed suicide.

On the 3rd of March. On the wild field by the pool in the inland city, King De, too, saw the army that was supposed to be on the coastal line. He also saw Yang Mi’s troop, which supposedly belonged to him.

The soldiers formed a dense barrier as the sea of swaying flags drowned his vision. It was then that King de felt an unprecedentedly overwhelming grief.

Upon contact between the armies, King De’s men couldn’t form a complete troop, leading him to escape southward and pin his hope on Guo Pingrong’s army to obtain a piece of territory in the southern border. While Guo Pingrong did appear with his soldiers, he immediately pointed his sword at King De.

A dramatic war of vengeance had, amid high expectation of smooth progress, fallen into a period of waiting and ultimately vanished into the clouds within a few days’ time.