Counting casualties, arranging city patrols, dealing with various officials… Fu Shen was busy all night, with Yan Xiaohan staying by his side. As dawn broke and the Northern Yan army returned with captured Tartar leaders imprisoned in the government office, the chaos subsided, and everyone, exhausted, went to rest.
They were staying in an official’s residence, far better than the broken house in Tangli Town. Yan Xiaohan, unusually fastidious, washed repeatedly to remove the bloody smell. Returning to the bedroom, he found Fu Shen, who had finished washing earlier, already asleep leaning against the headboard.
Only now did he feel his heartbeat, rhythmic and almost melodic. The cacophony of battle cries had finally receded, subtle sounds entering his ears, as if returning from a hell of carnage to the human world, coming alive again.
He stood dazed for a moment until Fu Shen’s breathing stopped, and he lazily asked with closed eyes: “What, being punished to stand?”
“Hmm?” Yan Xiaohan suddenly came to his senses, walked to the bed, moved Fu Shen to the inner side, and lay down beside him: “Why are you awake?”
“You were standing there in a daze, how could I not wake up?” Fu Shen covered a yawn, turned, and hugged his shoulder, touching the scar: “Today… no, yesterday, you were too careless. I’ll let it go this time, but remember it yourself.”
“I was too anxious,” Yan Xiaohan obediently admitted his mistake, embracing Fu Shen’s slender back through a thin layer of clothing, softly asking: “But how did you discover it? We were so far apart.”
Fu Shen didn’t directly answer, casually saying: “If you got stabbed right under my nose, I might as well not live either. I’m tired, let’s sleep.”
Yan Xiaohan didn’t press further, feeling he had inadvertently touched a hidden tenderness beneath Fu Shen’s armor.
Raised in the capital and never having been to the battlefield, his combat experience was practically nil. Though not required to fight as a military supervisor, Fu Shen insisted on keeping him close to watch over him, preventing accidental injury.
“How can you be so good?”
Yan Xiaohan looked at Fu Shen’s sleeping face, feeling as if he could vaguely taste the sweetness of osmanthus sugar.
