Chapter 80: Chapter 79. Years have passed.

Chapter 79.

He Shan watched them leave, one after the other. Stretching his neck for a better view, He Shan smirked and turned to Ying Hongxue. “Our little brother must really be treasured by the Crown Prince. Even now, he has to stick close.”

Zhao Lin, standing nearby, chimed in with a sly grin. “Apart from Eunuch Zheng, I’d say Eunuch Xue is our prince’s most trusted.”

He Shan perked up at that, intrigued. “Oh? Just how trusted are we talking—”

Before he could finish, Ying Hongxue pinched him sharply, cutting him off.

Hissing in pain, He Shan turned back, only to find her staring intently at the departing duo, an unsettled look in her eyes.

Something about them felt… off.

She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but her gut told her something wasn’t right.

*

Yin Chengyu hadn’t gone far. Ahead of him stood a snow-laden forest, while behind him lay the camp, its bonfire flickering against the dark. Through the thin veil of trees, shadows of people huddled near the flames danced faintly in the distance.

A cold wind whistled through the barren branches, their brittle creaks adding to the night’s stillness. From behind, barely audible, came the sound of footsteps crunching over snow.

Yin Chengyu’s sharp eyes narrowed as he glanced sideways, lips curling into a half-smile, half-sneer. “Eunuch Xue, tailing me, are you?”

Xue Shu stopped just short of him, gaze lowered, studying him with a chilling intensity.

The moonlight spilled over the treetops, painting the snow a pale silver. It caught on Yin Chengyu, standing in the vast whiteness, his expression unreadable, as distant and cold as the frost around him. He looked as he had in another lifetime—untouchable, enigmatic, a Crown Prince you could reach for but never truly claim.

Did he already know?

Or was this just a test?

A tight, almost painful sensation gripped Xue Shu’s chest as his emotions darkened, swirling like a bottomless abyss. He took a step forward, closing the gap, and leaned in—abandoning any pretense of restraint.

One hand slid firmly to Yin Chengyu’s back, the other caressing the nape of his neck with a deceptive gentleness. Without warning, he captured the prince’s lips in a bruising kiss, prying them apart to pass the warm jade ring he carried on his tongue.

Yin Chengyu let out a low, throaty hum, clutching Xue Shu’s robes as though preparing to wrest back control. Their breaths mingled, hot and fevered, as the ring slipped back and forth between them—a battle neither wanted to lose. Their lips remained locked, the tension building, until Xue Shu finally relented and withdrew.

His retreat was reluctant, his lips parting with a glint of defiance. The crimson jade ring now rested in his mouth.

Yin Chengyu, unhurried and composed, pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed at the corner of his lips. “What madness is this now?”

Xue Shu didn’t answer. Instead, he reached for Yin Chengyu’s hand, holding it firmly as his thumb traced the delicate contours of each slender bone. His dark eyes gleamed, heavy with meaning, though his lips stayed sealed.

Yin Chengyu made to pull away, but froze when he saw what came next—Xue Shu dipped his head and took the prince’s fingertip into his mouth.

A flicker of heat lit Yin Chengyu’s gaze as he watched the slow, deliberate movements of Xue Shu’s tongue. The warmth, the wetness—he could feel it all, a shiver tracing up his spine. Yet, instead of resisting, he teased back, letting his finger press against the slick surface of Xue Shu’s tongue.

A muffled groan escaped Xue Shu’s throat as he suckled with abandon. His lashes fluttered, but his gaze, when he lifted it, was searing, raw, impossible to ignore.

“Fond of my hands, are you?” Yin Chengyu drawled, his voice laced with mockery and amusement.

He already knew Xue Shu’s obsession, but watching him unravel like this was its own kind of satisfaction. There was nothing he enjoyed more than holding someone’s desire in the palm of his hand—quite literally.

Xue Shu didn’t bother denying it. Instead, he took the jade ring between his teeth, slow and deliberate, and slid it back onto the prince’s finger.

The pale skin, chilled by the night air, had flushed pink from the prolonged attention, the faint indentations of Xue Shu’s teeth left behind like an unspoken brand. Beads of moisture clung to the surface, gleaming faintly against the crimson jade. It was a sight that spoke of possession, of devotion, yet carried a sinful allure.

Yin Chengyu’s lips curved into a knowing smile as he watched Xue Shu’s breathing grow heavier, more ragged. He let his hand glide down, fingers brushing over the smooth muscles beneath layers of silk, stopping just before things could escalate further.

Xue Shu’s breath hitched. His grip on Yin Chengyu’s hand tightened, as though trying to anchor himself. The air between them thrummed, thick with tension.

Still smiling, Yin Chengyu leaned in, his voice honeyed yet firm. “You still haven’t answered me, have you?”

"Like it?"

"Yes." Xue Shu’s voice was hoarse, trembling under the strain, his eyes tinged with red. The hand pressed against the other man’s back tightened instinctively, dragging them impossibly close. Their bodies fused together, a suffocating intimacy, leaving no space, no air between them.

Yin Chengyu tilted his head, settling his chin on Xue Shu's shoulder with deliberate ease. His breath, warm and teasing, brushed against the sensitive hollow of Xue Shu's ear like tiny, insidious hooks, sinking deep into his mind. It unraveled him. All Xue Shu could think of was claiming him, fully, utterly, recklessly.

But before he could lose himself, Yin Chengyu’s soft voice pierced through the haze.

“If you’d been made a real eunuch back then,” he murmured, his tone laced with mockery, “you wouldn’t be enjoying this, would you?”

Yin Chengyu watched him keenly, searching for cracks in the composure Xue Shu desperately tried to maintain. His lips curved into a wicked smile as he continued, relentless. “If you were truly a eunuch, you wouldn’t even dare take off your clothes.” His eyes glinted like moonlight reflecting on a blade, sharp, unyielding. “Don’t you think I have a point, Eunuch Xue?”

Xue Shu’s lashes fluttered. His restraint snapped. Without a word, he dipped his head and bit down on Yin Chengyu’s neck, hard enough to leave a mark but restrained enough to avoid the exposed skin. The thick collar of Yin Chengyu’s robe bore the brunt of his teeth.

The sensation was an intoxicating mix of pain and pleasure, tightening the web they were caught in. Xue Shu, trapped and desperate, could only communicate his torment and desire through the bite, through the raw intensity of his grip.

A dull ache spread from his neck, and Yin Chengyu’s tongue darted out to wet his lips, a flash of satisfaction in his eyes. He applied pressure with his hands, drawing a muffled grunt from Xue Shu, only to let go with a smirk.

“Why so quiet now?” he drawled, his tone a mockery of innocence.

Xue Shu averted his gaze, the storm in his eyes hidden beneath his lowered lashes. His voice, rough and guttural, broke the silence. “Your Highness is far too noble to entangle yourself with a eunuch. I have no answer to give.”

Yin Chengyu’s expression turned cold, his lips curling into a sneer. “You’ve finally said something sensible.”

With deliberate disdain, he pulled his hand away, wiping the remnants of their closeness on Xue Shu’s chest. His tone sharpened, each word a deliberate stab. “I have no respect for eunuchs.”

He spun on his heel, his robes billowing as he walked away without a second glance.

Panic surged through Xue Shu as he watched that figure retreat.

He moved before he could think, grabbing Yin Chengyu roughly and pulling him into a crushing embrace. His voice, raw and strained, trembled with a dangerous edge as he growled against Yin Chengyu’s ear. “I am not a eunuch.”

Over and over, he repeated the words, his face buried against Yin Chengyu’s neck, as if trying to etch them into his very skin.

“I am not a eunuch.”

He wasn’t that wretched, lowly creature anymore. He wasn’t the shadow groveling at Yin Chengyu’s feet. He had risen. He was worthy now.

For years, he had never regretted mutilating himself to enter the palace, to draw closer to Yin Chengyu. How else could he have held the unattainable moon in his arms?

But Yin Chengyu’s brilliance, his purity, was a cruel mirror. It reflected all of Xue Shu’s filth, all his ugliness, leaving him no place to hide.

No matter how much darkness Xue Shu harbored in his heart, those clear, piercing eyes stripped him bare.

Yin Chengyu was a god on high, an unyielding, untouchable cold moon. He should have remained above, far removed from the dirt below.

But the ants dragged him into the mud. Xue Shu had meant to save him. Instead, he had clung to him, dragging him down, pulling him deeper into the mire.

He desecrated a god. He blotted out the moon.

And in that moment, Xue Shu realized he was no different from the rest—twisted, selfish, broken.

His feelings for Yin Chengyu were a tangled mess of inferiority, obsession, despair, and a consuming need to possess. The more he struggled, the deeper he sank into the mire.

When he saw Yin Chengyu again in the imperial mausoleum, when Yin Chengyu extended his hand, Xue Shu couldn’t hold back anymore. He revealed his claws, his desperation, dragging Yin Chengyu down to drown with him.

His arms trembled around Yin Chengyu’s waist, his control teetering on the edge of collapse. Yin Chengyu noticed, regret flickering across his face.

He shouldn’t have pushed him so far.

Exhaling a long, measured breath, Yin Chengyu softened, patting Xue Shu’s arm gently. “I know you’re not a eunuch. Let go—you’re hurting me.”

The iron grip around him loosened, if only slightly.

Breaking free from his embrace, Yin Chengyu slipped out smoothly, deliberately ignoring the redness in his eyes. With a sly grin, he gave Xue Shu’s cheek a light slap, teasing, “That little treasure of yours—your life’s most precious asset—was saved by me. Shouldn’t you be thanking me properly?”

Xue Shu met his gaze, his expression unreadable, dark and clouded.

After a long pause, his voice came low and rough. “Yes... I should thank Your Highness.”

Satisfied with the response, Yin Chengyu gave a small nod of approval. “The wind’s biting, and the cold’s creeping in. I’ll be heading back first,” he said, his eyes trailing down Xue Shu’s figure in a deliberate, pointed manner before landing somewhere below the belt. “You stay here and sober up. Don’t fall apart too much.”

Without waiting for a reply, he turned on his heel and left, leaving Xue Shu to stew in silence.

*

When Yin Chengyu returned to camp, He Shan and Zhao Lin had given up on drinking, opting instead to share a roasted wild pheasant.

With a dagger in hand, He Shan expertly carved slices of the golden, crisp meat and placed them on a plate for Ying Hongxue.

Noticing Yin Chengyu’s arrival, He Shan lifted another freshly roasted pheasant off the rack and offered it to him. “Your Highness, have a taste. This bird turned out perfect—crispy outside, juicy inside.” He glanced around, puzzled when he didn’t see Xue Shu following behind. Peering curiously past Yin Chengyu, he asked, “Where’s Xue Shu? Weren’t you two together?”

“I’ve had enough wine. No appetite now,” Yin Chengyu replied, brushing off the offer. He shrugged lightly, his tone casual as he added, “He drank too much and is currently busy throwing up in the woods. He’ll come back once he’s done emptying his stomach.”

He Shan, ever the chatterbox, opened his mouth to press further, but Yin Chengyu cut him off, feigning drowsiness. “I’m exhausted. I’m heading to my tent,” he said, slipping away without waiting for more questions.

As He Shan watched him go, he muttered incredulously, “Drank till he puked? His drinking skills are awful—can’t even hold a candle to yours,” he said, nudging Ying Hongxue with a grin.

Annoyed, Ying Hongxue shot him a glare and stuffed a drumstick into his mouth to shut him up. “Eat and stop running your damn mouth.”

But her gaze lingered on Yin Chengyu’s slightly swollen, unnaturally red lips and the wrinkled hem of his robes. Her brow furrowed slightly, thoughts swirling unspoken.

*

The next morning, after a night’s rest, the hunting party resumed their expedition.

Yin Chengyu sent scouts in all directions, searching for signs of larger prey or the wolf king Emperor Longfeng had released for the hunt.

By midday, however, the search yielded nothing substantial. Despite the lack of major discoveries, the hunters had managed to bag enough smaller game to keep spirits high.

Just as Yin Chengyu was about to call for a lunch break, a deep, resonant tiger’s roar shattered the snowy stillness, echoing through the mountains.

The roar reverberated through the frosty forest, sending a flock of startled birds into flight.

Excitement electrified the group.

“There’ll be no rest now,” Yin Chengyu declared sharply. “Mount up! We ride for the source of that roar!”

Though the tiger called only once, the seasoned hunters quickly determined the direction and led the party forward with expert precision.

After riding hard for over ten miles, the lead hunter abruptly reined in his horse. Dismounting swiftly, he bent low to sweep away a patch of dried grass, revealing faint but distinct paw prints in the snow.

Measuring the prints with his hands, his face lit up in exhilaration. “It’s a tiger, no doubt! Judging by the size of the prints, it’s at least nine feet long and weighs over 300 pounds!”

If they could take down this beast, victory in the hunt—and the glory of the year’s champion—was nearly guaranteed.

———Author’s Note:

Big Dog: Just to reiterate—I do, in fact, have something down there. ;)