HCAW 147

Chapter 147: Favor Breeds Suspicion

The ice rose in towering ridges, snow gleamed under clear skies, and upon the vast white expanse of the snowfield, two figures leaned close as they walked side by side.

Fang Jingyu supported Chu Kuang, his heart flooded with a tide of overwhelming joy and dread. Joy, because after just a few hours apart—and after having been left on the brink of death from grave injuries—Chu Kuang could now open his eyes, stand, and even draw a bow. Dread, because his current state was far from good: his face was as pale as snow, coughing wracked his body, and blood gushed from his mouth like a spring.

After leaving Emperor Bai’s palace, Fang Jingyu hastily found a wind-sheltered hollow, helped Chu Kuang sit down, and took out the gourd flask he carried. He fed him a few sips of the restorative decoction that Bai Huan Guard had previously prepared. Chu Kuang breathed raggedly for a while and seemed slightly steadier, though he still leaned against him weakly.

“Feeling any better?” Fang Jingyu asked with a furrowed brow.

Chu Kuang nodded.

“What miracle pill did that old man feed you to get you back on your feet so fast?”

“There’s… a Taoyuan Stone Chair in Emperor Bai’s city,” Chu Kuang said between gasps. “I heard that… sitting on it… even severe wounds… can be reversed. I feel a bit better now.”

Fang Jingyu immediately looked back toward the direction they’d come from—the Taoyuan stone gate. If the stone chair could heal, did the gate hold the same restorative power? But he quickly dismissed the notion. First, because neither he nor Chu Kuang had shown any healing after passing through the gate earlier; and second, if the gate was indeed as the bone tablet said—capable of linking to different eras of Xian Mountain—then it might also bring in ill-intentioned intruders. There were too many variables at the gate; it wasn’t a place they could safely dwell.

The thought passed in an instant. At that moment, Chu Kuang tugged at his sleeve and, between coughs, gave him a wan smile.

“Your Highness… truly a new man now. Your hair… why is it white?”

In Daiyu, Fang Jingyu had fused with “Great Immortal Yonghe” to gain the strength to face Gu Bi Guard in battle. The backlash had corroded his body, turning his hair silver-white overnight and leaving skin marred with marks like black flames. Only now did he realize how little they’d actually spoken since reuniting. Chu Kuang had been grievously wounded; everything had happened in a rush. He briefly explained the events, then lowered his gaze.

“I’m all right. It’s your injuries that are far worse. You’ve suffered so much because of me. The fault is mine.”

Chu Kuang didn’t respond. He only gently brushed the black markings crawling up Fang Jingyu’s neck, his eyes filled with quiet sorrow—a look that mirrored how Fang Minsheng once tended his childhood wounds. Fang Jingyu’s heart quivered, tears nearly brimming. Chu Kuang truly was his brother—no one else.

Then Chu Kuang softly called out, “Your Highness.”

Suddenly, sorrow surged in Fang Jingyu’s chest. Chu Kuang wasn’t calling him “Jingyu,” but “Your Highness”—distant, formal. In a low voice, Chu Kuang said,

“That you suffered all this is also… my fault.”

Fang Jingyu suddenly grabbed his wrist, their eyes locking, intensity burning in his gaze.

“Are you really going to keep calling me that?”

Chu Kuang trembled all over. His expression grew complicated—fear, grief, guilt all mingling together. After a long pause, he turned his face away without a word. He was always like this: capable of genuine emotion when life was on the line, but then silent in peace. Fang Jingyu reached out to turn his face toward him again, ready to press him further—when suddenly, he felt Chu Kuang’s body begin to shake violently. His strength failed, and blood burst anew from his many wounds.

“What’s wrong—BrothyMinsheng ge… Brother Minsheng!” Fang Jingyu’s expression changed drastically, panic overtaking him.

Only now did he remember how torn and tattered Chu Kuang had been earlier. That he’d even been able to speak just now had been nothing short of a miracle. Now, Chu Kuang collapsed in his arms, eyelids drooping heavily, slipping once more into unconsciousness.

______

Within Emperor Bai’s city, the cold wind pierced to the bone, and even falling water froze midair.

The old man slowly paced back into the palace, settled onto the round-backed stone chair, and gazed long and quietly at the ice sculpture that bore the likeness of the Xian Mountain Guards—just as he had done countless times over the past century.

He recalled the figures of Fang Jingyu and Chu Kuang—Emperor Bai and the Tianfu Guard—yet they shone so brightly, dazzling as the morning stars. In the instant he glimpsed their smiling faces, Emperor Bai was struck dumb, and he could no longer lift his blade—he could only watch them walk away.

“Minsheng… if it were you, how would you have treated them?” Emperor Bai murmured softly.

But then it struck him— even the last old friend who knew his identity was now gone. A chill seized him, and he lowered his head.

He did not know how long had passed before he suddenly heard footsteps coming through the wind and snow.

The old man lifted his head sharply and saw two figures emerging through the swirling snow. It was none other than Fang Jingyu supporting Chu Kuang.

“Fang Jingyu, what are you doing back here?” Emperor Bai snorted coldly. “Was I not ruthless enough? You still cling to foolish hopes that I’d treat you as an honored guest?”

Fang Jingyu looked pale and curtly said, “That Taoyuan Stone Chair in your hall—can it heal wounds? I’m borrowing it.” With that, he walked straight into the hall without asking permission. Emperor Bai saw Chu Kuang, limp and nearly lifeless in his arms, and his hostility quietly withdrew. He silently stepped aside.

Fang Jingyu had been a thousand times unwilling to return to Emperor Bai’s city—but with Chu Kuang’s life hanging by a thread, he dared not delay. He gently placed Chu Kuang on the stone chair, which indeed had miraculous effects—Chu Kuang’s pain eased, and the bleeding stopped.

Emperor Bai watched coldly and said, “Don’t think I spared you or permitted you to enter this city. I never cared whether you lived or died.” He jerked his chin toward Chu Kuang. “I only care about him.”

Fang Jingyu immediately bristled like a porcupine, glaring at Emperor Bai with hostility. Emperor Bai paid him no mind and went alone to the corner to fetch a set of golden shovel and silver pot. He struck flint to light a fire, stir-fried some sweet flag, then added some huangwen and fuzhi resin into the medicine cauldron, boiling a bowl of decoction with water, and pushed it toward Fang Jingyu from a distance. Fang Jingyu said, “What, didn’t you say you didn’t care whether I lived or died?”

Emperor Bai replied coolly, “It’s not for you. It’s for the one you brought.”

Fang Jingyu gave a grunt. Truth be told, there was nothing about this version of himself that he liked. Still, he took the medicine and began feeding it to Chu Kuang spoon by spoon. In this icebound world, any herbs they had were surely of precious value. But the medicine cooled quickly in the cold wind, and Chu Kuang’s jaws were clenched tight. More than half the bowl spilled down his chin and soaked his robes. Emperor Bai frowned and scolded:

“Useless.”

Fang Jingyu finally lost his temper and snapped, “What’s your problem, old butcher? Why are you always picking at me?”

Emperor Bai said, “Nothing much—just that I find you an eyesore.”

Fang Jingyu replied, “And what great deeds have you accomplished that make you think your name is worthy of being recorded in the annals of history?”

They glared at each other. In the end, it was Emperor Bai who gave way. He let out a long sigh, and his expression turned bleak. “I haven’t accomplished anything. If I’m being honest, your lack of success might be a step above mine.”

His desolate tone softened the hostility in Fang Jingyu’s heart. At that moment, Emperor Bai no longer resembled an emperor but an old, hunchbacked, lonely man—more like a shriveled shrimp than a sovereign. Fang Jingyu asked, “What exactly have you been through?”

Emperor Bai gazed at him deeply, then began to recount the past. For the first time in nearly a century, the old man opened his heart to another. Fang Jingyu listened silently. The ice wall was impassable, and Penglai lay in ruin. The suffering was unending, his comrades long dead. The stories in the bone tablets felt far more vivid and hopeless when spoken aloud. The more Fang Jingyu heard, the heavier his heart grew—until it felt like it was his own sorrow.

Eventually, Emperor Bai fell silent again. His eyes drifted, then landed on a bone bow nearby.

“What is that?” he asked suddenly. Fang Jingyu turned and saw a bone bow lying at his side—smooth and pale as the moon. He picked it up and said, “It should be Chu Kuang’s… Brother Minsheng’s bone bow. He cherishes it deeply and keeps it close.”

Before coming to Emperor Bai’s city, Fang Jingyu had prepared for a fierce battle. With the Vipashiyin Blade already broken, he’d brought all usable weapons, including the Fan Ruo Bow. Emperor Bai took the bow, his hands trembling like sifted sand. Slowly, he clutched it—and then, tears burst forth.

Fang Jingyu didn’t understand at first. But he watched as the old man hugged the bow like a child and wept bitterly, as if mourning an old friend long gone.

The sobs lasted for a long time, until even Fang Jingyu was moved. At last, Emperor Bai, exhausted from crying, let out a long breath and said, “Go.”

Fang Jingyu asked, “Go where? There’s nowhere for us to go.”

“The farther you get from this ice wall, the better. All of Penglai’s suffering began with it. I advise you not to break yourself against it.” Emperor Bai’s voice was low but commanding. “And leave this city. It doesn’t need two Emperor Bais.”

Fang Jingyu glared at him. “I disagree. Whether I’m an egg or a rock, I have to crash into it to know the result. And I really disagree with the second part—Brother Minshengis still healing here. I’m not leaving.”

Emperor Bai sneered, “You’re just a rash boy. You can’t even protect him—why stay here and cause trouble? I alone am enough.”

Fang Jingyu shot back, “You and I are different. Have you even slept with him?”

Emperor Bai’s eyes widened in disbelief. Fang Jingyu felt a sudden thrill of satisfaction at gaining the upper hand. Emperor Bai tried to speak again, but this time, his voice caught in his throat as if stuffed with bees.

“Didn’t you say he was your blood brother—that it was just brotherly affection?”

Fang Jingyu was one step ahead. He strode to the Taoyuan Stone Chair.

Chu Kuang was just waking. As his eyelids fluttered open, he suddenly felt his chin lifted—and a kiss fell.

Startled, he found Fang Jingyu holding his face, their mouths and tongues locked. His lips were taken, and he had no strength to push back.

When the kiss ended, Fang Jingyu wiped his mouth with his sleeve and turned to Emperor Bai with an icy gaze. “We’re brothers—and also that kind of relationship.”

Emperor Bai stood speechless for a long time. Then, suddenly, he burst into hearty laughter—echoing through the hall.

Before him, Fang Jingyu held Chu Kuang close without flinching, his face expressionless.

He said, “You little brat….you actually did what I once wished to do… but never dared to.”

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AN: Just half a volume to go—no more angst ahead, only romantic comedy~(￣▽￣)~