Husband, Let Me Touch Your Abs - Chapter 162

162 · Extra Chapter 12: Aftermath

After the ambush, Zhao Jingshu and Xue Ning were transferred out of the fire squad and placed into the soldiers’ camp.

Compared to the supply troops, this place was slightly easier, but it was overcrowded—at night, dozens of people squeezed together to sleep, and the smell was “unforgettable.”

Snoring, teeth grinding, farting, and sleep-talking made for an unbearable night.

Xue Ning wasn’t afraid of much, but he couldn’t tolerate this. Even back home, he was a light sleeper, waking up at the slightest noise. He barely got any rest that night.

Zhao Jingshu, on the other hand, slept soundly, burrowing into Xue Ning’s arms like a little pig and sleeping through until morning.

After several sleepless nights, Xue Ning was reaching his limit. Dark circles formed under his eyes, and he was weak even during guard duty.

“Hey, are you sick?” Zhao Jingshu nudged him with his shoulder.

“No.”

“Then why do you look so exhausted?”

Xue Ning clicked his tongue. “Try staying up for several nights straight, and you’ll look the same.”

“What? You haven’t slept for the past few nights?”

Xue Ning nodded. “I doze off occasionally, but their snoring is too loud.”

“You’re such a noble young master.” Zhao Jingshu teased, but still reached out and took Xue Ning’s weapon from his shoulder, carrying it himself.

By noon, Xue Ning couldn’t take it anymore. After hurriedly eating a few bites of food, he lay down with his head resting on Zhao Jingshu’s lap and fell asleep.

They were quite close. Zhao Jingshu could feel Xue Ning’s breath against his lower abdomen, and for some reason, his face flushed, and his heartbeat grew erratic.

“Boom! Boom! Boom!” The war drums suddenly thundered, shattering the fleeting moment of warmth—enemy attack!

The two of them scrambled up, quickly donned their armor, grabbed their weapons, and ran to join the formation.

The Turkic forces had sent sixty thousand cavalry straight toward the border. General Gao Changbin led the army to face them.

At the front were five thousand cavalry, followed by the shielded troops, then the Shenji Battalion, with the infantry at the very back.

The reason for this formation was that the Turkic cavalry was too fierce. If the infantry engaged them head-on, the casualties would be disastrous. Of course, the cavalry charging at the front also fought with the resolve to die.

The war drums were deep and relentless, making hearts tremble. Zhao Jingshu’s grip on his weapon trembled slightly, his blood boiling with adrenaline. Suddenly, someone beside him took his hand.

Xue Ning didn’t look at him, only squeezed his palm and said, “When the battle starts, don’t charge in recklessly. Use your head.”

“Don’t worry! Let’s see who can kill more this time!”

With a roar, the battle began. Dark clouds loomed over the city, the walls trembling as the storm raged. The wind howled, scattering thick snowflakes over the battlefield.

This battle was recorded in the historical texts—a small skirmish between the Wu Dynasty and the Turkic forces. The total casualties on both sides were under twenty thousand, yet the snow beyond the Yin Mountains was stained deep crimson.

Zhao Jingshu pulled his spear from a barbarian’s corpse. After prolonged combat, he was nearly spent, collapsing onto the snow, his muscles twitching uncontrollably. Sweat and blood soaked his clothes, which had frozen stiff in the bitter wind.

His breath came in hot puffs, and he spat out a mouthful of saliva tinged with blood. He just wanted to lie down and sleep.

“Ah!” A cry rang out nearby. He turned his head and saw one of their own soldiers grappling with a Turkic warrior in the snow.

Gripping his spear, he stood up, strode forward, and plunged it fiercely into the barbarian’s body. The enemy fell motionless.

“Thank you! Thank you!” The rescued soldier sobbed with relief, overwhelmed by surviving the ordeal.

Zhao Jingshu ignored him, using his spear as support as he continued searching. During the chaos of battle, he had been separated from Xue Ning. When he tried to find him, a Turkic soldier had engaged him in combat, forcing him to struggle fiercely before finally killing the man. He had taken a cut to the leg—not deep, but enough to make walking difficult.

He moved forward slowly, pausing occasionally to finish off any surviving enemies. He couldn’t afford to help his wounded comrades, nor did he have the heart to end their suffering.

After wandering for a long time, he suddenly spotted a single boot on the ground—made of cowhide, lined with soft lamb’s wool. It was the pair his mother had made!

His heart clenched violently. Ignoring his injured leg, he sprinted forward madly. This was Xue Ning’s shoe! Where was he?!

He frantically overturned corpses one by one, his heart dropping with each reveal—not him, not him, still not him… Where the hell was Xue Ning?!

Ahead, the army sounded the signal to retreat. They had won, but it was a bitter victory, bought with the lives of their soldiers. They had barely managed to push the Turkic forces back beyond Black Wind Pass.

As the battlefield was cleared, General Zhang rode over to find Zhao Jingshu and Xue Ning. Though the Grand Marshal had said to leave the boys alone, he couldn’t truly let them come to harm.

When he arrived, he only saw Zhao Jingshu desperately digging through corpses.

“Zhao boy, what are you doing?!”

Zhao Jingshu didn’t respond, still searching frantically. “Why isn’t he here? Where did he go?”

“Xue Ning isn’t with you?”

Hearing that name, Zhao Jingshu finally looked up, dazed, and held out the shoe. “I can’t find A-Ning. I only found his shoe.”

General Zhang’s pupils contracted. “Don’t panic. I’ll send men to search!” He immediately ordered a unit clearing the battlefield to find the shoe’s owner, warning them repeatedly to make sure they found him.

“Zhao boy, come back with me first. It’s getting dark, and the cold will kill you out here.”

Zhao Jingshu shook his head. He wouldn’t return without Xue Ning.

Seeing that persuasion was useless, General Zhang could only take off his own cloak and hand it to him. “Put this on. I’ll report to the Grand Marshal.”

Elsewhere, Xue Ning ran barefoot into the forest, four Turkic soldiers in pursuit.

Perhaps he had killed too many of them on the battlefield, drawing their attention—ten or more had surrounded him in a coordinated attack.

Xue Ning was forced to fight while retreating. After killing six or seven men, he was completely exhausted. To avoid leaving footprints, he could only run toward the nearby hillside. Unexpectedly, those men refused to give up and kept chasing him. During the chase, someone pulled off one of his shoes, and now his left foot was so frozen that he could barely feel it.

His weapon had long been lost, leaving him only the dagger hidden in his chest. He had to find an opportunity for a fatal strike; otherwise, these four men would wear him down to death.

The sky darkened bit by bit, affecting the Turkic warriors’ vision, finally giving Xue Ning a brief moment to catch his breath.

He quietly climbed up a nearby tree, tore a piece of cloth from his hem, and wrapped it around his shoeless foot. After half an hour, the Turkic warriors, unable to find him, sat under a tree not far away, muttering words he couldn’t understand.

Leaning against the tree, time passed unbearably slow for Xue Ning. Staying like this wasn’t a solution—if morning came, he would surely be exposed.

Just as he was worrying, one of the Turkic warriors suddenly stood up and walked toward him. Xue Ning tensed, gripping the dagger and hunching his body into a combat stance.

The man had only come to relieve himself. As soon as he pulled down his pants, a shadow suddenly descended from above, slashing his throat before he could even cry out.

Xue Ning propped the man’s body against the tree, then climbed back up to wait for his next target.

The remaining warriors waited a long time, but their companion never returned. One of them finally stood up to look for him. As soon as he reached the tree, he sensed something was wrong and turned to run.

But Xue Ning wouldn’t give him the chance—he swiftly stabbed a blade into the back of his neck, killing him instantly.

The remaining two warriors rushed over and engaged Xue Ning in close combat. These barbarians hadn’t learned formal martial arts, but their sheer brute force left Xue Ning completely defenseless.

By the end, all three of them had lost their weapons and were fighting with their bare hands. One of them punched Xue Ning hard in the face, sending golden sparks across his vision. A buzzing sound rang in his head, and the world spun as he fell backward.

The other Turkic warrior lifted a stone, aiming to smash Xue Ning’s head. If the blow landed, his brains would splatter.

Xue Ning barely managed to roll aside, but his ear was sliced in half. The pain was unbearable, making his vision blur with rage.

Desperately fumbling on the ground, his fingers suddenly wrapped around a broken wooden stick. Without hesitation, he twisted around and drove it into the Turkic warrior’s inner thigh!

“Ahhhh!!” The Turkic warrior howled in agony, then stomped down on Xue Ning’s stomach. The force nearly displaced his organs, making him cough up blood. He almost blacked out from the pain.

The other warrior picked up Xue Ning’s fallen dagger and approached him.

By now, Xue Ning had no strength left to resist. He shut his eyes in despair. He never thought he would die in a place like this… If Quanbao knew he was dead, he would surely be heartbroken… He hadn’t even married Quanbao yet.

“Bang!”

Just when Xue Ning thought he was doomed, a long spear suddenly smashed the Turkic warrior to the ground. A familiar figure behind him gasped for breath.

“Xue Ning, I’m here.”

The injured Turkic warrior tried to flee, but it was too late. Zhao Jingshu leaped forward, wrapping both hands around the man’s throat, strangling him until his neck snapped.

Zhao Jingshu had spent four hours searching for Xue Ning, refusing to give up. By some stroke of fate, he discovered a trail of footprints—one barefoot, one with a shoe—leading through the snow. He followed them all the way here.

But searching the mountain was difficult. He didn’t dare call out, so he blindly wandered through the dark.

Then, the sounds of the Turkic warriors reached his ears. Instantly, he charged forward like a man possessed. The moment he arrived, he saw Xue Ning lying on the ground, covered in blood.

His heart nearly stopped beating.

He lifted Xue Ning up, took a pair of shoes from one of the dead Turkic warriors, and put them on his feet. Then, he wrapped Xue Ning in his own cloak and carried him down the mountain.

Xue Ning lay slumped against his shoulder, the blood on his torn ear already dried. Every inch of his body throbbed in pain.

“Quanbao… How did you find me?”

“Don’t call me that. You lost a shoe, so I followed your footprints.”

“Good thing you came, or I’d be dead today…” Xue Ning exhaled heavily, swallowing the blood rising in his throat.

“I won. I killed 178 barbarians.”

“Our Quanbao is amazing.” Taking advantage of his injuries, Xue Ning teased him endlessly. He knew that once he recovered, Zhao Jingshu wouldn’t let him say that again.

“If you call me Quanbao one more time, I’ll throw you down.”

“I won’t, I won’t… Jingshu, when the war is over, let’s get married.”

“Who wants to marry you?!” Zhao Jingshu’s face turned bright red.

“We… will…” Before Xue Ning could finish, he passed out.

Zhao Jingshu was terrified and shouted, “Fine, fine! I’ll marry you—just don’t die!”