The Blood Crown - Chapter 311

Feng Ye smiled and said, “You’re worried about me. I know you’ve always cared about me in your heart.”

 

Yan Sikong lowered his voice. “What is your plan?”

 

“Leak information to the traitor that Guanning is about to run out of food, and that I’m withdrawing to the capital. Then, Que Wang and Xu Feng will lead troops to raid Zhuo Letai’s camp. I will feign retreat, encounter the Jin soldiers, and be forced back to Guanning,” Feng Ye said slowly. “Finally, my uncle will create momentum in the capital to send reinforcements and provisions to rescue me. If Zhuo Letai wants to capture me, he will have no choice but to launch a swift assault.”

 

Yan Sikong’s heart sank deeper as he listened. If this plan succeeded, it could indeed lure Zhuo Letai into the trap. Using himself as bait, Feng Ye would force Zhuo Letai to believe the ruse. Capturing Feng Ye would mean he could threaten the Feng family army and even challenge the entire Central Plains. Such a temptation would be hard for Zhuo Letai to resist.

 

But this was far too dangerous. What if Feng Ye were captured while pretending to “escape”? Wouldn’t that be walking into the enemy’s trap?

 

Just as Yan Sikong was about to speak in opposition, Feng Ye cut him off. “I know what you’re going to say. Kong’er, I’m no longer that reckless boy who feared nothing. I understand that my safety concerns the lives of the entire army. But right now, there’s no better option. Even if there were, there’s no time to implement it.”

 

Yan Sikong gritted his teeth. “I will not trade you for Guanning. If something happens to you, Liaodong will surely fall.”

 

“I’ll return,” Feng Ye said resolutely, his eyes firm and fearless, emanating a cold brilliance. “Wait for me. I’ll definitely come back.”

 

“Zhuo Letai will stop at nothing to capture you.”

 

“That’s why Que Wang has to stall his camp.”

 

Yan Sikong raised his voice. “You’ve never fought the Jin soldiers before. You have no idea how brutal they are!”

 

“But I fought the Oirats at eleven and led troops into battle at fourteen,” Feng Ye said. His long arm reached across the table, caressing Yan Sikong’s cheek as he spoke softly. “I’ve faced dangers far worse than today. Even the King of Hell doesn’t dare take me. Trust me. As long as you’re here, I will always return to your side.”

 

Yan Sikong stared at Feng Ye. He knew Feng Ye’s mind was made up, just as it had been many times before. Once Feng Ye decided on something, no one could stop him.

 

But blades and arrows were merciless. Not every time would end without incident.

 

What if Feng Ye didn’t return?

 

He had always thought he could remain as calm as a still lake in front of Feng Ye, yet now, his heart was once again stirred.

 

No matter what, Feng Ye must not die.

 

Feng Ye noticed Yan Sikong’s pale face and felt secretly pleased. Smiling, he said, “You are worried about me. When I return, we’ll never be apart again.”

 

Yan Sikong felt a sharp pang in his heart. Lowering his head, he said hoarsely, “Since the Wolf King has made up his mind, we must plan more meticulously to ensure nothing goes wrong.”

 

Feng Ye gently pinched his chin, lifting his face. “Tomorrow, I’ll gather the generals for a meeting. I just wanted to tell you first.”

 

When Yan Sikong tried to turn his face away, Feng Ye suddenly leaned halfway across the low table and kissed him.

 

Yan Sikong’s eyes widened in surprise. Just as he began to resist, Feng Ye’s large hand pressed against the back of his head.

 

Feng Ye kissed him hard, only letting go after Yan Sikong pushed him away.

 

Feng Ye licked his lips, savoring the moment, and even rubbed his lips with his thumb to feel the lingering warmth that belonged to Yan Sikong.

 

Yan Sikong pretended as if nothing had happened and said nonchalantly, “General Liang is most familiar with Guanning’s terrain. Tomorrow, we need to figure out an ‘escape’ route.”

 

“Alright,” Feng Ye said as he stood up, reluctant to leave. “I have many military affairs to handle. Let Hun’er stay here with you.”

 

“…Very well.”

 

“On New Year’s Eve, let’s spend it together,” Feng Ye emphasized again. “Just the two of us.”

 

Yan Sikong looked up at Feng Ye. “This is a festival of reunion. I have a family and brothers. How can I let him spend it alone?”

 

“He probably won’t have time to celebrate with you,” Feng Ye said calmly.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

Feng Ye replied calmly, “I plan to act on New Year’s Eve.”

 

Yan Sikong gasped.

 

—

 

Yan Sikong spent the entire night poring over the map of Liaodong, which he had already studied countless times, repeatedly analyzing the escape routes for Yuan Nanyu and Feng Ye’s “retreat”—primarily Feng Ye’s, as he was Zhuo Letai’s true target.

 

The next day, Feng Ye gathered the generals and explained his plan. As expected, it was met with unanimous opposition. While the plan could lure Zhuo Letai into attacking, Feng Ye, as the commander-in-chief, could not afford any mishaps. If something happened to him, the army would lose its leader. Who could bear such consequences?

 

Feng Ye remained firm, while Yan Sikong said nothing. As a result, no one could persuade him.

 

Yan Sikong thought, Feng Ye hadn’t told him in advance just to test whether he was “worried” about him. It was also to ensure that today, he wouldn’t face unanimous opposition. As long as Yan Sikong stayed silent, everyone knew persuasion was futile.

 

After the meeting, Yuan Nanyu pulled Yan Sikong aside and whispered, “Second Brother, did Feng Ye tell you earlier? This is too risky. If something happens to him, it’ll all be over.”

 

Yan Sikong sighed. “That’s just how he is. As long as there’s a chance, he’ll dare to gamble. He was like this in the past, and he still is now. Moreover, given Guanning’s current situation, there’s no better option.”

 

Yuan Nanyu frowned. “Even you couldn’t stop him?”

 

Yan Sikong shook his head. “Not even once.”

 

“Second Brother, apart from having the city to defend, we are weaker than the Jin soldiers in every other aspect. Now we’re abandoning the city’s defenses…” Yuan Nanyu’s brow furrowed deeply. “Although we can’t demoralize ourselves, this battle is bound to be perilous.”

 

Yan Sikong patted Yuan Nanyu’s shoulder. “I’ve considered all of this, but our provisions have been stolen, and time is running out. Even a trapped beast will fight back. How could we humans not? We can’t just sit and wait for death.”

 

Yuan Nanyu sighed deeply.

 

“Don’t worry about Feng Ye right now; worry about yourself,” Yan Sikong said, gripping Yuan Nanyu’s neck and looking deeply into his eyes. “Sneak attacks always involve great risk. That’s enemy territory. They outnumber us. You must be extremely careful.”

 

Yuan Nanyu said solemnly, “Second Brother, rest assured. I’ll do my best to stall Zhuo Letai’s forces. The more troops I can hold back, the fewer he’ll have to chase Feng Ye.”

 

Yan Sikong said anxiously, “I’d rather you come back safely. When it’s time to retreat, retreat. Don’t linger in battle. To defeat the Jin soldiers, we need every man. If something happens to you, you won’t be helping Feng Ye but burying all of Liaodong. Do you understand?”

 

Yuan Nanyu nodded slightly, his face heavy with worry.

 

—

 

In the blink of an eye, it was New Year’s Eve.

 

They had made all the preparations in secret, and Yuan Nanyu had already led his troops out of the city after nightfall.

 

Feng Ye, riding Drunken Red and accompanied by a team of guards, arrived at the Yuan residence. When he passed the ginkgo tree in the courtyard and stood under the eaves of Yan Sikong’s room, he lowered his head and gazed at the faint yet warm light seeping through the crack in the door. For a moment, he felt hesitant to push it open.

 

Because the moment he saw Yan Sikong, they would have to say goodbye.

 

Tasting the bitterness in his heart, Feng Ye slowly pushed the door open.

 

The cold wind from outside clashed with the warmth inside, making Feng Ye’s skin tremble. His eyes eagerly searched the room and landed on Yan Sikong, who was sitting at the table, staring blankly at the sumptuous spread of food and wine. At his feet lay Feng Hun, whom Feng Ye had left at the Yuan residence that day.

 

Feng Ye gently closed the door and stood a short distance away, meeting Yan Sikong’s gaze.

 

Yan Sikong rose and cupped his hands in a formal greeting, maintaining his usual decorum.

 

Feng Ye approached and said softly, “So many dishes.”

 

“The servants didn’t know it was just the two of us,” Yan Sikong replied somberly, his gaze drifting toward the sealed window. Though it was tightly shut with cotton insulation and nothing could be seen outside, he seemed to envision Yuan Nanyu marching through the wind and snow. Once this meal was over, Feng Ye would leave too, and he would be left alone.

 

Feng Ye paused. “When we return, we must make up for this reunion dinner.”

 

Yan Sikong fixed his eyes on Feng Ye. After a long while, he finally said, “Please, sit, Wolf King.”

 

Feng Ye remained standing and asked softly, “Could you call me by my name?”

 

Yan Sikong froze, then asked after a moment, “Does it matter?”

 

“I want to hear you call my name,” Feng Ye said hoarsely. “Even if it’s just for tonight.”

 

Yan Sikong hesitated for a moment, opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He had thought it would be easy to call his name, but as the words reached his lips, they suddenly felt unbearably heavy, as if uttering them would change something irrevocably.

 

Feng Ye waited a long time, but their silence persisted. Disappointed, he said quietly, “Let’s sit down. The food is getting cold.”

 

Yan Sikong silently sat down, his heart tightening.

 

“Do you remember that Spring Festival?” Feng Ye asked as he poured wine for both of them. “We sneaked back to your old residence in the capital just to see each other. Back then…” His lips curved slightly. “Even a day without you felt unbearable… I don’t even know how I got through those years after.”

 

Yan Sikong didn’t respond, but he remembered. He remembered it all. He recalled how they had stealthily climbed over the walls and, at the moment of reunion, their pent-up longing and emotions erupted, wishing only to merge into one and never part again.

 

Feelings that were once so fervent could also be reduced to ashes—such was the nature of the world.

 

“When I first left the capital, I thought of you every day. I missed you, hated you, and couldn’t let you go no matter what,” Feng Ye said with a bitter smile. “I had nothing then, not even a name—I was a fugitive. I hated you, but perhaps I hated my own helplessness even more. So I swore that the next time I saw you, I’d make you feel the pain I felt.”

 

Yan Sikong lowered his eyes and listened quietly.

 

“I did so many foolish things, things even I can’t forgive myself for.” Feng Ye’s gaze was fixed on Yan Sikong. “But I still want your forgiveness. I want us to go back to the way we were. If I don’t return after tonight, would you…”

 

“Enough,” Yan Sikong interrupted angrily. “If you think you won’t return, then don’t go. Otherwise, what’s the point of saying all this?”

 

Feng Ye’s hand, holding the wine cup, trembled slightly. Looking at Yan Sikong’s cold expression, his heart ached unbearably. With a bitter smile, he said, “I suppose I was hoping you’d soften your heart, just this once.”

 

“If you don’t return,” Yan Sikong said, glaring at Feng Ye, “I’ll also give my life for Liaodong. Then we can meet in the underworld.”

 

“No,” Feng Ye said firmly, downing his cup in one gulp. “You must wait for me to return. Whether I live or die, succeed or fail, my feelings for you will never change.”

 

Yan Sikong drained his cup as well, then slammed it heavily on the table. Rising, he walked to the window.

 

“Kong’er…”

 

“Leave,” Yan Sikong said hoarsely, his back to Feng Ye. “We’ve had our farewell drink. Que Wang has already set out, and you should go too.” He couldn’t bear to look at Feng Ye any longer. Staring at that face, he kept wondering whether he would see it again, safe and sound. A storm of emotions churned in his chest, suffocating him.

 

Feng Ye walked up behind Yan Sikong and said in a low voice, “I’m leaving.”

 

“…I wish the Wolf King victory,” Yan Sikong replied quickly.

 

Feng Ye stood still for a moment, then abruptly turned Yan Sikong around, pressing him against the wall and sealing his lips in a deep, forceful kiss.

 

Yan Sikong was utterly overwhelmed by the fervent kiss, his mind going blank. He wasn’t even sure if he had struggled, but Feng Ye only kissed him harder, deeper, and more relentlessly, his presence invading every fiber of Yan Sikong’s being.

 

Only when Yan Sikong was on the verge of suffocation did Feng Ye finally let him go.

 

Yan Sikong gasped for air, his chest heaving violently.

 

Feng Ye pressed his forehead against Yan Sikong’s, his voice raw with unbridled desire. “I want to hold you, strip you bare, and have you under me all night…”

 

Yan Sikong shoved him away with all his strength.

 

Feng Ye staggered back a few steps before regaining his balance.

 

“Go,” Yan Sikong said in a low voice.

 

Feng Ye stared at Yan Sikong but didn’t move.

 

“Is the Wolf King planning to take advantage of me?” Yan Sikong glared at him.

 

“And if I were?” Feng Ye asked calmly.

 

Yan Sikong frowned.

 

“If I come back…” Feng Ye’s sharp wolf-like eyes bore into Yan Sikong. He hesitated but ultimately swallowed the words he wanted to say. Instead, he said, “I will come back.” Taking something out of his coat, he placed it on the table. “Wait for me.”

 

With that, he forced himself to turn and leave.

 

Yan Sikong looked at the object on the table, his eyes stinging.

 

It was the dagger Feng Ye had given him twenty years ago.