The Blood Crown - Chapter 337

Chapter 337

Feng Changyue glared at Yan Sikong with a probing gaze. Seeing his ever-changing expression, he couldn’t determine the truth but remained convinced that the matter was related to Yan Sikong. With a stern tone, he demanded an explanation from him.

Yan Sikong was stunned for a long time before coming back to his senses. In a low voice, he said, “General, leave this matter to me to investigate.”

“You? Who would you investigate, and how? Do you already know something?”

“It is not convenient to explain to the General for now.”

Feng Changyue slammed the table. “Who do you think you are?!”

Feeling both irritated and anxious, Yan Sikong no longer had the patience to feign politeness. His expression turned cold, and he narrowed his eyes, speaking in a gloomy tone: “For the Lord of the Northern Frontier to have achieved his current status, I dare say I have contributed greatly, without exaggeration. Thus, the Lord of the Northern Frontier relies on me—regardless of the reason. As for who I am, that doesn’t matter. What matters is that the relationship between you and the Lord of the Northern Frontier as uncle and nephew should not be harmed because of me.”

“You…” Feng Changyue was rendered speechless. Having never been on opposing sides with Yan Sikong before, he had almost forgotten what a notorious and ruthless figure he was.

Yan Sikong continued, “Moreover, General, you bear only half the surname ‘Feng.’ The Lord of the Northern Frontier respects his elders, but certain matters are not yours to interfere with.”

Feng Changyue was startled. He knew all too well about Feng Ye and Yan Sikong’s relationship. Hearing these words from Yan Sikong, he couldn’t help but wonder if Feng Ye was using him to deliver a warning. He straightened his posture and coldly stared at Yan Sikong. “What do you mean by that?”

“General is wise; there’s no need for me to elaborate.” Yan Sikong bowed slightly. “This junior will take his leave.”

—

After bidding farewell to Feng Changyue, Yan Sikong left with a cold expression.

On the way, Feng Changyue’s words kept replaying in his mind.

In truth, ever since the day Feng Ye fell from his horse, Yan Sikong had felt something was off. Though Zuihong was still untamed by nature, it was highly intelligent and had recognized only Feng Ye as its master for life. Having accompanied him in countless battles, it had never made a mistake. How could it have let Feng Ye fall?

If Feng Ye hadn’t fallen from his horse and the injury was indeed caused by internal force, then who had injured him? Or perhaps…

The mere thought of that possibility made Yan Sikong feel as if his chest was about to explode. It was unclear whether his emotions stemmed from anger or heartbreak. The image of Feng Ye’s bloodied chest, his life hanging by a thread, flashed repeatedly in his mind like a nightmare. His eyes burned, and for a moment, he could barely see the road beneath his feet.

Before he realized it, he had arrived at the inner courtyard and stopped at Feng Ye’s door.

The guards saluted upon seeing Yan Sikong, but he stood outside for a long time before taking a deep breath and pushing the door open.

Feng Ye was reclining on the couch with soft cushions, surrounded by a pile of documents. Holding a brush, he was in the middle of reviewing them.

Hearing the door, Feng Ye looked up. His usually calm gaze immediately lit up with pure joy. “Konger, you’re here.”

Yan Sikong walked calmly to the bedside. “Have you taken your medicine today?”

“I’ve taken it.” Ever since Yan Sikong entered the room, Feng Ye’s eyes hadn’t left him, as if afraid to miss a single moment. “Stay with me for dinner tonight.”

Yan Sikong glanced at the documents on the bed. “Are these the ones you received after your promotion?”

“Yes. I’ve received a whole basket of congratulatory letters. These documents were submitted by officials from various provinces, summarizing the military, administrative, and tax policies of the past twenty years. I’m familiar with Datong, but I need to learn more about Qianzhou, apart from the Hetao region. As for Xuanhua and Liaodong, I know almost nothing.”

“Once you recover, you should visit the other three provinces.”

Feng Ye nodded. “That’s the plan.”

“When will your injury heal?” Yan Sikong’s gaze lingered on Feng Ye’s chest. “Why has it been so slow to recover this time?”

Feng Ye glanced down at himself, but his wounds were hidden beneath bandages and clothing, invisible to the eye. Still, the pain of the torn wound tormented him day and night. He hadn’t slept peacefully since his injury months ago. Lightly, he replied, “Perhaps the doctors in Datong aren’t as skilled as Que Linghu. It should heal soon.”

“I’ll have Que Wang go to the Medicine Valley to request help from his master, uncles, or senior brothers—anyone who can help. If your injury drags on, it will cause permanent damage.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll recover after some rest.” Feng Ye picked up a document by his side. “Look at this. It’s from Liang Huiyong. He holds significant influence in Liaodong. I’m planning…”

Yan Sikong gently pressed his hand down, staring straight into his eyes. In a deep voice, he said, “Your recurring injury stems from that day’s fall. Zuihong may be an animal, but your accompanying guards failed to stop you from riding. They should be punished for their negligence as a warning to others.”

Feng Ye clearly didn’t want to continue the topic. “There’s no need. I insisted on riding. It’s not their fault.”

Yan Sikong’s tone grew cold. “As your personal guards, they should prioritize your safety above all else. How can you say it’s not their fault?”

“I said I insisted on riding.” Feng Ye’s voice rose slightly. Realizing his tone was too harsh, he sighed and held Yan Sikong’s hand. Gently, he said, “Konger, don’t drag the innocent into this. I know what I’m doing.”

“Do you?” Yan Sikong struggled to suppress his anger. “Do you understand the importance of your safety as the Lord of the Northern Frontier? Your recklessness has delayed your recovery.”

Feng Ye whispered, “Are you so eager to leave?”

Yan Sikong froze. “What did you say?”

“You care so much about my injury because you’re waiting for me to heal so you can leave, aren’t you?” Feng Ye’s voice trembled. He feared hearing a “yes” from Yan Sikong’s lips even more than seeing indifference in his eyes. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t change anything.

He could overturn the world, yet he couldn’t win back one person’s heart.

“No.” Yan Sikong bit his lip and stared intently at Feng Ye. His gaze was sharp. “I care because of you, and for the people of the Northern Frontier. How can the Lord of the Northern Frontier remain bedridden for so long?”

Feng Ye avoided Yan Sikong’s gaze and softly said, “I’ll take care of myself and recover.”

Seeing Feng Ye’s despondent expression, Yan Sikong couldn’t bring himself to voice his doubts.

Feng Ye put down his brush. “The weather is lovely today. Walk with me.”

Yan Sikong hesitated.

“A short stroll won’t hurt.”

Left with no choice, Yan Sikong helped Feng Ye out of bed, draped a light cloak over him, and accompanied him outside.

In the courtyard, Feng Ye looked at the rockery and fish pond in front of him and said, “This Taihu stone was a birthday gift to my father from the Minister of Justice of the previous dynasty. It was transported all the way from Jiangnan, taking six months to arrive.”

Yan Sikong gazed at the massive Taihu stone. Its strange and jagged shape resembled a tree painfully branching out when viewed from the front, and a soaring eagle spreading its wings from the back. Its wild form was as grand as the poet Bai Juyi described: “From afar, it appears ancient and towering; up close, it is bizarre and sharp.” Such a bold and colossal Taihu stone was undoubtedly of imperial quality.

Feng Ye continued, “As a child, I thought it was just a useless rock and didn’t care for it. But after our separation, I returned to Datong and looked at it, reminded of the Jiangnan you once described to me.” He turned to Yan Sikong. “You always said you forget nothing. Do you remember the promise we made to travel the world together?”

Yan Sikong paused for a moment and replied, “I remember.”

Feng Ye revealed a gentle smile: “How I wish to abandon everything and roam the world with you—see the white horses and autumn winds of the frontier, the misty rain of Jiangnan, the setting sun over long rivers, and the convergence of countless streams into the sea. To see jagged rocks and verdant cold mountains together. Tell me, what kind of life would that be?”

Yan Sikong felt a sharp pain in his heart. With each word Feng Ye spoke, his mind conjured vivid images. Indeed, what kind of life would that be? If they were not who they were, without the burdens that weighed on them, would they be as free and unrestrained as She Zhun, living life to the fullest?

But alas, there are no “ifs” in life.

Feng Ye lowered his head to look at Yan Sikong, his face smiling, but his eyes betrayed a poignant sorrow: “Kong’er, why don’t I just go with you?”

Yan Sikong lowered his head: “Don’t joke about such things.”

“I…” Feng Ye’s chest felt heavy, and he didn’t even know if the pain was external or internal. All he knew was that Yan Sikong didn’t need arrows to pierce his heart. A single word or a glance was enough. He murmured, “What if I meant it?”

Yan Sikong’s heart grew flustered, but his face remained calm: “You are the Wolf King, the Northern King, forever bound to that high position. Feng Ye, I’ve told you before, everyone is ‘incomplete.’ You can’t have everything.”

Feng Ye lowered his head, silent for a long time.

“The wind outside is strong; let’s go back inside.”

Feng Ye remained quiet. Just as Yan Sikong was about to help him return, he suddenly reached out and embraced Yan Sikong. The swiftness and dominance of his movements showed no trace of an injured man.

Yan Sikong stiffened.

Feng Ye’s voice was so faint it seemed hard for him to breathe: “At least I dare to speak of what I want. I dare to reach for it. But you, Kong’er, what do you want? Not for the world, not for the people, not for the Yuan family, not for me—just for yourself. What do you want?”

Feng Ye’s breath brushed against him, already unsettling Yan Sikong. The question only made him more at a loss.

What did he want?

Try as he might to think, he couldn’t find an answer. Power? Wealth? Fame? Women? The things ordinary people yearned for, he had already possessed, yet none of it had kept him from falling into despair. Since he was thirteen, his sole purpose had been vengeance. He etched the names of his enemies into his heart, unforgotten for twenty years.

But after he finally avenged his family and cleared Yuan Mao’s name, looking back, he realized he had never lived for himself, nor cared about his own desires.

He couldn’t answer “what he wanted,” but if asked what he dared not want, he knew the answer.

He didn’t dare to want a home, love, or companionship because, in the end, the heavens would take it all away, as they had done countless times before. That was his fate.

Rather than gaining only to fear losing, it was better to live and die alone. For himself and for others, it was better this way.

Yan Sikong’s silence made Feng Ye’s heart sink. He gently rubbed his cheek against Yan Sikong’s hair and whispered, “Kong’er, have you ever thought of yourself? Have you ever asked yourself, deep in your heart, what you truly want? Have you ever wanted to be happy?”

Yan Sikong took a deep breath. “…No, I want nothing.”

Feng Ye’s heart twisted in agony. He couldn’t stop himself from lowering his head to capture Yan Sikong’s lips, kissing him with utmost tenderness. He poured all his deep affection and longing into this kiss, hoping that through it, he could awaken the Yan Sikong who had once rejoiced in love, his Yan Sikong.

The kiss was so light, so gentle, so careful that Yan Sikong only felt a profound ache in his heart. He recalled all the kisses between him and Feng Ye—those that were clumsy, curious, longing, passionate, fervent, rough, forceful, or, like now, full of deep emotion.

The more he remembered, the more he felt the urge to cry.

No matter how much he forced himself to remain calm, there was still one person in the world who could stir up storms in his heart with ease.

That person was Feng Ye.