Huo Ci sat on the bed, dazed for a long time.
What Imperial Physician Sun said was right.
He had done something wrong, yet he forced A-Yan to kill him.
How utterly ridiculous.
If he wanted to atone with his life, wouldn’t it be simpler to just take his own life?
Having made up his mind, he sat up from the bed. The soldiers attending nearby brought him some medicinal soup.
“Leave it there for now.
Call Vice General Xin over.”
“Yes, sir.”
After a short while, Xin Zhui came over reluctantly and gave a brief salute.
“What orders does the General have?”
Originally, flattening Beiluo was a tremendous joyous occasion.
But because of this matter, every soldier of the Huo family army was too ashamed to lift their heads.
Miss Jiang had led them through life and death, yet their general had betrayed her so deeply.
Anyone with a conscience would feel this was the deepest humiliation.
Tonight, the military camp that should have been celebrating was dead silent.
Everyone’s heart felt as if a massive stone was pressing down on it, making it hard to breathe.
Huo Ci didn’t respond. He got up, enduring his dizziness, took out a brocade box from a hidden compartment, and shoved it into Xin Zhui’s arms.
“This is the military seal of the Huo family army. From today on, it’s yours.”
Xin Zhui, as if sulking, slammed the box heavily onto the table.
“The General honors me too much. I don’t want it.”
Huo Ci was silent for a long while, then sighed.
“Then tomorrow at court, I’ll hand it to His Majesty for disposal.”
Xin Zhui looked indifferent. “As the General pleases.
If there’s nothing else, I’ll be going back now.”
He had already made up his mind. Tomorrow, he would resign from his post as vice general, leave the Huo family army, and go find A-Xing.
Huo Ci saw his resistance and wanted to say something, but in the end, he just waved his hand and let him go.
He walked to the desk, picked up a brush, and casually wrote four large characters: “A-Yan, My Wife.”
Then it struck him—Jiang Xingyan was no longer his wife. Their divorce papers were still in the side courtyard of the general’s mansion.
He crumpled the first sheet of paper with one hand.
The wolf-hair brush hovered over the paper, and he couldn’t bring himself to write another stroke.
Drip.
It wasn’t an ink drop falling—it was a bitter tear of regret, landing right in the middle of the rice paper, spreading into a stain.
He sighed, put down the brush, and his heart calmed. He felt there was no need to leave anything behind.
As long as he died, A-Yan would naturally understand his feelings.
Huo Ci forced himself to perk up. He changed into a dark gray silk robe with a treasure-patterned weave and tied his hair with a plain mutton-fat white jade hairpin.
That was something A-Yan had given him when they were in Jiangnan.
He had always kept it with him to comfort his longing.
But after he and A-Yan grew distant, he had tossed it aside in the military camp and never bothered with it again.
Now, digging it out, all that remained was endless sorrow.
He washed his face and hands, cleaning away the weary look from days of unconsciousness.
He found a sharp dagger and carefully shaved off the stubble on his face.
Suddenly, he remembered those days right after losing his father, when he was like a soulless shell.
Every day, he would lie stiffly in bed, doing nothing.
After a few days, when stubble grew out, Jiang Xingyan would quietly take a razor and gently shave it off for him, bit by bit.
While shaving, she would tell him the latest news.
Her soft hands touched his cheek, tingling and tickling.
He never dared look at her, so he simply closed his eyes.
At first, she was proper enough, but over time, she grew playful and poked at his stubble.
She even murmured softly, “So stiff. Why does it prick so much?”
His face suddenly flushed, and he heard her soft laugh.
“Hey, you can clearly hear me talking. Why don’t you answer?
Stop lying around. Grandfather promised me he’d raise soldiers for you.
By then, with an army, you can go avenge the old General Huo.
So what you need to do now is pull yourself together and get your health back.”
Huo Ci slowly opened his eyes and looked straight into a pair of incredibly beautiful phoenix eyes.
In those eyes was a full measure of charming loveliness, pure and harmless to the extreme, and he was utterly captivated.
“Hiss!”
In a moment of distraction, the sharp dagger cut his jaw, and blood immediately seeped out.
Huo Ci wiped it clean carefully until it stopped bleeding, then picked up his sword and walked out with firm steps.
He made a round of inspection in the military camp.
In this life, he had treated everyone fairly—except A-Yan. It was time to pay for it with his life.
He found a secluded corner. Under the bright moon, he drew his sword.
A flash of cold light, he placed the blade against his neck, closed his eyes, and was about to press hard when he suddenly heard a soft laugh.
“The famous Living King of Hell would actually take his own life?”
He would recognize that voice even in ashes.
“Tuoba Hongxue, why are you here?”
Tuoba Hongxue’s gaze toward Huo Ci became very complicated.
The Huo Ci before him gave him the most familiar sense of sharpness, yet he was also so fragile and breakable.
“You’re Huo Ci, but you don’t seem like Huo Ci.
Where’s the person who was playing you before? Didn’t your emperor greatly reward ‘him’?
Or is it that because ‘he’ was favored, you couldn’t take it and decided to end your life?”
The last sentence was full of mockery, in the most provocative tone.
Huo Ci had no time for him and didn’t want to waste words. He continued his unfinished suicide.
“Huo Ci, you wouldn’t let me kill myself, but you’re enjoying yourself just fine. Where’s the logic in that?”
Seeing Huo Ci about to act, Tuoba Hongxue suddenly started shouting.
“Come quick, everyone! Your general is trying to kill himself!”
Huo Ci gritted his teeth, really wanting to slap him. But a figure had already dashed over in a few swift moves, arriving close and snatching the sword from his hand.
“Tomorrow at court, A-Xing will be there too.
Your life belongs to her. Only after asking her can it be disposed of!”
Huo Ci stared blankly at the Xin Zhui before him, who had lost his youthful immaturity.
At this moment, he was no longer the half-grown boy who used to follow behind him, but had matured and steadied a great deal.
Xin Zhui had already walked back to the tent when he suddenly felt something was off.
Tonight, the General’s face—why did it hold a look of death?
It suddenly dawned on him: “Oh no, the General isn’t thinking of dying, is he?”
He hurried back.
When he reached the central army tent, Huo Ci was indeed gone.
He questioned the guards on duty, and they all said they only saw the General on inspection and didn’t know where he went last.
He was searching blindly nearby when he heard Tuoba Hongxue’s shout.
Thank goodness he had come in time.
“A-Xing? Who’s that? Why would your general listen to ‘him’?”
Seeing Huo Ci, Tuoba Hongxue reverted to his old sharp tongue, determined to annoy him.
As if doing so could prove that what Linglong said was all nonsense.
That he and Huo Ci were simply open and honorable sworn enemies, not as filthy as he imagined.
“Didn’t you cross swords with A-Xing long ago?”
Xin Zhui glanced at Tuoba Hongxue, gave him a pointed reminder, then turned his burning gaze to Huo Ci:
“Don’t do things that make things difficult for A-Xing again, unless she herself tells you to die.
General, live on. Feeling the torment inside—that is true atonement.”
Huo Ci smiled bitterly.
Now, even Xin Zhui understood A-Yan better than he did.
Tuoba Hongxue stood by the tent window, peeking left and right, trying to recall which of the people he had fought was called A-Xing.
But the more he thought, the more confused he became.
“Tomorrow at morning court, will she really be there?”
“Yes. She’ll go with the Imperial Preceptor.”
