The smoke of gunpowder had yet to disperse before the city wall, the air still reeking of scorched residue left by fire-attacking beasts. The setting sun hung over a corner of the turret, dyeing the entire wall a deep ochre red.
The wind blew across the wilderness, carrying dust and a faint smell of blood. The banners flapped overhead, one beat after another, as if keeping time for this isolated city.
A young man sat sideways on the wall.
His posture was casual—one leg bent, the other dangling over the outer edge of the wall. Behind him stretched the brilliant glow of the sunset, and in front of him lay a pile of crossbows waiting to be reinforced. Patches of twilight light leaked through the gaps in the banners, flickering across his face and outlining the cold, sharp contours of his profile.
He kept his eyes lowered, his fingers slender and steady, focused on tightening the bowstring in his hands. Occasionally, he would glance up, scanning the activity beyond the city, then look back down.
At his feet lay a stack of repaired crossbows. Every so often, a soldier would come over to pick one up, muttering casually, “Thanks a lot, little brother!” Someone even clapped him on the shoulder—only to withdraw their hand the instant two icy gazes swept over.
As Chai Xiaomi carried a basket of coarse wheat cakes up the city towers, she overheard low murmurs:
“That young man from the Miao borderlands really has a knack for fixing bows, but he’s got a bit of a temper—doesn’t like being touched.”
“Strange tastes, but so what? He’s a foreigner willing to help us defend the city. That alone is no small thing. I noticed he’s been working nonstop, but he doesn’t even have a decent wrist guard, just a few wraps of cloth—and they’re a soft pink. Looks a bit pitiful…”
“Well, maybe I’ll give him my spare pair of wrist guards later. It’s the thought that counts.”
Chai Xiaomi said nothing, walking through the crowd distributing the cakes.
“Here, everyone, have some cakes.”
“Oh! The food distributer changed today—thanks, miss!”
The soldiers took the cakes, their gazes lingering on her face for a moment longer than necessary. After standing watch for so long on the city wall, they hadn’t realized there was such a delicate young woman in the city. Thank goodness she hadn’t fallen into the hands of the barbarians.
Suddenly, the hand pulling the bowstring froze. The veins on the back of his hand stood out slightly, making his skin look even paler.
At a time like this, seeing a new face was already rare, let alone a young woman. Someone couldn’t help but tease:
“Brothers, perk up! The young lady brought us supplies to boost our strength, not to watch us droop our heads!”
“That’s right! Eat up and you’ll have the strength to defend the city. If we hold it, there’ll be plenty of good days ahead!”
“Got it! After eating these cakes, my archery accuracy will easily improve by thirty percent!”
Everyone burst into laughter, and for a moment, the city wall seemed to gain a rare hint of vitality.
But then, a middle-aged Senior General stared at Chai Xiaomi for a good while, his gaze growing increasingly warm. He couldn’t help but probe cautiously: “May I ask, young lady, how old are you? My second son has reached marriageable age—”
Before he could finish his words.
A chill wind swept in from one side.
Chai Xiaomi suddenly felt her waist tighten, and she was pulled into a broad, hard chest. Stunned, she looked up, catching only a glimpse of a tensed jawline.
The young man’s cold, haughty eyes slanted a glance at the Senior General. His thin lips parted, and he spoke five words, each enunciated slowly: “She. Is. My. Wife.”
Everyone present understood—this wasn’t an announcement. It was a warning.
Wu Li casually tossed the half-repaired crossbow he was holding at the other’s feet.
“Your bow. Fix it yourself.”
With that, he took the young woman by the hand and turned to leave, his back radiating an undeniable, smoldering fury.
At the corner beneath the city wall was a cramped armory.
The moment the door closed, the space inside was plunged into darkness. Only a small vent near the top let in a narrow beam of yellow light, but it wasn’t nearly enough to illuminate the distance between them, now measured in inches.
“Who told you to come up to the city wall?” Wu Li pressed her against the door. “Didn’t I tell you to stay with the kids?”
In the dim light, Chai Xiaomi couldn’t make out his expression. All she could hear was the hoarse, rasping sound of his voice, suppressing anger like a suffocating flame, on the verge of flaring up.
She knew this was just him venting.
His real frustration, at its core, stemmed from the secret she was hiding from him.
Controlling her temper, she wrapped her arms around his neck, her voice soft: “Lili, can you please stop being mad at me? I don’t want to fight anymore. I just want us to be good.”
Her fingertips gently grazed the hair at the nape of his neck. “You never come back into the city to visit, so you don’t know, do you? The food was sent by Zhu Yu and the ladies of the Illusory Sound Pavilion.”
“Hah, what do I care about them?” Wu Li snorted coldly. “I’m busy.”
“So busy that you don’t even have time to come look at me? Lili, it’s been two whole days since I saw you. I miss you so, so much. Don’t you miss me? I know you’re busy and exhausted, so I came to bring you food. I figured, even if I just caught a glimpse of you… I’ve been shameless enough about it, so how much longer are you going to stay mad?”
Chai Xiaomi tilted her face up, searching for his eyes in the darkness.
By the time she finished, her voice carried an almost imperceptible quiver of grievance.
The time they had left together was like the sand in an hourglass, running toward its last grains.
She didn’t want to spend the final moments stewing in resentment.
In the pitch-black confines of the armory.
Wu Li’s Adam’s apple bobbed violently.
His fingers, pressed against the door, curled into a tight fist.
A long moment passed.
Then, helplessly, he sighed. The sound came from deep in his throat, husky, seductive, heavy with a compromise that tugged at the heart.
“You may have plenty of tricks to coax those crying kids into behaving properly, but when it comes to your own husband? That’s all you can manage?”
“You weren’t crying.”
“I—” Wu Li choked on his words. “I wouldn’t cry, but I still want you to coax me.”
“Don’t know how? I’ll teach you.”
And then a heavy force pressed down on her.
Chai Xiaomi’s lips were suddenly sealed.
Her slender back pressed against the door bolt. Just as it started to feel uncomfortable, a hand slipped in to cushion her, his palm warm and strong against her spine, as if shielding her entirely. But the kiss came in fiercely.
Aggressive, domineering, it crushed down, leaving no gap between their lips.
Wu Li had never kissed her with such intensity—as if he was grinding two days’ worth of longing, frustration, and an indescribable fear of losing into it. He seemed determined to crush it all into a fine dust and feed it into her mouth, into the spaces between her teeth.
He grabbed both of her wrists with one hand, trapping them against the door. The veins on his wrist stood out—evidence of restraint, of control, of a possessive urge surging through his blood that could no longer be restrained.
Then, the next moment, his fingers slid into the spaces between hers and locked tightly.
In the silent armory, every slight sound was magnified: the entanglement of lips and teeth, ragged breathing, the faint rustle of fabric rubbing together, and the hoarse breathy sounds that occasionally escaped him between kisses—luscious, heavy, unbearably crisp.
Like feathers brushing the insides of her ears.
A tingling, numb sensation arced through her, as if something soft had lightly knocked against her heart and melted there.
“Now you know, Mimi.”
Wu Li's breathing was heavy, his chest heaving violently. His forehead pressed against hers, his breath still ragged. "I'm easy to appease when I'm angry too. Just use this trick."
Chai Xiaomi gently bit her still-numb lips and tentatively spoke. "So now that I've used this trick, can you... stop asking about my secrets?"
It took a long moment before Wu Li managed to force out a single word: "Fine."
"I won't ask if you don't want to tell. When you're ready to share, you can tell me then."
Although the darkness was all-consuming, his eyes could see everything—including the faint glisten of tears at the corners of hers.
Just one look.
And he surrendered completely.
The flame sparked by stifled frustration and resentment vanished in an instant.
Forget it.
Whether she was unfair or hiding secrets, he no longer wanted to probe.
In that moment, his tangled thoughts converged into a single, humbling plea:
Just...
Just don't leave him.
He would accept anything.
