Love Beyond the Grave

"This humble general merely..."

"Merely suspects that I have ties with Danzhi?"

"This humble general..."

Han Lingqiu was by nature a taciturn man, not skilled with words. Now that Duan Xu had hit the nail on the head, he found himself at a loss for how to evade the question. Raising his eyes to meet Duan Xu's gaze directly, he simply said, "Yes."

Duan Xu burst into laughter. Leaning against the wall with arms crossed, he showed no anger: "I tasked Han Xiaowei with investigating spies, never imagining the first suspect would be me. Are you afraid I've colluded with the Huqi people and am putting on an act here?"

Han Lingqiu's suspicions weren't entirely unfounded—there was historical precedent. Decades ago, when the Huqi people were still harassing the Central Plains' borders, a general from the Dasheng dynasty had secretly communicated with them, staging fake victories against the Huqi. Not only did the general gain countless military merits, but he also extorted funds and provisions from the imperial court, which he then shared with the Huqi.

Later, when the general tried the same trick again, secretly leaking military intelligence to let the Huqi swallow three prefectures, his plan backfired. By the time he intended to make his grand reappearance to reclaim the lost territories, the Huqi's appetite had grown beyond what he could provide. They pressed forward unchecked, ultimately contributing to the true downfall of the Dasheng dynasty.

"This humble general... does not know, which is why I seek the general's explanation." Han Lingqiu bowed deeply.

Duan Xu studied Han Lingqiu with an amused smile before saying, "Why must I necessarily answer your questions?"

After a pause, he continued, "Han Xiaowei has been keeping such close watch on me—could it be you still think we've met before? I heard Han Xiaowei fled from Danzhi to Great Liang. Surely your connections to Danzhi run deeper than mine?"

"About Danzhi... I remember nothing..." Han Lingqiu hurriedly explained.

"If you remember nothing, why do you still think I might be someone from your past—perhaps even from Danzhi?"

Duan Xu stepped closer to Han Lingqiu, tilting his chin up challengingly. "Han Xiaowei, since you can't provide answers yourself, why come demanding them from me? If I were to voice suspicions—say, that someone coming from Danzhi with an unclear background might very well be a spy—how would you refute that?"

Han Lingqiu fell silent. The long scar on his face appeared even more sinister and fearsome in this tense quiet.

At this moment of heightened confrontation, Duan Xu suddenly burst into laughter at the most inopportune time. With relaxed demeanor, he said, "Daring to suspect me shows courage. Han Xiaowei, I'll pretend today's conversation never happened. Rest assured—if Shuozhou's prefectural city truly falls, I won't be the sole survivor."

He stepped back several paces, clasped his hands in salute, then turned and walked away. His rounded, upturned eyes glimmered with light, blue sash fluttering like the spirited confidence of youth.

A flicker passed through Han Lingqiu's gaze. He was certain he'd seen someone like this before.

Such individuals were too distinctive—he couldn't possibly be mistaken.

He Simu reflected that she'd peeled back one layer of Duan Xu's secrets. Though she still didn't know what exactly this young man was, he certainly wasn't the real Duan Xu. Continuing such probing would take who knew how long—it was time to find an opportunity to lay cards on the table and properly discuss their five-senses borrowing business.

Could there truly be someone in this world indifferent to the Ghost King's power? Though she found wealth, glory, and fame utterly tedious, if Duan Xu desired them, she could consider granting some—though not everything. For instance, if he wanted to kick Great Liang's current emperor off the throne and take his place, that was where she drew the line.But would what Duan Xu desired be so ordinary?

Lately, Duan Xu had been as busy as a spinning top—repelling two attacks from Danzhi, reinforcing the city walls whenever possible, and even uncovering a Danzhi force attempting to tunnel into the city. He smoked them out with fire, leaving them to perish in the tunnels. It was as if the enemy were moles popping up unpredictably from the ground, and he was the thousand-armed Guanyin, swatting them down one by one.

He Simu couldn’t find a good opportunity to approach him, so she could only drift around him occasionally in her spectral form.

By the time the Laba Festival arrived, the Snow-Treading Army had distributed porridge to the people and extended their festive greetings as usual. The city of Shuozhou resembled a scene of peace and prosperity.

The cheerful atmosphere made He Simu feel like she was watching a condemned prisoner blissfully unaware of their impending execution, enjoying their last meal.

It wasn’t until midnight that Duan Xu finally finished his duties and returned to his bedroom. Lighting a lamp, he prepared to wash up and rest. Unbeknownst to him, an uninvited guest was already in the room—He Simu sat on his sandalwood chair, studying her prospective trade partner with keen interest.

Duan Xu, who had always preferred solitude, didn’t call for servants to help him change. The illustrious general of the Snow-Treading Army didn’t even have a proper attendant.

Under the dim lamplight, Duan Xu removed his armor and outer robes, his lean frame outlined by the thin undergarments. Unlike the brawny Wu Shengliu, his physique was more akin to Han Lingqiu’s—agile and lithe, like a silent snow leopard.

As she observed him, He Simu mused that based on his previous spar with Wu Shengliu and his battlefield performance, his senses must be exceptionally sharp, his reflexes far surpassing those of an ordinary person.

—His perception was top-tier among mortals. Borrowing it would undoubtedly be a pleasant experience.

Before Duan Xu returned, He Simu had already explored his room. She noticed small sketches tucked between his books, signed with his name, and a xiao flute leaning against the shelf.

Feng Yi had mentioned that in the Southern Capital, Duan Xu was also renowned for his mastery of music, chess, calligraphy, and painting. Surely that couldn’t be a lie—he couldn’t possibly be colorblind or tone-deaf.

He Simu meticulously assessed Duan Xu’s five senses, but mortals capable of bearing a Curse Bond with her were exceedingly rare. In three hundred years, she had only encountered this one Duan Xu. Even if he were colorblind or tone-deaf, she had no alternative for this trade.

As she pondered, Duan Xu began removing his inner robe. The pale fabric slipped down to his elbows, revealing fair skin and smooth, defined muscles—along with a crisscross of scars that made his body resemble cracked white porcelain.

The scars were old, their color faded, but their positions were perilous.

He Simu paused. Duan Xu was only nineteen now—how old could these "old scars" be? Six or seven years old?

What exactly had this young general been doing as a child?

When the robe slid down to his waist, He Simu suddenly caught sight of a patch of scarred skin—as if something had been branded there and later burned smooth again. Just as she leaned in for a closer look, Duan Xu abruptly pulled the robe back up, concealing the mark.

He raised his eyes, scanning the empty room, and frowned. "Strange," he murmured.

He Simu stood less than three feet away, waiting for him to continue undressing.

Her father had been exceptionally skilled in human dissection. Even as a child, she had improperly accompanied him, observing countless naked bodies until the sight no longer fazed her.Yet Duan Xu slowly put his undergarments back on, checking the doors and windows with a puzzled expression. Clearly, he felt as if someone was watching him.

In truth, no one was watching—but there was a ghost observing.

He Simu watched as Duan Xu abandoned his bath, dressed himself neatly, and lay down on the bed to rest—wrapped tightly in the blanket, not a hint of skin exposed.

This young general was quite vigilant.

Passing through the wall, He Simu left his bedroom, thinking that his preference for solitude might stem from his hypersensitivity—any presence around him would put him on edge.

At any rate, he was a decent enough Curse-Bound Person for her.

On the night of the Laba Festival, Duan Xu slept restlessly. Before bed, he had an eerie sensation, as if an overwhelming force pressed down on him, making it hard to breathe. His intuition had always been sharp over the years, so he spent the entire night tense and unable to relax.

This kind of tension was something he hadn’t felt since he was fourteen.

The next day, Duan Xu appeared at the military camp with dark circles under his eyes, clearly in poor spirits. Wu Shengliu burst into laughter the moment he saw him, strutting over with his chest puffed out. "General, you’re still young after all—can’t even sleep the night before a big event. Don’t worry, with me, Wu Shengliu, leading the charge today, nothing will go wrong."

Wu Shengliu, usually suppressed by Duan Xu, finally had a chance to show off in front of him. His earlier skepticism of "Will this even work?" had now turned into "Nothing will go wrong."

The day after the Laba Festival was the day they had planned to raid the grain supplies via a hidden mountain path.

Duan Xu lifted his weary eyes to Wu Shengliu. Though his sleepless night had nothing to do with the raid, he played along with a smile. "You’re right. After all, this is a matter of life and death. Without fear, how can there be bravery?"

Just as Wu Shengliu was basking in his moment and preparing to boast further, Duan Xu placed a hand on his shoulder and said with earnestness, "That’s why, Wu Lang Jiang, you must stay in the city."

"What do you mean? Don’t you trust me, Wu Shengliu?" Wu Shengliu bristled.

"If I don’t return, you’ll be in charge of the city. Treading White respects you, and I’d be at ease. I’ve already written to Commander Qin about the situation here. If the battlefield in Yuzhou stabilizes, he’ll send reinforcements to aid Treading White."

Wu Shengliu was taken aback. He looked at Duan Xu, then at Meng Wan, and said haltingly, "Then… why don’t you stay in the city and let us handle the raid?"

Duan Xu fell silent for a moment before patting Wu Shengliu’s shoulder again with a smile. "If we fail to seize the grain and I’m still in the city, would Commander Qin still send help to Treading White?"

"We all serve Great Liang—why wouldn’t he help us?" Wu Shengliu was baffled.

"He’d help your Treading White, but not mine . Wu Lang Jiang, take my advice—with that temper of yours, don’t even think about becoming a capital official. The factional strife these days is like a boiling cauldron. Step in, and you’ll be fried alive."

Duan Xu turned to pick up his helmet. Wu Shengliu couldn’t see his expression, only hearing his musing: "In that cauldron, your own people are even more eager to see you dead than the enemies from the Northern Territory."

His tone was light, as if joking—yet it carried an unsettling ambiguity.Wu Lang Jiang was stunned, feeling once again overpowered by this brash young man's presence. Yet the words that came from the boy's mouth were so profound and sorrowful that he found himself momentarily speechless.

He watched as Duan Xu selected Han Lingqiu and his eight hundred troops, then calmly strode out of the tent. It suddenly struck him—this was a youth not even twenty years old, nearly a decade younger than himself.

How the hell did he end up feeling protected by this kid?