Chapter 18: Much Like a General on an Ancient Battlefield

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Leaning forward like that, Qiao Ruyi’s cheek pressed against his chest.

Xing Lin had slipped on a thin T-shirt and paired it with lounge pants, exuding a lazy, casual air. When she leaned against him, she seemed a little unsteady, and her hands instinctively wrapped around his waist.

She felt the man’s chest firm and solid, his waist strong and powerful.

Her heart inexplicably warmed.

Xing Lin wasn’t much better. The moment she was close to her, he distinctly felt two soft masses against him; his body tensed as if struck by electricity. Her embrace froze him completely. His breath hastened unconsciously, and a flame quickly kindled in his lower abdomen.

He had drunk some wine during their late-night snack, and after showering, the alcohol scent should have dissipated. Yet now, he felt as if he had consumed gallons of liquor; his head was dizzy, and his reason began to fade. It was as if a beast stirred deep within his heart, repeatedly crashing against his ribcage, desperate to break free.

The woman in his arms was soft, with a cool, medicinal fragrance that lingered in his nostrils, teasing him unbearably.

Xing Lin couldn’t help but want to pull her closer. The thought burning through him at that moment was intense and searing. He wanted to hold her tightly, unwilling to let go even if she struggled.

But the moment his fingers touched her waist, she pulled away.

“Sorry, I wasn’t steady,” Qiao Ruyi explained.

All of Xing Lin’s reckless thoughts vanished instantly. Her casual explanation was like a bucket of cold water poured over him, restoring his scattered reason.

He stepped back a couple of paces, slightly distancing himself from the woman’s scent, though a deep shadow still clouded his brow and darkened his eyes.

Qiao Ruyi’s attention wasn’t on his changing expression but rather on the phoenix-shaped candlestick beside the bed. She asked, “Is this a wedding candlestick?”

Xing Lin nodded.

She had seen correctly.

Turning to examine it, she gently touched the candlestick. The surface was surprisingly cool. A strange sensation ran swiftly through her fingers, like an electric shock.

She withdrew her hand, lightly rubbing her fingers, which tingled.

“Why put a wedding candlestick on the bedside table?”

Xing Lin looked at her back. “Because I like it.”

Qiao Ruyi paused, uncertain. “You like it?”

There are many types of candlesticks, yet he preferred a wedding one.

“It’s quite old,” she added.

Xing Lin nodded slightly. “Two thousand years old.”

Qiao Ruyi wanted to say, I know it’s an antique; what I mean is, why place such an ancient wedding candlestick by the bed?

These candlesticks are meant for a wedding night, but after thousands of years, they often carry malevolent energy.

She refrained from saying this, thinking everyone has their own tastes. Changing the subject, she asked, “It looks quite new.”

“Well maintained,” Xing Lin glanced at the candlestick on the bedside table, a hint of meaning in his eyes.

Qiao Ruyi hummed softly, not wanting to continue the candlestick conversation. But Xing Lin asked, “What do you think of these two candlesticks?”

Curious.

He wanted her opinion?

Though puzzled by his sudden question and the hesitation in his voice, Qiao Ruyi answered seriously, “Of course they’re good. The condition is impeccable, and the age alone makes them rare.”

Moreover, phoenix wedding candlesticks were used only by nobility in ancient times—a symbol of status.

Xing Lin stared at her, the faint darkness and gloom in his features softening, a trace of gentleness flickering in his eyes. “If you like them, I’ll give them to you.”

Qiao Ruyi was stunned.

Those words struck like a storm, sweeping over her, leaving her unable to resist.

“Give them to me?” She emphasized “give.”

Antiques worth tens of millions, given to her?

Xing Lin nodded, still looking at her earnestly, without a hint of jest.

“Boss Xing, don’t you realize the market value of these candlesticks?” she chuckled.

“I do.”

For a moment, Qiao Ruyi was speechless. She wasn’t stingy and never hesitated to be generous to close friends, but Xing Lin’s casual generosity—gifting priceless antiques to a stranger—was beyond her experience.

“Boss Xing, you promised to enter Guyang City,” she said after a while.

Xing Lin was momentarily taken aback, then understood and smiled. “You think by giving you the candlesticks, I want to soften you up so you’ll give up entering Guyang City?”

Qiao Ruyi met his gaze. “Though it seems illogical, that’s the only explanation.”

Xing Lin laughed, a touch helpless and resigned. “I’m giving them to you simply because you think they’re nice.”

Qiao Ruyi truly couldn’t understand why he insisted on giving her gifts. Softly, she said, “I appreciate your kindness, Boss Xing, but a gentleman doesn’t take what others desire unwillingly. I can’t accept the candlesticks. By the way,”

She deliberately shifted the topic, pulling out a stack of money from her pocket. “Here’s some money for you.”

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Xing Lin looked down, stunned.

Qiao Ruyi explained, “For lodging, meals, clothes, and guide fees. I know it might not be enough, but this is all the cash I have right now. I’ll repay you once we're out of Guyang City.”

Xing Lin didn’t reach for the money; his gaze darkened. “I’m not counting these debts with you.”

Qiao Ruyi sighed and grabbed his hand.

Xing Lin felt a warm pulse in his palm and momentarily faltered. But she only held his hand to place the money firmly within it.

“You not counting doesn’t mean I’ll turn a deaf ear. I don’t like owing debts, whether money or favors.”

He stiffened suddenly.

A vivid scene flashed through his mind—

A woman in red gracefully vaulted from a wild horse, carefree and unrestrained.

She pulled a man’s hand, a silver ingot gleaming dazzlingly in the sunlight. She looked up, her bright eyes darting, lips curved in a smile, “I don’t like owing debts, whether money or favors.”

…

Xing Lin felt suffocated, his breath catching repeatedly, his chest pierced as if by a blade.

“Boss Xing?” Qiao Ruyi noticed his pallor and gently called out.

He pulled himself together, forcing his breath steady. Qiao Ruyi asked, “Are you okay? Feeling unwell?”

He replied, “I’m fine. Keep the money for now; I’m not used to taking cash.”

Qiao Ruyi smiled faintly, placing the money beside the candlestick. “The money is yours; you can handle it however you wish. Boss Xing, besides repaying you, I have three questions.”

She spoke straightforwardly, cutting to the chase.

The bedroom wasn’t suitable for discussion, but the study wasn’t either. Xing Lin gestured toward the bed. “Sit first.”

There were no sofas or chairs; the bed was the only option. Qiao Ruyi had serious matters to discuss and felt no awkwardness, so she took the guest’s place.

Xing Lin leaned against the bedside table, stretching his long legs forward, his sturdy thigh barely touching the side of Qiao Ruyi’s leg.

If she had moved to the foot of the bed now, it would have seemed deliberate, so she stayed put.

The subtle tension between them drifted like threads of smoke—between their nearly touching legs, the friction of their clothes, and the faint, intermittent mingling of their breaths.

Qiao Ruyi’s leg tensed briefly as she steadied her nerves.

Her next question would be blunt.

“That night… was it human?”

Xing Lin knew exactly what she meant. On the first night of the black sand storm, he knew she had witnessed everything and hadn’t slept.

“Boss Xing, although we have different goals, once we enter Guyang City, we’re in the same boat. Aren’t there some things you should be honest about?”

Xing Lin wasn’t surprised by her question; he had a feeling she’d find out sooner or later.

He said, “Not human.”

“Something that escaped Guyang City with the black sand storm?” Qiao Ruyi asked calmly.

“Correct,” Xing Lin replied.

Qiao Ruyi pursed her lips, thinking, her eyes clear. “Is it related to the Nine O’clock Ruins?”

This time, Xing Lin’s answer was less direct.

Qiao Ruyi didn’t push; she kept watching him intently.

Xing Lin looked up. “I don’t know what it is, but I can handle it.”

The hunting knife.

Qiao Ruyi had seen firsthand how sharp that knife was—chillingly sharp. He dispatched that thing with practiced ease, ruthless and cold—a clear sign it wasn’t the first time.

Having asked all three questions, Qiao Ruyi believed he hadn’t lied about the first two. The last one, she couldn’t judge.

She couldn’t penetrate his secret, perhaps related to the Nine O’clock Ruins, or perhaps, as he said, he only had the skill to kill it without knowing what it was or how it came to be.

Qiao Ruyi stood up.

Seeing this, Xing Lin also rose.

She walked straight toward the door, and Xing Lin followed at a steady pace.

Suddenly, Qiao Ruyi stopped and turned sharply, almost colliding with him.

Xing Lin caught her in time.

She hadn’t expected him to be so close, making it seem like she was taking advantage of him. “Boss Xing, can I ask one more question?”

Xing Lin released his hold. “Go ahead.”

Qiao Ruyi looked up, scrutinizing his features intently. Xing Lin waited for the question, uncertain of her thoughts under that gaze.

“Have we… met before?”

Xing Lin was momentarily stunned.

After a long pause, he said, “No.”

—

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Entering Guyang City required horses.

In the vast Gobi Desert, a no-man’s-land, even those at the top of the food chain had to obey the laws of nature.

Qiao Ruyi didn’t know the exact procedure for bringing horses into Guyang City but woke early, full of energy, to accompany the group to the stables.

On the Hexi Corridor, the most famous was the Shandan Military Horse Farm, located on the northern foot of the Leling Mountains in the Qilian range. Known as the “Emerald of the Silk Road” and the “Pearl of Qilian,” it was famed for breeding the Shandan horse.

A thousand years ago, General Huo Qubing fought the Xiongnu there, building fortresses, stationing troops, and raising horses, introducing fine Western horses and crossbreeding to create the renowned Shandan horse.

Qiao Ruyi figured Xing Lin’s stables wouldn’t be far, certainly not as vast as the Shandan Military Horse Farm’s grasslands and reservoirs. Yet the desolation along the way and the scene before her eyes still stunned her upon arrival.

Horses raised on the shallow Gobi stretched endlessly.

Rare morning light spread over the vast grounds. Though no lush grass grew, the silhouettes of horses against the horizon were magnificent. Wind stirred the sand, mixing dust with the horses’ warm breath.

Near the stables, several groups of tall, magnificent horses neighed, their manes shining glossy under the sunlight. Their muscles were firm and taut, with backs sharp like a chiseled blade. As their hooves struck the ground, the earth seemed to tremble slightly. Further away, colts chased and played, their cries rising and falling.

Everything before her brimmed with strength and freedom. Qiao Ruyi felt as if she were witnessing an ancient battlefield of the Hexi Corridor.

“Are we riding horses?” Tao Jiang asked, puzzled. “If so, why bring a car?”

Qiao Ruyi was unsure. “Maybe a combination of car and horse.”

Guyang City lay deep in the no-man’s-land; it couldn’t be reached by horse alone. Would horses be used to haul supplies?

Shen Que kindly answered their question, “There is a stretch best traveled on horseback.”

Tao Jiang remained curious. “What happens if we drive?”

Shen Que glanced at Tao Jiang and merely chuckled coldly, refusing to answer.

Tao Jiang scoffed loudly, “This man looks petty; his temperament matches.”

Shen Que stared at Tao Jiang with undisguised displeasure.

Today, the bruises on his face had faded considerably, revealing his originally elegant and handsome features, tinged with pride—fully apparent in that single displeased look.

Qiao Ruyi noticed the tension between Tao Jiang and Shen Que and chuckled softly. “Since we’re entering Guyang City together, give him some face.”

Tao Jiang sneered.

Fishman You, looking worried, asked Zhou Bie, “Does everyone have to ride?”

Zhou Bie looked casually at the galloping horses and replied, “Of course. Otherwise, why would Xing Lin bring us all here? You don’t know how to ride, do you?”

Fishman You’s expression darkened.

He thought, What does that mean? As if riding horses was the only normal thing.

How many people know how to ride these days?

Just then, Xing Lin and Old Feng each led a horse forward.

Six horses in total, all tall and robust.

Xing Lin had arrived at the stables before dawn, ahead of the others. He first fed the horses thoroughly and then carefully selected each one based on their condition.

When Qiao Ruyi arrived, Xing Lin was still choosing horses, clearly cautious.

Testing speed, steadiness, endurance—it was a lengthy process.

At first, Qiao Ruyi enjoyed watching the scenery and the horses galloping, but gradually, her gaze followed Xing Lin.

Xing Lin personally rode to test.

Beneath the vast sky and the wide Gobi, he seemed a favored son of heaven, radiant and glorious.

The pale morning light mixed with rising dust as Xing Lin galloped on horseback. Dressed in black, his sleeves rolled to the elbows, revealing muscular forearms whose sinews flexed with the horse’s movements, every inch taut with strength.

The reins wound tight between his fingers, his veined arms steady as iron. The black horse beneath him was like lightning, its mane flying. The man’s legs clamped the horse’s sides firmly, his back straight as a blade. Leaning slightly forward with the horse’s gallop, he and his mount moved as one, as if born for this—wild and unrestrained, yet commanding all.

The wind tousled his bangs, his eyes sharp as an eagle’s, blazing with the fire of a conqueror. He gave a low shout, jerked the reins sharply, the horse neighed loudly, rearing high, yet he sat unmoved like a mountain.

Amid the swirling sand, Xing Lin’s figure became a sharp silhouette against the boundless Gobi, the air thick with the collision of raw masculinity and wildness.

Qiao Ruyi watched silently, watching…

Suddenly, a thought leapt into her mind—

He truly resembled an ancient battlefield general, invincible and triumphant.