Chapter 25#

At this moment, the heart pounding like a war drum in his chest—was it because of the tiger, or because of Chu Tan?#

The horse ran swiftly, wind howling past their ears as trees and grass blurred behind them.

Rong Yu had never experienced anything like this. His heartbeat quickened involuntarily, his eyes widening slightly as he took in the scenery around them, his fingers gripping the reins turning pale.

Chu Tan quietly placed his hand over Rong Yu’s, wrapping it in his palm and gripping the reins together with him.

Rong Yu startled, shaking his hand but failing to break free. “Let go of me, I can hold on myself.”

Chu Tan was silent for several seconds, then leaned his head over beside Rong Yu. “What? Say that again, young master—the wind’s too loud, I didn’t hear you.”

Rong Yu: “…”

He reached back and viciously pinched Chu Tan’s thigh.

Chu Tan winced in pain and instinctively squeezed his legs together. The horse, feeling the pressure, kicked its hooves and ran even faster, darting off like a puff of smoke.

Rong Yu was thrown off balance by the sudden momentum, crashing heavily into Chu Tan’s chest. As he began to topple forward again, an arm locked firmly around him the next instant, pressing him tight against Chu Tan’s body.

“Don’t move, young master, or I won’t be able to control it.” Chu Tan’s low voice came from beside his ear, carried by the chill of the wind and the jolting of the horse’s back, making even his heartbeat tremble a few times.

Rong Yu blinked rapidly twice, his lips pressed tightly together, but he stopped moving.

By the time the horse gradually slowed, they had already run deep into the woods.

“Alright, you can let—” Rong Yu went to slap Chu Tan’s hand away, but was cut off by Chu Tan’s soft “Shh.”

Chu Tan raised his hand, indicating for him to look ahead.

There, on the grass not far away, a rabbit was intently nibbling on grass blades. Its red eyes swiveled round and round, its three-parted mouth chewing away, utterly focused.

Rong Yu’s eyes lit up. He spread his palm, and Chu Tan placed the bow into his hand.

The bow was clearly a bit heavy for Rong Yu. Having been pampered in silks and fine food since childhood, and frail and sickly to boot, he strained with all his might to barely draw the bow open. But the moment he nocked the arrow, he couldn’t hold it steady—the arrow wobbled and fell limply to the ground, still five or six meters short of the rabbit.

The rabbit’s ears twitched alertly, and it hopped away into the grass.

A suppressed laugh sounded from beside his ear.

Rong Yu’s brows darkened as he turned to glare at Chu Tan.

Chu Tan immediately pressed his lips together. After a pause, he said seriously, “The young master did remarkably well for his first time. When I was five and first tried shooting a bow, I couldn’t even draw it.”

However, this statement did nothing to soothe Rong Yu’s feelings. His face turned even colder, and he squeezed out two words from between his teeth: “Five years old?”

Rong Yu was seventeen this year, about to turn eighteen.

Failure didn’t make Rong Yu feel defeated—it was Chu Tan’s mockery that infuriated him.

Rong Yu’s emotions were unstable. Sometimes his tolerance was immense; faced with the repeated provocations and insults from Rong Yue and Gu Yueze and others, he could remain expressionless, even responding with a smile.

Yet at other times, he was overly sensitive, and the smallest thing could stoke his anger. The person who had mastered the skill of riling him up was none other than Chu Tan—a standout among the best. He could effortlessly stir Rong Yu’s emotions.

The agitation in his heart threatened to spiral. Rong Yu took a few deep breaths, forcing himself under control, and let out a cold snort through his nose with a grim expression. Then he turned his head away from Chu Tan, afraid he’d be so angry he’d have an episode—clearly, this wasn’t the place for a meltdown.

Chu Tan found him utterly adorable like this—like an angry cat, baring its claws at someone in warning, only to end up making a rumbling purr from its throat.

Chu Tan’s eyes held a smile, but he refrained from provoking him further verbally, only saying, “Don’t rush, young master. First time’s always hard, second time’s familiar. Let’s try again.”

Rong Yu said nothing. Looking down, he noticed Chu Tan’s arm was still wrapped around him, and he pounded it fiercely twice. “Take your dog paws off me. If you touch me randomly again, I’ll chop them off!”

Chu Tan raised a brow, releasing his hold. In the places Rong Yu couldn’t see, his expression was full of wild indulgence and mischief, with not a trace of fear.

The horse ambled slowly through the woods, and soon they spotted their next prey—a sika deer, its body covered in white spots, head lowered as it ate leaves from a bush.

Both of them instinctively held their breath. Chu Tan urged the horse closer silently, reaching back to take the bow and arrows from his shoulder. But Rong Yu stopped Chu Tan, letting out a whistle from his mouth. The deer, startled, darted away.

“It’s a pregnant doe.” Rong Yu said flatly.

The spring hunt had its rules—one must not hunt pregnant females. Spring was the season for animals to mate and reproduce; take the pregnant mothers and the animal population would dwindle.

The ancients of this era already possessed a consciousness of sustainable development.

“The young master has hawk-like eyes. This servant is truly outdone in admiration.” Chu Tan said.

Rong Yu’s expression was blank, paying no heed to his flattery, finding it rather nonsensical.

Suddenly, a bush began shaking incessantly, rustling with sound. Then a deer-like animal walked out from within—similar to the sika deer from before, but with a brown coat all over, no spots, and much smaller in stature.

“A roe deer.” Chu Tan said softly.

The roe deer spotted them, but instead of running, it stared at them curiously, tilting its head as it chewed the leaves at the corner of its mouth.

Chu Tan placed the bow and arrow into Rong Yu’s hands, lowering his voice to a whisper: “Young master, give me a chance to show off. I’ll draw the bow, and you aim. How about that?”

Rong Yu’s attention was fixed on the roe deer, and he failed to notice just how close Chu Tan had gotten—that man’s thin lips were pressed right against the shell of his ear, opening and closing, exhaling scorching breath as if kissing his ear.

Rong Yu stared at the roe deer, knowing he couldn’t draw the bow himself, and so accepted Chu Tan’s proposal with a slight nod.

Chu Tan curved his lips, wrapping his arms around Rong Yu to hold his hand, drawing the bow and nocking the arrow. He chuckled softly: “Wherever you point, I’ll hit. All according to the young master’s command.”

Rong Yu felt his ear grow hot, the tip of it trembling involuntarily. Because they needed to aim, the two were pressed extremely close, their cheeks nearly touching. Whenever Rong Yu made even the slightest move, Chu Tan seemed to read his mind and adjusted the direction of the arrow accordingly.

Once Rong Yu felt it was right, Chu Tan drew the bow to full tension and released abruptly.

The arrow shot through the air like a shooting star, tearing through the wind, straight and true toward the roe deer. The deer finally sensed the danger at that moment, but it was too late—the arrow struck deep into its neck, blood splattering everywhere.

The roe deer collapsed to the ground, twitched twice, and fell silent.

Rong Yu was thrilled. This was his first kill. He turned to look at Chu Tan, but forgot the distance between them—his lips brushed across Chu Tan’s jaw, touching that thin, cool skin.

Rong Yu froze, then furrowed his brows and snapped: “Why are you so close to me? Back off!”

Before he could even enjoy his excitement, Chu Tan was thoroughly rejected. He felt a bit wronged: “Wasn’t it for aiming? The young master is crossing the bridge and burning it behind him—so heartless.”

Rong Yu knitted his brows, ignoring his nonsense, and commanded: “Go fetch the roe deer.”

“Then sit steady, young master. Don’t fall off.” Chu Tan vaulted off the horse, strode over quickly, pulled the fletched arrow from the deer’s neck, and hoisted it up to gauge its weight.

The animals had just endured a winter of scarce food, so they weren’t very heavy—but this silly roe deer was a bit plump.

Chu Tan smiled slightly and turned back to look at Rong Yu. “Young master—”

His voice cut off abruptly.

Because on the tree beside Rong Yu, a snake was slowly crawling along a branch. Half its body was already hanging in midair, inching its way toward Rong Yu’s shoulder.

Rong Yu saw Chu Tan’s expression and sensed something was wrong. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of the snake flicking its tongue, and his entire body went rigid in an instant, frozen still.

Rong Yu was afraid of two kinds of creatures: those covered in many legs, and those with no legs at all.

The snake had already crawled onto Rong Yu’s shoulder. Fortunately, Mo Shu had fastened a cloak around him, so the snake didn’t crawl directly on his neck. But he could still feel the path of its crawling, even seeming to experience that cold, slick touch, breaking out in goosebumps all over.

The snake raised its head, flicking its tongue with a hiss—a posture of readiness to strike.

“Don’t move, young master, not a muscle.” Chu Tan said in a low voice.

He nocked an arrow to the bow, aiming at the snake’s head. His pitch-black eyes were as sharp as the arrow fletching, glinting with icy cold light. His jaw was set in sharp lines, veins bulging on the back of his hand as he drew the bowstring into a strained twang that groaned under the load.

Both of them held their breath.

At the very instant the snake lunged, the arrow also tore through the air with unstoppable sharpness, grazing past Rong Yu’s cheek and, in a split second, piercing through the snake’s eye, pinning it heavily to the tree trunk behind.

Chu Tan dashed over quickly, only to see Rong Yu still had his face tensed, maintaining his previous posture without moving a muscle. He frowned slightly in confusion, then his gaze landed on Rong Yu’s hands, which were death-gripping the reins. Understanding dawned, and he raised his eyebrows.

Chu Tan mounted the horse, gently wrapped his arms around Rong Yu, and laid his hands over Rong Yu’s. What he touched was nothing but ice-cold skin.

He rubbed Rong Yu’s hands slowly and gently, transferring the warmth of his palms to Rong Yu bit by bit, softening those fingers frozen stiff with fear.

“It’s alright, young master. Don’t be afraid—the snake is dead. I killed it.” His voice was low and soft, full of patience, like coaxing a child.

Rong Yu blinked. Chu Tan’s chest was scorching hot and firm, his hands warm too, gradually bringing warmth back to Rong Yu’s chilled body. The tense muscles throughout his body loosened, and he went slightly limp for a moment, leaning into Chu Tan’s embrace.

Chu Tan let out a quiet sigh of relief. The tension hidden deep in his dark eyes receded, replaced by a hint of pleasure as he savored Rong Yu’s rare closeness, lightly breathing in the scent of medicine and incense that wafted from him—utterly enamored and intoxicated.

Unfortunately, Rong Yu came to his senses quickly enough. On one hand, he was annoyed at himself for being frightened by a snake; on the other, he felt humiliated that Chu Tan had been soothing him like a child.

At this point, even Chu Tan snidely copping a feel seemed less important. Rong Yu struggled to maintain a calm expression and said coldly: “Let go of me. Get off.”

He needed to redirect his attention and forget this embarrassing episode as soon as possible.

Chu Tan raised a brow. The little young master flipped his face at the drop of a hat—killing the donkey the moment it finished the millwork.

He had no choice but to dismount, and asked: “Would the young master like to come down and rest for a while?”

Rong Yu shook his head. In truth, he was terrified that another snake might crawl out of the ground.

So Chu Tan went to retrieve the snake. The corpse was less than two chi long, emerald green all over, with the tip of its tail scorched red.

“A bamboo viper. Venomous.” Chu Tan said. “Good thing I shot that beast in time and saved you, young master.”

His eyes were bright, the desire for praise unmistakably plain.

But Rong Yu ignored him, extending his hand and saying: “Give me the snake.”

Chu Tan was surprised. “Young master isn’t afraid?”

“What’s there to fear once it’s dead?” Even as he said this, a sliver of dread he was trying desperately to conceal still seeped out through his eyes.

He feared snakes not because they bit, but because snakes were cold, slimy creatures without legs, and they instinctively made his skin crawl. Even a dead snake still gave him that feeling.

Rong Yu pressed his lips tightly together and took the snake’s corpse from Chu Tan’s hand. The head had already been smashed to pieces by the arrow, tattered bits of flesh stuck together, the eye nowhere to be found.

Clenching his jaw, Rong Yu pinched the snake by its neck with one hand and drew a dagger from his waist with the other, viciously stabbing it into the snake’s head.

Then he sliced down with force, cleaving the corpse in two.

Blood sprayed everywhere, some even splashing onto Rong Yu’s face, leaving bright red flecks on his pale skin, slowly sliding down into streaks of blood.

Rong Yu didn’t move, watching the blood drip from the snake’s corpse, flowing down his slender fingers all the way to his wrist. His light-colored pupils took on a kind of inorganic coldness.

After a long moment, his lips curled up slightly, pulling at the muscles of his face, distorting the blood streaks a little. His expression showed an eerie excitement, his crimson lips several shades more vivid than the blood itself.

What was the best way to face fear? Why, to destroy that fear with your own hands, of course.

Rong Yu knew that from now on, he would never be afraid of snakes again.

His cheek was suddenly touched by a soft handkerchief. Rong Yu looked up, meeting Chu Tan’s face—utterly devoid of any change in expression. He seemed not to react to Rong Yu’s actions at all, as calm as if nothing had happened.

He took the handkerchief and gently wiped the blood from Rong Yu’s face. Then he took the two halves of the snake’s corpse from Rong Yu’s hand, tucked them into the pouch at his side, and proceeded to wipe Rong Yu’s fingers and wrist until the original fair, slender skin was revealed.

“Blood is too dirty.” Chu Tan said.

“When we return, I’ll give you a reward, as payment for saving me.” Rong Yu spoke flatly.

Chu Tan chuckled lightly. “Then the young master will have to let me choose.”

Rong Yu pulled his hand back. “Don’t get too greedy.”

Chu Tan shrugged nonchalantly, took out a water pouch and handed it to Rong Yu. Rong Yu took two sips, and Chu Tan took it back, tilting it to the opening and downing two gulps himself.

Rong Yu frowned deeply, about to scold him for being ill-mannered, when suddenly shouts came from the other side of the woods.

It sounded like several people were hunting down a single prey.

Chu Tan’s eyes turned wary in an instant. He immediately mounted the horse and urged it in another direction.

But it was too late. A massive figure leaped over the undergrowth and slammed onto the ground with a thud.

It was a tiger covered in stripes all over its body.

The tiger stared at Rong Yu and Chu Tan with lamp-bulb-sized eyes, scraping its front claws on the ground, its body crouched low, drool dripping from its sharp fangs. Behind it, the humans were still in hot pursuit, and the tiger’s fury had reached its peak. These two lone souls before it were its targets for venting.

The tiger launched into a leap, charging straight at the pair with incredible speed, leaving an orange blur behind it.

There was no time to nock an arrow and shoot now. Chu Tan could only spur the horse into a wild gallop. The tiger chased fiercely behind them, seeming about to catch up—when, at that moment, an arrow flew from the distance, landing in front of the tiger’s head.

The tiger screeched to a halt.

And the people had already caught up to them.

It was Gu Yueze, Jiayang Commandery Princess, and the others.

Seeing Chu Tan and Rong Yu, Gu Yueze raised an eyebrow and said with gloating delight: “Fancy meeting you two here. Count yourselves lucky that I saved you—had you not run into me, you’d likely have ended up in the tiger’s jaws by now.”

Rong Yu was still shaken, his heart pounding. It was the first time he’d seen a tiger outside a zoo, but he maintained a calm exterior and said coldly: “If it weren’t for Young General Gu driving the tiger over here, we probably wouldn’t have been chased at all.”

Gu Yueze narrowed his eyes and was about to speak when Jiayang Commandery Princess cut him off.

“That arrow was clearly shot by me. What does it have to do with you? Don’t try to take credit!” Jiayang Commandery Princess scolded with displeasure.

So Gu Yueze immediately switched targets: “But I was the one who spotted the tiger first!”

“You spotted it, so why don’t you take it on yourself?!”

“You think I can’t do it without you?!”

…

The two started bickering again.

“Enough! This is no time to squabble!” The Crown Prince came up from behind, followed by a group of guards.

He glanced at Rong Yu and Chu Tan standing in the clearing, then said to Gu Yueze and Jiayang Commandery Princess: “No need for you two to argue. Whoever kills this tiger, the credit naturally goes to them.”

The group surrounded the tiger in the open space. The tiger paced restlessly within the ring, continuously letting out threatening, warning growls.

Jiayang Commandery Princess snorted coldly at Gu Yueze, then commanded the guards: “All of you be careful. Don’t damage the tiger pelt—I want it for a cloak!”

Gu Yueze sneered: “You’re far too confident in yourself. We don’t even know who’ll win yet!”

Normally, a group of armed people killing a single tiger shouldn’t be difficult, but due to Jiayang Commandery Princess’s orders, everyone was restricted, and no one dared loose an arrow recklessly. All they could do was keep advancing on the tiger, using a circling tactic.

This only made the tiger more and more agitated. Every hair on its body stood on end, and its roars grew louder and louder, shaking the very earth.

Gu Yueze was extremely confident in himself. With a hint of playful malice, he teased the tiger, firing one arrow after another but never striking true, provoking the tiger into seething fury.

Suddenly, Gu Yueze looked at Chu Tan and Rong Yu not far away, curved his lips, and a wicked idea formed.

Riding his horse, he loosed arrows in rapid succession, driving the tiger toward where the two stood.

The direction Rong Yu was in had been the one gap with no one holding the line—now it became the only escape route, and the tiger immediately charged at the pair.

By now, Chu Tan had gone calm. He shot several arrows at the tiger, slowing its charge, then said rapidly into Rong Yu’s ear: “Don’t be afraid, young master. Hold tight to the horse’s neck.”

Rong Yu looked at him in confusion, and watched as Chu Tan slapped the horse’s rump hard, then kicked off the horse’s back and flew into the air, running in another direction.

Naturally, the tiger chased after the human who’d shot at it. Chu Tan dashed a few steps, planted his foot on a trunk, and climbed a tree, then turned and fired an arrow into the mouth of the roaring tiger.

The tiger was wounded but not dead. When Chu Tan jumped down from the tree, it sprang at him. Chu Tan slid beneath the tiger’s body in one smooth motion, gripping his last arrow, and thrust it with both precision and ruthlessness into the most vulnerable spot beneath the tiger’s neck.

The tiger fell with a crash, sending up a massive cloud of dust. It roared twice more, then fell completely silent.

Everything happened in a flash. Before the others could even react, Chu Tan had crawled out from under the tiger’s corpse, risen swiftly, sprang off a tree trunk, and in a few fleeting moments caught up with the startled horse. He seized the reins and brought the horse to a steady stop.

Rong Yu turned his head, his peach-blossom eyes—normally so composed—now wide as saucers from shock, staring dazedly at the man before him.

Chu Tan was covered head to toe in dust, hair scattered loose around his face. His handsome features were stained with blood splattered from the tiger, and sweat, blood, and grime had mixed into muddy filth, trailing down from his high brow all the way to his eyelids.

Chu Tan’s pupils were startlingly bright, steeped in a thick bloody hue—whether tiger blood had splashed into them or it was the tangible aura of killing intent taking form, it was impossible to tell.

Rong Yu looked at Chu Tan, replaying the scene from moments ago in his mind.

What had been going through Chu Tan’s head when he jumped down? Had he truly been confident in killing the tiger, or had he been willing to sacrifice his life to save Rong Yu?

And what about himself? His heart pounding like a war drum in his chest right now—was it because of the tiger, or because of Chu Tan?

Yet before he could think it through, an arrow flew in from afar and struck the horse square in the hindquarters.

The horse let out a pained whinny and bolted forward in a frenzy, carrying Chu Tan and Rong Yu with it.

Gu Yueze lowered his bow hand and gave an awkward laugh. “Whoops, my hand slipped.”

【Author’s Note:】

The suspension bridge effect refers to when a person’s heart races from being startled, and if they happen to encounter another person at that moment, they mistake that feeling for the flutter of love.

So—is Yu Yu experiencing the suspension bridge effect, or is it real feelings? Hehe.