ITF Chapter93

“Indigo Feather”—this was a secret rallying order known only to Su Xingchuan and Qiu Chen.

Su Xingchuan must have still harbored many doubts upon receiving this code phrase. He did not rashly expose any information, writing only two words in his incoming letter: Stand by.

In response, Bai Heting sent back four words: Keep in touch.

Though brief, this outbound letter leaving the island still underwent a rigorous inspection. To prevent him from tampering with the ink or the stationery, someone even went so far as to transcribe those four words onto a fresh sheet of paper.

Two weeks later, Bai Heting learned from Jiang Han that Luo Congye would not be returning with the rest of the group.

On the day the ships arrived at Urdan Island, Bai Heting stood a dozen meters away from the crowd, catching a distant glimpse of Zhong Xiao waving to Lin Qian from the deck.

Even across such a distance, he could still read her urgency and jubilation from her body language. This confirmed his prior judgment—Zhong Maoru’s oath of allegiance to the king was a decision made in collusion with Luo Congye.

However, he truly did not see Luo Congye’s figure among the returning crowd. Luo Congye had someone deliver a letter to him, stating that he still had some unresolved matters to handle and might not step onto the island for a few more days.

Two days later, disregarding every blockade, Bai Heting forced his way into Lin Zaichang’s drawing room during a meeting, uninvited.

The crowd was startled at first, then exchanged glances with one another. A few of the older individuals even wore expressions of awkwardness as if attempting to cover something up.

Bai Heting scanned their faces one by one and asked calmly, “Where is Luo Congye?”

*

The massive sailing warship still sat quietly docked at the harbor.

The commander had private quarters aboard the ship. The cabin was not large, holding only a small table and a narrow bed, and it had no proper heating system; during winter, it felt as cold and damp as an ice cave.

Luo Congye had been hiding here for three full nights.

Just moments ago, Bei Yang had knocked furiously on the cabin door. Looking as though he had suffered some ultimate humiliation, he told him righteously and sternly that he would never help him tell such childish lies again.

The cabin door shuddered from being slammed shut by the angrily departing Alpha, and Luo Congye shuddered from the freezing wind.

Was it childish?

It did seem a bit like it.

But he was not yet psychologically prepared. He still hadn’t figured out how to face Bai Heting now that they would be meeting for the first time without the connection of a temporary mark.

Five months and nine days. He and Bai Heting had been separated for five months and nine days. When he left, the summer flowers had not yet completely withered; now that he was back, winter was already half over.

Yet he could still recall what it felt like to hold that person in his arms, and he could also remember the scent of the pheromones that haunted his soul.

Luo Congye gave a sudden jolt—

A loud “bang” suddenly erupted as the cabin door was thrown open.

*

Having suffered consecutive heavy blows, the door panel shook precariously a few times before finally reaching the end of its lifespan, tilting sideways onto the floor.

The biting wind rushed into the cabin along with the newcomer. Bai Heting met Luo Congye’s dumbfounded gaze for two seconds, then strode straight in. His left-hand seized Luo Congye by the collar while his right-hand tore open his short shirt.

Seeing him strip his clothes without a single word, Luo Congye was struck with utter panic, letting out a startled “Hey!”

This wretched place was bitterly cold, and with the cabin door now broken, it was clearly not an appropriate setting for an “unveiling of souls.”

Paying no attention to his protests, Bai Heting felt all over his upper body while asking in confusion, “You’re not injured?”

“Injured?” Luo Congye was left bewildered by the question. “Who said I was injured? Bei Yang? Did he bring you here?”

Bai Heting released his collar, an uncontainable surge of anger flaring up inside him.

He had secretly tailed Bei Yang to find this place, having already prepared himself for the absolute worst before arriving—that this guy might be gravely wounded, perhaps even crippled, or disfigured.

Yet here he was, standing completely in one piece.

Bai Heting swept his gaze downward once more.

He is perfectly alive and kicking.

How did any part of this look like someone suffering from illness or injury?

“Why are you hiding here?!” He barked sternly.

Luo Congye, who was quick with his hands, caught Bai Heting’s raised wrist. Then, his movements froze, and he slowly pulled his fingers away from the wrist he was holding.

The dark brown leather cord was exposed just like that.

He recognized this leather cord; it had accompanied him closely for an entire week. But a temporary mark could only last for two weeks at most, and Bai Heting had long ceased to need his pheromones. When he slipped the leather cord into the letter, he had never expected Bai Heting to actually wear it on his body.

Luo Congye said in astonishment, “You’re wearing it.”

Bai Heting opened his mouth but found couldn’t say anything.

That hand suspended mid-air ultimately swung down anyway.

The slap carried his full, unrestrained strength, immediately leaving the left side of Luo Congye’s face burning hot. Bai Heting glared at him, squeezing out four words through his gritted teeth one by one, “You utter bastard.”

He turned to leave, but Luo Congye’s hands moved faster than his brain, reaching out to grab his arm, only to be violently shrugged off.

“Get lost.” Bai Heting cursed viciously.

*

By the time Luo Congye returned home, Bai Heting was sitting in the chair in front of the fireplace with his eyes closed, warming himself by the fire. The fireplace crackled, and within it, one could still see half a burnt suppression patch and a small handful of leather cords.

Luo Congye hadn’t expected him to erupt into such a huge temper. He walked over slowly and crouched down beside the chair.

“You’ve hit me, you’ve cursed me, and even torn down my ship’s door,” he asked in a subdued tone. “Can you let me say a few words?”

Bai Heting remained entirely unmoved, treating him as if he were nothing but thin air.

Luo Congye had no choice but to forcefully stuff the items in his hands into Bai Heting’s grasp.

“I’m using these to make amends.” He said softly.

Bai Heting slowly opened his eyes and clearly saw that what he held in his hands were two daggers.

“One I made myself, and the other I had a craftsman make,” Luo Congye continued. “Take whichever you like.”

Bai Heting pulled each of them out of their sheaths, testing the grip in his hands.

These two daggers were similar in appearance to the one that had lost itself to the sea, but they were visibly far more exquisite. The sleek blades were as thin as a cicada’s wing, and the flame carvings on the wooden hilts were more intricate; the meticulously polished, complex patterns were as smooth as wax without a single burr to be felt.

By comparison, the craftsmanship of one was noticeably superior. Bai Heting sheared that dagger back into its scabbard, tossed it to Luo Congye, and closed his eyes again.

Luo Congye stared blankly at the item in his hand for a moment, then lowered his head and chuckled a few times.

“Such sharp eyes you have, General Bai.” He raised the dagger in his hand and shook it, his tone filled with regret. “This happens to be a piece I was quite satisfied with.”

Bai Heting froze mid-action as he twirled the remaining dagger before turning his head to look at him.

The expression on his face was quite a sight; caught between confusion and irritation, dissatisfaction and a faint trace of disappointment. Luo Congye tapped Bai Heting’s dagger with the one in his own hand, asking with a smile, “Did you think the one with poorer craftsmanship was the one I made?”

Bai Heting’s gaze fell back onto the dagger in Luo Congye’s hand.

Luo Congye looked back along with him.

“It’s fine,” he comforted. “That one was also made by me, just a year ago. Hasn’t my craftsmanship improved quite—”

Halfway through his sentence, a flash of cold steel suddenly swept across. Luo Congye snapped his mouth shut, leaning his body to the left while using his own dagger to parry the strike aimed straight at his face.

He blinked in disbelief, stunned. “Bai Heting, you’re being for real?”

With a loud clatter, Bai Heting slammed the dagger onto the floor, speaking coldly, “Get the hell back to your ship.”

Luo Congye picked up the dagger he had thrown down, sheared it back into its scabbard, and looked up into his face. The firelight cast a warm hue over Bai Heting’s exquisite, delicate face, slightly softening the harshness in his expression. Luo Congye leaned a bit closer and said earnestly, “It’s so cold on the ship. Besides, you kicked the door to pieces, it’s really unlivable.”

He stuffed both daggers back into Bai Heting’s hands, wrapping his own palms around Bai Heting’s hands, and said with absolute sincerity, “Don’t be angry. They are all yours.”

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