TIC Extra 2

 Huai'an 2: Summoning the Soul

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Chapter 16: Campaign in the Northern Desert

Huai'an was held fast by Gui Ningyuan, kneeling and leaning forward; his jade stem—the member hanging beneath him—dangled between his legs. As Gui Ningyuan thrust deep and hard within his tight little cavity, the member swung wildly, an unruly thing slapping repeatedly against Huai'an's lower abdomen and the roots of his thighs. Gui Ningyuan’s hands, too, refused to stay idle; they crept stealthily downward until one hand grasped that piece of flesh firmly—causing Huai'an to cry out instantly.

"Let go, Ah Ning! I can't take this!"

Gui Ningyuan’s fingers traced circles around the head of Huai'an’s member again and again, while the thrusting inside his cavity didn't slow down in the slightest. Huai'an’s legs went completely soft; all strength drained from his body, and he nearly collapsed onto the bed. But Gui Ningyuan caught him firmly, supporting his shoulders and lifting him back into a kneeling position, pulling him to lean against his own chest.

Gui Ningyuan’s breathing was right there beside his ear—scorching hot, igniting an ever-deepening desire within his body. The dual stimulation, front and back, threatened to wring every last drop of strength from him. It was a sensation he hadn't felt in ages; his entire body and soul seemed to transform into kindling for the fires raging in those two intimate places—burning so fiercely and rapidly that soon, it felt as if not even a speck of bone dust would remain.

Huai'an truly couldn't go on. The overwhelming ecstasy had left him utterly exhausted; after three years of abstinence, he simply wasn't ready to endure such intense, prolonged lovemaking all at once.

"Ah Ning... I really feel like I'm... going to die... Have mercy on me... please, have mercy." Huai'an’s voice was barely louder than the buzz of a mosquito—a faint, broken whimper, sounding as if he had been fucked to the point of tears.

Gui Ningyuan knew exactly what it looked like when Huai'an reached his absolute limit. He halted his movements, holding Huai'an close against his shoulder to let him rest for a moment. Huai'an’s breathing remained rapid and feeble, and his eyes looked completely unfocused.

This time, they truly couldn't continue; any further, and Huai'an would simply fall apart. Gui Ningyuan felt a mix of triumph and tender concern; he wrapped his arms around Huai'an, cushioning him as he gently lowered him to lie flat atop his own body, before carefully rolling them both onto their sides. His member remained embedded deep inside Huai'an’s cavity, though now, it ceased all movement entirely. “Has Ah Huai admitted his mistake?” Gui Ningyuan’s hand stroked his back, helping him catch his breath.

“I admit it; I won’t ever do it again...” Only then did Huai An begin to recover, finally able to string together a coherent sentence.

Gui Ningyuan’s hand rested at the entrance of his orifice, gently rubbing the spot. It had been stretched wide by the thick member inside him, the thin layer of skin pulled taut and clinging tightly to it.

“Why did Ah Huai deliberately try to make me angry...?” Gui Ningyuan still felt a lingering sense of grievance.

“You silly fool—how could I ever bear to make you angry?” Huai An reached a hand behind him and gently patted the top of Gui Ningyuan’s head. “Imperial Physician Liu gave me specific instructions: for your illness to be completely cured—and being able to get out of bed is merely the first step—the critical part lies in this very first act of intimacy. If we were overly cautious, focusing all our attention solely on *that* area, you would likely lose your erection prematurely. That would leave you with a psychological hang-up—a ‘heart-sickness’—that would be incredibly difficult to treat later on.”

Gui Ningyuan began to sob uncontrollably.

“You worry so much about me, yet here I am, treating you so cruelly...”

Huai An wanted to turn around and embrace him, but pinned in place by the member still embedded within him, he was unable to move. He could only press himself even closer into Gui Ningyuan’s arms.

“Why are you crying, Ah Ning? I enjoyed it immensely, too! It’s just that I’m getting on in years, and having gone so long without intimacy, I simply couldn’t contain the sheer intensity of your passion and affection all at once.” Huai An couldn't help but sigh inwardly; his own vitality was waning with age, while Gui Ningyuan’s youthful vigor burned ever brighter. Moreover, he harbored a deep-seated worry: after all the physical ordeals his body had endured, it was highly uncertain whether he would ever be capable of fathering children. “Ah Ning, perhaps you should take a few more consorts into your inner palace. Their family background or social standing matters not; as long as they treat you with sincerity, that is all that counts.”

At that, Gui Ningyuan burst into a fit of unrestrained, wailing grief.

“Ah Huai... you don’t want me anymore...!”

“I only fear that I might be shortchanging you, Ah Ning. Please, stop crying! Seeing you in such distress breaks my heart—I feel like I’m going to start crying myself!” Huai An could do nothing but try to soothe him for the moment, resolving to broach the subject again more gently at a later time.

Gui Ningyuan instantly fell silent. He simply could not bear to see Huai An cry; every time Huai An shed a tear, it felt as though his own heart were being crushed into a thousand tiny fragments. “I’m not upset. Please, Ah Huai—help me. Use your hands to help me. You are the only one I want in this life—truly. Please don’t say those things anymore; they tear at my heart, Ah Huai.”

Huai’an bit his lip, smiling as his eyes welled up with tears.

He shifted forward, sliding out from beneath Gui Ningyuan, then turned and burrowed deep into the covers.

Gui Ningyuan recoiled instantly. “No!”

Huai’an paused, peeking out from the blankets with just one eye to look at Gui Ningyuan. “Didn’t you use your mouth to help me once, Ah Ning? If you guide me, I’ll learn how to do it, too.”

“No, no, no!” Gui Ningyuan braced his hands against Huai’an’s shoulders, holding him still. Huai’an’s eyes shimmered within the darkness of the blankets—truly like luminous pearls. A treasure for which one would gladly trade the entire world.

“Ah Huai, you are the most precious being in this world; you have no idea how much weight you carry in my heart. I may be a prince, but I was shunned from childhood—raised like a wild street urchin. I fought, I threw tantrums, I cheated—I’d resort to any trick imaginable just to avoid being bullied. I was as lowly as the root of a weed—resilient enough to survive even after being trampled into the dirt. But you are different. You come from a noble clan; you were raised with the utmost care and guidance from your parents. I swore an oath to your mother and father that I would devote my very heart and soul to caring for you. I am a rough man, unversed in such delicate sensibilities, so I’ve inevitably caused you some hurt or grievance. Yet, in my heart, you have always been—and will always be—the one I cherish above all else.”

These were words Gui Ningyuan had kept bottled up for five long years—words he had never felt worthy enough to speak. Now that he had poured them all out in a single rush, he felt a profound sense of relief and joy.

Huai’an held him tightly in his embrace, his fingers tracing gently over every scar on his body. Beneath the tender comfort of Huai’an’s touch, those marks no longer seemed so hideous or terrifying; instead, they resembled a scattering of fallen leaves and withered branches—quietly finding their place of rest in the stillness of autumn.

“How about I just lie here in your arms and use my own hands?” Gui Ningyuan asked, nuzzling his chin against Huai’an. “Ah-Ning is your husband; I’ll do whatever my husband says.”

The release came gently yet with deep satisfaction. Gui Ningyuan felt that as long as it involved Huai’an—whether lying beside him, watching him, or being inside him—or even just thinking of him, he could experience the most profound pleasure; a pleasure that did not stem from his lower body, but from his heart. Having taken care of his own needs, he then cajoled, coaxed, and gently held Huai’an down, using his mouth to help Huai’an reach his own climax.

With soft, smacking sounds, he finished his task and swallowed. Having finally soothed the blushing, pouting Huai’an, the two rose to change their clothes and retire for the night. By now, the Hour of Hai—late evening—was fast approaching; they couldn't carry on much longer, as they had to march again the next day.

Being away on campaign meant there were no servants to attend to them; furthermore, Gui Ningyuan found the palace eunuchs back in the Great Ming capital to be clumsy and inefficient, so he simply chose to handle everything himself. He stepped outside to fetch some water, and as he returned to the room, he found Huai’an making the bed.

Huai’an was clad in a simple undergarment—coarse-woven linen of a muted ash-grey hue. Yet, starkly visible against the fabric at his rear was a large, crimson stain.

With a loud clang, the basin of water slipped from Gui Ningyuan’s hands and crashed to the floor. Startled by the noise, Huai’an spun around to look.

“Ah-Huai! You... I...” Gui Ningyuan’s voice trembled uncontrollably. Huai’an turned to look at himself as well; seeing the vivid crimson stain spreading across his clothes, he, too, froze in shock.

“Ah-Huai, don’t die! I’m sorry—I’ll never bully you again! Once we return to the palace, I’ll castrate myself as penance—please, I beg you, don’t die!” Gui Ningyuan was weeping now; he sank to his knees beneath Huai’an, clutching him tightly while his hands fumbled frantically, attempting to staunch the flow of blood.

The last time Huai’an had suffered a miscarriage, Imperial Physician Liu had warned them: if the bleeding continued to flow so heavily and ceaselessly—if he lost any more blood—his life would be in grave danger.

Gritting his teeth, Gui Ningyuan snapped himself back to reality; scrambling to his feet, he was about to rush out and summon the Imperial Physician.

“Ah-Ning, don’t! Wait...” Huai’an grabbed hold of him. Fearing that Gui Ningyuan’s panic would cause him to shout out loud, he exerted all his strength to pull him close, pressing him against his chest and covering his mouth.

“It’s alright, Ah-Ning... It might just be... just my monthly cycle. Just my period, that’s all.”

Tears still clung to Gui Ningyuan’s eyelashes, glistening and quivering like dewdrops on blades of grass. Seeing that he had calmed down, Huai’an released his grip. "It’s a good thing, Ah Ning—a truly good thing. For the past three years, my body felt as if it had withered away inside; I hadn't had my cycle at all. This is the first time it’s returned, and I feel no discomfort whatsoever. It really is a good thing."

"A good thing?" Gui Ningyuan stared at Huai’an with a look of utter bewilderment.

Huai’an leaned in close to Gui Ningyuan’s ear. "If it returns on schedule every month... who knows? We might even end up with a little Ah Ning of our own."

Gui Ningyuan swept Huai’an into his arms, lifting him high—higher even than the moon itself.

Gui Ningyuan took a knife and cut a piece from a sable-fur blanket, placing it as a pad against Huai’an’s lower abdomen before helping him don his clothes and tying them securely.

Huai’an, who had been engrossed in studying the campaign maps, reached out and stayed Gui Ningyuan’s hands.

Gui Ningyuan understood what Huai’an meant. "I know—we are bound by the rule that our food and clothing standards must be exactly the same as those of the common soldiers. That is our code, Ah Huai. But inside you right now, there might someday be a little person growing—my own child. Let me borrow this luxury item for now; we’ll just consider it a garment meant for *him*. That way, it doesn’t count as a violation of protocol, does it? Please? I’m begging you."

Huai’an remained silent for a moment, but eventually, he relented and withdrew his hands. Gui Ningyuan then helped him put on his padded undergarments, his tunic, and finally, his battle armor.

The entire campaign against the Northern Deserts proceeded exactly according to Huai’an’s strategic deployment. General Hua led two divisions of the Xiliang forces to the northernmost frontier of the Great Ming Empire, engaging directly in a head-on clash with the Northern Desert cavalry. Their orders were to feign weakness—not to defeat the Northern Desert forces outright, but rather to firmly pin them down and divert their attention. Meanwhile, a crack unit—led personally by Huai’an and Gui Ningyuan—stealthily bypassed the front lines, slipping into Northern Desert territory through the mouth of a desolate, uninhabited mountain valley.

The Xiliang troops were at a distinct disadvantage compared to their Northern Desert counterparts. The Northern Desert forces were nomadic cavalry; they required no supply trains and were unencumbered by the burden of heavy provisions or baggage wagons. When setting out on a campaign, each warrior would bring three or four horses, switching mounts whenever one grew weary—a setup perfectly suited for long-distance, lightning-fast raids. The Xiliang army, conversely, was heavily dependent on logistical supply lines, and both their soldiers and horses were ill-adapted to the harsh combat conditions of the snowy wilderness. This battle must be swift and decisive—a single, crushing blow to cripple the Northern Desert forces; otherwise, our men and horses will be exhausted, and the campaign will become untenable.

Along the northward path leading through the valley mouth, wind and snow raged; with every step taken, the cold seemed to bite a little deeper. Huai An arranged his troops in a "Flying Wild Geese" formation, with units taking turns at the vanguard to conserve their strength. Before setting out, every soldier—acting on Huai An’s orders—had stuffed their boots with reed fluff, dried grass, or any other available material to provide insulation against the cold. The men selected for this expedition were all veterans—old subordinates who had campaigned across the north and south under Huai An three years prior. Although Huai An officially held the rank of Military Advisor, everyone here still addressed him as "General." Despite the harsh conditions, morale was high, and military discipline remained impeccable.

They advanced silently along the hidden valley floor for over a hundred *li*; as dusk began to fall, Huai An located a spot sheltered from the wind and ordered the troops to make camp.

The latter half of the night—and the entire day to follow—would determine the outcome of a life-and-death struggle. According to reports from the scouts, a patrol of Northern Desert troops was circling back and forth just ten *li* beyond the valley mouth. Under the cover of darkness, the plan was to exit the valley and launch a surprise attack on this patrol from the rear. The warhorses of the Northern Desert had evolved over generations to survive in this extreme cold; they possessed the uncanny ability to scent dried grass beneath the snow, and in a full gallop, they were swifter than the horses of Xi Li. Once they had slain the enemy and seized their mounts, they would strike directly at the Southern Royal Court of the Northern Desert. Speed ​​is of the essence in warfare; the battle tomorrow could tolerate no errors—they had to strike before the Northern Desert forces could even react, catching them completely off guard.

In the extreme north during winter, daylight is virtually nonexistent; even at high noon, heavy clouds swirled overhead, casting a gloom so deep it felt like night. As the hour of *You* (early evening) arrived, the darkness became absolute—so thick one could not see a hand held before one's face—and not a single star was visible in the sky. To avoid betraying their position, the soldiers were permitted to kindle only small, essential fires within the thick canvas of their respective tents to ward off the cold.

Gui Ningyuan and Huai An sat facing each other across a small, palm-sized campfire. This was Gui Ningyuan’s first time venturing into such a remote and frigid region; having removed his felt cap and helmet, his face—battered by the wind and cold—was flushed crimson and felt swollen to the touch. Gui Ningyuan warmed his hands over the fire, then gathered Huai An’s feet into his lap, intending to warm them for him.

“No, Ning—I can’t let you have your way on this. In weather like this, the moment you unfasten your clothes, you’ll freeze solid.” Huai An pressed down on his hands, lifted his legs from Gui Ningyuan’s knees, stood up, and moved behind him. “While the fire is still burning, let me brush the snow off your collar. If that melts and seeps inside to dampen your clothes, you’re bound to catch a chill.”

They had been marching for a long time, and a thick layer of snow had settled upon their bodies. The snow on their outer garments had already been brushed away, but snowflakes still clung to the crevices around their collars—those intricate spots that were difficult to clean thoroughly.

“No, no, I’ll do it myself.” Gui Ningyuan recoiled slightly.

“You can’t see back there yourself; besides, you’re the most careless, slapdash person I know when it comes to details like this.” Huai An tried to pull Gui Ningyuan closer, but Gui Ningyuan kept dodging away.

Huai An took one look and knew something was amiss. Exerting his strength, he yanked Gui Ningyuan toward him, twisted his arms behind his back, and reached out with his other hand to yank open his collar.

It was immediately obvious: Gui Ningyuan was dressed too thinly—he was missing a layer of padded undergarments that everyone else had. It was a padded vest made of animal hide—standard issue for every soldier in the northern expeditionary force, and the most effective garment for warding off the cold.

“Where are your clothes?!” Huai An’s expression darkened as he glared at him. Gui Ningyuan stammered and mumbled for a long moment, unable to form a coherent sentence.

Huai An reached down and felt his own body. Sure enough, he was wearing two layers of padded vests. Gui Ningyuan had been the one to help him don his clothes and armor, layer by layer; at the time, Huai An had been engrossed in studying a map and hadn't noticed Gui Ningyuan secretly stacking both padded vests onto him at once.

Without a second thought, Huai An moved to strip off his clothes, but Gui Ningyuan threw his arms around him in a death grip.

“Ah Huai! Ah Huai! I beg you—please don’t take them off! I’m begging you! Didn’t *you* just say that in weather like this, the moment you unfasten your clothes, you’ll freeze solid?!”

Huai An ignored him; with a surge of strength, he shoved Gui Ningyuan roughly aside. Gui Ningyuan scrambled back to his feet in an instant and once again threw his arms around Huai An, clinging to him tightly to prevent him from moving. When Gui Ningyuan fell, he scraped a small patch of skin on his head. Huai An sighed, intending to reach out and tend to the wound. Yet, no sooner had he raised his hand than Gui Ningyuan flinched back in fright, drawing his head down into his shoulders.

Huai An froze in bewilderment. Gui Ningyuan offered an awkward smile. "I thought the General was going to hit me..."

Huai An’s heart instantly ached with anguish; he pulled Gui Ningyuan tightly into his embrace. "I won't hit you, Ah Ning—never again will I hit you."

"Ah Huai, I know you’re angry with me, but you don't understand. With this garment on your back, I can march and fight with a mind at ease; otherwise, my heart would constantly be in my throat—and no matter how many layers I wore, I would still feel cold."

Cupping Gui Ningyuan’s face—ruddy from the biting cold—Huai An asked him sternly: "I’ll indulge you and let this slide just this once, but can you promise me this will be the last time? If you can give me your word, I won't be angry anymore; but if there’s a next time, then I..."

He thought for a long moment, yet found he couldn't bring himself to utter a single harsh word.

Gui Ningyuan, being sensible, could tell exactly when Huai An was truly upset; he nodded vigorously in affirmation.

"Ah Huai, today marks the *Jingzhe*—the 'Awakening of Insects.' Did you know?"

Huai An nodded. *A gentle rain refreshes the myriad blooms; the first peal of thunder heralds the start of Jingzhe.* Alas, here in the Northern Desert, it still felt like the depths of winter.

"Reflected in your eyes... is the very first spring rain," Gui Ningyuan murmured, gently brushing his fingertips against Huai An’s long eyelashes.

Even the night wind seemed to grow tender.