TIC Extra 2

 Huai’an 2: Summoning the Soul

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Chapter 18: By My Side

Chapter Text

In the late spring of the sixth year of Gui Ningyuan’s reign, the three southern tribes of the Northern Desert suffered a crushing defeat. They voluntarily withdrew their troops three hundred *li* to sue for peace, leaving the Western Li army to garrison the border while agreeing to pay annual tribute—consisting of furs, gold, silver, and various artifacts—for years to come. The great army of Western Li returned in triumph.

Within the General’s Residence, a clear, shallow stream—mere feet in width—meandered along the base of the courtyard walls. It was a picturesque offshoot, branching from a tributary of the Li River. When the General’s Residence was first constructed, this gentle stretch of the stream was deliberately enclosed within the grounds; the residence’s rear garden was then built around this lively, flowing water. Yet, just beyond the residence’s walls, the terrain dropped sharply; the river would suddenly turn turbulent, churning up lively white ripples as it jostled and surged onward.

Inside the General’s Residence, however, this stretch of water remained so quiet it was almost poignant—as if even a single fallen leaf drifting onto its surface would disturb its profound, silent stillness.

It simply and silently mirrored the morning sun, the drifting clouds, the ever-changing sky—whether clear or overcast—and the shifting twilight, now bright, now dim. It resembled a painting upon a silken scroll, rendered in meticulous, fine-brush detail, capturing the scene where the setting remained the same, yet the people within it had changed.

“Ah Huai, teach me a few moves,” Gui Ningyuan said, standing beneath the setting sun.

“You’re already quite formidable, Ah Ning.”

“Teach me the kind of moves where I don’t have to get close to my opponent to break their attack.”

Huai’an thought for a moment, then stepped forward earnestly to take Gui Ningyuan’s wrist, guiding him through the proper footwork and body mechanics.

“Ah Huai, show me a demonstration first,” Gui Ningyuan insisted, twisting his body playfully.

“A demonstration?” Huai’an repeated, somewhat bemused by Gui Ningyuan’s request. “Very well, watch closely.” He released Gui Ningyuan’s wrist, gathered his own strength, and adjusted his stance.

“If they’re moves meant to be executed without closing the distance, how can you demonstrate them while standing this close to me?” Gui Ningyuan asked with a frown, gently nudging Huai’an and pointing a few paces away, further along the stream. “Ah-Huai, go a little further away—over there.”

Huai’an smiled—a look of playful reproach mixed with doting affection—and took a step back.

“Further,” Gui Ningyuan insisted, pouting as he shook his head.

Huai’an retreated another step.

“Even further! Over there—right there!” Gui Ningyuan stretched out his arm, pointing vigorously toward the distance.

Huai’an pursed his lips in a smile and stepped back once more.

“Is this far enough? Any further and I won’t be able to...” Before he could finish the sentence, a massive splash of crisp, cool river water surged straight toward Huai’an, shimmering with the playful mischief of Gui Ningyuan’s laughter.

Huai’an hurriedly raised his hands to shield himself, yet he ended up soaked from head to toe regardless.

“You fell for it, General!” Gui Ningyuan clapped a hand over his mouth, laughing as he turned to flee.

But then, he tripped over a stone beneath his feet and tumbled face-first into the ground—a spectacular, sprawling fall. The river’s sunlight, shattered into a thousand fragments, scattered across the earth around him, dancing with a radiant warmth.

“So, has our little Ah-Ning finally mastered the art of non-contact combat?”

Huai’an’s voice—warmer even than the sunshine of mid-spring—drifted into Gui Ningyuan’s ears. Burying his face in the crook of his arm, the young man lay motionless on the ground.

“I saw that trick coming a mile away. You little rascal—still think you can pull a fast one on me? You’ve got a long way to go yet.” Huai’an ruffled Gui Ningyuan’s hair, weaving his gentle, smiling words into the soft strands at the young man’s temples.

“You cheated, General!” Gui Ningyuan’s face flushed crimson with embarrassment; refusing to lift his head, his voice was muffled as it squeezed out from between his arms and head—sounding so pitifully aggrieved that it was almost comical. “I fell and I’m bleeding! I can’t move! You’ll have to carry me back, General.”

Huai’an was long accustomed to Gui Ningyuan’s playful antics and shameless demands—yet, somehow, they worked every single time.

“Alright then.” Huai’an reached out a hand to help Gui Ningyuan up. “If you want me to carry you, you have to get off the ground first.”

“I can’t get up!” Even as he spoke, Gui Ningyuan suddenly yanked Huai’an down to the ground alongside him, pulling him into a tight, fierce embrace. “You taught me the moves for non-contact combat, General—now let me show you how to subdue an enemy at close quarters.”

Every sensitive spot on Huai’an’s body was a terrain Gui Ningyuan had long since committed to memory. There was absolutely no need to expend any effort to "subdue the enemy"; Gui Ningyuan simply proceeded to nibble his way over every inch of Huai An’s body, leaving Huai An utterly limp and gasping for breath.

Gui Ningyuan scooped Huai An up in his arms and sprinted back into the house in just a few strides. Before they could even reach the bed, Gui Ningyuan pressed Huai An down onto the floor, and the two tumbled together in a tangle of limbs.

Gui Ningyuan had barely finished stripping Huai An completely naked when he suddenly stopped. He simply lay there, panting heavily, making no further move. Huai An frowned slightly, wondering if Gui Ningyuan’s old ailment—the one affecting his manhood—had returned, leaving him unable to get an erection.

Mulling over how best to offer comfort, Huai An’s hand drifted gently downward until it came to rest between Gui Ningyuan’s thighs.

The moment his hand made contact, it recoiled instantly. Huai An blinked wide-eyed at Gui Ningyuan; it was simply... far too massive.

"Ah Huai, I really want to go inside you," Gui Ningyuan murmured, lying atop Huai An without daring to move a muscle, terrified that the slightest shift would cause him to swell up even larger.

"Well, is someone stopping you?" Huai An teased, smiling at the sight of Gui Ningyuan’s face, flushed crimson from the sheer strain of holding back.

"But..." Gui Ningyuan frowned, looking almost on the verge of tears. "...How did it get so big? Won't it tear you apart?"

Huai An laughed aloud. "It won't tear me apart. If you don't believe me, come inside and try."

Gui Ningyuan gazed down at Huai An, finding himself utterly unable to resist the alluring little entrance beneath this captivating man. With a tentative thrust of his hips, he obediently gave it a try.

To his surprise, that little entrance had already parted slightly, soft and slick with moisture, welcoming Gui Ningyuan’s entry like a tender kiss. The moment the head of his shaft slipped inside, it was gripped tight—sucked in and held fast.

"Looks like my Ah Huai missed me," Gui Ningyuan teased with a wicked grin, yet he deliberately ceased moving again, content to simply grind against the threshold of the entrance.

Huai An could barely endure such teasing; the fluids from his aroused body began to trickle down along Gui Ningyuan’s shaft, yet he still couldn't manage to take him fully inside. Every time Huai An shifted his hips forward an inch, Gui Ningyuan would retreat an inch, all the while grinning broadly as he watched Huai An burn with unfulfilled desire. “Ah Huai, ask me to come inside.”

“What’s so difficult about that? Can’t a wife ask her own husband for something?” Huai’an pursed his lips and smiled. “I ask my husband to come in, then.”

Gui Ningyuan frowned; how had he suddenly become so bold? “No, that won’t do. Ask me for something else.”

“Ask for what?”

Gui Ningyuan leaned in close to Huai’an’s ear and whispered, “Ask your husband *what* he’s going to put *where*? *How* is he going to put it there? *How long* will it stay, and *how deep* will it go?”

Huai’an’s face flushed crimson in an instant; he turned his head away, refusing to look at Gui Ningyuan.

Gui Ningyuan didn’t force him; instead, he let the tip of his tongue trail down from Huai’an’s ear until it reached that small, cherry-red bud on his chest.

Huai’an shuddered, though his lips remained tightly pursed.

“General, you truly are unyielding—even in the face of death.”

Gui Ningyuan’s tongue began to circle the spot—tracing the faint pink blush spreading outward from the base to the deep, blood-red tip—before his lips closed around it, tugging and teasing it into a peak.

Huai’an’s entire body arched upward in response; his back bowed tautly, his legs thrashed restlessly, and his eyes grew hazy, veiled by a shimmering mist of desire.

Gui Ningyuan released his hold but didn’t pull away completely. Pressing against that small, tight nipple, he panted, “Ah Huai, once you’ve made up your mind, just ask me. I won’t go inside until you ask.”

The hot breath against his skin drew a soft moan from Huai’an; he frowned in a mixture of frustration and unbearable longing. He urgently arched his hips downward, seeking contact, but Gui Ningyuan pulled back again—forever circling just at the threshold.

The fluids dripping from his small, hidden opening had already soaked the ground beneath him. Had there been a seed planted there, it surely would have burst into bloom right then and there.

“Ah Ning... Ah Ning... please, stop for a moment! Just stop!” Huai’an’s voice was tinged with the sound of tears.

Gui Ningyuan stopped immediately. He propped himself up and gathered Huai’an into his arms. “What is it, Ah Huai? What’s wrong?”

In a move swifter than words could describe, Huai’an seized Gui Ningyuan’s wrist, executed a swift roll, and pinned him beneath his own body.

“Why ask for help from others,” Huai’an said with a playful wink, “when it’s better to take matters into one’s own hands?” Gui Ningyuan’s wrists were crossed and pinned firmly against his chest by one of Huai An’s hands, leaving him utterly unable to move. He could only watch with wide, pleading eyes as Huai An, guiding his own erect member, steadily lowered himself down and seated himself upon it.

Huai An let out a long, satisfied sigh. He looked thoroughly pleased.

“You’re inside—now move, damn it!” Gui Ningyuan cried out in exasperation. The depths of that tight, wet little cavity felt so hot and snug that he yearned to shove his entire body inside.

Huai An remained motionless, merely smiling down at him. “Beg me, Husband.”

“Fine!” Gui Ningyuan gritted his teeth. “From now on, in matters of the bedchamber—no matter how much you beg for mercy—I won’t go easy on you ever again!”

Behind him, Huai An’s hand cupped his scrotum, his fingertips brushing lightly against it.

“I’m begging! I’m begging! Just tell me *how* to beg!” Gui Ningyuan shouted, dripping with sweat.

“Beg me to do you the honor—to move just a little—and satisfy my big, foolish husband.”

Gui Ningyuan sighed. “I beg you, my wife—I beg you, my magnificent General Huai—do this humble one the honor: move just a little, and satisfy your useless, foolish husband.”

Gui Ningyuan’s look of utter dejection made Huai An burst into laughter, collapsing forward onto him. Gui Ningyuan reached out to catch him, pulling him close into his embrace—and holding him deep within his heart.

Still pasted to the windowpane was the character for “Joy”—a decoration left over from three years ago, when Huai An had departed. It had long since faded; now, with a sudden gust of wind, it fluttered and wavered before finally drifting away.

There was not a single voice of dissent regarding Huai An’s appointment as the Grand General of Xi Li; indeed, it was an honor everyone had eagerly desired. However, the matter of formally elevating Huai An to the position of Empress—the occupant of the Central Palace—met with some resistance.

“Your Majesty... this is a matter of ‘the cut sleeve’—and while it is true that such practices exist in every kingdom, and have become something of an open secret, they are typically kept to one’s private quarters. To make such a thing official... oh, dear.” A courtier remonstrated, his face flushing crimson with embarrassment.

“Forget ‘the cut sleeve’—even if he were missing an arm or a leg, I would still elevate him to the throne,” Gui Ningyuan replied, neither angered nor agitated. He simply sat upon his imperial throne, legs crossed, swinging his foot idly. “What kind of impression will this make if word gets out?” The ministers sighed and lamented.

Gui Ningyuan winked at General Hua.

“What’s the big deal?! I didn’t steal your wife! It was entirely consensual—a mutual affair of the heart. Which law in Xi Li says that’s forbidden?” General Hua’s voice was loud and booming, his words echoing throughout the entire throne room.

“But... *sigh*... Your Majesty has reigned for six years without an heir. Now, to be so infatuated with male beauty—the great legacy of Xi Li is in peril!” Unable to counter General Hua’s blunt, coarse remarks, the ministers shifted tactics and raised the issue of the Imperial succession instead.

Gui Ningyuan’s smile grew even more composed. “My dear ministers, you need not trouble yourselves over this matter. General Huai is already three months pregnant.”

“Huh?!?” Everyone was left utterly dumbfounded.

“Huh?!” General Hua whipped his head around to stare at Gui Ningyuan.

“There is no need for alarm; your suspicions were entirely correct.” Gui Ningyuan sat up, leaning forward with a playful grin as she surveyed the assembly below.

*Two rabbits running side by side—how can one tell the male from the female?*

“I hereby issue this decree as a pledge of self-discipline and vigilance: should I become so engrossed in the Inner Palace that I neglect state affairs, or should General Huai abuse his position to disrupt military discipline, the punishment shall be severe and without mercy. I invite all my ministers to hold me accountable. It is true that I intend to elevate Huai An to the position of Empress—to make General Huai my consort—but first and foremost, both General Huai and I are citizens of Xi Li. Our fates are intertwined with this nation; our blood runs with its life force. We pledge to devote our very beings to Xi Li—to serve until our dying breath, without regret, even if it costs us our lives.”

After the court session adjourned, Prime Minister Zhang held General Hua back, requesting a private audience.

“Your Majesty, now that General Huai is to assume the position of Empress, we must give due consideration to the Imperial Heir. For the past three months, he has been stationed at the northern frontier; what if the Heir were to suffer an injury? In my humble opinion, perhaps we should recall General Huai and send General Hua to take his place?”

Gui Ningyuan sighed, rose from her seat, and began to pace with her hands clasped behind her back. “I’ve heard that Prime Minister Zhang has worn the same pair of official boots for ten years—and even when they wore out, he had them patched up.”

“Er... well...” Prime Minister Zhang looked a bit flustered. “My wife keeps a tight rein on things; she says she needs to save up a dowry for our daughter, so the money... none of it is actually in my own hands...” Prime Minister Zhang had fathered a daughter late in life and doted on her to an almost absurd degree.

Gui Ningyuan fixed his gaze upon Prime Minister Zhang. “That’s it exactly! I can’t keep my wife in line either. It seems you and I share the same plight, Prime Minister Zhang. In any case, I certainly wouldn’t dare ask *him* to return on my own—so how about you go and put in a good word for me?”

“Huh?!”

General Hua cast a sidelong glance at Prime Minister Zhang, who was now scratching his head in bewilderment. “Are you really going to meddle in other people’s domestic affairs?”

“I’ve assigned Imperial Physician Liu’s personal attendant to accompany him; they send back two written reports every month regarding the Imperial Heir. Rest assured, Prime Minister Zhang—I am even more anxious about this than you are!” Gui Ningyuan grinned from ear to ear.

Three months later, Huai An was recalled to the palace from the Northern Desert, while General Hua took over his post to continue the garrison duty.

The *Hanlu* (Cold Dew) solar term had just arrived, and the frost-kissed leaves had painted the entire landscape in shades of crimson.

While the layers of padded undergarments worn beneath his bulky battle armor had previously concealed his condition, once he entered his bedchamber and changed into lighter, unlined robes, his normally lean and upright frame revealed a distinctly round, bulging belly—a sight that made one yearn to embrace him with overwhelming affection.

“At my age, to be carrying a child... it’s absolutely mortifying,” Huai An said aloud, though his eyes were brimming with love. He lowered his gaze, unable to tear his eyes away for even a moment. It was hard to tell whether he was looking at his own belly, or at Gui Ningyuan—who was lying with his head resting on Huai An’s lap, listening intently with his ear pressed against the bump.

“Why can’t *I* hear that there are two of them? How did Imperial Physician Liu know?” Gui Ningyuan rubbed his head back and forth against the belly, tickling Huai An until he burst into laughter.

As Huai An laughed, the muscles of his usually firm chest rippled gently beneath his robes—a sight that left Gui Ningyuan staring, utterly mesmerized.

Huai An turned his head only to notice Gui Ningyuan’s visibly aroused state; he then craned his own neck to follow Gui Ningyuan’s gaze, looking down at himself as well.

Gui Ningyuan instinctively reached out to cover himself, but Huai An gently took hold of his hand, stopping him. “Imperial Physician Liu said it’s fine. After five months, the pregnancy will be stable.”

Gui Ningyuan looked somewhat conflicted. “Imperial Physician Liu *did* say that—he said we just needed to be careful. But…”

Huai An lowered his head and whispered to Gui Ningyuan, “Don’t you want to come inside and say hello to your little cub?”

The entry was gentle and slow; Huai An lay on his side, resting his head on Gui Ningyuan’s elbow, while Gui Ningyuan held him close, gently kneading his firm, supple chest.

The gradual, exploratory entry left them both speechless with pleasure, the only sounds remaining being their soft, shared breaths.

Holding Huai An in his arms—and, through him, touching the child growing within—Gui Ningyuan felt as though the very essence of life itself was cradled right there in his embrace.

“Ah Huai, you’ve suffered so much. I fear you’ll have to endure even more pain when the time comes to give birth.”

“With a child to keep me company, how could I call that suffering?”

Indeed. He had walked the path of solitude for so long; now, in these present days, even the pain served as a reminder that he was truly, tangibly living amidst sweetness. None of this was a dream.

Four months later—on the very day of Gui Ningyuan’s birthday—Huai An gave birth to twins: a pair of exquisitely beautiful boy and girl. The entire palace—indeed, all of Xili—erupted in jubilation. Fireworks and firecrackers painted the Xili sky a brilliant crimson, their glow reflecting off the winter snow. Even the seeds buried in the soil seemed to peek out in curiosity, shaking off the dust that clung to them and shedding the snowflakes that had settled upon their tiny heads.

Their daughter took the surname Huai; the elderly couple of the Huai family had long yearned for a granddaughter.

She was named Huai Deng. *“The Xiang River floats by the bank in spring; the Huai Lanterns fill the bridge at night.”* It was a wish—that she might illuminate the days of their past lives, when they had drifted apart like rootless duckweed, each suffering in solitary heartbreak. The past could not be cast aside, but it could be warmed and healed.

Their son was named Gui Zhaò.

“Why that name?” Huai An lay in Gui Ningyuan’s arms, while their daughter lay in his own—her tiny mouth smacking softly as she learned to nurse. Their son, meanwhile, babbled impatiently, his little face turning red as he waited his turn.

“No matter how distant the shore may be, with an oar (*Zhaò*), one can always reach it.” Gui Ningyuan gazed out the window; once again, it was spring—the season that heralded the beginning of a prosperous and beautiful year. “A single oar, a single lamp—that is the life of the fisherman and the woodcutter.”

The lesser hermit finds refuge in the forest; the greater hermit finds it in the bustling city. Yet, the ultimate form of seclusion in this mortal realm—one suspects—lies right here within the Imperial Palace, under the gaze of the entire populace, hidden deep within the hearts of two souls.

Where there is love, there is a lifetime of quiet communion—the timeless dialogue between the fisherman and the woodcutter.

Gui Ningyuan was adamant about keeping the children within the Hua’an Palace to raise them himself; and since it was, after all, the Emperor’s private family matter, no one pressed the issue any further.

When Hua’an opened his eyes early that morning, Gui Ningyuan was still kneeling motionless beside the bed, staring intently at the two children—his eyes darting left and right as if he simply couldn't keep track of them both at once.

“You didn’t sleep at all last night?” Hua’an asked.

Gui Ningyuan looked up at him. His eyes were as red as a rabbit’s; no words were needed to confirm that he had indeed spent the entire night simply gazing at the children.

“Ah-Huai, look! I finally figured something out!”

“Figured out what?” Hua’an shot him a sidelong glance; lately, the man had been acting rather daft, spouting all sorts of odd nonsense.

“I realized something: our Zhaor’s upper lip looks like mine, while his lower lip looks like yours! And our little Deng’s upper lip looks like yours, while his lower lip looks like mine!”

“Yes,” Hua’an replied, casting another glance at him as he picked up a child to nurse. “I noticed that, too. The very first eyelash on the left side of the child’s eye looks like yours, and the second one looks like mine.”

“Huh?!” Gui Ningyuan scrambled to his feet to take a closer look. “Really? Let me see...”

Hua’an had no time to indulge him; he had to feed little Deng first, then quickly attend to Zhaor—who was already wailing with hunger—and finally, there was one last hungry little “cub” waiting in line: his own silly, overgrown child—Gui Ningyuan—who would seemingly never truly grow up.

On the day of the children’s first birthday—the day of the traditional “grasping ceremony”—two large red cloths were spread out, laden with a wide assortment of objects... even including a piece of jade.

Even the Imperial Seal had been placed upon the spread. The entire court—all the high-ranking officials—crowded around, craning their necks in eager anticipation.

The daughter was the first to make her choice. Yet, she could not even be persuaded to touch the red cloth; the moment she was lifted from Gui Ningyuan’s arms, she would weep so convulsively she could barely catch her breath. Even placing her hands upon the cloth was futile; she wanted nothing of the objects laid out before her—she simply reached out her tiny hands, wanting only to be held by Gui Ningyuan.

Gui Ningyuan’s heart melted completely. "Very well, very well—no need to choose anything. You don't need any of these things; having your father is enough." He smiled at Huai An, who stood beside him. In this world, he could not yield—nor retreat—a single step. He had people to protect for a lifetime—people for whom he must expend every ounce of his strength to provide everything.

The son went next. Far from crying, he gurgled and giggled as he crawled onto the red cloth.

The ministers held their collective breath, their eyes fixed upon the Imperial Seal of Xili.

The child squirmed about for a moment, then his tiny hands latched tightly onto a corner of the red cloth; he tugged at it firmly, refusing to let go.

The ministers exchanged glances, struck into utter silence. This was not merely a claim to Xili; this was a claim to *everything* under the heavens.

Gui Ningyuan laughed aloud. The "world"—it could be vast or small; as vast as the Four Seas, or as small as the innermost sanctuary of a single human heart. Take this moment, for instance: he stole a quiet glance at Huai An standing beside him. Huai An’s figure appeared more upright and stately than ever; his features—once sharp and cold—now held a newfound tenderness, a beauty so profound that a single glance was enough to melt one’s heart into liquid warmth.

In a few months, he would have to depart once more to take up his post guarding the Northern Frontier.

But there was no need to fear. No matter how distant the shore, with a single oar and a guiding lamp, one would always eventually arrive.

Moreover—right now...

*With oars of cassia and paddles of orchid wood, I strike the limpid waters and trace the flowing light.* *My heart drifts in boundless reverie, as I gaze upon my beloved...*

...who stands right here, by my side.