That question had to be some sort of teasing, at least, I hoped it was. Either way, I didn't see the need to answer.
"So quiet as always," he said, slipping his arms around my back and pulling me closer.
Before I could process what was happening, his head dipped toward the base of my neck. I felt the warmth of his breath first, then the press of his lips against my skin.
"What—what are you even doing?!" I stammered, my voice trembling.
"Stand up," he murmured, tugging at me.
I wasn't strong enough to resist. Every movement drained what little energy I had left; walking for even a few minutes had been exhausting these days.
He kept his head rested near my collarbone, his lips brushing against my skin, trailing higher until he reached my jaw.
My hands began to shake. Was it fear? Or something else? Whatever it was, I didn't understand it. The whole situation felt wrong. Confusing. Unfamiliar.
"You... need to stop," I ordered, trying to sound firm.
He ignored me. His gaze met mine—sharp, unreadable, piercing straight through me as if he could see the thoughts I was trying to hide.
"Never thought I'd be like this for you," he muttered under his breath. "Who could've guessed—"
"What are you even talking about?!" I yelled, stepping back as much as my legs would allow. "What's the point of doing all this?"
Renshu looked at me, startled—as if I had just committed some unforgivable act.
"You really don't understand why I pull you closer? Why I do this?"
"No."
His eyes widened, his expression caught between disbelief and irritation. "You really are dumb, aren't you," he said, pressing a kiss to my forehead.
In Bharat, a kiss was a sign of affection, something done by elders to the young, a gesture of care. I didn't know if it held the same meaning in China. Either way, why would he, of all people, show affection toward someone like me?
After a moment of silence, he spoke again. "Do you like me?"
It was the same question he'd asked once before—when he was drunk. I had managed to avoid answering then. This time, there was no escape.
I stayed silent. His grip tightened.
"Answer me," he demanded. "Tell the truth. I want to know."
"I… I don't know," I said. It was the safest answer I could think of.
"It's a yes or no question!" His voice rose, raw with frustration. "Why are you so confusing? Either you like me or you don't!"
"I… I admire you as a general," I admitted.
That only made things worse. His expression darkened.
"What do you mean, admire me as a general? Don't you see me as anything else?"
"I don't know—"
"Well, you'll know now!" he shouted, his voice breaking with something between anger and desperation.
He moved in closer—too close. His face hovered just inches away. I turned my head slightly, instinctively, but the fury in his eyes froze me in place.
If he came any closer he would be-
"Sir Renshu! Commander Wei Fang has come to visit! Please come down—"
A voice echoed from behind the door, a maid perhaps.
Relief flooded through me. They hadn't opened it, thank heaven, but that didn't matter. Renshu's face was burning with anger.
If I told him to go, I knew it wouldn't end well.
He took a deep breath, then another, and whispered in my ear, low and cold. "I'll be back. If you don't answer my question by then…"
He let go of me and stepped away, straightening his posture. "Your presentation is tomorrow. Be prepared."
And then he left.
I locked the door behind him, leaning against it for a long while. The silence felt heavy, suffocating.
Whatever he had just done, it couldn't have been real affection. It had to be some twisted joke, or perhaps something he simply enjoyed doing. But why? Why me? He never acted like this around anyone else. I think.
I sighed and turned to my desk. I needed to focus. I had to prepare for tomorrow's presentation.
It wasn't exactly a presentation, more of a formal explanation, a proposal. I'd have to convince them why the poison I'd suggested was the best option. If we began the operation now, we could shorten our timeline by an entire week. That meant three full weeks to weaken the Mongol soldiers through their water supply.
I rehearsed the script in my head, jotting down everything I needed to remember. If they questioned me, I had to be ready.
Renshu had insisted that I present it myself. I'd offered to let him take the credit, but he refused. I knew the risks. They might reject a foreigner's proposal out of pride alone.
Even with the recent proof of my loyalty—the punishment of those men at the storehouse—some still whispered that I might be a spy. My ongoing recovery had already made me a convenient target for exclusion.
Still, I couldn't let that stop me.
By evening, I was exhausted but satisfied with my notes. I waited until I was sure dinner had started before heading downstairs, hoping to avoid him.
If I was careful, maybe I could eat after he was done. But knowing Renshu, he'd probably bang on my door until I came down for my meal.
When I finally made my way down with my crutches, the sight that greeted me made me freeze.
"Ah, there's our Aryan!" Wei Fang smiled warmly. "How are you doing now?"
I forced a polite smile, realizing how lucky I was to put on my makeup beforehand.
"I'm doing fine, sir. Better than before. Were you and General Renshu discussing the Mongol troops?"
"Yes, yes!" he said cheerfully. "And I heard you've come up with quite the plan for tomorrow's meeting!"
I glanced at Renshu, who looked rather pleased with himself.
"I… yes," I replied. "I'm looking forward to it."
"Good! I'll be expecting great things from you."
When Wei Fang finally left, I let out a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding.
"Meilina. Sit down," Renshu said.
My stomach dropped.
He was setting the table himself, bringing out dishes from the kitchen. I should've offered to help, but he moved with such ease it was hard to interrupt.
"Who cooks the dinner?" I asked, if only to break the silence. Can't have him be right about me being a wall.
"I do, obviously," he replied. "The food's warm and no one else is here, so who else would?"
"What? But I saw food prepared earlier when you were out working—"
"Sometimes Bao Qin helps," he said, setting a plate in front of me. "But it's usually me."
All this time, he'd been cooking both breakfast and dinner. The realization left me strangely guilty.
"If you had told me, I could've helped—"
He laughed—quietly, almost shyly. "You don't look like someone who cooks. Besides, I prefer making my own meals."
"Then why make mine too?"
He hesitated, frowning slightly. "It would be rude not to."
"Thank you," I said sincerely. "I appreciate it. The food's good."
His expression softened, just a little. A faint smile crossed his face before he quickly hid it away, as though showing it would cost him something.
After dinner, he went straight to his room without another word.
Looks like that question would remain unanswered—for now. Hopefully, for a long time.
I climbed the stairs slowly, my legs aching, my mind restless.
Tomorrow, I'd have to face an entire room of commanders and convince them to trust a foreigner's idea. And worse, I had to face him again.
I sighed, closing my door behind me. Whatever tomorrow brought, I just hoped it didn't involve another question I couldn't answer.