They had just come down from the battlefield. Victor's military uniform was filthy, but he strode forward with his head high, without the slightest hint of defeat.
Someone reported to Victor: "We've captured a female spy!"
Victor had no intention of bothering with such trivialities, but then his eyes fell on me.
He froze for a moment.
He tucked his leather gloves under his arm after brushing off the dust, and gave a low command:
"Bring her to my tent. I'll interrogate her myself."
I was pushed into the command tent.
"So eager to see me?"
Victor followed me in from behind, guiding me by the waist to sit down in a chair.
He drew his dagger and cut the ropes binding me, but the blade also sliced open the buttons of my collar.
Here in the military camp, Victor carried a rougher, more dangerous edge.
I didn't have time to think about that. I quickly pulled the cloth gag from my mouth.
The gag was foul enough just being in there—pulling it out dragged against the back of my tongue and made me want to retch.
I leaned on the table, coughing violently. Victor handed me a steel cup of hot water.
I took small sips, and after a long while, I finally managed:
"You were ten days late. Why didn't you call? Why didn't you come home? Do you have any idea how worried I was?"
I grabbed the sleeve of his uniform, meeting his eyes.
He braced his hands on either side of my chair, laughing in exasperation: "I haven't even asked how you ended up driving into a war zone alone, and you're already interrogating me?"
I swallowed hard, realizing my offense was probably far worse.
I was still trying to think of a defense when my hand found his—and felt a rough bracelet on his wrist.
My breath caught. I was about to push back his sleeve to look, but he pulled his hand away.
It was that Iron Man electronic watch. The plastic casing had melted and deformed from the extreme heat, then cooled and hardened into this rough shape at some unknown point.
My heart felt like it had been punctured. Every beat was excruciating.
He had been near death and reborn. That was why he had been late.
That was why he hadn't dared send a single telegram.
I stared at him, speechless.
Seeing his secret exposed, he didn't bother explaining, and no longer had the grounds to scold me either.
He leaned down and wrapped his arms around me. "I went back for the medicine you bought. You worked so hard to get it—I couldn't let it go to waste."
Following his gaze, I saw an opened box of antibiotics on the very same table.
"It really works." His voice was hoarse as he buried his face in my neck, nibbling at my skin.
His breath was hot against my collarbone, his palm slipping through the torn opening of my collar.
Only then did I realize what he intended.
"Victor!"
My anger was swallowed by alarm.
I glanced at the tent—not only was there no soundproofing, the flaps didn't even close properly—and pleaded softly: "Not here..."
He laughed. He pressed me down onto the narrow cot and pulled open his own shirt, revealing his solid chest.
He guided my hand to trace his body, to feel his strength.
"Your man won. Aren't you happy?"
He was trying to distract me, to show me he was alive and well, so I wouldn't drag up the past and lecture him again.
"I missed you so much, Rose. Ten thousand times more than you missed me..."
Some love words ferment effortlessly in longing. I gazed into his eyes, tempered by fire.
I felt my body and soul sinking deeper, with no way to pull free, so I let myself fall.
Victor was gentle and warm. He held me with care, as though merely expressing his longing.
But I still surrendered to the limits of my strength, begging him to let me go on that rickety wooden cot.
He smiled and kissed my lips that were pleading for mercy.
"I thought you were so brave, storming into a war zone all by yourself."
As darkness deepened, he bundled me in blankets and carried me out of the tent.
The cold wind woke me fully. I grabbed his collar: "Enough torturing me."
He looked down with a smile: "I'm not torturing you. I'm coming with you to bathe."
We walked along a forest path to a set of hot springs.
These were simple pools the soldiers had dug later, channeling the hot spring water and mountain stream into a single pool for bathing.
They rested and healed here, planning to march back in three days.
A bamboo screen partitioned off a smaller pool, reserved for Victor's use.
He removed what little clothing remained on me and lowered me into the almost-too-hot water, then stripped off his own clothes and joined me.
I knelt in the water, the surface reaching my chin.
The natural hot spring water was milky with minerals, flowing in through one opening, while clear, cold mountain stream water poured in from another.
Unable to tolerate the heat, I edged further away until I reached the outlet.
Diluted by the cold stream, the water there was much clearer.
He leaned back against the side, his eyes deep, his lips growing vividly colored. Beneath the water, his body was fully visible, and at some point, a certain part of him had quietly begun to stir.
I was truly exhausted, so I simply pretended not to notice, curling up and turning slightly away from him.
He pulled me into his arms and murmured in my ear: "You used to scheme so hard to peek at me. Now you have such a perfect opportunity, and suddenly you're too shy?"
I opened my mouth, remembering the time I'd barged in on him bathing at my apartment and seen everything.
I had no rebuttal.
"That's not like you, Rose. You've changed."
He rubbed the hand wearing my ring and smoothed the strands of my hair.
"It's beautiful here. Over a month ago, when we took this position, I already decided I'd build a courtyard here someday."
His touch was gentle, his voice low: "Rose, I'll never leave you again..."
"Really?"
"Before we have children, let's travel and see the world together, okay?"
"Who said anything about having—" I started to snap, then worried my tone was too harsh—that he might toss me around until I saw black again—so I softened:
"As long as you don't leave me, everything else is negotiable."
2.
He held me, smiling rather smugly.
Victor had seized more territory.
The Sungate and Chesterfield regions were now under his command.
The surrounding warlords had no capacity to fight back.
Oliver sent back a telegram to reassure Grace, then departed immediately.
And since I had already made my way to Victor's side, he no longer needed to rush back day and night.
We both felt that history had been rewritten. He wouldn't be caught in a pincer attack from north and south.
His fate wouldn't end two years from now.
We would have many more days ahead.
After handling the affairs of the new territories, we took a scenic route through cities untouched by war, buying fine silks.
We strolled through local markets and toured Lake Tai.
The taut nerves in my mind finally unwound.
I found myself thinking that this world wasn't so unbearable after all.
Especially when Victor was by my side.
In the courtyard by Lake Tai, Victor and I each claimed a rattan chair, holding hands even while basking in the sun.
"Victor, I thought the day you proposed was the happiest day of my life. I never imagined each day since would be even happier."
His lazy, nasal hum came, tinged with pride:
"Almost didn't happen. If I hadn't made a split-second decision to carry you out, some other woman would be enjoying this good life with me right now."
Infuriated, I yanked my hand free and punched his solid bicep: "If you want another woman, it's not too late even now."
He sat up. The straw hat from the market slid from his face. His lips curved into a wide grin:
"No other woman could compare to you. As long as you're here, no one else need even look my way."
He pulled me into his lap and leaned back again:
"What about you? If by some miracle you'd broken free that day, shut the door, moved overnight, and rid yourself of me forever—who would you spend the rest of your life with?"
I shifted to find a comfortable position against his chest:
"I've told you a hundred times—I was going to follow you. You just didn't give me the chance."
He wouldn't let it go: "If I died, who would you be with?"
That was a question he shouldn't ask. Just imagining it felt like my heart being torn apart. I mumbled: "If you died, I probably couldn't live either. Either my heart would break and kill me, or I'd lose my mind and do myself in..."
He propped himself up, tipped my chin toward him, and pressed a light kiss to my lips:
"Did you put honey on your lips today? Why do your words sound so sweet?"
I wrapped my arms around his neck: "I mean it..."
His hand circled my waist: "But I don't want you to die. I want you to live well, understand? You're much richer than me now."
It turned out that during the week he had disappeared, he had made arrangements for my future without him.
He had gone to Switzerland alone, setting up property and a trust fund in my name.
If he were killed in battle, he wanted me to escape the war and spend the rest of my days somewhere peaceful.
The one telling me this made it sound so simple and easy. The one listening had eyes brimming with tears.
"Rose, why are you crying? Being my widow isn't pitiful—you'd be an exceptionally wealthy little widow."
I didn't know why he insisted on saying such awful things just to upset me.
I cried until I was sick, nearly vomiting every organ in my body.