Blood Moon Rising Over The Plains - Chapter 3: Language (7)

“Look at you, dazed from the pleasure I’m giving you, clinging so sweetly to my fingers even now.]”

“Nngh… mmh…”

“[You don’t care for jewels or dresses, so what should I give you to keep you here in the human realm? Hmm? Would a kingdom be enough to make you stay?]”

I wanted him to reach deeper, to properly stir inside me, but he showed no intention of removing his fingers. Judging by the firm pressure pressing against my backside, he was more than ready—so why was he holding back?

“Why… inside, it’s so tingly. Ah!”

The moment I whimpered my complaint, his fingers pressed sharply against my inner walls.

Instead of pleasure, a jolt of pain shot through me, making me gasp. I looked up at him in confusion.

“…What did you just say?”

“Ah, I… uh…”

Why did he suddenly hurt me? I didn’t think I had done anything wrong. Blinking dazedly, I stared up at him, but he only widened his eyes in what seemed like shock, his hands frozen in place.

“[Khan, the Third Prince has arrived.]”

Buka’s voice rang out from outside.

Whatever he had just heard, the stiffness in his expression did not ease.

Had Buka said something to irritate him while I wasn’t paying attention? My mind raced.

“[What are your orders?]”

“[…How many came with him?]”

“[He left his soldiers behind and came alone.]”

The man looked down at me as if deep in thought.

Was this about me? I tilted my head, steadying my breath.

Judging by his reaction, it seemed like this was the end of our time together.

And I was right.

Without a word, he withdrew from me.

His fingers, wet with my essence, were wiped clean with a cloth in an instant.

Before I could dwell on that, my discarded clothes were draped back over me, one layer after another.

Even though the tent wasn’t particularly cold, he went as far as wrapping me in fur, leaving me bundled up in thick layers.

A cloth was placed over my head, concealing my hair once more.

The warmth pressing against my cheek made me glance to the side. I had thought the heat was just from our bodies being so close, but it seemed that wasn’t the only reason.

At some point, the water over the lamp had begun to boil, filling the tent with thick steam.

It must have been placed there in place of a proper fire, as the air around it shimmered with rising heat.

While I sat on the bedding, wrapped in layers, the man was the opposite—he had only thrown on a pair of pants.

Then, moving in front of me, he seated himself on the bedding, his broad back blocking my view entirely.

“[Let him in.]”

“[Yes, sir.]”

The entrance rustled as a gust of cold wind slipped inside.

Even under all these layers, the chill reached me.

Without thinking, I shrank back, pressing myself against the heated warmth of his back.

I had plenty of questions—the strange shift in atmosphere, his odd reaction from earlier—but at this moment, none of them mattered more than the cold.

“…I greet the Great Khan.”

A boyish voice.

Curious, I shifted slightly, rustling against the blankets as I tried to peek past his arm.

But before I could catch a glimpse, his forearm moved—blocking my view entirely.

“Welcome, [Prince].”

“[Huangzi.]”

A name?

None of their men had a voice that young.

Which meant this person had come from the outside.

But who would willingly visit an invading army?

Ah, perhaps one of their so-called allies? Someone waging war alongside them?

“Will you have a drink?”

“…If you offer, I’ll accept.”

It seemed the drinking age here was quite low. He didn’t seem particularly eager, though.

“Buka! Are you outside?”

“Yes, Khan.”

“Bring the liquor. And some simple snacks.”

“Understood.”

The sound of footsteps and rustling fabric faded into the distance. The tent was once again filled with silence.

I couldn’t see the man’s face, nor the other person’s, yet the air felt strangely cold despite the steam warming the space.

A chill crept over me. My body shivered involuntarily, and I pulled my cloak tighter around me, pressing my forehead against the man’s back.

Thump, thump.

The slow, steady beat of his heart gradually calmed my trembling.

“Hhk.”

The sharp breath came from the person across from us.

A soft thud—as if they had collapsed onto their knees.

“Oh dear, was I too much? Well, at least now you’re seated.”

Not long after, Buka returned, placing down dish after dish with a series of soft clinking sounds.

The rich scent of qingjiu filled the air, mingling with the aroma of roasted meat and fruit.

Trickle.

Unlike usual, the man poured the liquor into a cup rather than drinking straight from the bottle.

Through the gap in his movement, I caught a glimpse of the guest.

A boy—dressed plainly, no different from the villagers I had seen before.

And yet, unlike those in the villages, an unmistakable nobility clung to him.

Kneeling beside him, Buka carefully poured liquor into his cup.

The boy hesitated, lifting the cup slightly before setting it back down, his indecision clear.

Above me, I heard a soft chuckle.

“No need to worry. There’s no poison.”

The man’s voice was light, teasing.

“Even if we consider you an enemy, we still offer proper hospitality. That is our tradition.”

“Even if you don’t trust that, surely you understand—we are not barbarians who would ignore the resolve of a man who dares to walk into enemy territory alone.”

He downed his drink in one gulp.

Then, as Buka moved to pour for him again, the man stopped him with a flick of his hand and instead refilled his own cup.

“…That’s not what I meant.”

The boy finally took a sip.

His face immediately flushed red.

Does he lack any alcohol tolerance at all?

“So, you can’t hold your liquor?”

The man scoffed.

“A man should be able to drink. But I suppose that’s irrelevant.”

He leaned forward slightly.

“Let’s get to the main topic before the alcohol dulls your tongue.”

The boy’s expression went deathly pale.

Setting his cup down, he slowly lowered his head in a deep bow.

“Bowing your head in the heart of enemy territory? What does that mean?”

“You know exactly what it means, Great Khan.”

The boy’s voice was strained, desperate.

“The Jin Dynasty has neither the power nor the ability to resist you.

Please, I beg you—withdraw your forces!”

He bowed so low his forehead nearly touched the ground.

Trickle.

Across from him, the man poured himself another drink, utterly indifferent.

It was as if the boy weren’t even there.

Unfortunately, several words still weren’t translating properly, leaving me with only fragments of their conversation.

And I still didn’t understand why the word Jin was being mentioned.

But one thing was clear—

The boy was desperately pleading for something.

“It’s true.”

The man swirled his drink lazily before raising it to his lips.

“If things continue as they are…

The Jin Dynasty is doomed to fall.”

“Then…!”

“But you see, that still doesn’t give me a reason to withdraw.”

The man tapped his chest lightly with his fingertips. Judging by the position, it seemed to be right over a large scar at the center of his chest.

“Do you not recall the disgrace you branded onto me? The slave mark you carved into my skin, expecting me to live as a mere barbarian slave?”

“……!”

“I remember every last humiliation.”

His voice was low, heavy with unforgotten resentment.

“And how exactly do you plan to repay that?”

“What… what is it that you desire?”

“Hmm. To be honest, you hardly seem to have the power to offer me anything. You’re slightly better than that foolish emperor of yours, but that’s about it.”

“The negotiations are over.”

With a flick of his hand, the man dismissed the conversation and took a deep drink.

Unlike before, his tone dripped with sarcasm and mockery, his mood visibly sour.

Buka reached out to help the boy to his feet.

But the boy abruptly slapped Buka’s hand away and spoke, his voice firm.

“I will bring you the Emperor’s head.”

At the man’s silent gesture, Buka knelt back down.

“Do you even understand what you’re saying?”

“I will ascend as the 10th Emperor of Jin and offer our dynasty as a vassal state to the Mongols.”

The man remained silent, only tilting his cup to his lips.

A brief silence stretched between them.

Then—

“Hah!”

A sudden burst of laughter erupted from the man, deep and unrestrained.

The unexpected movement startled me, and I lost my balance, tumbling backward.

Thankfully, my thick clothing cushioned the fall, so it didn’t hurt.

But as I fell, the cloth covering my head slipped off.

“…Semu?”

My hair spilled onto the bedding in a tangled mess.

The boy, startled by the man’s laughter, lifted his head—only for his gaze to land on me.

Loose dirt crumbled from his black hair as he stared, wide-eyed.