𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐄𝐧𝐞𝐦𝐲'𝐬 𝐇𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 || 敵の旦那様 (𝐁𝐋) ✔ [COMPLETE]

23. Hesitance and Hate

However, Haoran didn't go in.

He banged on the door, closing it just as he speedily opened it, startling a table by the door and breaking a ceramic vessel in the process. From within the room, muffled sounds of someone getting down from the bed and walking over were heard. Footsteps echoed down the sleek wooden floor as a fragment of a shadow was cast from below the door.

It wasn't right.

The twinge of guilt that rose repressed itself just the way it came. The sharpened edge of his imperial sword that he so unhesitatingly drew against Fu Lin was an action that he took out of unreserved faith in his monarch and country.

He should not feel guilty about it.

From inside, Fu Lin lightly tapped on the door twice, indicating that he was awake and asking whether anybody was awaiting his presence, a standard protocol of the Zhou Manor when the masters did not want to speak to their servants at times of 'silent meditation', a ritual where the members of the household exercised silence on account of a special event, punishment, or other occasions. Usually, Fu Lin would not give two flying brass coins about a pointless ritual like this, but right now, since he couldn't talk, he thought it was pretty handy and fruitful to use.

The general kept staring at the folding door, his hand at its handle, not moving.

Apologies and regret are for deeds that require the notion of going against one's conscience—a deed that should be accepted with shame and repented of. But the General did not want to feel apologetic and make amends for doing something aligned with his principles.

He was tending to and looking out for a wound that was caused by the friction of a man wanting to offend his country, and addressing these feelings by walking into this room right now would be a direct admission of his feeling regretful about defending his country.

General Haoran's stony lips trembled slightly as his hands tightened around the handle.

From within, two more taps on the door came, and General Haoran looked at the swaying silhouette of the man within. It seems Fu Lin assumed that there was nobody outside and turned his lean body to move back to the bed. When the general saw this, he felt a sudden urgency to shatter the door and walk in.

And yet he didn't.

Out of the frustration he felt, he simply banged on the door—this door that seemed like a barricade he couldn't cross.

At the sound of the echoing bang, the pale feet that were about to walk away abruptly halted. A minute of complete silence and stillness, followed by none of them moving. Then slowly but surely, the wooden floor within creaked, indicating Fu Lin's walk towards the door. He walked until he reached the very edge of the door and paused. The next moment, he opened the door without tapping or giving any clue.

What greeted Fu Lin as he stood staring with large eyes out of the door was nothing but thin air.

The general had long since vacated the door and was now hidden within the shadows of the dark hallway, just a few feet away from Fu Lin's door. From within Fu Lin's room came a light breeze infused with the bitter scent of medicine, ointment, and a subtle aroma of jasmine, which suffused into a delicate balance and evoked a very pleasant feeling within the general as he patiently waited for Fu Lin to retreat. And just as he expected, the sound of the folding door closing resounded through the hall.

As soon as the door closed, he once again stood in front of it, inhaling the medicine-infused jasmine smell, and saw that Fu Lin's silhouette was now at the foot of the door. Soft snores erupted from the room Fu Lin was in. It seems he wanted to guard the door from the troublesome intruder and fell asleep at the foot of the door itself. Haoran stood at the door for a very long time but didn't go in.

He was not at liberty to apologise for his loyalty.

And so he walked away, not looking back.

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After that happened, the general never got the chance to meet with Fu Lin alone. While the general would like to attribute it to him actively avoiding Fu Lin to prevent any chance of an apology slipping out of his mouth, the truth is that it was that mosquito bastard who was running away whenever he saw the general!

That's right, every ounce of Fu Lin's courage at the royal hall had dissolved into nothingness. He's back to being the mosquito bastard who'd inevitably end up annoying the general within two seconds of their eyes meeting!

Haoran thought since he'd lost his voice he would no longer harbour the habit of wailing like a banshee at the mere sight of him, but apparently, he was wrong. Even if he couldn't wail about like a banshee, he would still run, jump, and break a few ceramics as soon as he caught a whiff of the general's scent.

And so the general decided to let him be. If he didn't want to meet, then so be it. He didn't wish to coax cordial and friendly feelings out of anybody who didn't want to do so, especially somebody he suspected might hate him. It does not take a national imperial examination genius to understand that anybody who had a sword wielded at their neck and was threatened by them would hate the person who did something like that.

Even somebody like General Haoran, who had the emotional capacity of a dead grasshopper, knew that much. Hence, he indulged in his daily activities, trying to respect Fu Lin's boundaries, purposefully taking routes within the manor that wouldn't allow for chances for them to meet.

Days turned into weeks, and the general was still holed up in his military office, going through document after document and signing approvals or dismissing suggestions.

One evening, as the general was working like this, he suddenly felt that the manor was serenely calm—calm and silent beyond words. As the waves of silent serenity hit him in unspeakable forms, he felt the urge for something. He felt a sudden urge to make some noise.

And so he got up and walked towards the room where the late general's instruments were held and came out of the room bearing a harp made of brass and shaped like a swan. The size of the harp almost reached the general's hips, and therefore, he had to sit down before ministering his long, lithe fingers upon the strings. As soon as they touched the silken strings, an almost tangible ray of music burst forth, the tune rising in a painful moan, scorching and intense. The sound came to life and suffused every corner of the Zhou Manor in a melody that flew through the ears as a beautiful cry of melancholy, its sound no different from a scathing weep of somebody searching for something, passionately.

When his fingers could no longer play with the silken threads and he was still somewhat dissatisfied by the sound he himself generated, he opened his eyes, his lashes minutely shivering. And when he did, he was beyond stunned. There, peeking through the open door by supporting himself against the white wall, was Fu Lin, observing with wide eyes.

"You..." The general mumbled, shocked. "Wait—"

But before he could react or do anything about it, Fu Lin had already taken to his feet and dashed out of his sight, running like a dog infected with rabies. On the run, he accidentally

dropped the bag filled with unknown material that was firmly tied to his hip by the silver chain that firmly nestled around Fu Lin's waist.

The general felt angry about this sudden humiliation. Just now he had clearly asked to wait, but he still ran away, not considering his words.

It seems... he really was hated.

He too didn't waste any time and rushed after Fu Lin, not forgetting to pick up the bag that had fallen.

But even if he was hated, he couldn't care any less because right now he had something important to do.

"Your Highness, please wait!" he yelled as he too ran like the wind.

"I have to tell you something." 

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Hi, so I'm here to tell that I'm not dead yet. Fufu *Winks and flies away*