The Strategy of Washing Clean a Slag Shou

2.8

Su Yang’s face was buried in Jing Cheng’s chest, his choked sobs like that of a frightened little animal desperately trying to muffle its pitiful crying while licking its own wounds.

Jing Cheng turned his head to gaze out the window. Soft nebulous clouds drifted in the azure sky. A yellow oriole was perched on one of the branches of the pear blossom tree, chirping noisily.

Spring has arrived at Jianzhou city, but in the Northern desert, there has never been spring.

There was only endless cold and harsh winds, with no end in sight to the vast and desolate sprawl of the desert. There was only sand and swirling dust storms as far as the eye could see, with not a single greenery to break the barrenness of the landscape.

Overtime, the heart would grow desolate as well.

He thought he would not succumb to this bleakness, because back in the bustling Jianzhou city, there was someone awaiting his return, waiting for him to dress in crimson robes, and, linked by the red silk ribbon, step into the wedding hall together.

He frequently imagined his triumphant return. With his astounding military achievements, he will escort his bride with full honours and shower him with splendor on their wedding day. No bride in Greater Ming would be more revered, more outstanding, and more glorious than Tao Ziyu, he will be the most dazzling figure in existence.

No matter how willful and arrogant Tao Ziyu was, as long as he was willing to stay by his side and keep his loneliness at bay, Jing Cheng was willing to offer him everything.

Be it wealth, splendor, status, or the moon from the skies, what Tao Ziyu wants, even if Jing Cheng has to risk his life for it, he would gladly offer it up to him.

Unfortunately, this humble wish of his was destined to be unfulfilled.

He was ambushed and critically injured by an assassin sent by Jing Qian and his son. Although it did not kill him immediately, the injury was nonetheless a life threatening one. He had wanted to see the one he cared for the most one last time, but what awaited him instead was a letter to cancel their marriage arrangement, full of scorn and derision.

Every word written by Tao Ziyu on the pure white rice paper had stabbed at his heart ruthlessly like long, cruel thorns, riddling it with holes as blood streamed down.

His dignity was thoroughly trampled upon, and the perpetrator was the boy he had treasured above all else.

Who in all of Greater Ming did not know that Jing Cheng the Fifth prince was a cut-sleeve, who guarded the Young master of the Tao family like the apple of his eye; a man his age who ought to be old enough to be the boy’s father, such an old cow trying to reach for tender shoots of grass, was really despicable and should be held in contempt.

In order to be worthy of Tao Ziyu, Jing Cheng had chosen the lonely path of the Northern Campaign expedition. But it was because of this choice, that all his ties to Tao Ziyu had been thoroughly severed. Fate has indeed played a cruel trick on him.

Tao Ziyu’s actions were not only a ruthless slap to his face, it also woke him up to the truth.

If you want to keep a person, tenderness and patience were useless, as were indulgence and understanding. What you require is absolute force, such as to leave no way for the person to escape.

The boy sobbing against his chest is the only grandson of the current dynasty’s first ranking renowned General Wu, and the eldest Di son of the esteemed Minister of Revenue. In no way was his birth inferior to that of an Emperor’s son, but now he is being kept like a canary in a cage.