Chapter 27: This Venerable One Will Make You a Bowl of Noodles

Chu Wanning's head reeled. It was his own fault for being too preoccupied and not keeping his guard up while at Sisheng Peak, to the point that he hadn't even noticed that someone had come so close.

What was happening? Where had this kid come from? Ah, wait, was he that Mo-something…Mo-what again? Mo Shao? Mo Zhu? Mo…Yu?18

With practiced ease, he arranged his expression into one of "Strangers: Do Not Approach," and quickly swept the startle and fluster from his phoenix eyes, replacing it with his customary stately standoffishness. "You—"

He was just about to open his mouth and deliver a scolding out of habit when his hand was grabbed.

Chu Wanning was flabbergasted. All his life, no one had ever dared to casually grab him by the wrist in such a way. He was frozen in place for a moment, face dark, with no idea how to react.

Rip his hand away, followed by a backhand slap? But then all he'd need to do would be to yell, "molester!" and he'd be the very image of an offended lady.

So, rip his hand away and no slap? But then wouldn't he seem a little too easygoing?

Chu Wanning was still frozen with indecision when the youth grinned. "What's this on your hand? It's so pretty. Do you teach disciples how to make this stuff? Everyone else has already introduced themselves, and you're the only one who hasn't said anything yet. Which elder are you? Ah, is your head okay? From hitting the tree just now?"

If Chu Wanning's head hadn't hurt before, it did now, after being pummeled by so many questions in a row. His head throbbed like it was about to split open.

In his agitation, a faint golden glow began to gather in his other hand, signaling Tianwen's impending appearance. The other elders were horror-struck—was Chu Wanning out of his mind? Would he dare to whip even Mo-gongzi?

But Mo Ran grabbed that hand too.

Now the youth had captured both of Chu Wanning's hands. Mo Ran had no idea just how much danger he was in as he stood before Chu Wanning, holding his hands and looking up with a smiling face. "I'm Mo Ran. I don't know anyone here, but based on faces alone, I like you best. How about you be my teacher?"

No one had anticipated this turn of events, and they all grew even more horrified; a few of the elders' faces looked as if they had turned to stone and cracked in half.

"Eh?" said the Xuanji Elder.

"Wow!" said the Pojun Elder.

"Oh?" said the Qisha Elder.

"Uh…" said the Jielü Elder.

"Hah, this is hilarious," said the Tanlang Elder.

The Lucun Elder, in full foppish glory, twirled a strand of hair around a finger and batted his peach-blossom eyes. "Aiya, the little gongzi sure is bold. Truly young and courageous, to dare grope even the Yuheng Elder's ass."

"Could you please not say it so nauseatingly?" the Qisha Elder said with disdain.

The Lucun Elder gracefully rolled his eyes, humming. "Hm, I'll say it in a more refined manner, then: truly young and courageous, to dare grope even the Yuheng Elder's derrière."

The Qisha Elder was silent. Just kill him and be done with it.

Out of all the elders, the kind and gentle Xuanji Elder was the most popular. His cultivation method was easy to learn, and he was magnanimous and upstanding, so most of Sisheng Peak's disciples studied under him. Chu Wanning had thought that Mo Ran would be no exception. Even if he didn't choose the Xuanji Elder, he would definitely go for the forthright and spirited Pojun Elder; in any case, whomever Mo Ran chose, it surely wouldn't be himself.

But it was Chu Wanning whom Mo Ran stood in front of. Mo Ran, who was mere inches away, face full of intimacy and fondness—things with which Chu Wanning was wholly unfamiliar. He felt like out of the blue, he'd been designated the role of comic relief, and he found himself flustered for no reason at all, and at a complete loss for what to do.

Chu Wanning only knew how to deal with "respect," "fear," and "loathing." Something like "fondness" was far too difficult.

He rejected Mo Ran immediately and without thinking.

Mo Ran stood in place, stunned, the pair of eyes under those long eyelashes unexpectedly dejected—yet undeterred. He thought about it for a long while with his head down, then mumbled stubbornly in a small voice, "Well, it's gonna be you anyway."

Chu Wanning had no words.

The sect leader watched from the side with amusement and couldn't resist a laugh. "A-Ran, do you even know who he is?"

"How would I know? He hasn't told me."

"Ha ha, if you don't even know who he is, then why are you so set on him?"

Mo Ran, still holding on to Chu Wanning's hands, turned and answered with a smile. "'Cause he looks the gentlest and the most easygoing, of course!"

In the darkness, Chu Wanning's eyes flew open abruptly, vision swimming.

What the actual hell?

What exactly had been wrong with Mo Ran's eyes back then, to find him gentle? Chu Wanning wasn't alone in wondering either; the entirety of Sisheng Peak had heard of the incident, and everyone had looked at Mo Ran-gongzi with concerned expressions of "what a foolish child."

Chu Wanning lifted a hand to press against his throbbing temple. His shoulder hurt, his thoughts were a mess, his stomach was empty, and his head was dizzy. This nap wasn't happening.

He starfished on the bed in a daze for a while before sitting up. He was just about to light a stick of incense to help calm himself down when knocks came from the door again.

It was Mo Ran.

Chu Wanning ignored it, but he didn't say, "get the hell in," or, "get the hell out."

However, this time, the door opened by itself. Chu Wanning lifted his head gloomily, but the already-lit match between his fingers paused in midair without touching the incense and, after a while, went out by itself.

"Get the hell out," said Chu Wanning.

Mo Ran got the hell in.

He had a bowl of steamy noodles in his hands, freshly made. It was simpler this time, plain noodles in pure white broth, sprinkled with chopped onions and white sesame seeds, some pork spare ribs on top, napa cabbage, and a poached egg lightly crisped around the edges.

Chu Wanning was starving, but his face remained impassive. He looked at the noodles, looked at Mo Ran, then turned his face away without saying a word.

Mo Ran set the bowl down on the table and said softly, "I had the inn's cook make these noodles."

Chu Wanning lowered his eyelashes. Of course Mo Ran hadn't made it himself.

"Try to eat some," Mo Ran said. "This bowl isn't spicy, and there's no beef or pea shoots."

Then he left, closing the door on his way out. He felt bad about Chu Wanning's injury, but this was about all he could do.

Inside the room, Chu Wanning sat by the window, lost in thought, his arms crossed as he stared at that bowl of spare rib noodles from far away, until the steam disappeared and the noodles grew cold, with not a hint of warmth remaining.

Only then did he finally walk over and sit down to pick up the cold, congealed noodles with chopsticks and slowly begin to eat.

And so the case of the haunting of the Chen family came to its conclusion. The next day, the group retrieved their black horses from the boarding stable and headed back to the sect along the same road they'd taken to the mission.

All over Butterfly Town, from the tea stands to the food stalls, everyone was talking about what had occurred with the Chen family. In such a middling settlement, a scandal like this would be the talk of the town for at least a year.

"Who would've thought that Chen-gongzi had already married Miss Luo behind closed doors? Ah, poor Miss Luo."

"If you ask me, this wouldn't have happened if the Chens hadn't struck it rich. You really can't let men get rich, or they'll let all their worst impulses off the leash to destroy the whole city."

One man, on hearing that, was rather dissatisfied. "Chen-gongzi did nothing wrong; it was all on his parents. I hope that bastard Landlord Chen's future kids and grandkids are born without assholes."

"The dead are pitiful for sure, but what about the living?" said someone else. "Look at Madam Chen-Yao, treasured daughter of the Yao family—she got the shortest end of the stick, no matter how you look at it. That old, black-hearted Chen bitch swindled the poor girl. What should she even do now?"

"Remarry, of course."

The person rolled his eyes, scoffing. "Remarry? Would you take her?"

The peasant who got scoffed at grinned toothily, picking at the gap between his teeth. "If my woman's fine with it, then sure, why not? Miss Yao's real pretty, so I ain't gonna mind the widow thing."

"Puh, keep dreaming; even as secondhand goods she's way out of your league."

Mo Ran's ears perked up from where he sat on his horse, energetically listening here and peering there. If not for Chu Wanning, with his eyes closed and brows furrowed, "too damn noisy," all but written on his face, Mo Ran might have even scooted over to join in on the gossip.

Riding side by side, they finally made it out of the town proper and arrived at the outskirts.

Shi Mei let out a surprised noise and pointed off in the distance. "Shizun, look over there."

A large group of farmers in coarse clothes were gathered in front of the destroyed temple, busily ferrying bricks around. They seemed intent on rebuilding the temple and reconstructing the statue of the ghost mistress of ceremonies.

"Shizun, the previous ghost mistress is gone, but they're making another," Shi Mei said, worried. "Will this one cultivate into a deity and cause trouble too?"

"I don't know," said Chu Wanning.

"Should we go try to talk them out of it?"

"Butterfly Town's ghost marriage tradition has been around for generations. It's not the sort of thing that can be changed by anything we say. Let's leave."

Then he set off at a trot, clouds of dust trailing behind him.

It was evening by the time they got back to Sisheng Peak. At the main gate, Chu Wanning instructed his disciples, "Both of you, go report to Loyalty Hall. I will go to the Discipline Court."

Mo Ran didn't understand. "What are you going there for?"

But worry was written plainly on Shi Mei's face.

Chu Wanning's face was impassive. "To receive punishment."

The saying went that a crime was a crime, whether committed by a peasant or the emperor, but which emperor had ever actually been thrown in jail to await beheading for killing a man? It was no different in the cultivation realm.

A transgression was a transgression whether committed by a disciple or an elder—these were empty words in the vast majority of the sects. In reality, an elder who committed a transgression might at most write an apology letter. Which idiot would actually go and obediently receive their round of whipping, or some dozen strikes?

That was why the Jielü Elder's face was green by the time he finished listening to Chu Wanning's confession. "No, it's just that, Yuheng Elder, you really… You really hit the client?"

"Mn," Chu Wanning replied mildly.

"You're really too…"

Chu Wanning looked up to shoot him a glare. The Jielü Elder shut up.

"In accordance with the rules, the punishment for this transgression is two hundred strikes, three days of protracted kneeling in Yanluo Hall, and three months of confinement," Chu Wanning stated. "I do not dispute the transgression, and I am prepared to receive the punishment."

Dumbfounded, the Jielü Elder glanced left and right, then curled his finger. The doors to the Discipline Court closed with a thud, leaving only the two of them standing face-to-face in the silence.

"What is the meaning of this?" said Chu Wanning.

"How do I say this… Yuheng Elder, it's not like you don't know—the rules may be rules, but they don't really apply to you. The doors are closed; this stays between you and I. What say we just let it slide? If I actually strike you and the sect leader finds out, he'll have my old hide."

Chu Wanning didn't feel like wasting his breath, so he simply said, "I hold others to the rules, and I will hold myself to the same."

Then he knelt down right there in front of the hall, facing the plaque above the door that read: Discipline.

"Carry out the punishment."