59 Chapter 59: This Venerable One Is Only So Simple

There was nothing for it; even if the little shidi couldn't stop

sneezing, they still had to get going. The feathered tribe led them eastward to

a port on the Yangtze River. They summoned a self-navigating ferry and, with

a barrier shielding the vessel, set off to sea.

That was the first night Mo Ran was able to spend time with Shi Mei

on an outing without their shizun around. Strangely, he wasn't as excited as

he'd thought he would be.

Xue Meng and Xia Sini had gone to bed. Mo Ran lay alone on the

deck, arms folded behind his head, looking up at the starry sky. Shi Mei came

out from the cabin with some dried fish they had bought from fishermen

earlier and sat next to him. They nibbled idly on the snack while chatting.

"A-Ran, since we're going to Peach Blossom Springs, we might not

make it to the Spiritual Mountain Competition. That doesn't matter much in

my case, but you and the young master are both so strong. If you miss it,

won't you regret losing your chance to make a big debut?"

Mo Ran turned his head with a smile. "It doesn't matter. Stuff like

reputation and whatever, that's just words. Going to Peach Blossom Springs

and learning real, useful skills to protect those important to me, that matters."

Shi Mei's gaze seemed to smile, and his voice was gentle as he said,

"Shizun would be so happy if he knew you thought that way."

"What about you? Are you happy?"

"Of course I am."

Waves crashed against the wooden ferry as it rocked in the sea. Mo

Ran stared at Shi Mei for a while from where he lay on his side. He wanted

to tease him a bit, but he didn't know what to say. In his eyes, Shi Mei was

pure and unattainable. Maybe it was because of this purity that whenever he

faced Shi Mei, he found it difficult to entertain the sort of lewd thoughts he

had toward Chu Wanning.

For a while, Mo Ran fell into a daze.

Shi Mei noticed that he was being stared at. He turned, tucking stray

strands of hair that the sea breeze had blown behind his ear, and smiled.

"What is it?"

Mo Ran flushed and angled his head away. "Nothing." He had

originally planned to use this outing as a chance to confess—carefully—to

Shi Mei. However, every time the words were at his lips, he couldn't open

his mouth.

Confession. And after that? Mo Ran couldn't be rough or forceful with

this pure, gentle person. He feared rejection, but even if his feelings were

returned, he was afraid he wouldn't know how to behave toward Shi Mei.

After all, honestly speaking, his performance during the short time

they'd spent together in their last life had been quite terrible. Other than that

one moment of intimacy within the ghost mistress's illusion, he'd never even

kissed Shi Mei. Moreover, after what had happened this time around, he was

no longer sure if the person he'd kissed in his last life had been Shi Mei or

Chu Wanning.

Shi Mei was still smiling. "You really do look like you want to say

something to me, though."

It was as if they were separated by a paper window, and for an

impulsive moment, Mo Ran wanted to poke through that thin layer and damn

the consequences. But for some reason, a figure in white who had a face that

didn't like to smile flashed through his mind—a figure who always kept to

himself, who looked so lonely.

All of a sudden, it was like Mo Ran's throat had closed. He couldn't

say anything else. He turned back to stare at the night sky full of stars. A

while passed before he said, quietly, "Shi Mei, you're truly very important to

me."

"Mn. I know. I feel the same about you."

"Do you know," Mo Ran continued, "I had a nightmare once, and in it

you…you weren't there anymore. I was so sad."

Shi Mei smiled. "You're so silly sometimes."

After a long moment, Mo Ran said, "I'll definitely protect you."

"Okay, then I'll just have to thank my good shidi in advance."

Mo Ran's heart caught in his throat. He couldn't help saying, "I…"

"Was there something else you wanted to tell me?" Shi Mei asked

softly. The ferry shook, and the sound of the waves seemed somehow louder.

Shi Mei watched Mo Ran quietly, as if waiting for him to utter those last few

words.

Mo Ran closed his eyes. "It's nothing. Why don't you go back inside

and get some sleep? It's cold tonight."

Shi Mei was quiet for a moment. "What about you?"

Mo Ran could be quite dim. "I… I'm gonna watch the stars for a bit

longer, feel the breeze on my face."

Shi Mei didn't move. It was a while before he smiled. "All right, then

I'll go on ahead. Don't stay up too late now."

Then he turned and left.

The ferry sailed through the sea and beneath the boundless sky. The

fellow lying on the vessel's deck didn't at all realize what he had just

missed. He was even a bit absentminded as he tried to dig up what he really

felt in the depths of his heart. He thought for a long time, but he was

genuinely dim-witted. Thus even by the time the morning sun painted the

eastern skies a soft white, he still hadn't figured himself out.

Mo Ran spent every waking moment with Shi Mei, and the feelings

they shared were deep and sincere. Mo Ran had assumed he'd definitely

want to confess to Shi Mei as soon as they were alone, that he would be

unable to wait another moment. But now that this long-awaited moment had

finally arrived, he found that that wasn't remotely the case. Maybe the

problem was that he thought himself too awkward. If Mo Ran rashly

confessed to Shi Mei right away, he'd definitely startle him. Even if Shi Mei

took it in stride, it wouldn't make for a good start.

Mo Ran was more used to the hazy vagueness between them.

Sometimes his heart fluttered, and he reached out to take Shi Mei's hand as if

he wasn't thinking, and his chest would overflow with honey-sweet

tenderness. It was such a natural feeling that he didn't quite want to destroy

it, not so quickly.

It was late by the time Mo Ran went back inside the cabin, and

everyone else had already gone to sleep. He lay on his sleeping mat, staring

at the night outside the narrow skylight. Slowly, Chu Wanning's figure

appeared before his eyes, sometimes silent, his eyes closed, sometimes

wearing a severe expression.

But Mo Ran also thought about the way the man looked when he was

curled up asleep, lonely and unassuming, like a haitang blossom that nobody

cared for because it had bloomed too high on the branch.

The hatred he felt aside, Mo Ran's past life entanglements with Chu

Wanning had in fact been more intimate than any he had shared with anyone

else in the world. He had taken many of Chu Wanning's firsts, regardless of

whether the man had been willing. His first kiss, his first time cooking, his

first time crying. And his first time.

Dammit, just thinking about it made Mo Ran's body feel hot and his

blood rush downward.

In exchange, Mo Ran had given Chu Wanning some of his own firsts as

well, regardless of whether his shizun had wanted them. His first

apprenticeship, his first attempt to coax someone, his first gift of flowers. His

first thorough disappointment.

And the first stirrings of his heart.

Yes, the first stirrings of his heart. When he'd come to Sisheng Peak,

the person he'd fallen for hadn't been Shi Mei, but Chu Wanning.

That day, the white-robed young man beneath that haitang tree had been

so beautiful, so focused, that after only a single glance Mo Ran decided that

he wanted this man to be his master, and that no one else would do.

Just when had that changed? Just when had the one he cared for

become Shi Mei, and the one he hated his shizun?

Mo Ran had thought about this a lot over the last couple of months. It

had probably begun with a specific misunderstanding.

It was the first time Chu Wanning had punished him with a lashing. The

fifteen-year-old boy stumbled back to his room, bruised and battered, and

curled up alone on his bed, his eyes rimmed red as he choked back sobs. The

wounds on his back hurt less than the cold expression on his shizun's face

when he had brought Tianwen down without a shred of mercy, like he was

beating a stray dog.

It was true that Mo Ran had stolen a haitang flower from the medicine

garden, but he'd had no idea how precious that haitang tree was, nor how

carefully Madam Wang had tended to it for the last five years before it finally

bloomed.

The only thing he'd known was that, when he walked home that night, a

luminous whiteness at the tip of a branch had caught his eye. The flower's

petals were clear and frosty, its fragrance mild and delicate.

Mo Ran tilted his head back to admire it, thinking of his shizun. For

some reason, his heart throbbed, and the tips of his fingers felt warm. Before

he realized it, he had plucked the flower, carefully and with the gentlest of

movements, afraid of accidentally shaking even a single drop of dew from its

petals.

Through the thick curtain of his eyelashes, he gazed at the dew-laden

haitang blossom under the light of the moon. In that moment, he had not yet

realized just how pure the tenderness and affection he held for Chu Wanning

was, nor had he known that, after that day—and for the next ten, twenty years,

until his death—he would never feel it again.

Before he could give the flower to his shizun, he bumped into Xue

Meng, who had come to pick medicinal herbs for his mother. In a rage, the

young master dragged him to their shizun.

Chu Wanning turned from his scroll, his gaze ice-cold as he listened.

He shot a glance at Mo Ran and asked if he had an explanation.

Mo Ran started to say, "I picked the flower because I wanted to give it

to—"

He was still holding that haitang, specks of frost and drops of dew

clinging to its freshly bloomed petals, which were icy yet indescribably

beautiful.

However, Chu Wanning's gaze remained utterly cold, so cold that it

chilled the molten lava in Mo Ran's chest. Mo Ran could no longer say the

word "you."

This feeling was all too familiar. Before Mo Ran was brought to

Sisheng Peak, he'd had to scamper between courtesans and customers as he

shrank into his thin, malnourished body to appear smaller and less

obstructive, and he had spent every day under that exact gaze.

A gaze of contempt. A gaze of disdain.

A shudder ran through him. Was it possible that, in truth, his shizun

looked down on him?

In the face of Chu Wanning's frigid interrogation, Mo Ran felt his heart

freeze over. He lowered his head, and his voice was quiet. "I…have nothing

to say."

The rest was history.

Because of this mere haitang flower, Chu Wanning had lashed Mo Ran

with forty strikes until all his initial fondness had shattered to pieces.

If only Mo Ran had been able to explain himself a little further, and if

only Chu Wanning had asked a little more, then maybe things wouldn't have

turned out the way they had. Maybe this master and disciple wouldn't have

taken that first step down the road beyond redemption.

But there weren't that many what ifs.

It was at this point that Shi Mei, warm and gentle, had appeared at his

side.

After returning from Chu Wanning's pavilion, Mo Ran hadn't gone to

eat or even lit a lamp. He had only laid curled up on his bed.

This stiff figure curled up in the darkness was the sight that had greeted

Shi Mei when he opened the door. He set the bowl of chili oil wontons in his

hands gently on the table, then walked over to the bed and called out softly.

"A-Ran?"

At the time, Mo Ran hadn't yet had any particular feelings for Shi Mei.

He didn't even turn around, still staring at the wall with red, swollen eyes.

"Get out," he said, voice hoarse.

"I brought you some—"

"I said get out."

"A-Ran, don't be like that."

Mulish silence.

"Shizun has a bad temper, it just takes a little getting used to. Come,

get up and eat something."

Yet Mo Ran was stubborn as a donkey, immovable even if dragged by

ten whole horses. "Don't want it. I'm not hungry."

"At least have a bite. If you don't eat, Shizun will get ma—"

Mo Ran shot up from bed before Shi Mei could finish the sentence.

His watery eyes were angry and indignant, quivering slightly beneath his

lashes. "Mad? What could he be mad about? It's my body. How is it any of

his business whether I eat? He doesn't even want me as a disciple anyway. I

might as well starve to death. It'd be less hassle for him. He'll be happier in

the end."

Shi Mei was too stunned to respond. He hadn't expected his words to

prod Mo Ran's sore spot, and for a while, he stared helplessly at the little

shidi in front of him, not knowing what to say.

A long moment passed. Mo Ran pulled himself together and looked

down, long hair covering half his face. After a good while, he said, "Sorry."

Shi Mei couldn't see his face, only the subdued trembling of his

shoulders and the veins on the back of his tightly clenched fists.

In the end, this fifteen-year-old boy was as yet very young. Mo Ran

tried to hold it in for a while, but ultimately couldn't. He buried his face in

his arms, curled into himself, and bawled miserably. His voice was rough

and broken, hysterical and lost, pained and grief-stricken. Body wracked

with sobs, he repeated the same thing over and over.

"I only wanted to have a home… These past fifteen years, I really… I

really only wanted a home… Why do you all look down on me? Why do you

all look at me like that? Why, why do you all look down on me…?"

Mo Ran cried for a long time, and Shi Mei sat with him the whole

while. When Mo Ran had cried himself out, Shi Mei handed him a spotless

handkerchief and brought over the bowl of now cold wontons.

"Don't say silly things about starving to death anymore," he said

gently. "You've come to Sisheng Peak and apprenticed under Shizun, so you

are my shidi. I also lost my parents when I was young, so if you want, I'll be

your family. Come now, eat something."

Mo Ran did not reply.

"I made these wontons. Even if you won't give Shizun any face, at

least give me some, hm?" Shi Mei's lips curled into a small smile as he

scooped up a plump, translucent wonton and held it to Mo Ran's lips. "Try

one."

The rims of Mo Ran's eyes were still red. His watery gaze fixed on the

youth by his bed, but he finally opened his mouth and allowed this gentle

person to feed him.

Truth be told, that bowl of wontons had gone cold, and the dumplings

had been soaking for so long that they were no longer as good as they

could've been. But in that moment, under the candlelight, this bowl of

wontons was carved deeply into his heart alongside that incomparably

beautiful face with its gentle eyes. In life and in death, never would either of

them be forgotten.

It probably began that night. Mo Ran's hatred for his shizun grew ever

deeper, but it was also the moment when he became convinced that Shi Mei

was the most important person in his life.

After all, everyone wanted warmth—especially a stray dog who had

frozen in the bitter cold so many times that the mere sight of salted roads

made him shiver in anticipation of snow and the coming winter.

Taxian-jun looked imposing, but he alone knew the truth about himself.

He was nothing but a wandering stray. A stray who was forever searching for

a place where he could curl up, a place to call "home." He spent fifteen

years searching and was still unable to find it.

And so, his love and hate had become laughably straightforward. If

someone gave him a beating, he would hate them. If someone gave him a

bowl of soup, he would love them. He was just that simple, after all.