Chapter 136: Shizun, Relax

Mo Ran was minding his own business, reaping rice, when he felt a

hand yanking his belt down from behind. That in itself was quite a shock.

But it was an even bigger shock to turn around and find Chu Wanning, who

was about to fall over.

Mo Ran hurriedly threw the sickle aside to catch him, but Chu

Wanning had already stumbled halfway to the ground, where a supporting

hand would be of no use. He had no choice: he had to grab him with both

arms. That person, dressed in floating white robes and smelling faintly of

haitang blossoms, landed solidly against his chest, and Mo Ran reflexively

closed his arms around him in an embrace, scattering ears of rice all over

the ground.

"Shizun, what are you doing here?" he asked, still shaken. "You

scared me."

Chu Wanning did not respond.

"The paddy field is slippery, be careful."

The man in his arms still didn't look up or say anything, smothered

by so much awkwardness that he couldn't speak. The village maiden

continued warbling mercilessly, "Tugging at loverboy's belt—hey, when are

you coming."

As if struck by lightning, Chu Wanning swiftly released Mo Ran's

belt and got back on his own feet. He took a breath, then shoved Mo Ran

away. Although his expression might have passed for calm, his eyes were

frightfully bright, like rolling waves catching the sunlight—obviously

flustered yet determinedly faking some composure.

Mo Ran suddenly noticed that Chu Wanning's earlobes were red. It

was a pretty color, a light pinkness to the skin like tender peaches at the tips

of branches. He thought abruptly of the way those earlobes had tasted as he

sucked on them in the previous lifetime, the way Chu Wanning had

trembled lightly every time, and the way that, despite his utmost

unwillingness, that steel-boned body had gone soft and yielding in his arms.

Mo Ran swallowed, his gaze unconsciously growing deep and dark…

But Chu Wanning was absolutely livid—though it was uncertain at

whom—snarling between gritted teeth, "What are you staring for! What's

there to look at!"

Mo Ran jolted back to reality, his blood running cold. Beast!

What despicable things had he done to his shizun out of his selfish

desire in the past? With his shizun's pride, how could he accept being taken

like that? Someone as dispassionate as he was probably didn't even feel

desire to begin with. How dare he think about these deplorable things again!

Mo Ran mutely shook his head over and over again like a rattle drum.

"What are you shaking your head for!" Chu Wanning snapped, "Am I

a joke to you?!"

Mo Ran remained silent but immediately stilled. He secretly snuck a

glance at Chu Wanning. The man was clearly embarrassed but trying to

mask it with anger as he always did. Those eyes of his were a tell now that

Mo Ran was looking closely. He was probably just embarrassed to have

tripped in front of his own disciple, and due to a croaking frog at that.

How cute. Mo Ran couldn't help a chuckle at the thought.

But the laughter only made Chu Wanning angrier, his brows sharp

with fury as he flew into a rage. "What are you laughing at?! So what if I

don't know how to do farm work; what's so funny about that?!"

"Nothing—nothing funny, nope," Mo Ran said soothingly as he

tucked his smile away and adjusted his face into a serious expression. Yet

he couldn't hide the smile in his eyes, bright and shining with amusement.

Still, he held his laughter in. Just as it seemed that this matter was

over, the frog from before puffed out its throat and let out two more selfrighteous croaks, as if in a show of force. Mo Ran's self-control slipped. He

tried to turn away and cough into his fist to cover it. But he fumbled that too

and let out a "pfft" of laughter.

Chu Wanning fumed mutely. He was really about to lose it, dragging

his muddied robes behind him as he made for the ridge in a towering rage,

when he heard Mo Ran call to him.

There was hardly any distance between them. Mo Ran could have just

reached out and grabbed him—but he didn't, because he could still feel Chu

Wanning's warmth against his chest and could still smell the scent of

haitang from Chu Wanning's robes. His heart felt mushy, like it was about

to melt.

But he didn't dare succumb. This person before him was so good; he

wanted to treasure him, to cherish him, to revere him as he would a god. He

didn't want to hurt him any more with his vulgar desires.

So he only called out, "Shizun."

"What, not done laughing yet?" Chu Wanning glared sidelong at him.

Mo Ran's dimpled smile was filled not with mocking, but gentleness.

"Do you want to learn? I'll teach you. It's actually quite simple, and Shizun

is so smart; you'll definitely pick it right up."

As Mo Ran started to teach him how to reap the rice, Chu Wanning

couldn't help but wonder how things had turned out this way. He had come

over with the intention of learning by covert observation, so how had he

ended up in an official apprenticeship? What a mess.

But Mo Ran was teaching him so seriously and attentively, and didn't

even laugh at his clumsy attempts. His brows were ink-black, and his

features were sharper and more defined than when he was younger. It

should have given him a handsome and arrogant air, but his gaze was gentle

and patient, as if hiding a great many burdens that weighed on him. Or

perhaps hiding nothing at all—only conveying a depth of tenderness, the

weight of the years.

"Just like this, it's all in the wrist, get it?"

A long pause, then: "Mn."

Chu Wanning tried swinging the sickle as instructed, but still couldn't

quite master it. He was used to carving up stiff blocks of wood in his work,

but these soft stalks of grain were somehow harder to handle. Mo Ran

observed him for a while, then reached out a toned arm and adjusted his

grip on the sickle.

Skin brushed skin for only an instant; Mo Ran didn't dare touch him

more than that, and neither did Chu Wanning dare allow it. One was a

torrential stream with nowhere to go, and the other a pond that was all but

dried up. They were clearly a perfect match—if only one were to go into the

other, the former would no longer churn restlessly with no outlet, and the

latter could be filled and watered, parched cracks soon mended.

But neither of them would do it, each hiding from the other.

Mo Ran explained from behind him, "Move your finger a little lower,

careful not to cut yourself."

"I know," came the stiff response.

"Relax a little, don't be so tense."

Chu Wanning shifted slightly.

"Relax."

But the more Mo Ran said it, the more Chu Wanning's back tensed

and his grip stiffened. Relax, relax, relax—it wasn't like he didn't want to!

Easy for him to say! But Mo Ran was hovering right next to him, his breath

practically caressing the back of his ear, hot and heavy, carrying this man's

unique, wild scent—how was he supposed to relax?!

For some reason, his wretched brain chose this exact moment to recall

that shameful dream. They had been in a similar position then, with

Mo Ran's lips beside his ear, touching it yet not, ghosting along his earlobe.

He had said between panting breaths, "Relax a little…don't clench around

me so tightly…"

Chu Wanning's entire face turned red.

He tried his best to squirm away from these weird thoughts, but a

second wave rolled in right on the heels of the first, and he struggled free

only to recall that "Size Ranking of the Cultivation World's Young Heroes"

booklet instead…

Chu Wanning couldn't make a sound; he was afraid there might be

smoke rising from the top of his head.

But Mo Ran was none the wiser. "Why are you so tense? Re—"

"I am quite relaxed!" Chu Wanning whipped around, eyes a little

teary yet filled with flames of anger, so close his glare was like a sword

piercing Mo Ran's heart.

The hearts of each were clearly drumming fast in their chests, but the

other could not hear that drumming, no matter how loud. Not unless he

were to step closer, not unless he were to press his chest against his back,

not unless he were to grab his hand, bite his ear, suck on his earlobe,

murmur to him between heavy breaths, Relax, don't be so nervous. Only in

this way would they understand each other.

But Mo Ran would never do it, and neither would Chu Wanning.

So Mo Ran awkwardly withdrew his hand and sheepishly straightened

up, asking carefully, "Then, does Shizun want to try again like this?"

"Mn."

Mo Ran flashed him another smile before picking up his own sickle

and resuming his work not too far away. Two sweeps of the sickle later, he

seemed to remember something, and called over his shoulder: "Shizun."

"What?" Chu Wanning's face was sullen.

Mo Ran pointed at his feet. "You should take off your boots."

"I will not."

"You might slip wearing them," Mo Ran said earnestly. "Those boots

have smooth soles. I won't always be there to catch you if you slip."

Chu Wanning mulled it over in gloomy silence, then waded over to

the ridge and removed his shoes and socks. He tossed them next to a

haystack before treading with bare feet back into the paddy field to slog

away at the rice.

By noon, Chu Wanning had finally become more or less proficient

with the sickle, his motions growing fluid. The rice reaped by Mo Ran and

himself piled into a mighty little mountain of gold. After harvesting another

row, Chu Wanning finally felt a little fatigued and straightened up to take a

deep breath and wipe his sweat with the corner of a sleeve. A light breeze

swept through the golden waves of grain, bringing with it a refreshing

autumn chill. He sneezed. Mo Ran turned around immediately in concern.

"Are you cold?"

"I'm fine." Chu Wanning shook his head. "Some dust got in my nose

just now."

Mo Ran smiled and was about to say more when the clear voice of a

village maiden rang out from beneath the mulberry tree in the distance,

hands cupped around her mouth as she shouted, "Lunchtime—it's

lunchtime—!"

"It's the girl who was singing earlier," Chu Wanning commented

without even turning to look.

Mo Ran turned and lifted a hand to shade his brow, squinting into the

distance. "It really is her. Shizun can tell by her voice?"

"Mn, all that warbling just to announce a meal; who else could it be?"

Chu Wanning passed the last basket of rice over to the pile as he spoke, then

made for the mulberry tree. He didn't bother with his shoes; his feet were

already dirty anyway. Mo Ran shook his head with a grin, then scooped up

his shizun's abandoned boots before running to catch up.

Lunch was a communal affair cooked in large pots, brought out by

four or five women in three wooden barrels. The lids were lifted to reveal a

barrel full of steaming rice, another of braised pork with cabbage, and one

more filled with tofu and vegetable soup.

Frankly, life for the common folk in the lower cultivation realm

wasn't easy, and meat was considered a luxury to most. But Sisheng Peak's

cultivators had come, and what kind of host would the village chief be if he

fed them nothing but vegetables? Thus, there was a hearty portion of cured,

marbled meat in the pork and cabbage dish. The moment the lids came off,

all the burly villagers, smelling that savory aroma, had to swallow their

drool.

"It's not much; Xianjun, please make do." The village chief's wife

was a stocky woman in her fifties with a brassy voice and a wide,

unreserved grin. "We cured the meat and picked the vegetables ourselves,

hope ya don't mind."

Mo Ran frantically waved his hand. "Of course not." He scooped two

heaping bowls of rice and handed them to his shizun before fetching a third

bowl for himself.

Chu Wanning peeked into the barrel and saw that the braised pork

dish was scattered with a layer of chili peppers. He was still gazing

apprehensively when the auntie waved him over with enthusiasm and ladled

an enormous scoop of red-hot gravy into his bowl, generously laden with

bright-red meat.

Chu Wanning stared down into the bowl. This would be a delicious

treat to the people of Sichuan, who loved spicy foods. But to Chu Wanning,

this bowl spelled certain doom. Yet it wasn't as if he could decline the

hospitality of the villagers either.

As he stood frozen in uncertainty, a hand reached over with another

bowl, filled with tofu and vegetable soup. It was rather plain, but suited to

Chu Wanning's tastes.

"Here, swap with me," said Mo Ran.

Chu Wanning eyed the proffered bowl. "It's fine. Eat your own."

The auntie was puzzled by this exchange. Then she put two and two

together and smacked her head, hollering, "Aiya, can this xianjun not eat

spicy food?"

Seeing the guilt on her face, Chu Wanning replied, "No, I can eat it a

little." Grasping his chopsticks, he picked up some of the rice soaked with

spicy gravy and popped it in his mouth.

A few moments passed in silence, Chu Wanning's face growing

redder by the second as everyone watched. Even the tightly-pursed line of

his lips began to quiver, until—

"Cough cough cough cough!"

An earthshaking coughing fit.

Who was it who said the only unbearable things in this world were

love, destitution, and sneezes? They had clearly forgotten about chili

peppers. Chu Wanning had woefully overestimated himself and sorely

underestimated the chilis, with the result that he now choked so badly on

the spice that his entire face was beet red, and he couldn't speak at all. The

adult onlookers were aghast, while the kids—being kids—giggled from

behind them, earning themselves swats on the head.

Mo Ran hastily set down the bowl and chopsticks he was holding and

scooped another bowl of mild soup for him. The liquid seemed to help a

little, but the hot soup on top of the heavy spice made Chu Wanning's

tongue feel like it was on fire. When he looked up at Mo Ran, his face was

flushed and his eyes watery as he said in a hoarse voice, "More."

More.

Chu Wanning clearly meant more soup, but Mo Ran felt his whole

body set alight by the sight of those teary eyes, that face the color of haitang

flowers in early spring, and his thoughts drifted off course of their own

volition.

For an instant, his mind conjured up an image from his past life: this

man lying beneath him, panting both from need and the effects of the

aphrodisiac, open eyes glazed and unfocused, body trembling ever so

slightly, voice hoarse as those moist lips parted in soft moans. "Please…

more…"