Chapter 154: Shizun, I’m Off to Look for Ye Wangxi

Well now, this was awkward.

Everyone else, from Madam Wang to Xue Meng and even Xue

Zhengyong, had politely stood in greeting when Nangong Liu came in. Chu

Wanning hadn't cared to do so, but had remained standing where he was by

the window.

But to Mo Ran, Rufeng Sect was no more than some worthless

garbage sect he had trodden underfoot in his previous life. He knew the

place was a disordered mess beneath the surface glamor, hardly worthy of

respect. Still, he hadn't meant to make things awkward for Nangong Liu—it

just never occurred to him to stand.

It was quite the strange scene. Nangong Liu, the host and elder, stood

with an amicable smile, face not at all angry but full of warm familiarity.

Mo Ran, the guest and junior, reclined languidly in the taishi chair with his

legs crossed and a piping hot cup of tea in hand.

Xue Zhengyong hadn't paid any attention to what Mo Ran was doing,

but as he turned to look now, he couldn't help his mortification. This boy

really had no manners!

"And you must be…the famed Mo-zongshi that everyone talks of

these last few years?"

Setting the lid back on his teacup, Mo Ran lifted his eyes and replied,

"That's me."

"Such gallant y—"

"Nangong-xianjun." Mo Ran cut him off with a smile. "You've

already used 'gallant youth' on my cousin, so perhaps not on me as well?"

He spoke courteously, with an easy tone and a warm smile, but the

words were anything but. Nor did he bother to stand. In fact, after casually

saying those words, he lifted his teacup once again, scraping the celadon lid

against its rim, and blew at the gently rising steam. Lowering his gaze along

with those long, dense eyelashes, he returned to leisurely sipping his tea. He

was young, handsome, tall, and poised. His attitude and mannerisms gave

the impression that he was the true master of Rufeng Sect, the one who

stood at the apex of the entire cultivation realm, while Nangong Liu was no

more than a dog perched by his seat.

"Ha ha, Mo-zongshi is quite right. This humble one simply couldn't

think of a better phrase due to my own ineloquence, so—"

"That can't be right." Mo Ran put down his teacup and looked up

with a faint smile. "Nangong-xianjun has had no end of praise to dole out

since entering this room. If you aren't a smooth talker, who out there is?"

"Aiya, Mo-zongshi flatters me too much."

"Who said I was flattering you?" Mo Ran smiled, bright eyes fixed on

him. "Being a smooth talker isn't always a good thing."

Xue Zhengyong finally couldn't take it anymore. Lowering his voice,

he scolded, "Ran-er—!"

It was understandable for Chu Wanning to be hostile toward Nangong

Liu; at least there was history between them, and Chu Wanning had the

social status to rival him. Mo Ran, on the other hand…

Mo Ran paid Xue Zhengyong no mind, speaking instead to Nangong

Liu. "Nangong-xianjun should save the honeyed words for the other

juniors. I'm a crude person; I won't understand it, and I don't want to hear

it."

Xue Zhengyong was completely speechless.

Although Mo Ran knew his uncle would be displeased with his

behavior, he didn't regret it in the least. The world was filled with so many

vile things. Chu Wanning, with his fierce temper, was always sticking his

neck out—take for example the exorcism of Luo Xianxian when he had

beaten up Landlord Chen, the paying client, for mistreating a helpless girl,

heedless of any damage to his reputation. He'd done nothing wrong, yet his

name was ever maligned in the mouths of others. Those people would call

him "coldblooded," "intractable," and "unfeeling."

Mo Ran was determined to stop others from calling his shizun "illmannered" ever again. Thus he vowed to act even more egregiously than

Chu Wanning did, even more over-the-top. It was a dumb plan, but it was

the only one he could conceive of to protect his shizun. While the other

three in the room accepted Nangong Liu's flattery and favor out of

politeness and decorum, Mo Ran did not. Nor was this determination a spurof-the-moment decision. Since the day he learned that it had been Chu

Wanning who carried him from that bloody battlefield on his back, crawling

when he could no longer walk; ever since he'd laid eyes on that human soul

and that bowl of wontons in Mengpo Hall; ever since he'd traveled to the

depths of the underworld to bring Chu Wanning back, Mo Ran had vowed

to stand with Chu Wanning for as long as Chu Wanning would have him.

Nangong Liu had run into two walls in a row. Any other sect leader

would have flipped his lid and kicked them all back onto the street. But

Nangong Liu did no such thing. He acted as if it never happened, cheerfully

chatting with Xue Zhengyong until Xue Zhengyong couldn't take the

embarrassment and pulled him aside to quietly apologize for not getting his

nephew in line.

Nangong Liu laughed it off. "Aiya, it's expected for a youngster to be

bold. I think it's a wonderful thing that Mo-zongshi is so forthright."

After the meeting with Nangong Liu, Rufeng disciples led the party to

the courtyard where they would stay for the duration of the wedding.

Mo Ran sneezed the whole way there. Xue Meng turned to look at him.

"Maybe Sect Leader Nangong laid a curse on you for all that mouthing off

just now…"

"Shut it, more like you got cursed." Mo Ran's eyes were watery. "I…

achoo, I can't handle such strong incense, that room back there—achoo!

The incense was really too…achoo! Too…"

"Too unpleasant."

"Ah, Shi—achoo—zun."

Chu Wanning furrowed his brow and disdainfully passed him a

handkerchief. "How unsightly. Wipe your face."

A teary-eyed Mo Ran accepted the haitang-embroidered handkerchief

with a grin. "Shizun is so kind to me; thank you, Shizun."

Chu Wanning was a little flustered. "Who's kind to you?!"

"That's right!" Xue Meng piped up, unwilling to be second. "Who's

kind to you, I'm clearly the one Shizun is kindest to!"

Mo Ran taunted him: "Aren't you a little too old to be making a

contest of that?" He turned quite serious and held up the handkerchief. "See

this? Shizun said he'll make me one just like it. Do you have one?"

Mortified, Chu Wanning snatched the handkerchief back with

lightning speed as he snapped, "Mo Weiyu!"

Xue Meng momentarily froze in shock, then flew into a rage. "Yeah

right! As if anyone's gonna believe Shizun would make you a handkerchief!

Keep dreaming! Shameless!"

Thus, chatting and bickering, they arrived at the lodgings Nangong

Liu had arranged for them. There were four rooms around the courtyard,

one for Xue Zhengyong and Madam Wang, and one each for the rest.

Flowers danced gently between winding paths to quiet retreats, and the

soothing sound of running water babbled in the background. It was a scene

of singular elegance.

Mo Ran, who had been in good spirits, faltered when he saw which

courtyard they would be staying in. His eyes glazed over for a moment

despite himself. As he followed the rest into the courtyard, his mood grew

grimmer as he took in the details of their surroundings.

This was the one place in Rufeng Sect that had left a deep impression

on him in his previous life. Being back here made him think about other

possibilities; if Chu Wanning had not recalled him from that path at the cost

of his own life, perhaps he would've walked the same road in this lifetime

and become Emperor Taxian-jun. Even now he would be commanding

millions of Zhenlong chess pieces and burning this renowned sect to the

ground. The thought sent streams of cold sweat down his back and a

thousand thoughts rushing through his mind. Mo Ran closed his eyes. He

was no longer the youth who wore his heart on his sleeve. He could keep

his emotions in check, and so it was that no one noticed the haze clouding

his heart.

Each retired to their own room to rest. Mo Ran stood in front of his

for a while, hands clasped behind his back, but did not go inside. One of the

maids in the courtyard, a little uneasy, asked carefully, "Does Xianjun not

find the room satisfactory?"

"Oh, no, no." Coming back to himself, Mo Ran smiled. "This

courtyard just reminded me of somewhere I used to live, is all."

"What a coincidence. I was worried Xianjun didn't find the

accommodations to his tastes. If Xianjun has any request, please let me

know and I will do my best to fulfill it."

"I'm good, thank you," Mo Ran replied with a smile. He looked up at

the hundred-year-old osmanthus tree in the yard, its trunk so thick he could

barely wrap his arms around it. The dancing shade of its foliage swept

across his vision like ghosts from his past. His eyelashes quivered minutely,

and melancholy flooded his chest.

He spun around and called out to the maid who was leaving. "Wait!"

"Yes, Xianjun?"

Mo Ran hesitated. "I wanted to ask about someone." He paused, and

when he lifted his eyes, his gaze was torch-bright. "Do you know of a…"

"A…?"

"Actually, never mind, let me ask about someone else instead,"

Mo Ran said. "Do you know where I can find Ye Wangxi?"

"Ye-gongzi is Elder Xu's direct disciple," the maid answered. "He

lives with him in the same courtyard. Xianjun can find Ye-gongzi there."

Mo Ran secretly let out the breath he'd been holding. The last time

he'd seen Ye Wangxi had been at that restaurant, where Ye Wangxi had

begged Nangong Si to go back with him and Nangong Si had refused. Back

then, Ye Wangxi had said, "If it's my presence back home that's upsetting

you, then I'll leave, and you'll never have to see me again."

To be honest, Mo Ran had been worried about Ye Wangxi. He felt that

the man had suffered enough in the previous lifetime. To Mo Ran's mind,

Ye Wangxi was not unlike Chu Wanning—both were people of morals and

conviction, though one was reserved while the other was fiery. Yet neither

met a good end. He regretted the past and had hoped Ye Wangxi would be

better-off in this lifetime. He was relieved to hear that Nangong Si hadn't

been so heartless as to chase Ye Wangxi off in truth.

Elder Xu's courtyard was called Farewell to Three Lifetimes, the

name supposedly taken from the phrase, "One sip of Mengpo's soup bids

farewell to three lifetimes of memories." It meant that life was fleeting, and

that it was best to forget that which ought to be forgotten instead of

wallowing. All would be forgotten in death by the time one got to Naihe

Bridge anyway.

How pessimistic. No wonder Ye Wangxi had turned out so repressed

you couldn't beat a fart out of him.

"What a clever parrot, how interesting. Now recite this: one bowl of

rice, one scoop of water, in a humble alley…"12

A guard had gone ahead to announce Mo Ran's visit and his

intentions. Mo Ran had scarcely stepped around the partition wall when he

heard the languid, teasing voice of a man from within. He took a few more

steps and saw the speaker standing in the sun-drenched courtyard. He

looked to be in his early thirties and was dressed in a robe so humble it

sported a few patches at the corners of its sleeves. Despite the chill, he wore

no shoes but stood barefoot on the cold stone pavement with a handful of

sunflower seeds, teasing a snow-white parrot with blue eyes and a long tail.

The parrot flapped its wings as it rocked side to side on its perch. It

seemed pleased with itself as it sang loudly back, "Ah—one bowl of rice,

one scoop of water, in a humble alley—"

"Mm, not bad, not bad. You're smarter than Little Ye-zi,13 you know.

He wasn't nearly this clever when he was young, couldn't memorize this bit

no matter how he tried." The man fed the parrot some seeds. "Here, treats

from Daddy."

Mo Ran stared, speechless. Calling himself a bird's daddy… Did that

make him a birdbrain then?

When the man turned and saw Mo Ran beside the partition wall, he

cracked a sunflower seed between his teeth and spit the shell. Then he

suddenly beamed. It was a bright smile, yet hints of something disquieting

lurked beneath. Under the radiant sunlight, he projected an air of breezy

nonchalance.

"Mo-zongshi, Mo Ran, yes?" He smiled. "Pleased to meet you."

Mo Ran returned the smile. "Same here."

With pleasantries duly exchanged, Mo Ran took a closer look at this

man's face. He looked vaguely familiar—as if Mo Ran had seen him before,

during his slaughter of Rufeng Sect in the past life. Was he…

"Yifu, you're running around without shoes again."

A familiar voice rang out. A remark of such little import, but one that

was thunderous to Mo Ran's ears. Mo Ran whipped his head around to find

Ye Wangxi striding in through the moon gate, tall and slender as ever with a

gentle expression softening his features. He walked straight over, holding a

pair of yellow satin shoes which he set down at the man's feet.

Yifu? Ye Wangxi's foster father…

Through the thrumming of blood in his ears, Mo Ran could hear the

cries and screams from a lifetime past, the clang of sword against sword,

the thunder of battle drums.

"Yifu—!"

A face marred with bloodstains burst through his memories.

Ye Wangxi, crying and screaming, voice splitting the heavens…

When Mo Ran had razed Rufeng Sect, Nangong Liu had fled to save

his own hide, leaving the seventy-two cities headless and floundering. Elder

Xu, Rufeng Sect's foremost warden, had stepped up to take the reins,

marshaling the panicked masses—masses that Mo Ran would've otherwise

wiped out in an instant—in resistance with the aid of Ye Wangxi. The man

wasn't even a Nangong, yet he'd shouldered the responsibility that

should've fallen on a sect leader of that surname and used his position as

elder of Rufeng Sect to defend its seventy-two cities to the last.

He wasn't even Ye Wangxi's father by blood, yet he'd moved to

intercept the sharp blade filled with spiritual power aimed at Ye Wangxi's

back, sacrificing his own body to protect the child he raised. Mo Ran had

watched this scene from atop the city walls, and his lips had twisted in a

sneer—heavens only knew how jealous he'd been in that moment. To think:

there was someone out there who would willingly die for another without a

blood tie! His narrow-minded self had felt shock and pain. He was so

jealous he'd almost gone mad, so jealous his eyes had gone bloodshot.

He'd thought, Great, that's just great, look how lucky Ye Wangxi is.

Had there been a single person in this vast world other than his mother

who'd been willing to die for him, would he have ended up like this?! The

heavens were kind to everyone else; it was only to him that they were so

grudging, so cruel!

He'd wanted to destroy everyone he was jealous of. All these people

huddled together for warmth: he was going to send every last one of them

to hell. How was it fair that he was the only person to never experience a

single day of contentment or a single spark of warmth, that the only person

who had ever been kind to him had died long ago. It was the only bit of

warmth he'd ever had; why did it have to be taken from him?!

He hated.

Looking back, Mo Ran could only think of how stupid he'd been back

then. There was someone in this world who would willingly die for him. He

was the one who had missed it. Who hadn't realized, and who had let that

person down.

Mo Ran closed his eyes and took a moment to settle his turbulent

emotions before looking up again. He knew who this man was now: this

was Ye Wangxi's shizun, as well as his yifu, Xu Shuanglin. The man who,

on the second day of the slaughter of Rufeng Sect, had died in battle to save

Ye Wangxi.

Mo Ran turned away, a bitter ache in his heart. He couldn't bear to

look at that smiling, carefree person bathed in sunlight any longer. He went

over to greet Ye Wangxi instead. "Ye-gongzi."

Ye Wangxi paused when he noticed Mo Ran standing a short distance

away. Then he smiled and said, "Ah, Mo-xiong is here too. Long time no

see."

"Long time no see."

In this lifetime, Ye Wangxi had only met Mo Ran a handful of times

and wasn't terribly familiar with him. He continued to smile politely as he

asked, "Are you here for my yifu?"

Mo Ran silently glanced over at Xu Shuanglin before shaking his

head, a little awkward. "No. I'm here to see you."

"Well, look at that, Little Ye-zi. When was the last time someone

came here looking for you?" Grinning lazily, Xu Shuanglin popped another

sunflower seed in his mouth. "Where did you meet Mo-zongshi, anyway?"

"At Peach Blossom Springs."

"That's nice, that's nice," Xu Shuanglin said, smiling as he poured the

rest of the sunflower seeds into the bird's food bowl. "You young ones keep

chatting; I'm going to go take a walk around."

Ye Wangxi tugged at him. "Yifu, you aren't wearing your shoes

again."

"Oh, I forgot." Still smiling, Xu Shuanglin slipped the shoes on.

"There, better?"

But, out of the corner of his eye, Mo Ran saw the man stroll leisurely

around the corner, bend down, take the shoes off again, and tuck them into

the front of his robe before continuing on his merry way.

This father-son pair, in terms of both appearance and personality,

was…really very strange. Xu Shuanglin looked very young on account of

his cultivation method, not a day past thirty. He seemed more like Ye

Wangxi's brother than anything else. In fact, with his willful, mischievous

temperament, he seemed more like a younger brother. What was with that

plaque outside solemnly inscribed with "Farewell to Three Lifetimes" then

—was he just messing around, or what?

Side by side, Ye Wangxi and Mo Ran walked unhurriedly along a

shaded path. The courtyard was full of trees that flowered and bore fruit,

but it was now the middle of winter, and everything was withered. Only a

few dry, yellow leaves clung to the branches, quivering in the wake of the

passing wind.

"Sorry about what happened at the restaurant last time. It was quite

embarrassing."

"Not at all," Mo Ran said. "How have you been lately?"

He regretted the words as soon as they'd left his mouth. Ye Wangxi

wasn't the type to say anything even if he was miserable. Sure enough, he

smiled a small smile and said, "I'm all right, and you?"

"Pretty good."

The two weren't close. Mo Ran had only sought him out because he

remembered the sins of his past life, felt remorseful, and wanted to see for

himself how this still-living Ye Wangxi fared. But now that he was alone

with him, he really didn't know what to talk about. Mo Ran knew many of

Ye Wangxi's secrets, none of which were appropriate topics of discussion;

he found himself with nothing to say.

The two strolled in silence for a time. Ye Wangxi asked, "How's Xia

Sini doing?"

Mo Ran was caught by surprise for a moment, then chuckled. "You

still remember that name? Impressive."

"His name is rather memorable."

"Ha ha, I suppose. Xia Sini is here too; you can see him later."

Ye Wangxi seemed bewildered. "He's here too? But…I don't think

the sect leader would've invited…"

"You don't know who Xia Sini really is yet, do you?" Mo Ran said

with a laugh. "Let me tell you, then. It's a long story."

So it was that he recounted the chain of events that had led to Chu

Wanning becoming Xia Sini. Ye Wangxi looked pensive for a while, then

sighed. "Mo-gongzi is very fortunate to have him as your master."

"And Rufeng Sect is very fortunate to count Ye-gongzi among its

disciples."

Ye Wangxi, a little embarrassed, replied with another small smile,

"Mo-gongzi is too kind."

They arrived at a small, red-painted pontoon bridge. The path here

had been all dry branches and shriveled leaves, but this place was verdant,

with tall stalks of bamboo that stood proud and unyielding in wind and

snow. The waters of Rufeng Sect had been infused with spiritual power to

prevent freezing, and the foot of the bridge was awash with the sweet

tinkling of running water embraced by twin groves of lush green.

When Mo Ran turned, he saw Ye Wangxi with eyes downcast, his

gaze fixed on the sparkling stream and its reflected light dancing across his

dark pupils. He was the same person, but the new weariness on his face was

hard to miss.

Nangong Si's marriage was indeed too, too cruel to Ye Wangxi.

Mo Ran suddenly found it hard to stomach. He felt as if he were looking at

Chu Wanning, who gave so much of himself yet hardly received as much as

a backward glance.

"Ye-gongzi, why don't you come to Sisheng Peak instead?" Mo Ran

asked.

"What?"

Mo Ran shut his mouth. The words had felt overly impetuous the

instant they'd passed his lips, and he well knew what Ye Wangxi's answer

would be. He sighed and said, "It was just an offhand remark. Don't mind

me."

Ye Wangxi smiled in response. He had used to have a handsome,

alluring smile, seven parts gallantry and three parts elegance. Here was still

the same person with the same smile—but his cheeks were now sunken, and

though the gallantry remained, the elegance had withered, leaving twin

pools of sorrow. It was obvious that he had tried to hide it. But despite his

best efforts, this sorrow was too deep to be concealed.

"Is Mo-xiong here to poach people for Sisheng Peak?" Ye Wangxi

quipped.

"Ha ha, sure am. Though Ye-gongzi probably won't bite, so just take

it as a joke."

"Mn, my yifu is here, so I'm not leaving."

"What do you plan to do, then?"

Pain flashed across Ye Wangxi's face, and for once he didn't have a

ready answer. What did he plan to do? He didn't know either. Ye Wangxi

felt he was a moth to Nangong Si's flame. He couldn't help being drawn to

that warmth even if it led to his own ruin.

But Nangong Si didn't want him.

"I'll just…stay here at Rufeng Sect, keep doing the things that are my

duty," Ye Wangxi said with a wan smile. "Serve the sect leader, serve Yifu,

and later, serve the young master…" He paused, and his hands tightened

into fists, the joints as pale as jade.

Mo Ran was perturbed. How could Ye Wangxi say the rest of that

sentence so calmly, how could he say the next words at all…

"And serve the young mistress."

Ye Wangxi finally dropped his gaze, as if unable to bear it any longer.

But only for an instant. Then he raised his eyes, looking at Mo Ran in that

gentle, polite way of his. He even managed to keep a smile on his face as he

stood in the bitter cold of winter, resilient as the bamboo all around.

A sudden gust sent the fresh-fallen snow scattering in the bamboo

groves.

In that moment, Mo Ran decided: no, Nangong Si was not going to

marry Song Qiutong.