Chapter 19. Night of Fire

It was impossible for Zhou Zishu to stay asleep past midnight, and while he was meditating in his room, suddenly there were piercing, terror-laden screams from outside. His brows knitted as he stood up and pushed open the window. He saw people running past with their clothes rumpled before receiving an assault of smoke and flame directly to his face.

"Fire! Fire!"

The frosty night was gradually clogged up with thick smoke; it seemed like the fire was not far from where he was staying. Zhou Zishu thought, Quite a big fire, judging from the smoke. But this is the Gao's Manor; with the number of people currently staying here, it can't be that hard to control it. He wanted no part of this and closed the window since he was somewhat choked up from the smoke.

An arm suddenly reached out, stopping him from closing the window. It even crudely copped a feel of the back of his hand before its owner quickly jumped inside, smiling at Zhou Zishu while slipping the window shut.

Zhou Zishu judged the uninvited Wen Kexing from head to toe. He was about to say something when his nose itched, so he turned away to sneeze and firmly took two steps back, remaining a certain distance from this piece of "scented pastry" who must have strolled out of a place full of beauty products just now.

Mister "Good Person" Wen's hair was unkempt, tied up temporarily with a plain hairband. His clothes were not exactly disheveled, but the collar was wide open, a dark red mark evident on the snow-white fabric. The nauseating scent of beauty products exuded from his sleeves, and on his wrist was a faint mark created from the scratching of nails… Completed with his lecherous expressions, it was as if he couldn't wait to show people what kind of activities he had been doing.

On instinct, Zhou Zishu fixed his clothes and sat up straight, the feeling of moral superiority arising involuntarily. At that moment, compared to Wen Kexing, he felt like such a conscientious and upright gentleman.

Wen Kexing plopped himself down on Zhou Zishu's bed. The bedsheets had gone cold, which meant the owner of the room had been up for a while. He asked, "Stop trying to be dignified, tell me, are you sleepless because you feel lonesome in this deep night? You should've told me so that I can drag you along… Hah, Dong Ting, what a glorious place to be."

Zhou Zishu laughed quietly and dropped his charade. He knew all too well himself that righteousness would only look proper on a righteous person, and he was the epitome of "nothing was what it seemed".

He looked at Wen Kexing meaningfully while replying. "Your timing is impeccable, Brother Wen. The moment you left, the fire started…"

He didn't get to finish the sentence as Wen Kexing's face paled and he retorted indignantly, "Rubbish! I've been gone for hours now!"

Zhou Zishu was taken aback, at a loss as to why he would be so angry. Then he saw Wen Kexing looked him over, the anger receding to make way for his usual leering smile. "Are you changing tactics, Ah-Xu? If you remove your disguise, I can show you… how long it was."

He specifically wiped his mouth after that, licking at the corner of his lips as if remembering something.

Zhou Zishu stared at him in a daze, mindlessly holding a cup to his mouth to pretend to drink, but after a good while of no liquid flowing out, he finally noticed that the cup was empty. Wen Kexing looked at him with interest and thought that the other man was blushing under his mask, even though he couldn't see it. He got more amused the more he thought about it and ended up bursting out a giggle.

"Forgive my useless self." Zhou Zishu gritted through his teeth.

Wen Kexing was now fully laughing out loud.

Had everyone's focus not been on the fire, this bastard would have received a beating already—who could laugh while people's houses were burning down? Zhou Zishu felt like "immoral" was a word made specifically for Wen Kexing.

Consequently, he stood up, tying his hair together, and headed outside. He would rather face the fire than sharing a space with this person.

While the fire—whose main source was from a guest room—had been largely put out, it had shaken the entirety of the Manor. Gao Chong, pale-faced and frowning, was conversing with Deng Kuan.

Gao Xiaolian was beside them. Upon seeing him, she nodded at his direction with a sorrowful face, speaking apologetically, "My apologies, Big Brother Zhou, for your disturbed rest."

She already left a good impression on him, so he smiled, replying gently. "Whose room was burning?"

They were interrupted by Wen Kexing now carrying an outer robe, prancing out from Zhou Zishu's room. He draped the robe over Zhou Zishu's frame, then rested his chin on his shoulder, yawning lazily while smiling at Gao Xiaolian as a greeting with pretended drowsiness.

Gao Xiaolian's face went red immediately as she averted her gaze. Her words came out with a quickness. "We heard that it was that of the Zhang young master, but there was no harm done to him. He was talking with my father and his uncle until late night, so he stayed in a side room…"

The poor girl was looking in every direction at once. She saw Wen Kexing's arms around Zhou Zishu's waist with the scratch marks on one wrist and turned impossibly redder, mumbling, "I have to join my father now, to take a look at Zhang Chengling."

Then she ran with her head lowered.

Only then did Zhou Zishu seize Wen Kexing's wrists and remove them from his body, the sound of his bones cracking perfectly matching his current fuming expression.

Wen Kexing smiled innocently, "Why the sour face, Ah-Xu? Don't you have a young disciple to care about?"

Zhou Zishu didn't let go of the other man's wrist, even holding it in front of his face for a better look. He smiled afterward, eyes narrowing coldly at Wen Kexing. "What kind of beauty who could have left such a… pretty mark on you, Brother Wen?"

Wen Kexing's eyes brightened instantly. "Are you jealous, Ah-Xu?"

"I want to devour you."

After staring at him with eyes wide open, Wen Kexing became overjoyed and smiled. "Good, let's go back to the bedroom, I'm gonna let you devour me as you wish. Preferably more than once."

It was truly unimaginable for someone to be constantly shameless like this. With a noise of contempt, Zhou Zishu threw Wen Kexing's wrist back at his chest. He turned to see Zhang Chengling being surrounded by lots of people, his expression showing contemplation. Then he turned away intending to go back to his room. Zhang Chengling's room wouldn't catch fire for no reason, and where did Wen Kexing go in the middle of the night? Why did he use him to pull a clumsy act in front of Gao Xiaolian?

At that moment, Wen Kexing's soft voice asked behind him. "Ah-Xu, in all the time I've known you, I've never seen you sleep after midnight, so are you…"

Zhou Zishu's pupils contracted. While his face didn't change, he couldn't help but stop walking.

Only to hear the other man continuing, "Are you so lonely that you can't rest for the whole night…"

Zhou Zishu quickened his steps towards the room as if Wen Kexing's words were farts that he had to run away from before he choked.

Wen Kexing smiled and stopped talking. He stood there, looking at Zhang Chengling—who had become thin in just a few months. The young boy seemed to have gotten a little taller, his face ashen like that of a corpse, mouth thinned, eyes black and bright, showing bits of stubbornness and restraint. His whole body was seemingly carved from fire, burning away the old crybaby and leaving a young wolf in its stead.

Only now was Wen Kexing starting to believe that this scamp was truly a child of the Zhangs. He laughed softly, speaking in Zhang Chengling's direction without making a sound, "You better stay alert, brat."

The next day, good old Wen found out that "Saint Zhou"—who immediately holed up in his room once Zhang Chengling came near—had vanished without a trace since the early morning, his room so tidy it gave almost no indication of someone having lived in it before.

Even Zhou Zishu himself wasn't sure why he started following Zhang Chengling since morning. Always anticipating the worse, he found another layer of the skin-like mask to put over his already carefully crafted one.

He hid in the crowd like an apparition and went past people completely unnoticed; no one paid attention to a forgettable stranger in a plain set of clothes.

Zhou Zishu remained a calculated distance away from Zhang Chengling. Everyone and their mother in this grand pugilist scene proclaimed their furious indignation, and then that kid stayed silent and looked over all of them despite being the person worthy of a proclamation the most.

His eyes were wide open, his face bare and honest. Zhou Zishu was suddenly reminded of someone—the person with thick brows and big eyes under the tree whom he saw in that dark, horrible cave.

Liang Jiuxiao.

He remembered their childhood vaguely. That brat Liang Jiuxiao called him Senior Brother, constantly clinging to him and making his life as inconvenient as possible while rambling to no end. Worse, he was a fool, always slow on the uptake.

Back then Zhou Zishu was still young and impatient, so imagined his discontent and unpleasant expression when his Master threw the rascal at him.

He shouldn't get angry as a Big Senior Brother, so at times he would take some jabs at the kid. But he seemed to be completely oblivious, and wouldn't go away no matter what. Zhou Zishu ended up having to accept his situation as was.

It took Liang Jiuxiao so much more effort than the normal person for things to get through to him, and he would ask questions the moment he hit a roadblock. When his Big Senior Brother became infuriated with his inquiries, he put up with all of the harsh words and waited until Brother's anger subsided to continue asking.

Just like that Zhang brat—they were like sticking plasters, refusing to let go once applied on the skin.

But… who knew the plaster would eventually wear off one day? Who knew, that the once magnificent Lord of Si Ji Holdings, leader of Tian Chuang would one day become a ghost in the middle of the crowd, staring at a kid while agonizingly mourning the past?