Chapter 133: Shizun Has the Purest Mind

Mo Ran was taking a sip of the pear blossom white when he felt

something brush against his leg. He reflexively tried to inch his leg away,

but before he could, the contact became unmistakable, pressing against him

as it grazed past. Caught off guard, he hadn't fully processed what

happened until Shi Mei straightened and he saw, on that beautiful face, the

light pink flush, and the way he had his lips pressed into a thin line and his

brows knit as if something was on his mind. Only then did Mo Ran realize

—

A moment ago, was that…?

Mo Ran choked and burst into a violent coughing fit. In his mind,

Shi Mei had always been as the untrodden snow in the spring, the new

moon atop the branch—to be appreciatively gazed upon from a distance and

not to be frivolously touched in any way. He loved Shi Mei to death and

would happily die for him, but he'd rarely had any dirty thoughts where he

was concerned, much less put such thoughts into action.

Had this pure, untainted person just…felt him up?

The thought shocked Mo Ran to the core, and he shook like a rattle

drum, horrified. Chu Wanning frowned. "What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing!"

And right in front of Shizun too! …Surely not?! Th-that didn't seem

like something Shi Mei would do… Mo Ran's expression grew yet more

confounded, but it wasn't in awed surprise: more like awful surprise.

After several seconds spent calming his nerves, he heard Shi Mei call

out lightly, "Waiter, excuse me! These chopsticks are dirty; can I trouble

you for a new pair?"

The waiter came when called and left to fetch a replacement. Mo Ran

nervously turned his head, only to come face-to-face with Shi Mei's mild

features and the same calm gaze as always, as if he had wholly imagined

the bashful blush earlier. Sensing Mo Ran's attention, Shi Mei lifted his own

peach-blossom eyes to return Mo Ran's glance with a subtle smile. "What is

it?"

"Nothing, nothing."

"The chopsticks landed in an inconvenient spot," Shi Mei said. "Right

by your foot."

"Oh…" Mo Ran heaved a sigh of relief and felt his heart settle back

into place. He was overthinking things, of course. He thought to make some

idle chat with Shi Mei to disperse the tension, but Shi Mei had already

turned away and stood to ladle the soup.

Still feeling guilty about his misgivings a moment ago, Mo Ran said,

"Here, let me help."

"That's all right, I've got it." Shi Mei pulled back his sleeve as he

spoke and calmly ladled out the three-delicacies soup for himself. Mo Ran

had placed the soup where it was, close to Chu Wanning and far from

Shi Mei. It seemed reasonable while they were all seated, but now that

Shi Mei was standing to reach it, it became immediately clear how far the

dish was from him. He had to stretch his arm across the entire width of the

table.

One ladleful, two ladlefuls, slow and measured.

Mo Ran watched in silence. Shi Mei said nothing when he met

Mo Ran's uneasy gaze, only smiling slightly as he continued ladling.

Feeling a bit awkward, Mo Ran waited for Shi Mei to finish, then asked Chu

Wanning if he wanted the soup. Chu Wanning declined, so he pushed it to

the middle of the table, neither too close nor too far from anyone.

Here were his esteemed teacher and his favorite person—there

shouldn't have been any preference in the first place.

Partway through the meal, Shi Mei suddenly said, "A-Ran, you've

really grown so much. You're no longer that disciple who used to make

Shizun angry all the time. So since we're all here today, there's something I

want to tell you, and an apology I want to make to Shizun."

Seeing how serious Shi Mei looked, Mo Ran gave him his full

attention. "What is it?"

"Do you remember the first time I brought you wontons?" Shi Mei

said. "That bowl of wontons wasn't made by me; I never was any good at

making those, it was…"

Mo Ran smiled. "Oh, that? And here I was worried it was something

serious. I figured that out a long time ago."

"Ah, did you…?" Shi Mei's pretty eyes opened wide in surprise. He

turned to look at Chu Wanning, who was minding his own business,

drinking his wine. "Did Shizun tell you?"

"Nope, saw it for myself right before going to the underworld."

Mo Ran was about to elaborate when Chu Wanning set down his cup,

cleared his throat, and shot him a cool, stern glance. Mo Ran knew how

thin-skinned he was; he didn't want others to know about his soft

underbelly. So he said, "Anyway, I found out about the whole thing five

years ago. It's kind of a long story, so I won't get into it."

Shi Mei nodded. "That's just as well." He turned to Chu Wanning.

"Shizun, back then, when you didn't want to take the wontons to A-Ran

yourself and had me do it instead, I didn't think much of it. But as I

watched the misunderstanding between you two deepen over time, I felt

terrible. I wanted to find an opportunity to clear it up with A-Ran, but every

time I tried, I couldn't find the words… To be honest, I was being selfish.

Aside from the young master, A-Ran is my only close friend at Sisheng

Peak. I was afraid that he'd be unhappy if he found out, so…"

"It's fine, I did say not to tell him. You didn't do anything wrong."

"Still, I feel really bad about it. It's like I took credit for Shizun's

kindness. Shizun, I'm sorry." Shi Mei dropped his gaze to the table. A

moment later, he added, "A-Ran, I'm sorry to you as well."

Mo Ran had never blamed Shi Mei for this. Even if his initial

fondness for him had blossomed due to that mix-up, Shi Mei had been

genuinely good to him in all the time afterward. Not to mention that Shi Mei

had only been doing as Chu Wanning asked; it wasn't as if he was

intentionally trying to steal credit. He said hastily, "No, no, don't worry

about it. It's all in the past anyway."

Mo Ran stared at Shi Mei under the candlelight. He'd never seen this

face in his past life. Shi Mei had died early, his life cut short, wilted before

it could bloom, becoming the great sorrow of his lifetime. He hadn't been

given the chance to discover that—ah, so this is what Shi Mei would've

looked like if he'd lived to be twenty-four. Tall and slender, with a face as

fair as jade and a pair of warm peach-blossom eyes that were clear and

glistening. He appeared so gentle that even his anger would probably be

soft and mellow.

Mo Ran's tightly clenched heart relaxed by degrees, and he secretly

sighed in relief. He suddenly felt very giddy, his heart warm and settled.

Compared to Shi Mei at nineteen, this twenty-four-year-old felt a little like a

stranger; they were no longer so intimate as they used to be. Maybe this

unfamiliarity was the reason a thought as ridiculous as Shi Mei feeling up

his leg even crossed his mind. But Mo Ran was sure that he'd get used to it

in time. And as for the matter of romantic sentiment, he didn't want to force

it—whatever happened would happen.

For five years he had wandered, barely leaving a trail, yet he'd still

had a couple of close calls. Whether or not the fake Gouchen had a hand in

any of those incidents, he didn't know. But it was a fact that the person

behind the events at Butterfly Town and elsewhere had neither revealed

themselves nor been caught. Mo Ran was sure there would be trouble down

the line, and he knew better than to let his guard down. He was going to

keep the two people beside him safe and sound, even at the cost of life.

Thus, Mo Ran set his heart at ease for the moment. Little did he know

that this inner demon never did rest, but turned to harass another as soon as

it had released its grasp on him.

Perhaps because of how much he'd eaten at dinner, Chu Wanning

grew sleepy soon after he returned to Sisheng Peak. He had originally

planned to work through the night finishing the blueprint for a new

mechanism he was designing, but he'd only made it halfway through before

the yawns hit. Try as he might, eventually he could go on no longer and fell

into bed, blinking sleepily. He passed out without even changing his

clothes.

His sleep was murky, filled with absurd dreams. First about that "Size

Ranking of the Cultivation World's Young Heroes," then about that firm,

toned body he'd seen in Melodic Springs. In the dim light of the candle,

Chu Wanning's brows twitched into a frown, as if trying to free himself

from this shameless dream, only to inadvertently sink deeper in…

And then he had that dream again, the one from before.

A Sisheng Peak that looked nothing like the one he knew, a Loyalty

Hall that was and yet wasn't. An adult Mo Weiyu grasping him by the jaw,

looking at him with venomous, mocking eyes as he said those obscene

things:

"Let me fuck you and I'll agree to your terms."

This Mo Weiyu was different from the Mo Ran he knew—

his expression was too crazed, his handsome face too pale; his skin wasn't

tanned the color of wheat.

"Get down on your knees…and suck me off…"

The disjointed words came in fragments from the depths of the

nightmare. It felt like something in his head was about to break apart,

inches away from breaking free of its chain and charging toward him. A

chill ran down his spine. Yet, for some reason, he also felt inexplicably

flustered.

In his dream, he watched as Mo Ran closed in on him and tore at his

clothes, the sharp sound of the fabric ripping clearer than ever. Then it all

went black, as if he were sinking into a quagmire.

The dream cut off there, the way it had countless times before.

Always before, he had managed to return to sound slumber after the dream,

with no further disturbances. Yet for some reason, today, his vision

gradually grew light again after that point. Chu Wanning looked around, but

the new dream was so hazy, it was like trying to peer through a layer of

mist. He couldn't clearly see his surroundings, only that it was scarlet

everywhere. In contrast, his sense of smell and touch gradually grew

sharper, becoming even more acute than usual.

He was suddenly assailed by an indescribably heated arousal, and he

saw a rugged body moving above him, pressing down against him and

rocking. Startled, Chu Wanning instinctively tried to struggle free, but it

was as if his body didn't belong to him at all, but to the him of this dream.

He could feel himself trembling, and he could hear the man's rough

breathing, the hot puffs of air against his ear, lips that brushed his earlobe

over and over, yet neither kissed it nor took it in to suck.

Chu Wanning turned his head. He was lying on a large, soft bed that

creaked and swayed with their movements, and he could smell the musk of

the beast pelt spread across the sheets. In the vague fuzziness of the dream,

he tried to grasp the bedcover with a questing hand but didn't have the

strength to move. The man atop him was vicious, holding nothing back, as

though he intended to tear him apart. He heard a moan ripped from his own

throat, hoarse and strangled. He shook his head desperately, trying to writhe

away, but that man was too strong, so strong Chu Wanning felt as if the man

could crush him in his hand. He felt numbness spread across his scalp as his

entire body shook uncontrollably…

Perhaps the dream had been too realistic and too draining. Chu

Wanning slept until the sun was high the next day, then spent a long while

lying in bed staring into nothingness. When he turned his head, he seemed

to still smell the scent of the beast pelt from that dream, musky and sweet.

Then he blinked, and he was back in his black sandalwood bed in the

Red Lotus Pavilion, and everything was perfectly fine, with nothing out of

the ordinary.

Except…

Chu Wanning froze, then slowly looked down in mute disbelief.

The Yuheng Elder, who had spent many years practicing asceticism

on account of his cultivation method, and who rarely ever experienced

physical arousal, discovered that he actually…shamefully…had morning

wood…

Had his years of ascetic training been eaten by a dog?! And those

dreams last night—what the hell was that? Why did he dream of such

absurd things! How…how did it even happen? Surely not just from seeing

Mo Ran's body that one time at Melodic Springs, then accidentally reading

that trashy book with that "truly awe-inspiring" garbage?

Chu Wanning's expression darkened. He buried his face in his hands

and rubbed vigorously, but his expression hadn't lightened any when he

looked back up.

What was wrong with him?

Chu Wanning pressed his lips together and decided to take a soak in

the cold lotus pond to cool himself off. But before his toes had touched the

ground, he felt a ripple in the barrier of the Red Lotus Pavilion.

He had a visitor.

He immediately paled and yanked the quilt up to cover his lower half.

The caller approached quickly, probably using qinggong. Soon he heard

two knocks at the door.

"Shizun, are you up yet?"

The voice sounded just like the one in his dream—except that the one

in his dream had been deeper and throatier, steeped in a fervent, bottomless

lust. The voice outside the door now was gentle and respectful, even a little

worried, probably because of how uncharacteristically late Chu Wanning

had slept.

The sound of that voice smashed through the wall between dream and

reality. Chu Wanning leaned against the bed, clutching the quilt to himself.

The voice at the door brought back the way they were entwined in the

dream, and their surging motions, rousing his passions into a turbulent tide

and making it even harder for him to calm himself.

He had just resolved to lie back down and pretend to be asleep when

he heard Mo Ran say through the door, "Shizun, are you in there? I'm

coming in if you don't mind."

I'm coming in…

It was such a simple, normal phrase, but it made Chu Wanning think

of the way that man had laid atop him in the dream, lips parting and closing.

The way that virile body had felt so hot, Chu Wanning was sure he would

be burned.

That person had said between gasps, Relax, I'm coming in.

Chu Wanning's face was red-hot; he sat dazed in bed with his clothes

a disheveled mess and a fire burning him up from the inside. Fierce denial

lived in his eyes, but it was like gravel on the shoals, with sharp points that

would ward ships off in the bitter cold of winter. But when the snow melted

in the spring and the water rose, washing over the jagged edges in a

flowing, glimmering stream, it no longer seemed half so threatening. He'd

rarely ever been so mortified and helpless, nor had he ever felt such intense

desire.

Chu Wanning stared ahead in a stupor, only snapping to his senses

when Mo Ran pushed the door open to come inside. By then, it was already

far too late to feign sleep.

Thus the sight that greeted Mo Ran when he walked in was that of

Chu Wanning sitting up in bed, inky-black hair draped loosely around him

in a sharp contrast to his face, luminous as the radiant surface of a frozen

lake in the sun. His eyes and brows appeared even more stern than usual,

and when he lifted his eyes, the look he directed at Mo Ran was like the

light glancing off the frosty edge of a barely drawn blade.

But, too, there was a touch of red at the corners, so that the light was

tinged with allure. Its ferocity was woven through with chagrin, as if he'd

just suffered at someone's hands and had endured unspeakable deeds. His

eyes were filled with indignation and a glassy hint of wetness.

Mo Ran's breathing slowed as he stared wordlessly at Chu Wanning,

this man who was like a tender bud growing out of a thorny thicket. He felt

as if a heavy rock had been dropped into his chest, sending waves splashing

high…