Chapter 65: startled souls

The two bodies tangled together on the warm and perfumed coverlets, the entire room wafting with concupiscence. The Scorpion Boss sat motionless to the side, surveying the scene in silence like a ghostly shadow.

Cries rose louder and louder as the couple on the bed grew increasingly invested in their task. The Scorpion had selected two young men this time, and it was quite a while before they came down from their high. Emerging from the afterglow, they exchanged a glance with each other before they hastily threw on their clothes. Half-vested, half-bare, they scrambled towards the Scorpion and touched a knee to the ground.

The Scorpion set down his wine cup. He glided his gaze over the youths' still flushed faces and bodies, a picky moue curling his lips. At that moment, a gust of wind blew in — the door to the room had been pushed open from the outside, and the kneeling youth closest shuddered as a tall and masked man appeared in the doorframe.

The Scorpion didn't look up. As if he had noticed nothing, he reached out to pinch the youth by the chin, forcing him to lift his head while he scrutinized his face. The young man's features seemed carved out of snow-white jade, his wide, watery eyes shimmering in the light whilst he blinked. His mentum was pointed, and his skin tender; he

was born male but had a woman's face1.

The Scorpion shook his head and let out a disdainful sigh.

"Not good. Too effeminate. Feels like face powder is sticking to my hand just from touching him."

The masked man marched into the room, appearing unfazed as he threw a glance toward the two trembling youths.

"They're a pair of rabbits2," he said. "Aren't their sissy bunch all the same? What did you expect?"

The Scorpion waved his hand and the two youths kowtowed like they had received an imperial pardon before they scampered for dear life.

"What isn't rare isn't exciting either," the Scorpion mused in a drawling voice. "What's the point of toying with men if they look like women? It's really a pity... the two from last time got away."

The masked man sat down without waiting for an invitation.

"Why I didn't know those little pets you keep were smart enough to run off by themselves."

The Scorpion glanced at him and let out a chuckle. "They weren't mine," he drawled. "But rather two guests who harbored no good intent. In fact, I reckon one of them was an old acquaintance of yours. From what I could gather, he seemed to be a big shot from your place."

The masked man froze.

"Was it... him ?" he asked after a pause.

"How should I know," the Scorpion said.

The masked man fell into a hush. As if he could no longer remain seated, he jumped to his feet and paced the room with his hands clasped behind his back.

"The guy disappeared abruptly a while ago," he muttered. "And now he is turning up at your place... He said that to catch Xue Fang and take back the Key, it was best to avoid drawing attention from the orthodox clans. Yet, his own moves have become unpredictable. What do you think he means by it?"

As if the matter didn't concern him, the Scorpion repeated:

"How should I know..."

The masked man stopped in his tracks and held up his hand, cutting the Scorpion off. "But let's not discuss this for now. Have you seen Sun Ding?"

The Scorpion gave a huff and kicked out a box from underneath the table. The bottom of the small crate scraped against the floor as it slid across the room and skidded to a halt at the masked man's feet. The masked man lifted its lid with the point of his shoe, revealing a human head inside. Although rot had already set in, the blood-red mark on its cheeks was still distinguishable.

The masked man let out a sigh of relief, his lips curling upwards.

"One down. Well done. The others will be easy to deal with now. Ha, my dear Mourning Groom... Nobody so much as budged a hair when Zhao Jing spread the false rumors about Xue Fang's whereabouts. But you, like the fool you are, swallowed the bait hook, line, and sinker. Well, it made my job netting you quite simply."

At the words "the others will be easy to deal with now" the Scorpion's eyes glinted briefly. "You are right," he said, a knowing smile creeping across his lips. "Though we needn't rush things with the others. They will be... sorted out in due time." He plunked down his wine cup and narrowed his eyes. "Let's cut to the chase. Where is the real Xue Fang? And your so-called 'Key'? Have you still not found a clue?"

The masked man shook his head. "And you haven't either?" he inquired back.

The Scorpion frowned. "How strange... the man seemed to have evaporated from the surface of the Earth. Where possibly could he have gone?"

The masked man hesitated for a moment.

"Finding Xue Fang isn't a priority," he muttered. "We should get hold of the Crystal Armour first. Zhao Jing is growing ever more ambitious; he now seems persuaded I'm the one who has swindled the 'Key' — I'm certain his next move will be to blame the disappearance of the Armour on the Devils, so he can foment a secret attack and consolidate his power. With the Central Plains' wulin as chaotic as it is now, the masses who don't know the real goings-on are jumping on bandwagons blindly. If he stirs them up, they will doubtless follow his lead. What he means is to mow down the Devils' Valley as his starter course."

He snorted. "It's no matter, though. Doing business with Zhao Jing, I had predicted such a day would come all along. Only..."

The Scorpion looked up. "What is it? Are you having designs on that Valley Master of yours?"

The masked man smirked. "He is but a madman. With at most a talent for taking, and dishing out a thrashing. Still, he's come in handy at last: we shall let him duke it out with Zhao Jing. And since he is in Luoyang and already visited you, I'm afraid you'll have to be troubled once more. Say, why don't you 'invite' his venerable person to carry out some heavy lifting for us?"

The Scorpion gave a nod. "Easy enough."

Meanwhile, the targets of their scheming carried on breezily.

Zhang Chengling wasted no time telling his shifu about his plan to go with Gu Xiang. Zhou Zishu rolled his eyes and offered the boy one word: "Horseshit."

Zhang Chengling opened his mouth soundlessly a few times. Then, he decided to take a page from Mister Wen's book: he deployed a campaign of relentless pestering. Following his shifu around like a bum beetle, he jabbered at the man for the whole day, right until night fell and it was time for bed.

As he retired to his room, Zhou Zishu was about to slam his door shut, when Zhang Chengling stuck out his foot and wedged it there. Clawing at the door frame, he looked up with stubbornness written all over his face and pleaded:

"Shifu, please just let me go. I can't sit around and do nothing. I can't..."

Zhou Zishu narrowed his eyes. He wasn't a patient man, to begin with. It was only because he'd been in a chipper mood that he had let the brat tail him all day. But enough was enough. Without further ado, he lifted his foot and aimed a kick at the boy's chest.

Zhang Chengling thought he was being tested on his kung-fu. Elated, he executed a backflip to show how well he could evade. He was about to yammer again when, with a loud bang, Zhou Zishu slammed the door in his face.

Wen Kexing appeared behind Zhang Chengling out of nowhere.

"Great job," he sighed, eyes cast towards the moon. "Now the door's a no-go."

Zhang Chengling dropped his head and stood like a discarded turnip suffering the additional outrage of frost3. Mister Wen had spoken as if he was the cause of his being shut out as well.

Wen Kexing heaved another sigh and started mumbling under his breath.

"If a man is made to keep an empty chamber for too long, his desires may go unsated. And if his desires go unsated, he may lose his reason and commit irrational acts. And if his reason is lost, then he just may..."

Although Zhang Chengling was slow on the uptake, he wasn't a complete dummy. Wen Kexing's expression was turning evil, and Zhang Chengling was gripped by the sudden impression that smoke was coming out from the top of the man's head — like steam rising from a basket of cooking buns. Scared witless, he jumped to his feet and scrammed out of sight.

For a moment, Wen Kexing stared at the boy's retreating silhouette, a perplexed expression on his face — as if he had no clue what could have gotten into the brat. Then, he raised one hand to knock on the door, while bracing his other hand on the windowsill. Indeed, if push came to shove, he was well determined to break in through the latter. So he could live out his newfound aspiration of being a flower thief...

But the door opened.

Wen Kexing, who was still plotting out the particulars of his crime, jumped in shock. He remained frozen on the spot even when Zhou Zishu twisted aside to make way.

"Are... are you...letting me in?" Wen Kexing stuttered a rare expression of dumbstruck foolishness etched on his face.

Zhou Zishu cocked a brow. "Don't you want to?" he said, raising his arm to shut the door again. "Well, forget it, then."

Wen Kexing hurried to bat the man's hand away. He wormed into the room with a giant grin breaking on his face.

Zhou Zishu, however, showed no sign of retiring to the bed. He went to light the lamp instead; stooping to fill two cups with tea before he took a seat by the table. He kept his eyes lowered the entire time and didn't appear in a joking mood at all. Rather, he looked like he had serious matters to discuss.

As he observed the other man, the ingratiating smile faded away from Wen Kexing's face. Picking up a teacup and holding it in hand without drinking from it, he too sat down. Then, he leaned against the backrest of his chair and stretched out his legs to fold one over the other, before he turned his head to the side, to look at Zhou Zishu.

"What is it?" Wen Kexing asked. "Do you have something to tell me? Have you finally decided to offer me your body, or did you..."

Zhou Zishu sneered; he looked up.

"Don't you have something to tell me, Valley Master Wen?"

Wen Kexing's joke got caught in his throat. He opened his mouth a few times with no sound coming out. After a long pause, he shook his head and chuckled.

"The Great Shaman of Nanjiang is a capable man," he said. "I'm sure it will be fine if you go with him."

Zhou Zishu dipped his finger into his teacup and doodled idly on the table's surface.

"...That's it?"

Wen Kexing raised his head to hold the man's gaze. Zhou Zishu's chiseled features were softened by the lamp's light— memories flooded Wen Kexing as he looked past them.

He felt like he had known that man for such a long time. From the moment he had spotted those shoulder blades and a rush of excitement had stirred within him, to when he had taken a fancy to who Zhou Zishu was... He had wondered at Skylight's leader turning out to be this man; had mused it was as if he had met another self. Both of them were lone wolves caught in hunter's traps. They had struggled for freedom with all their might to no avail and had resolved to gnaw off their own legs in the end.

He couldn't help but follow the man around. Couldn't help watching him. Then realization had dawned — if Zhou Zishu could live like that, surely, so could he?

While musing along those lines, he fell. And once he fell, he could no longer extricate himself.

Not entirely out of his own volition, Wen Kexing reached out to cup Zhou Zishu's face. Curving his fingers, he caressed the man's unsoft skin with his own callused hand, the contact faintly chill to the touch.

"Don't die," he said all of a sudden. "If you die and I'm left behind, I'll be terribly lonely." Zhou Zishu grasped his wrist but didn't shake him off.

"I won't be dying as long as there is a sliver of a chance for me to live," he said with a smile. "This life is mine. My skills are mine. The Heavens have granted me this fate — it won't be easy to take it back from me even if the gods above so chose."

Wen Kexing could feel the man's breath against his fingers. He squinted his eyes.

"Once upon a time," he said, as if in a daze, "an owl knocked over the bowl of red water a villager was carrying in his hands..."

Zhou Zishu gazed back at him. His expression unchanged, he uttered in a soft voice the question he had asked once before:

"Why was the villager carrying a bowl of red water?" A slow smile spread across Wen Kexing's lips.

"Water is colorless. But if you trickle blood into it, wouldn't it turn red then?" 4

Zhou Zishu kept looking at him but spoke no more. Wen Kexing shook out of his reverie, his gaze which had drifted far away regaining its focus.

"A-Xu, you really ought to do it with me this once, you know," he said with a grin that crinkled up his eyes into half-moons. "That way, we'll both have someone in our hearts. You won't die so easily then, and neither will I. So, what do you say?"

He spoke in a teasing tone, but Zhou Zishu didn't banter back. He merely watched Wen Kexing with an odd glint in his eyes.

"Are you sincere?" Zhou Zishu asked after a long pause.

Wen Kexing laughed; he leaned his entire body over.

"Can't you tell whether I am?" he asked back, his breath brushing against Zhou Zishu's mouth.

Zhou Zishu hesitated for a second.

"I... really can't," he replied in a low voice. "I've known little sincerity throughout my life, and have trouble telling it apart. Are you, though?"

Idly, Wen Kexing's fingers followed the outline of a shoulder and climbed up, tugging Zhou Zishu's topknot lose. A headful of black silk cascaded down, framing the features of the hardened man before him and making them appear a shade frailer.

Wen Kexing quelled the mocking smile on his lips.

"I am," he said in a whisper that nonetheless resounded with certainty.

He shut his eyes then and pressed his lips to Zhou Zishu's, mooring fretful hearts like an anchor thrown to the bottom of the sea, and lifting all misgivings once and for all.

Slowly, Zhou Zishu lifted his hand. It was a long moment before he let it come to rest on Wen Kexing's shoulder, his fingers catching into the fabric covering it.

A strident cry pierced the night. The slight haze that had formed in Zhou Zishu's eyes dispersed at once whilst Wen Kexing froze mid-gesture. Distracted, they crashed to the ground together, locked amid a suggestive pose.

Stony-faced, Wen Kexing dropped his eyes and pulled close the lapels which had become undone on both Zhou Zishu's and his own clothes.

"At this hour of the night..." he murmured. "Do you think I should stew the trespasser in broth, or braise them with soy sauce?"

Notes

1. This is an allusion to "divination via physiognomy". Note that the full phrase would be "a man with a woman's face is fated to riches, a woman with a man's face is fated to toil". This touch on two subjects. 1) Beauty is the primary measure of a woman's worth in ancient China (hasn't changed much, worldwide). 2) As with homophobia, hostility towards men being "effeminate" is arguably a relatively new phenomenon in Chinese culture, and derives from western mores and ideals (i.e. starting with the spread of the teachings of Jesuit missionaries). For example, beauty in men in Dream of the Red Chamber is generally presented positively. And in one instance, a man whom we would nowadays perceive as a cross-dresser kicks another guy's ass because he is offended by his sexual advances.

2. Refers to gay guys in context.

3. The original says "eggplant struck by frost". Changed to turnip due to emoji imagery in English

4. The image here is suggestive of a "blood pact". As seen in one of the web-series episodes, mingling a few drops of blood, sometimes by trickling them into a bowl of water, was a symbolic way of sealing an oath/promise. This gives another meaning to WKX's owl tale: by upturning the bowl of red water, the owl made a promise to become moot, which led to a calamity. WKX is thinking about broken promises.