CONGRATULATIONS, USER! NEW ITEM UNLOCKED: FOX FIRE.
The system's chime rang sharply in Yi Ming's head. He exhaled sharply, rolling his eyes as he swiped the screen away with an annoyed flick of his wrist.
"That dirty, sly old fox…" he muttered under his breath, his gaze settling on Li Zhameng, who approached them while absentmindedly toying with the silver necklace dangling around his neck.
"Alright, let's go back home."
Xue Laohu's voice was clipped, his frustration still visible in the tight set of his jaw and the way his arms remained rigid at his sides.
"Um… Shizun…"
Li Zhameng spoke hesitantly, his voice barely above a whisper. His eyes flickered toward Xue Laohu, who had yet to relax his scowl.
"What?" Xue Laohu snapped, his phoenix eyes narrowing.
Li Zhameng's shoulders tensed. He tilted his head down, his fingers twisting around the ends of his sleeves as he mumbled, "May this lowly disciple bathe before we depart…?"
A long pause followed. The air between them grew thick, the tension obvious.
"You may," Xue Laohu finally said, but his tone was cold and dismissive.
Li Zhameng lifted his head just enough to search his Shizun's eyes, but all he found was indifference—perhaps even disdain. He nonetheless departed.
Shudu approached with his usual languid grace, his muscular arms folded across his chest. His smirk revealed a hint of sharp canines that gleamed under the lantern light.
"Could it possibly be…?" Shudu's voice carried a teasing lilt as he leaned in just slightly. "Is Grandmaster Xue jealous?"
Xue Laohu's scowl deepened. His arms tightened around his chest like a shield.
"I'm not jealous!" he barked, his ears turning a faint shade of red. "I'm just tired! And I get irritated when I'm tired!"
With that, he spun on his heel, his boots thudding against the wooden floor as he stomped back into the inn.
"I'm getting tea," he grumbled, more to himself than anyone else.
Xue Tuzi cast one last glare at Shudu before hurrying after Xue Laohu, his short strides quick and determined.
Shudu chuckled, watching them retreat, Li Zhameng had arrived at the bathhouse, he stripped down, several red marks plagued his body as he begun dipping his toes into the steaming water.
Li Zhameng sank into the warmth, the heat easing the tension in his limbs. His fingers trailed through the water, watching the ripples distort his reflection. He let out a quiet sigh, rubbing at the lingering grime on his skin, remnants of his father's touch.
Meanwhile, inside the inn, Xue Laohu sat at a low wooden table, his fingers wrapped around a warm porcelain teacup. He took a slow sip, allowing the earthy bitterness to settle his nerves.
Unfortunately, peace was a fleeting thing in his life.
"I already said no!"
Xue Tuzi's voice, usually composed, carried a rare sharpness as he glared across the table.
"He's mine!" Shudu argued, his palm slamming against the wood, causing the teapot to tremble precariously. "I have every right to look after him as well!"
"No!" Xue Tuzi snapped, his back straightening defiantly.
Jiao Jiao, perched beside him, mimicked his actions. The tiny creature crossed its little nubs and turned its nose up, its silk-like tail flicking in disapproval.
Xue Laohu sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose.
This again.
At least once a week—sometimes even several times—Shudu would start this ridiculous custody battle over Jiao Jiao. And every single time, Xue Tuzi would reject him outright.
Then the arguing would escalate.
Then the fighting would begin.
And then, inevitably, things would get broken.
Xue Laohu set down his teacup just as he saw it coming.
"He's mine!" Shudu roared, lunging.
Xue Tuzi was faster. He sidestepped easily, his movements sharp and precise. Jiao Jiao puffed up indignantly before spitting out a fine web of silk, catching Shudu mid-stride.
"Oi—!"
Xue Tuzi took the opening and drove a swift jab into Shudu's abdomen, sending him stumbling back a step.
What followed was pure chaos.
Kicks and punches were exchanged, both of them leaping onto chairs and tables as their fight grew more frenzied. Cups shattered. Plates crashed to the floor.
Xue Laohu's eye twitched as he watched the destruction unfold.
His gaze flickered to the innkeeper, who stood at the counter, making direct eye contact with him while meticulouslyjotting down every single item that was being broken.
A vein pulsed angrily at Xue Laohu's temple.
His hand slammed onto the table with a sharp thud.
"ENOUGH!"
His voice cracked through the air like a whip.
Both Shudu and Xue Tuzi froze, their hands still clutching each other's collars as they turned to face him.
Their expressions were almost comically innocent.
Xue Laohu exhaled slowly, rubbing his temples as he eyed the carnage around them. Broken ceramics. Overturned furniture. The bill that was no doubt about to be handed to him.
"…Do either of you ever think about who has to pay for all this?"
A long silence.
Then, simultaneously, Shudu and Xue Tuzi turned their heads, looking absolutely anywhere but at him.
Xue Laohu groaned, slumping against the table.
Li Zhameng arrived at the table looking completely refreshed, the steam of the bath having done wonders to ease the tension from his body. The borrowed set of robes draped elegantly over his frame, the fabric cinched snugly at the waist, accentuating his lean form. His usually neatly tied hair, an ink-black waterfall, now cascaded down his back in silky waves, giving him an unexpectedly softer allure.
Xue Laohu, who had been sipping his tea with a furrowed brow, turned his gaze toward him. The moment his phoenix eyes landed on Li Zhameng, something inside of him faltered.
The dim candlelight accentuated the younger man's features, the delicate curve of his collarbone peeking from the loose folds of his robe. The small necklace around his neck shimmered a vibrant blue, pulsing softly like a heartbeat against his skin.
Xue Laohu opened his mouth, intending to say something—anything—but no words came out. He could only stare, utterly transfixed, his fan hovering uselessly in his hand.
"…Meng Meng?" he mumbled, voice barely above a whisper.
Li Zhameng's lips curled into a soft smile, his eyes gentle as he responded.
"Shizun…"
Xue Laohu unexpectedly stiffened, his grip on the fan tightening. Heat crept up his neck, pooling in his cheeks, and before he could stop himself, he snapped open the fan with a loud whffft, hastily covering the lower half of his face. His fingers trembled slightly as he fanned himself, desperate to cool the sudden warmth spreading through his body.
He had never seen Li Zhameng look like this before—calm, radiant, sensual in a way that was completely unintentional but devastatingly effective. It was too much.
"A-Alright! We should go!" he blurted, voice an octave higher than usual.
Spinning on his heel, he turned sharply, walking away with quick, almost frantic steps, doing everything in his power to put some distance between them.
Li Zhameng, who had just stepped forward to properly greet his Shizun, paused mid-step, his brows knitting together in slight confusion as Xue Laohu all but fled.
Before he could leave, a sharp voice rang out from the other side of the room.
"Hold it right there!"
Xue Laohu flinched, his fan snapping shut with a sharp clack. His shoulders stiffened as he slowly—very slowly—turned back around, already knowing exactly who was about to cause him more suffering.
The innkeeper stood in the middle of the room, arms crossed, an expression of barely restrained rage on his face. In one hand, he held a long sheet of parchment, the ink still drying on the neatly listed tally of destruction.
"Who," the innkeeper asked, voice low and dangerous, "is going to pay for the damages?"
Xue Laohu's eye twitched.
Behind him, Xue Tuzi lowered his head, his expression guilty as he fidgeted nervously with his sleeves. He shot his Shizun his best, most pitiful pleading eyes, hoping for some semblance of mercy.
Shudu, on the other hand, casually stretched his arms over his head and sauntered past the group, whistling as he made his way toward the door, making it abundantly clear that he had no intention of taking responsibility.
Xue Laohu inhaled deeply through his nose before stomping over to the innkeeper, snatching the parchment from his hands. His eyes flickered over the list, scanning each broken chair, shattered plate, overturned table—his patience unraveling with every item.
Then he reached the final cost.
1,247 silver taels.
The world tilted.
His vision blurred at the sheer magnitude of the number, and before he could stop himself, the floor seemed to rush up to meet him.
"Shizun!" Li Zhameng gasped, reaching out just in time to catch him by the arm.
Xue Tuzi, equally alarmed, rushed to his other side, gripping his sleeve to keep him from collapsing entirely.
Xue Laohu's mind whirred, scrambling for a way—any way—to escape this financial catastrophe.
If I just pretend I'm dead, maybe we can get out of this…
Unfortunately, the innkeeper was entirely unmoved.
"If you don't pay, I will be calling the authorities," he said firmly, arms crossed over his chest.
Xue Laohu groaned, rubbing his temples as he finally sat up, utterly defeated.
"Fine, fine! I'll pay for the damned damages," he grumbled, every word dripping with reluctant agony.
With a heavy heart, he reached for his pouch, his fingers lingering on the silver taels he had so painstakingly earned. One by one, he counted them out, each coin feeling like a tiny stab to his soul.
The moment the last coin left his hand, the innkeeper swiftly snatched the pouch away, his demeanor immediately shifting to one of satisfaction.
"Pleasure doing business with you," he said cheerfully, tucking the silver away.
Xue Laohu slumped against the table, his face buried in his arms.
"I'm never traveling with any of you again," he muttered into the wood, voice muffled with exhaustion.
Li Zhameng and Xue Tuzi exchanged glances. Shudu, from the doorway, let out an amused chuckle.
The journey back to Mount Dingbu was long, but for Xue Laohu, it felt even more agonizing. He kept his distance from Li Zhameng, deliberately walking ahead, keeping his gaze fixed on the road. His fan never left his hand, occasionally snapping open and shut in his nervous fidgeting.
He wasn't sure what was wrong with him—why his body reacted so inappropriately toward his own disciple. It was unnatural, wrong. He was his Shizun, his mentor. And yet…
Xue Laohu groaned in frustration, veering off the path for a moment. He approached a small stream, crouching by the edge before dunking his head straight into the ice-cold water. The shock of it sent a shiver through his spine, but at least it cooled the heat burning through him.
By the time they reached Mount Dingbu, the sky had begun to shift, the early morning sun stretching golden fingers over the horizon.
A group of disciples stood at the entrance, their expressions brightening as they spotted Xue Laohu.
"Grandmaster Xue! You've arrived," one disciple called, bowing deeply.
"You've come just in time for the celebration!" another added, cupping his hands together in a respectful gesture.
Xue Laohu arched a brow. He flicked open his fan, raising it lazily to shield half his face from the rising sun.
"Celebration?" he echoed, voice laced with mild disinterest.
"Yes," the first disciple confirmed enthusiastically. "It is Sect Leader Mao's 1,883rd birthday! The Mistress is preparing a grand banquet in his honor."
Xue Laohu gave a slow, tired nod, his shoulders slumping.
"Ah. Wonderful," he murmured, barely suppressing a yawn.
"You must be exhausted from your journey. Please, Grandmaster, take your rest."
Both disciples bowed again as Xue Laohu and the group made their way up toward his private courtyard.
As they ascended the stone steps, Li Zhameng had noticed his Shizun's had grown cold towards him and had wished to address it.
"Shizun…" His voice was soft, barely above a whisper, yet it made Xue Laohu flinch internally.
The golden sunlight bathed Li Zhameng's face in a warm glow, bringing out the rich emerald flecks in his eyes. His long, unbound black hair rustled gently in the breeze, strands falling over his cheek as he tucked them behind his ear. His expression was soft, almost vulnerable.
The softness of his gaze, the delicacy of his features, the way the wind played with his robe—all of it made him seem… sensual.
But Xue Laohu's eyes couldn't help but wander.
And then—he noticed.
The red marks on his neck and collarbone, faint but undeniable, remnants of the cruelty he had endured at his father's hands.
A pang of guilt struck Xue Laohu's chest, mixing with something else—something far more dangerous.
His throat went dry. His pulse quickened.
And then—the heat.
A deep, unbearable heat spread through his body, betraying him in ways he refused to acknowledge. His face burned. His ears turned a vivid shade of red. And a certain part of his lower body began to rise.
No. No. NO.
Xue Laohu's grip on his fan tightened, his mind going into full crisis mode.
Stay away. Stay away. Stay away!
Frantically, he snapped the fan open, shielding his face while simultaneously tugging at his robes in a desperate attempt to hide the problem brewing beneath them.
He turned sharply, voice coming out more panicked than intended—
"STAY AWAY!"
Li Zhameng froze mid-step.
Before he could say another word, Xue Laohu spun on his heel and ran, nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste to put as much distance as possible between them.
Li Zhameng remained rooted to the spot, his hands clenching at his sides.
His throat tightened, his chest aching as he lowered his gaze, he swallowed down the lump in his throat, watching in silent heartbreak as Xue Laohu disappeared into the distance.
Blah Blah Blah:
I wanted to give Meng Meng some character development his days obsessing over his Shizun are over. Let's say goodbye to the cute and clumsy white lotus flower disciple.