MO XI'S ABRUPT CHANGE in expression frightened Gu Mang. He hesitated before answering. "Princess... ?"
Mo Xi felt like all the blood in his body had rushed to his head. This single word was like a boulder crashing into the ocean, making his head ring so thunderously that it took him a moment to speak again. "Why—why did you... Why did you..."
"Why did I what?"
Mo Xi's fingertips felt cold. He desperately grabbed the teacup on the table, which barely concealed his trembling as he asked hoarsely, "Why did you call me that?"
"Oh, it's what Li Wei taught me. He said 'princess' means someone very respected and high up, someone who should be properly cared for." Gu Mang smiled. "I think you're just like that."
A long silence ensued.
"What's wrong?" Gu Mang asked.
It was like Mo Xi had fallen off the edge of a cliff to the bottom of a gorge. His trembling continued, but his excitement instantly cooled. He gritted his teeth and turned away. "Nothing."
Seconds went by and still Gu Mang looked perplexed. Mo Xi closed his eyes, and finally managed to scrape away the anguish hidden in his heart. He raspily changed the subject. "Drink your cabbage soup. Don't worry about me."
Gu Mang peered at the boiled napa cabbage in his bowl. "But the soup is gone."
Mo Xi made no reply. Gu Mang's gaze flitted around the table and landed on the bowl of peppercorn meatball soup in front of Mo Xi.
"You want to try mine?" Mo Xi asked.
Gu Mang nodded.
Mo Xi was in a mood, but it was a complex one; he didn't really want to get angry. He pushed the soup bowl toward Gu Mang. "There are whole peppercorns in here. They have a very strong flavor. Be careful."
Gu Mang took the bowl and tore his last flatbread into pieces, dipping them in the bowl to eat. He blew on the soup and used a spoon to carefully avoid the curled-up peppercorn husks, but inevitably, one slipped through his defenses and trespassed in his mouth. He didn't react at first, and even crunched the shell between his teeth.
The consequences were just as expected. An instant later, Gu Mang spat out the peppercorn shell, tearing up, his tongue red and stinging from the numbing spice. He shoved the bowl of soup away.
"It's poisonous."
Mo Xi was taken aback at first—wasn't Gu Mang able to handle spicy food? But he quickly realized that Gu Mang had developed his spice tolerance later in life; before, he wouldn't touch any food with the slightest hint of red. When the Liao Kingdom broke his mind, they'd probably reset all of his acquired tolerances as well.
This realization made Mo Xi's anxiety worse. Even now, he still harbored a sliver of hope that all of Gu Mang's bewilderment was feigned. But in all the days they'd spent together, Gu Mang's every move told him otherwise. The former Beast of the Altar had died. All Mo Xi could have or hate or lash out at was the handful of embers before him.
Mo Xi watched him in exasperation. "There's no poison."
Gu Mang stuck out his tongue, chagrin written all over his face. "I've been poisoned."
There was no point in trying to explain, so Mo Xi poured him a cup of cold jasmine tea. "If you drink this slowly, it'll cure the poison."
Gu Mang apprehensively accepted the cup of tea and sipped it with a frown.
"Better now?"
"Mn." Gu Mang nodded and looked hesitantly at the table laden with food. "I'm not eating anymore."
"Just don't eat the dishes that are poisoned."
Gu Mang pouted. "This place is no good. Let's not come back."
Mo Xi looked at Gu Mang's lips, bright red from the spice. An indescribable impulse surged in his heart. "Gu Mang," he said abruptly.
"Hm?"
"This was where I treated someone to a meal for the first time. Do you know who that person was?"
Gu Mang thought it over. "Me?"
Mo Xi's eyes brightened for a moment. But then he saw the confusion in Gu Mang's eyes and heard the question in his tone.
"Did I guess right?"
Mo Xi said no more. He silently closed his eyes and let out a soft sigh, leaving the question unanswered.
In the evening, after they finished their meal, these two old friends- turned-enemies strolled along the shore of Yanzhi Lake. Red lanterns hung over the bridge, casting a rosy glow as gentle as a dream over the water's surface. Boats slid past to anchor for the night. With the strike of a wooden oar, the dream shattered into glimmering fragments of light.
Gu Mang walked by Mo Xi's side. Mo Xi had bought him a steamed bun filled with chicken, pork, and bamboo shoots, a local specialty, and Gu Mang was tearing through it with gusto.
Mo Xi stopped walking and stared at the surface of the water. After a long while, as though still clutching at that last kernel of hope, but also as though mumbling without a care, he said, "If Lu Zhanxing hadn't died, would you still have gone to such lengths..."
"What lengths?"
Mo Xi watched the reflections in the water. "It's nothing. It's fine even if you've forgotten it all. As long as you're alive, there's still a chance things will change."
"Mn"
"Why 'mn'?"
"The madam at Luomei Pavilion told me I could say 'mn' to agree with other people. If I agree, people will be happy."
"Why bother trying to make me happy?" Mo Xi asked after a pause.
Gu Mang took another bite of his bun. "Because you're a good person."
Mo Xi stared at him in shock then coldly retorted, "You really don't know how to read people."
Gu Mang swallowed, his eyes pure and guileless as he gazed at Mo Xi, who stood amid the glowing lanterns and splashing oars. "Mn."
A pause. "Could you not do that? Especially with something like this?"
"Mn."
"...Forget it." After a beat, Mo Xi turned back to face Gu Mang, thoroughly vexed. "How am I good?"
"Hold on." As Gu Mang spoke, he stepped closer to Mo Xi, sniffing like a puppy at his face, neck, and ears. If Mo Xi's female admirers could've seen this, they would no doubt have been stupefied—the cold and aloof Xihe-jun actually letting someone get this close and act in a manner so strange and intimate? Didn't he usually throw people onto their backs and break their ribs?
But they only knew part of the story. Mo Xi certainly didn't like being touched by strangers, but Gu Mang was clearly an exception. Part of it was because he was now so naive now; everything he did was born of a childlike instinct, with no other motivations. If he was curious about something, he would put it in his mouth for a taste; if he wanted to understand something, he would move closer for a sniff.
But the other reason was that Mo Xi and Gu Mang had been inseparable since long, long ago. He had long grown used to him.
"There's a kind of smell on you," Gu Mang finally said. "Different from other people."
"What smell?" Mo Xi looked at him.
Gu Mang shook his head. "I don't know. But..." He paused, as if trying and failing to dredge an appropriate description from his sorry brain. "Very sweet. You smell like a spoonful of honey."
It was clear that Mo Xi didn't want to continue this bizarre conversation. "What else?" he asked.
Gu Mang held out the remaining half of the bun. "Only you would buy me this." He looked at Mo Xi, puzzled. "Why do you care so much?"
Mo Xi blinked, slightly startled. Was that written so vividly on his face? In the light of the lanterns reflected on the water, Gu Mang looked at him with those large, elegant eyes, ever so calm and peaceful.
Mo Xi shook his head and didn't answer the question. He only said, "You're the second person on earth to say I'm good."
"Who's the first?"
Mo Xi gazed at him. "Also you."
Gu Mang was stunned. "There's two of me?"
A pause. "That's not what I meant. Forget it—telling you is a waste of time anyway."
Gu Mang's shock dissipated. "Then you should go ask some other people. Many of them will also tell you you're good."
There was no one else he could ask. It had been a long time since he had allowed himself to speak his mind to someone else, or allowed anyone to share their innermost thoughts with him. Every person who had tried to get close to him had been pushed away by his icy detachment and bone- chilling coldness.
Mo Xi thought of himself in his youth, of Gu Mang washing dishes in that little restaurant, of the late emperor, of Mengze. He thought of those bygone battle fires at Dongting Lake, and of kneeling in front of Gu Mang like a beggar, pleading with him to turn back. The old scar on his chest started to ache dully. Those who had betrayed him and those he had betrayed all seemed to be washed away in the limpid waters of Yanzhi Lake.
He closed his eyes. For some reason, his heart throbbed bitterly. When he spoke again, even he was frightened by the hoarseness of his voice. "Gu Mang, did you know? There are actually many secrets between us that I've never told anyone else. I..."
He fell silent. He hadn't done this kind of thing in almost ten years. The words lodged in his throat, unable to pass the barrier of his teeth. Slowly, the impulse faded. He was like a vengeful ghost punished by having his tongue torn out. He could only swallow his bitterness back into his gut; he'd already grown used to it.
At this point, Gu Mang suddenly spoke. "Don't say it; I'm not listening."
Mo Xi looked up. "Why?"
Gu Mang brushed away strands of stray hair that the night wind had blown into his eyes. He leaned against one of the bridge's wooden pillars and looked up at Mo Xi. "Because you don't really want to tell me. If I really knew you, then I might remember it myself in the future. So there's no point." He covered his ears. "I'm not listening."
Mo Xi looked at Gu Mang, standing there with his hands clapped over his ears. After a beat of silence, he broke into laughter. It was his first true laugh in a long time, one that was genuine rather than scornful, taunting, perfunctory, or insincere. Mo Xi laughed long and hard, his back pressed to a wooden pillar. As Gu Mang watched him, he slowly pulled his hands away from his ears, and then raised them—this time, to touch Mo Xi's face.
His fingers were cold. For this, Mo Xi ought to have sharply rebuked him and pulled away. But against the backdrop of glowing lanterns and softly splashing oars, amid this anguish that had tormented him all day—or perhaps not just today, but ever since Gu Mang's defection—his lashes fluttered slightly, but he couldn't say anything harsh.
Wetness gathered at the corners of his eyes.
"Princess." Gu Mang murmured, and then said, inexplicably, "Can I have your name on the back of the plaque?"
"Because I seem to be a good person?"
He didn't expect Gu Mang to shake his head. "No," he said. "Because I think...I really did know you."
Mo Xi felt like sharp talons had wrapped around his heart. Even breathing hurt.
Gu Mang said, "I don't know what a 'lord' is. But...it sounds okay. I want it to be you."
Mo Xi stared at him, his feelings impossible to describe. His heart was filled with a mélange of emotions, piquant and volatile. He summoned all his restraint to say, quiet and slow, "You're far from worthy."
"What does 'worthy' mean?"
Mo Xi tried another tack. "What I mean is, you can't."
Gu Mang thought it over. "Then what do I do to become worthy?"
Mo Xi couldn't respond. He stared at Gu Mang and only asked, "Can't you tell that I hate you?"
"What's hate?" Gu Mang asked, lost.
"Look into my eyes. I hate that I can't drink your blood, tear off your skin, and torture you to the brink with my own hands, make you suffer until you beg for death." Mo Xi stared at him coldly as he enunciated each word. "That's hate."
Gu Mang stared hard into his eyes. They were very close, their eyes fixed on one another's, their breaths mingling. Mo Xi found it inappropriate and was about to push him away, when he heard Gu Mang say, "But...you look like you're in pain...like it really hurts.
"Hating me, it hurts you?"