WHEN HE RETURNED to his senses and could finally comprehend his surroundings, Chu Wanning fuzzily realized they were no longer in that thronging crowd. Secreted in the nearest copse of trees, they were kissing passionately, panting hotly as their mouths opened to one another with a searing thirst.
They had craved each other for so long. Their kisses were without care for technique—urgent, impatient, even frantic. Their throats bobbed as they swallowed, their mouths meeting with such bruising need that they drew blood, but neither of them noticed; neither of them could stop.
Mo Ran had Chu Wanning shoved against a tree, the rough bark digging into Chu Wanning's shaking back. There seemed to be string music in the distance, but it was unimportant. All other sounds, whether near or far, high or low, were broken and shattered—the only noises that came with clarity were those of their rough breathing. Their lips and tongues tangled, shamelessly entwined.
Shamelessly…
Chu Wanning stubbornly refused to let Mo Ran lead. But he'd ever been abstinent, and Mo Ran's unleashed desire was vivid and terrifying, like a ferocious beast baying for his blood, lunging to tear out his throat.
He didn't know how he'd become like this, or how they'd gotten this far. He didn't know whether this was right or wrong, or what would happen next. In the present moment, this rule-following, ascetic, restrained, and lonely man who always planned his next hundred steps in advance seemed to have been wholly ravaged. All that remained was his bone-deep obstinance, his supporting driftwood amidst the choppy seas of desire. He refused to show vulnerability or weakness. Even if his spine was prickling and his soul was dissolving, he'd still rather throw himself forward than be a limp plaything, ripe for the plucking.
Alas, though he had ambition enough, his skills left much to be desired. So much so that Mo Ran's mouth was soon scraped raw—Chu Wanning didn't mind his strength and bit the tip of Mo Ran's tongue, filling his mouth with the tang of blood. So much so that as his breaths came quicker and his face flushed redder, every inhalation became difficult.
In the end, Mo Ran had to laugh; he found Chu Wanning, who was doing his best but whose skills were awful, perfectly adorable. His cold, hard heart had melted, becoming a rippling pool of spring water, an endless expanse of lake that glimmered with golden waves, soft as flowing silk.
When they parted, a gossamer thread of spit connected their mouths. Their lips were red and wet, their eyes shining with tenderness and desire. Mo Ran's voice was thick with arousal. He stared down into Chu Wanning's eyes, the rough pads of his fingers caressing Chu Wanning's cheek.
Chu Wanning knew his technique was so poor it could make one's hair stand on end, but he refused to admit it. Narrowing his eyes, he asked, caustic, "What are you laughing at?" Mo Ran didn't answer, eyes sparkling with amusement. Chu Wanning's temper flared. "Was I…not good?"
Mo Ran's mirth finally showed at the corners of his mouth. He embraced Chu Wanning once more, this time face-to-face. With two equally angular men holding each other, it wasn't as seamless as an embrace between a man and a woman, but this friction created sparks that were brighter, cinders that burned even hotter. "Not at all. You were great." Mo Ran nuzzled the top of his head, then whispered into his ear, "Shizun is the best…"
"Then why are you laughing?"
But Mo Ran only chuckled again. His chest was blazing, hot and hard, but his heart was soft, gentling to a warm glow. "Laughter isn't the only reaction I'm having."
It took Chu Wanning a moment to grasp the implication. As Mo Ran pulled him closer, as they went from merely embracing from the waist up to having their whole bodies entwined, he sensed this man's threatening, ferocious desire hard against his skin, straining in time with their breaths.
The sensation was so sharp, so intense, that his scalp prickled and his heart beat faster; he shivered despite the heat as his throat tightened and his mouth went dry. Chu Wanning abruptly remembered how domineering, how strong, and how ruthless the gentle-looking man before him actually was. He remembered that his blood and flesh were both life-threatening and soul-destroying.
Chu Wanning broke out in goosebumps. He suddenly wanted to push Mo Ran away, but before he could raise a hand, Mo Ran's hot mouth had captured his once more, catching his lips between his own and sucking. Every breath was an inferno; with every rise and fall of Mo Ran's chest, his body pressed against Chu Wanning's through their clothes. Chu Wanning could hardly think past the terrifying urgency of it. Mo Ran's tongue invaded his mouth, kissing him hungrily, drunkenly, grinding against him. In the end, there was nothing in Chu Wanning's head but a vast blank; even his legs were numb. He shivered at those sensations, at that unfamiliar weakness, at the heat and hardness, at that scalding tide of passion.
That night, Chu Wanning had no recollection of returning to Sisheng Peak. He felt wooden, mindless; the only thing he remembered was how they had embraced, panting, in the dark before parting at the Red Lotus Pavilion. They'd kissed for a long time, wanting nothing more than to swallow their beloved along with their lust. It wasn't enough… Nothing was enough…
In the haze, he remembered Mo Ran quietly calling out to him, asking Chu Wanning to let him spend the night in the Red Lotus Pavilion. Chu Wanning must have used the last of his lucidity to collect himself, gasping for air as he refused.
He wasn't sure why he said no. Perhaps out of an inexplicable sense of pride, or a discomfort born of having been alone so long. Or perhaps it was plain stubbornness, or that he found all of it absurd. This new development was tempting, but it had come on far too quickly.
Having found a reprieve from lust, a reprieve from Mo Ran, Chu Wanning pushed open the pavilion doors. As he walked inside, he understood for the first time what it meant to be afraid of even turning his head. He knew his bowstring had already been drawn to its limit. If he turned around now, he'd lose all control, desire spilling past the dam.
Never again would he have the will to push away the man before him.
They would both be reduced to ash, leaving nothing behind.
When he went to bathe and get changed, Chu Wanning discovered his underclothes were damp. That musky scent made his face go scarlet. He didn't know what to do; even those sharp phoenix eyes were red at their tips, blushing the soft red of haitang flowers.
He stood there in a daze for a long interval, helplessly thinking: How did this happen? How did it come to this? All his life, he'd never lost control or been moved like this. Never.
Fuck. What was he supposed to do?
In the past, whenever Chu Wanning faced a difficult problem, his first recourse was to seek the answer in books. Thus he had always been widely read, his mind stuffed full of all sorts of texts. Now, for the first time, those countless scrolls were of no use to him. He was caught unprepared; he didn't know a thing about what he should do or how he should respond.
Thankfully, Mo Ran knew him all too well. After Chu Wanning's first refusal, he realized how lost and anxious Chu Wanning was, and he didn't press him for more. But the intimacy they shared was no longer limited to clasped hands. They kissed passionately in the alley behind Mengpo Hall, and nuzzled, whispering in each other's ears, in the dead of night in some deserted forest. Mo Ran wasn't one for sweet nothings, and sometimes he only spoke when Chu Wanning asked a question. But his eyes were eloquent, filled with every endearment and tender emotion. He was just too dumb to express them—or express them well, at least.
Mo Ran often chose action over speech. And for some reason, Chu Wanning felt Mo Ran had an uncanny knack for sensing his wants. They'd shared their feelings mere days ago, but sometimes, Chu Wanning had the impression that Mo Ran had already spent many, many years by his side.
As the weeks passed, they spent more and more time kissing, but it became less and less effective at dampening those flames of desire. They were insatiable, their blood running hot at each parting. This posed little problem for Chu Wanning. He'd followed an ascetic cultivation path for many years and was possessed of exceptional strength of will. Mo Ran was a rather different story. He cultivated a method entirely different from Chu Wanning's, and he was young and red-blooded. He had to wait before standing after almost every one of their rendezvous. It was too obvious otherwise; his clothes couldn't hide it at all. Someone was bound to notice. He was enduring too much torment indeed.
One particular evening, the two had snuck off after dinner to tryst in a deserted area for most of an hour. All the elders were to meet later that night. Considering the time, Chu Wanning decided it was getting late, and told Mo Ran he had to go. But when Mo Ran considered the time, he felt they still had plenty, and refused to let Chu Wanning leave.
Mo Ran's method of refusal was rather crude: he said not a word but simply kissed Chu Wanning again.
Several large, abandoned garden stones were scattered throughout this part of the forest. Mo Ran was sitting on one, holding Chu Wanning on his lap so they were face-to-face. Most people in Mo Ran's position would find themselves looking up at their partner, but Mo Ran was so tall that he and Chu Wanning were the same height like this; he wasn't disadvantaged at all.
Their searing kisses continued as Mo Ran's mouth moved from Chu Wanning's lips to his neck. When he nipped at Chu Wanning's throat, the sound of Chu Wanning's low panting awakened new desperation, as if Mo Ran's heart had been set aflame.
Chu Wanning couldn't bear it either. He wanted to struggle free, to leave, but his limbs were soft, and his legs wouldn't obey his commands. Mo Ran had been very fond of this position recently because he could hold him so close. As dizzying tension stretched between them, Chu Wanning could imagine how thrilling this scene would be without their clothes in the way.
Perhaps they'd really reached the precipice; even the most fervent kisses weren't enough to sate their desire. Each one added fuel to the fire, stoking the flames higher and hotter.
When Mo Ran finally let Chu Wanning's lips part from his own, his eyes were wet and his breathing was rough, the jut of his throat bobbing sensually. He stared at Chu Wanning with a single-minded intensity, as if he wanted to say something—but he never did. He merely bit viciously back down. And it was indeed a bite, teeth and all. Chu Wanning found it both painful and stimulating, like the quivering ache of a needle inserted precisely into the acupoint.
Mo Ran was bound by his love. Broken noises issued from his throat as he embraced the man in his arms, caressing that fall of inky locks. His shizun was so good. He only wanted to show him the most tender, truehearted adoration. At the same time, his shizun was so enticing. He only wanted to viciously, forcefully bully him. In the still evening air, his primal breaths came heavier and heavier.
Closing trembling lashes, Chu Wanning tilted his face up. It felt awful— these embraces and kisses were not nearly enough. He was in distress, to say nothing of the young man holding him. The ends of Mo Ran's eyes were crimson and mist-dampened. "Shizun…" he said, voice low and hoarse, filled with an enduring hurt.
Chu Wanning said nothing. "Please, I can't take it anymore…"
What would he do if he couldn't take it anymore? Chu Wanning
thought of those fragmented dreams and a shiver ran up his spine. He made no sound, but his ears had gone scarlet. What would Mo Ran do…if he couldn't take it anymore…
Before Mo Ran captured his slick and swollen lips once more, Chu Wanning said softly, nearly inaudibly, "Then…not here."
Not here meant there could be more, as long as it was elsewhere. Mo Ran's head shot up, shock and delight mingling on his features. He pressed yet another ferocious kiss to Chu Wanning's lips, then stood, scooping Chu Wanning up in his arms.
The shame of it ran through Chu Wanning. "Put me down!" he snapped, furious.
Mo Ran set him down but didn't forget to kiss him. "Where does Shizun want to go?"
Before Chu Wanning could answer, a rustling came from the bushes nearby. Stunned, his mind cleared, and he shoved Mo Ran away.
In the moment they separated, they spied someone walking toward them from the depths of the bamboo forest. The lantern in the newcomer's hands swayed, and his robes fluttered in the breeze. After a long beat of silence, a voice rang out. Although he seemed to be trying to hide it, it was full of surprise and confusion: "What…are you two doing here?"