CHU WANNING'S HEART juddered. There was nothing stopping them from returning to Sisheng Peak, yet here was Mo Ran using an excuse that even he found patently ridiculous to bring Chu Wanning to an inn. No matter how oblivious Chu Wanning might be, he couldn't miss Mo Ran's meaning.
Mo Ran was testing the waters, tentatively probing. If Chu Wanning were to shake his head no, Mo Ran wouldn't press him. But if he were to agree, then it would be a tacit admission that he was willing to…
…To do what exactly?
Chu Wanning didn't know, and even if he did, he couldn't bear to think about it. He felt his cheeks burn with a heat the rain couldn't allay. He lifted the wine jug by its slender neck, thinking to take another sip, but only dregs remained. The last drop of cool, heady pear-blossom white slipped down his throat. He looked at his feet, fingers pale against the jar's scarlet tassel.
Mo Ran wasn't fond of wine, but he unexpectedly asked, "Is there any left?"
"No."
"A shame," said Mo Ran. Dipping his head, he softly kissed Chu Wanning on the mouth. "Guess I'll only be able to get a taste like this, then."
Pear-blossom white wine was pungent and sweet, with a fragrant note of osmanthus. In the year Mo Ran turned thirty, he'd drunk it all night long on the rooftop after Chu Wanning's death. By the end, the wine was bitter in his mouth.
From then on, even after his rebirth, Mo Ran had little urge to drink again. The flavors had turned to bitterness.
He kissed Chu Wanning's cool lips, tentative at first. They touched and separated cautiously.
The rain crashed down, the world a blur.
There was no one else beneath the covered bridge, and the storm was like a curtain falling from the sky. Before they knew it their arms were around each other as they kissed eagerly, their lips and tongues tangling.
The mortifying sounds of their hungry kisses were drowned by the pounding of the rain on the beams above; Chu Wanning's ears were filled with it. The roar of the storm battered his heart like the clamoring drums and blaring horns of war.
Where the rain was cold, Mo Ran's breaths were blazing hot. His kisses wandered from Chu Wanning's lips up to his nose, his eyes, the space between his brows. They reached Chu Wanning's temples, and a wet, rough tongue licked his ear.
This kind of stimulation was more than Chu Wanning could bear.
He clenched his fists, every muscle tense, but he wasn't willing to let out a single sound.
Pressing closer, Mo Ran captured his earlobe and nuzzled the tiny mole behind it, earning a shiver from the man in his arms. In response, Mo Ran tightened his hold as though to crush him, as if he wanted to pulverize Chu Wanning into his body, to meld him into his very soul. "Shizun…" His voice was low and hoarse in Chu Wanning's ear.
His address was respectful, but his hands around Chu Wanning's waist were anything but. This young man had kept a lid on his passion for so long, but now it finally burst, the scalding water roiling. The pot had nearly boiled dry, yet the cookfire was burning hotter and hotter. That agonizing heat tormented him—it tormented both of them.
"Come with me, all right?"
At some point, Chu Wanning let Mo Ran grab his hand. They ran frantically through the pouring rain.
The rain was freezing, but it seemed warm as it landed on them.
Neither opened a barrier nor stopped to buy an umbrella. They let themselves be lashed by the rain and wind like two ordinary commoners with not a shred of spiritual energy between them. Chasing a trail of red lanterns swaying in the storm, they ducked into an inn.
The receptionist behind the desk stifled a yawn. Given the hard rain and the late hour, he'd likely expected no more travelers to come for the night. When two drenched men charged through the door, he jumped in fright.
Mo Ran was gripping Chu Wanning's wrist, his palm hot enough to turn all the rain to steam. He swiped at the rivulets running down his handsome face, and said impatiently, "We'll stay the night."
"Ah, yes, yes, here are keys for two rooms. That'll be…" "What?" At two rooms, Mo Ran grew more impatient. Throat bobbing, he rapped his strong, slender knuckles against the counter. "No, just one room."
The receptionist stared, his eyes flitting back and forth between Mo Ran and Chu Wanning.
Chu Wanning jerked his face aside. Cheeks burning, he wrenched his wrist out of Mo Ran's grip. "We need two rooms," he said.
The receptionist hesitated. "If it's too much money," he said placatingly, "one is fine."
"Two," Chu Wanning repeated with an air of finality, glaring daggers at the receptionist. The poor man took a step back, unsure how he had managed to anger this white-robed cultivator standing in the shadow of the first. He fearfully handed over both keys and accepted the money.
Chu Wanning slowed his breathing, feigning his usual calmness.
Unfortunately, he was soaked from head to toe. At that precise moment, a droplet rolled off the end of his dark brow straight into his eye. He blinked furiously through wet lashes. "I'm going to sleep. Get some ginger tea and dry towels before you come up."
His words were solemn and dignified. He made sure to take only one of the brass keys from Mo Ran as the receptionist looked on, then made his way up the stairs unaccompanied.
He was the picture of sodden virtue. Mo Ran said nothing, but inwardly, he stifled a laugh. Chu Wanning was so thin-skinned; no matter what, he was compelled to go through the motions in front of others.
Chu Wanning stepped through the door into a single room with a narrow bed. A glance at that bed and his throat went dry, while his face seemed to blaze with heat. He didn't dare look at it twice. He stood in the middle of the room with the candle unlit, at something of a loss. His mind was a murky haze. This was so absurd, reckless, unexpected. How did it end up like this… How did he end up standing here like this, dripping rain, about to engage in such folly? How did he…
The door opened behind him. Mo Ran.
Chu Wanning froze, fingers curling into fists in his sleeves. No matter how he tried to stop the trembling that wracked his body, he couldn't. Never in his life had he felt so lost and helpless, like a kite whose spool had been handed off to another. His palms were slick; whether with rain or sweat he didn't know.
The bar over the door fell into place. All the hairs on his body stood on end at that crisp click, like an executioner's blade pressed to his throat, reeking of iron. Like a predator sinking its fangs into prey, stinking of blood.
Chu Wanning was seized by the sudden urge to flee. Yet somehow, his face didn't show a thing.
"Why didn't you light the candle?" Mo Ran's voice was gentle and restrained—not overly urgent, though somewhat husky.
"…I forgot."
Mo Ran set the wooden tray down on the table and handed him a small bowl, warm to the touch. "The ginger tea you wanted. Drink it while it's hot."
He crossed to the window to light the candle. The rain hadn't let up outside, but for some reason, the grapevine-carved window was open.
From the dark interior of their room, they could see the flames of candles in nearby buildings as pinpoints of shuddering light.
Mo Ran stood before the open window, next to the delicate, crane- shaped candle holder. Against the backdrop of misty rain, his tall figure was refined and upright, a clean-lined silhouette. As he fiddled with the flint lighter, the sweep of his long lashes stood out starkly, like two black butterflies.
He was a cultivator; he could light a fire with a flick of his fingers, yet he insisted on using the most commonplace method, as any ordinary person might. Calm and steady, he reached for the candle. In the next instant, the wick would catch, and the wax would shed a melting scarlet tear.
The flint sparked. As he raised it to the wick, Chu Wanning called out, "Don't light it."
Mo Ran turned to him, hands hovering in midair. "What?"
Chu Wanning didn't know how to explain himself. All he could do was repeat stiffly: "Don't light the candle."
Bewildered, Mo Ran stopped. As he watched Chu Wanning standing woodenly in the dark, it slowly occurred to him: even Yuheng of the Night Sky would have moments of fear, objects of terror, domains of which he knew nothing.
Everyone Mo Ran had slept with in the past life, men and women alike, wanted Emperor Taxian-jun to look upon their faces. No one had ever asked him to put out the light. They would rather dispel the darkness with crimson candles, using every trick in the book, every manner of flirtation, to lure him onto the hook. But Mo Ran was never snared.
Strangely enough, it had all been the same, whether with Rong Jiu in the beginning or Song Qiutong at the end. He had pampered them and kept them around because they looked like Shi Mei, making such a show of his obsession it was as if he was putting on an act for someone else. But he never liked to look at their faces in bed. He always made them turn away, never kissing or caressing them. Amidst the tedious cadence of bodies colliding, his mind felt clear, as though he might suddenly wake up and realize it was meaningless.
He couldn't remember any of those smiling, fawning, climaxing, flushing faces beneath the candlelight. When he thought back on those love affairs, those romantic liaisons, they seemed to have nothing to do with love or romance. It was rather like he had fallen into a mire of chaos, covering himself in filth as he sank, giving himself up to the darkness, wishing for even the gaps between his bones to be stained black. So black he would no longer yearn for the light or dream of impossible salvation; so black it would kill his fantasy of embracing the very last flame he had in this world.
That would have been for the best. But despite everything, he couldn't restrain himself. No matter how much he told himself to stop thinking about him, to stop pining after him; no matter how he told himself that life was without hope and the world was nothing but darkness—even so, in the storm-lashed Wushan Palace, amid those tormentuous entanglements, he still extended shaking fingers and closed them around Chu Wanning's neck. He pinned him down, against the cold tiles, on the somber bluestone steps in the courtyard, between the sweat-tangled sheets. On the snow, in the hot spring, even on the great throne and in the ancestral temple. In the most dignified and solemn places, those places most worthy of respect, he took him while studying his face; mouthing his neck, his cheeks, his lips; chanting his name. He took him apart.
Back then, Chu Wanning had surely also wanted darkness, had wanted the candles to be extinguished. He surely hadn't wanted any light.
But back then, Chu Wanning hadn't said so; he wouldn't say so. He wouldn't ask for anything at all.
Now that he thought of it, during his eight long years of imprisonment, Chu Wanning had only asked Mo Ran for something twice—once at the very beginning and once at the very end. The first, when Mo Ran had stepped across the threshold of Wushan Palace, was for Mo Ran to spare Xue Meng. The second, before he left the world for good, was for Mo Ran to spare himself.
Why else, unless Chu Wanning had lost all hope…
Mo Ran put down the flint and steel. He didn't speak for a long time—so long that enough tension bled out of Chu Wanning's body to ask, voice soft, "What's wrong?"
"…Nothing," Mo Ran responded. His voice was warm, throaty, and soaked with bitterness.
He stepped over to Chu Wanning and put his arms around him, gathering up that solitary figure in the darkness. The damp of the rain lingered on both of them. Holding him, Mo Ran spoke at last: "Wanning."
In the moment of silence that followed, Mo Ran had a sudden, destructive urge to tell him everything. But his throat was choked, like a fishbone was stuck in it; he couldn't say the words. He genuinely couldn't make a sound. This warmth right now was far too precious, to both him and Chu Wanning. His sins and regrets were innumerable, but he didn't want to speak of them—he couldn't speak of them. He didn't want to wake up. He wanted to keep dreaming until daybreak came to slit his throat.
In the absence of light or flame, Mo Ran held Chu Wanning in the darkness, kissing him carefully, slowly drawing him in. The room was quiet, cloaked in a stillness the rainfall couldn't disturb. They could hear each other's breaths and heartbeats, the sounds of their lips meeting and parting, the soft, slick noises when they shifted.
Chu Wanning strove to keep his breathing even, but the heaving of his chest grew urgent under Mo Ran's mouth and hands. Chu Wanning himself was a tall, well-built man, but Mo Ran, towering over him, could so easily cage him in his arms. His figure was a broad and imposing mountain as he pressed Chu Wanning to his searing chest.
Those soft, tentative kisses grew deeper, more searching. Guiding Chu Wanning's lips open, Mo Ran's rough tongue licked into his mouth, insistent as a parched man taking a first drink of sweet dew, or a man on fire begging for water to douse the flames. But to Mo Ran, Chu Wanning's breath was not fresh water but pine oil. A splash sent the flames roaring toward the sky.
It was unclear who started taking off the other's clothes. Their sighs filled the night, mixed with the soft sounds of kiss after kiss swallowed between lips and teeth. Whether because they yanked open their sashes so hard it hurt, or because the thrum of anticipation was simply too intense, faint moans escaped between the minutes. More frequent were the rough pants of men consumed by desire. Chu Wanning's inner robe had been pulled open, and he was still getting used to the cool air on his skin when he felt Mo Ran lean down to kiss his neck, then his collarbone, his lips closing around a nipple, wet and warm…
Chu Wanning gasped for air, throwing his head back in humiliated arousal. He was blushing furiously, but they were fortunately surrounded by darkness. Although he knew Mo Ran couldn't see his flaming cheeks, he said softly, "The window…"
"What?"
Mo Ran raised his head hazily, meeting Chu Wanning's downcast, dewy eyes. He had intended to let Chu Wanning finish his thought, but this glance was enough to make his scalp go numb. Blood pounded in his ears, and an irrepressible lust washed over him as he leaned in to take Chu Wanning's lips once more. He plundered that mouth again thoroughly before finally letting it part from his own. Catching his breath, he snuck in a final peck before asking hoarsely for the second time, "What?"
"The window…" Chu Wanning's heart was racing. He hadn't found the knack of breathing during these passionate encounters; he felt a little lightheaded. "You haven't closed the window."
Mo Ran stepped over to the window and shut it, cutting them off from the last glimmers of light outside. The room was plunged into darkness, so the flames of desire could burn all the more brightly.
Every drop of Mo Ran's blood was on fire. Bodies colliding once more, the pair tumbled onto the bed, drawing a low groan from its aged frame.
Giving Chu Wanning no time to react, Mo Ran pinned him under his body to pull off that last snow-white layer, already askew. He felt Chu Wanning shaking beneath him, not unlike the first time they had slept together in the past life. Tremors wracked his body, no matter how he tried to suppress them. Heartsore, Mo Ran cupped Chu Wanning's face in his palm, dropping kisses on his eyelids, his lips, his jaw. He murmured hoarsely into Chu Wanning's ear, "Don't be scared."
"I'm not… I'm not scared…"
Mo Ran took his trembling hand, lacing their fingers together. His warm breath puffed against Chu Wanning's earlobe as he soothed, "I've got you… Good, that's it. You're doing great…"
Chu Wanning wanted to reply, to fire back a fierce retort. Even if he could only manage a few words, that would be sufficient. But he couldn't speak at all, as though his brain was made of wood. All he felt was Mo Ran's weight on top of him, Mo Ran's callused hands wandering across his waist, his back. The feeling was unbearable; he arched his spine against it, inadvertently pressing into Mo Ran's chest. Mo Ran's inner robe had long been stripped away, leaving his sturdy torso bare. It radiated such terrifying, powerful heat that Chu Wanning felt he might melt away entirely.
Their sweat-slick bodies twined together, each brush of skin on skin sending sparks flying. Their breaths echoed in the room, heavier and deeper, encumbered by desire. However they kissed, it wasn't enough to quench this incurable thirst.
Hazy images flashed through Chu Wanning's mind—writhing bodies, boneless legs, scarlet canopies and crimson sheets. The scenes from those dreams came suddenly into focus. Mo Ran was gripping him by the waist, hips ramming against him as he fucked him deep and hard. Whether due to pleasure or something else, Mo Ran's handsome face looked sinister in this dream, a feral glint in his eyes. Chu Wanning was ignorant of sex or romance, and he'd never second-guessed the origins of these visions. He imagined it was human nature that the awakening of desire should provoke such realistic dreams.
But Mo Ran knew nothing of those visions; he thought Chu Wanning wholly oblivious of congress between men and women, to say nothing of the ways in which two men made love. He worried he might startle or hurt Chu Wanning, so he caressed him tenderly, moving slow. He didn't want Chu Wanning to suffer in this lifetime.
Lust's hold on them tightened as they kissed, hands roaming. Chu Wanning finally couldn't take it; he gripped Mo Ran's fingers with one hand and the bedding with the other. Cheeks aflame, he longed to reach down and take himself in hand, but how could he do something so shameful in front of the person he loved? He was so hard, the evidence of his arousal straining against his underclothes. Chu Wanning felt mortified; the ache was nearly unbearable. He wanted so badly to touch himself, yet he refused to give in. His narrowed phoenix eyes misted, everything blurring within…
Gradually, his awareness faded until he knew nothing at all.
Somehow, in his bones, he seemed to understand what he was supposed to do, how two men were supposed to be together. Love and desire filled his breast, and he loved this man on top of him very much. He wanted to dive into the ocean of desires with him, to sink into the abyss of want and never surface.
Scattered visions flitted across his eyes once more, a swirl of dancing colors. How strange… Why did it look like they were on Sisheng Peak…in Loyalty Hall…
A spark of realization flickered to life in his mind, only to fade a breath later. He saw Mo Ran sitting on the throne in Loyalty Hall, where the sect leader received guests. This was a dignified place, yet somehow, he was straddling Mo Ran on that seat as Mo Ran's arms supported him. He was stark naked, every inch of him shamefully bare, while Mo Ran was dressed neatly save for the front of his pants, pulled down just enough.
Even so, whatever he exposed was hidden beneath Chu Wanning's open legs.
Kissing him, Mo Ran canted his hips upward as he stared unblinkingly into Chu Wanning's face. "Does it feel good?" he asked.
Chu Wanning watched himself shake his head in anguished silence.
Mo Ran's fingers slipped into his mouth and pried open his jaw as though to pull the moans from his throat. "That's it, I want to hear you scream."
But Chu Wanning wouldn't. Only a broken whimper escaped.
Mo Ran remained fully seated inside Chu Wanning. He gripped Chu Wanning's waist, then slid his hand down to his ass and pinched it hard. "Go on then," he demanded, voice a harsh rasp.
"No…"
Mo Ran grabbed his ass and lifted him up and down, a slow torture. That maddening friction drove Chu Wanning insane; he felt he was about to be run through. "I can't… I don't want to…"
"Who cares what you want?" The man on the throne laughed coldly. "Aren't you enjoying this? Look, you're hard."
In the inn, Chu Wanning lay on the bed, dazed and shivering, painfully hard. These sights and sounds came to him as through a murky glass, hallucinations born of his overwhelming arousal. What was going on… What to do…
The images smeared, but he could still see Mo Ran viciously thrusting into him from atop the throne, pulling out nigh completely before burying himself again. It was too much. In the end, Chu Wanning couldn't take it; sprawled upon Mo Ran's lap, he gasped and moaned, "Ah… Ahhh…"
Mo Ran, too, was panting as he fucked him. Everything was so blurry… He couldn't see…
It was an illusion, a hallucination. It couldn't be real, so it had to be fake. It was an overlapping dreamscape, an unending nightmare. Yet that overpowering, irrepressible feeling of invasion was so vivid. Was it… supposed to be like this?
Chu Wanning's phoenix eyes were half-lidded, glassy and unfocused. "In me…" he muttered.
Mo Ran jumped. Chu Wanning knew how sex worked?! But how?
Here was a man who had never so much as looked at erotic pictures, untouched as a sheet of white paper—how would he know?
"Is that…what we're supposed to do?" Chu Wanning haltingly asked the man on top of him, his face so red it could drip blood.
"Where…where did you learn that?"
Chu Wanning couldn't possibly say he had dreamt it—how indecent, how depraved would that make him sound? "I accidentally saw it in the library…" he mumbled. "Someone shelved a book in the wrong place," he added quickly.
Naturally, Mo Ran had no reason to doubt him. Feeling both relief and an overwhelming fondness, he kissed the corner of Chu Wanning's mouth, then the tip of his nose. "Don't be hasty."
Chu Wanning's eyes flew open. Hasty? Who said he was hasty?! His head throbbed with fury and embarrassment, but Mo Ran was still holding him, chest pressed against his own. He stroked Chu Wanning's temples and said softly, "It'll hurt."
"Never mind then," Chu Wanning replied without hesitation, eager to save face.
Mo Ran chuckled, low and mellifluous. "Don't worry about me," he said. "Tonight…" His voice faded.
Chu Wanning blinked. What about tonight? He watched Mo Ran prop himself up on sturdy arms, pulling back to gaze at him from above. Mo Ran slowly sat up and shifted down on the bed. Nothing like this had ever happened in Chu Wanning's dreams. What was Mo Ran going to do?
"Tonight, I just want to make you feel good."
Before Chu Wanning realized what was happening, Mo Ran had loosened the ties of Chu Wanning's underclothes to reveal his straining erection. His gaze sparked with ardent affection as he leaned forward and took Chu Wanning into his mouth.
"Ahh—!" A shudder raced down Chu Wanning's spine as he cried out in surprise, breath running out of him. What was this sensation?
How… How could this be possible… It was so dirty…
But it felt so good to have his beloved's warm mouth around him.
Mo Ran kept his teeth carefully out of the way as he gently licked and sucked.
At Chu Wanning's hitched breaths and low pants, Mo Ran raised his eyes to gaze at him indulgently. Taxian-jun had never done anything like this; he had never even considered that someday, he might want to do something like this. But now, he was fully willing, smitten—delighted to do so.
"Don't… How could you… Quick, spit it out." Face crimson, Chu Wanning bit his lip and shook his head back and forth. His phoenix eyes, usually so sharp, showed intoxication and panic.
How cute.
Mo Ran took him deeper in, past his throat. Chu Wanning couldn't bear it. Arching his back, he tossed his head back, panting for dear life, eyes losing focus. At length, Mo Ran pulled away, drool dripping from the corner of his mouth. Eyes dancing, he asked, "Babe, do you like it?"
Chu Wanning felt like a skyful of fireworks was going off in his head. Hearing Mo Ran address him like this felt both mortifying and sweet, a combination that made his already sluggish limbs go weak. How could he… He was Mo Ran's shizun, he was so much older than him, he was the Beidou Immortal, he…
"Ah…" Another low gasp shattered the room's darkness.
Mo Ran's rough, clever tongue lapped at the plump head of Chu Wanning's cock, running along those places Chu Wanning himself had scarcely touched. The sensation was enough to make Chu Wanning weep. He wanted to control himself, but he wasn't guarded or defiant, as he had been in the past life. This time, he entangled with Mo Ran of his own volition, and therefore didn't resist. His throat bobbed, hoarse cries leaking from parted lips.
He closed his mist-filled eyes. When Mo Ran put his mouth around him again, this time moving rhythmically up and down, Chu Wanning reached out and buried his slender fingers in Mo Ran's dark hair, weakly trying to push him away.
"Don't… Don't do that… That's dirty… Ahh…"
But Mo Ran only raised his glistening eyes, desire heavy in his gaze. "I like you, and I want to do this for you—I want you to feel good… How could it be dirty?" He laid a gentle kiss on that achingly hard shaft, lips ghosting over where the vein on the underside stood out. "Every inch of you is perfect."
Mo Ran dipped his head back down to continue sucking Chu Wanning off. Chu Wanning had no experience; he was powerless against this onslaught of pleasure. After all, it was his first time. It wasn't long before he reached his climax, unable to stop himself from bucking up into Mo Ran's throat as he came.
Surely this was very uncomfortable for Mo Ran?
Chu Wanning's world was a snow-white haze, all unfocused save for the sharp ecstasy of that moment. He had never conceived of such intense pleasure, to say nothing of experiencing it himself.
As bliss threatened to drown him, his mind came vaguely back to what he had done at the very end. He wanted to sit up and wipe Mo Ran's mouth, to smooth his hand over his cheek and kiss him, to express his gratitude. But he was sapped of strength, legs numb and tingling. He couldn't get up.
By the time he looked up through trembling lashes, Mo Ran had swallowed. Chu Wanning's thoughts stalled completely, the back of his neck prickling and his blood pulsing a steady beat.
Mo Ran pulled himself up and draped his warm bulk over Chu Wanning's still-heaving chest, his hand coming up to stroke Chu Wanning's face. His hot, rock-hard erection pressed into Chu Wanning's abdomen, and his eyes were stained red, almost bestial. But, as always, his gaze on Chu Wanning was tender.
"I love you."
I really, really, really love you so much. With reckless ambition, with boundless contrition; bearing the weight of my guilt and sins, yet unwilling to give up; selfishly, desperately, ardently, hungrily—I love you.