AFTER THAT DAY, Chu Wanning and Mo Ran had no more opportunities to meet in private. The rain that had started that night continued to plague Sichuan, uncanny in its perpetuity. Dead fish and shrimp floated on the surging rivers outside Baidi City, and aquatic beasts dragged themselves up the riverbanks and roamed the city streets. The elders and disciples of Sisheng Peak were dispatched on endless exorcism missions that sent them rushing from village to village. Both Chu Wanning and Mo Ran were powerful cultivators, and Xue Zhengyong didn't waste their abilities by doubling them up. One was sent off to Three Gorges, while the other went to Yizhou.
Countless beasts had been trapped within the Golden Drum Tower over the centuries of Rufeng's existence. In a single day, all had been unleashed upon the world again, creating chaos everywhere. Outside of Sichuan, grisly cases of demon beasts killing and eating civilians cropped up even in the once-peaceful lands under protection of the upper cultivation realm: Yangzhou, Leizhou, Xuzhou. The sects sent so many members that the investigation into Xu Shuanglin's whereabouts slowed to a crawl.
Mo Ran was possessed of astonishing spiritual energy and had plenty of experience exorcising demons. He settled the case in Yizhou in just four days and hurried back to Sisheng Peak. Upon hearing that Chu Wanning had returned as well, he was naturally delighted. He rushed to the Red Lotus Pavilion without stopping to rest.
He found its doors were shut tight against him. On inquiry, Xue Zhengyong replied in confusion, "Yuheng's cultivating in seclusion— didn't he tell you?"
"Again?" Mo Ran was shocked. "Was Shizun injured?"
"What do you mean? It's because of his cultivation method—he has to go into seclusion every seven years. You helped take care of him last time. Have you already forgotten?"
Mo Ran had. At that time, he had only been Chu Wanning's disciple for around six months. Chu Wanning had explained he'd been reckless when cultivating in his youth and injured himself. Though it wasn't a serious ailment, it required him to cultivate in seclusion for ten days once every seven years. During those ten days, Chu-zongshi's cultivation withered, leaving him powerless, a mere mortal. He had to meditate in silence for his body to recover, and only left that state for two hours each day, during which he could drink some water and eat a little. Other than that, he absolutely mustn't be disturbed or, heaven forbid, injured. To that end, Chu Wanning surrounded the Red Lotus Pavilion with the most powerful barriers he possessed before beginning this ritual, allowing only Xue Zhengyong, Xue Meng, Shi Mei, and Mo Ran to enter and see him safely through this challenging period.
The last time Chu Wanning had gone into seclusion, tensions between teacher and student were high from the flower-plucking incident. Mo Ran had just been punished and felt horribly disillusioned, so he hadn't cared for Chu Wanning during his seclusion at all. He had instead run off to help his uncle tidy the library. As he thought back on it, unease rose in Mo Ran's heart. "I'll go see him," he hastily said.
"There's no need," said Xue Zhengyong. "Before he went in, he said we would do the same thing as the last time. Xue Meng will stand guard for the first three days, Shi Mei the next three, and you'll only need to do the last four."
"I just want to see him…"
"What for?" Xue Zhengyong smiled. "Didn't Meng-er and Shi Mei handle it perfectly well the last time? What're you so concerned about?
Besides, if you go while Meng-er's there, you know he'll end up talking to you. We can't disturb Yuheng with the racket."
Mo Ran agreed and promised to wait. But he couldn't sleep that night. The thought of Xue Meng and Chu Wanning alone together in the Red Lotus Pavilion made his heart twinge with an unbearable jealousy. Of course he knew Xue Meng was an innocent soul with no interest in men, but he was bothered and uncomfortable—he just was. After tossing and turning half the night, he only managed to sleep for a handful of hours before daybreak.
Upon waking, Mo Ran felt he couldn't go on like this. He desperately wanted to see Chu Wanning, even if only a peek from a distance.
The Red Lotus Pavilion was closed and sealed with barriers, but Mo Ran was Chu Wanning's disciple—the barriers couldn't stop him. The door of green bamboo was basically decorative. Using his qinggong, Mo Ran pushed off his toes in a leap that landed him nimbly within the courtyard.
It was always Chu Wanning's way to meditate in one of the green bamboo pavilions built over the lotus pond. Mo Ran reasoned this time would be no different. He sought out that elegant pavilion rising over the rippling waters and the lotus leaves, its gauze hangings fluttering in the wind. As expected, Chu Wanning sat in the center, white robes a pool around him.
Xue Meng stood at his side. The sun was shining brightly, and he had tied up one of the snowy gauze panels so the sunlight could warm his shizun as well. The wintry morning light spilled into the pavilion, shining down on Chu Wanning's pallid face. A flush slowly appeared on his cheeks as he sensed the warmth even in his trance.
After a while, the repeated rounds of internal energy circulation left sweat beading on Chu Wanning's brow. Xue Meng wiped it for him with a snowy handkerchief kept nearby. Once done, he felt compelled to look up. "That's weird," he mumbled, glancing left and right. "Why does it feel like someone's glaring at me?"
Mo Ran wasn't glaring. He was staring. He looked calm, but his heart was thundering. Hadn't Xue Meng spent a fraction too long wiping Chu Wanning's brow with the handkerchief? Hadn't he been a little too close, his gaze a little too intimate? He silently heaped all sorts of baseless accusations upon Xue Meng's head. He was frustrated, he was annoyed.
Mo Ran couldn't bear another minute of it. Why should he make himself suffer like this? He turned to leave. But in his preoccupation, he failed to muffle his footsteps.
Xue Meng instantly hurled a cold-glinting throwing star filled with spiritual energy toward the sound. "Who's there?!" he cried.
The throwing star was nothing; Mo Ran could catch it bare-handed. But Xue Meng's shout made his heart jump up into his throat. He hastily leapt from the bamboo forest and over the lotus pond, landing softly within the pavilion.
Xue Meng's eyes widened in shock. "What are you—"
"Shh." Mo Ran slapped a hand over his mouth, keeping his voice at a whisper. "Why are you so loud?"
"Mmmph!" Xue Meng struggled before finally tearing himself from Mo Ran's grip. Face flushed, he swiped at his tousled hair in a huff and snapped, "You've got some nerve asking me that! What were you looking at, skulking around like a thief in the forest?"
"I didn't want you to start shouting—like you are right now." "It's not like Shizun can hear!" Xue Meng exclaimed. "There's a silencing spell at work! Can't you see Shizun's already cast it on himself?
Unless you undo it, he won't hear you even if you scream into his ear…"
Xue Meng kept babbling as Mo Ran blinked in astonishment. "Silencing spell? Then why did Uncle say he didn't want me to disturb you two?"
"Dad probably thought you were too tired after returning from Yizhou and wanted you to rest," Xue Meng said in exasperation. "And you believed him? Why didn't you take a moment to think—when has Shizun ever not cast the silencing spell on himself so we'd feel more relaxed around him? You're seriously so stupid."
Mo Ran was speechless.
Seeing that Mo Ran was about to sit down, Xue Meng stopped him. "Oi, what d'you think you're doing?"
"In that case, I'll stay here too."
"Who wants you to stay? It's my turn for the first three days—are you trying to be a shizun's pet again? Go away, don't try to take my job."
"Can you even take care of him by yourself?"
"Of course I can. It's not my first time watching over Shizun when he's in seclusion."
Faced with Xue Meng's indignation, there wasn't much more Mo Ran could say. He turned to leave, then stopped as he glimpsed a cup of tea on the table. The leaves were wide and dark, the scent delicate and pleasing. "Frost fragrance tea from Kunlun?"
"Huh? How could you tell?"
Of course he could tell. This was Xue Meng's favorite tea. Xue Meng loved to bring Shizun all his favorite things without bothering to consider if those things suited his shizun, or if Chu Wanning liked them.
"Frost fragrance tea is chilling by nature, and Shizun is sensitive to the cold. Won't he feel ill if you bring him such tea?"
Xue Meng froze, face pink. He explained helplessly, "I didn't think that far, I just know frost fragrance is a fine tea, I…"
"Switch it out for Bengal rose tea and add two spoonfuls of honey. Wait until he wakes up to steep it. I'll go make some desserts now—I'll bring them over once they're ready."
Eager to salvage his dignity, Xue Meng hastily retorted, "He can't have sweets. He needs to fast for all ten days."
"I know, but Uncle said he can eat a little." Mo Ran waved his hand and left the pavilion. "See ya."
Xue Meng stared at his retreating figure, lost in thought. Once Mo Ran was out of sight, he lowered his head and snuck a look at the nape of Shizun's neck. He had noticed a faint bruise there yesterday. In the afternoon sunlight, it was clearer still. It didn't look like a mosquito bite, and neither was it a wound.
He wasn't a teenager anymore. Perhaps he lacked certain experiences, but that didn't mean he hadn't heard of them. This mark on Chu Wanning's neck made him deeply uneasy. He picked through all sorts of clues, returning to the sounds he'd heard that day in the backwoods.
He'd always told himself it was the sound of the wind—nothing but the wind. Yet a vague foreboding rose in his heart once more. Beneath the winding tendrils of fog, a very colorful idea gradually took shape. In the warm sunlight, Xue Meng suddenly felt chilled for some reason. He shuddered, frowning.
Xue Meng couldn't shake his unease. On the sixth day of Chu Wanning's seclusion, he made up his mind: he was going to spy on Mo Ran.
It was the last day Shi Mei was watching over Chu Wanning. Mo Ran was due to swap with him at midnight, but he had eaten dinner at Mengpo Hall early, then gone up to the Red Lotus Pavilion with a box of sweets.
Xue Meng hadn't expected him to change places with Shi Mei before the agreed time. Leaving his food unfinished, he snuck out behind Mo Ran, tailing him all the way to the doors of the Red Lotus Pavilion.
Xue Meng hesitated a moment, then copied Mo Ran's move from a few days ago and hopped over the wall.
The sun had set, and the crescent moon was climbing the horizon. The sky had washed away its brilliant makeup, leaving a last smear of red at the corners of its eyes. The glory of that dazzling dusk had retreated almost fully, its paints and powders swallowed by the dark of night, the starry sky clear as water.
Mo Ran, holding the food box, spotted Shi Mei in the distance. His back was to Mo Ran; oblivious to his approach, Shi Mei walked into the pavilion and stopped before Chu Wanning.
Mo Ran smiled. But as he made to wave and call out, he saw a cold gleam in Shi Mei's hand, pointing directly at Chu Wanning, still in his trance. Something flickered in Mo Ran's head. "Shi Mei!" he shouted. A chill crawled up his spine, setting his hair on end. He'd said too many final farewells in both lifetimes; to this day, the slightest rustle would put him on high alert. As the saying went, a burned child would dread even painted flames.
The Red Lotus Pavilion had once held Chu Wanning's corpse for two full years, until the day Mo Ran died. He didn't care for this place. When he came here, he always saw flashes of those last few months of his past life, when Chu Wanning had lain amongst the lotuses with his eyes closed, chest unmoving. Subconsciously, Mo Ran thought of the Red Lotus Pavilion as a cursed place, a bottomless maw that might devour the last spark of flame in the world.
Shi Mei turned, lowering his hand and tucking that silver light within his sleeve. "A-Ran? Why are you here early?"
"I—" Mo Ran's heart pounded. He couldn't breathe or think, brows sharply drawn together as he asked, "You're holding…"
"Holding what?" Confused, Shi Mei raised his hand. In his palm lay a silver comb, inlaid with crushed spiritual stones with the power to smooth meridians.
Mo Ran was speechless. After a long pause he managed, "You're… combing Shizun's hair?"
"Mn. Is something the matter?" Shi Mei scanned him from head to toe, then knit his slender brows. "You're so pale, did something happen?"
"No, I just…" He trailed off, his face going from white to red.
Thankfully it was dark, so his flush wasn't obvious. After a moment, Mo Ran turned aside and cleared his throat. "It's nothing."
Shi Mei watched him silently. Then, something seemed to click—he looked stunned. "Did you think…" he began hesitantly.
"I didn't," Mo Ran hastened to say. Shi Mei was so good to him, someone he saw as family. Mo Ran was dismayed at his own momentary suspicion. He blurted his response out of guilt.
Shi Mei paused. At last, he said, "A-Ran." "Mn?"
"I hadn't even finished my sentence." Shi Mei gently cleared his throat. "You didn't have to deny it so quickly."
So Shi Mei had realized that, for a moment, Mo Ran had taken the silver comb he held for a weapon. It was the lingering terror of seeing Chu Wanning die in two lifetimes. No matter who might have been standing there with their back to Mo Ran, even if it had been Xue Meng or Xue Zhengyong, Mo Ran would have no doubt felt the same shock of fear.
But as Mo Ran faced Shi Mei, he steadied himself, though his heart still twisted in his chest. "Sorry," he said, lowering his lashes.
The Shi Mei he knew had always been gentle and kind to everything and everyone. He was rarely indifferent or harsh. But that night, by the lotus pond, Shi Mei watched Mo Ran in silence for a very long time.
The night wind rose. The lotus leaves curled on the water, their blossoms swaying.
"I won't even bring friendship into it but—A-Ran, we've known each other almost ten years. How can you think so little of me." His voice was soft, devoid of hostile fury or woeful hurt. Mo Ran looked into his eyes, twin pools of clear spring water that seemed to have seen everything, yet refused to bicker or complain.
Shi Mei passed Mo Ran that gleaming silver comb and said mildly, "Before Shizun entered the trance, he asked me to tie up his hair. Since you're here, you can do it."
"Shi Mei…"
But that tall and beautiful man had already strode past him. His steps were unhurried, but he didn't once look back as his solitary figure left the rustling leaves of the Red Lotus Pavilion behind.