Writtem in a neat and straight script, the ranking boldly declared:
FIRST PLACE: Nangong Si
Young Master of Rufeng Sect
SECOND PLACE: Xue Meng
Young Master of Sisheng Peak
Xue Meng stared at the booklet for a long, dumbfounded moment,
then slammed it shut. Every muscle in his face twitched, as though he was
barely restraining a powerful urge to set the book ablaze. "I see how it is,"
he bit out between clenched teeth. His expression was dark as he tapped the
panic-stricken vendor with the booklet. "Wrap this book separately, I'll take
a close look when I get back."
After shoving the wrapped copy of God-Knows-What Rankings
roughly into his sleeve, Xue Meng took up the huge stack of books and
scrolls the vendor had selected and wobbled his way back up the mountain.
He was mad. So mad he might die. Second place on the Young
Master Ego Ranking? Bullshit! Which blind-ass dimwit wrote that! If he
ever found out, he'd go give that person a good beatdown to vent this fury
—a hundred punches, maybe more! Ego, my ass! What dogshit!
This bout of rage somewhat tempered his overwhelming elation, so
that by the time Xue Meng got back to the Red Lotus Pavilion, his state of
mind was no longer so volatile. Of course he was still incredibly excited,
but the brief flare of anger had more or less cleared his head.
A pair of senior disciples stood guard outside the pavilion, keeping
people out so the elder could rest undisturbed. But Xue Meng was the young
master; who would dare block his way?
Xue Meng walked in unimpeded.
Night had fallen, and honey-soft light glowed through the half-open
windows of the pavilion's main hall. Unsure if Chu Wanning was awake or
not, Xue Meng softened his steps as he pushed the door open and entered
with his arms laden with books.
It was so quiet Xue Meng could hear his own heartbeat, bouncing like
a bird at the tip of a branch. He held his breath and, temporarily pushing
God-Knows-What Rankings to the back of his mind, looked toward the bed.
There was a long silence as Xue Meng stared blankly. "Eh?"
The bed was empty.
He was about to take a closer look when he felt an ice-cold hand on
his shoulder, followed by an eerie, chilly voice from behind. "What are your
intentions, trespassing in the Red Lotus Pavilion?"
Stiffly, mutely, Xue Meng turned his head, his neck creaking.
A deadly pale face hovered in the dim light. He was so frightened that he
screeched "Wah—!" and raised an arm to strike down the other on reflex
before his brain even had a chance to process what he'd seen.
But the figure in the shadows was faster still, landing with lightning
speed a strike on Xue Meng's neck and a solid kick to his guts. He forced
Xue Meng to his knees and pinned him there as the books in his arms
scattered over the floor.
Xue Meng's faint surprise turned into absolute shock at getting
knocked to the floor like this. After five years of diligent training, he was
no longer the boy he'd been; even Nangong Si was no match for him now.
But this person, whose face he hadn't even seen clearly, had so easily
dispatched him in two moves, leaving him no room to counter—who could
it be? His ears rang as all the blood in his body rushed to his head.
Just then, that person spoke in icy tones: "I go into seclusion for five
years and suddenly everyone feels at liberty to walk into my residence.
Whose disciple are you and where is your master? Didn't he teach you any
manners?"
He had barely finished when Xue Meng turned and threw himself at
him in the tightest hug. "Shizun! Shizun!"
Chu Wanning froze.
Xue Meng lifted his head. Tears fell despite his best efforts to hold
them back. He choked out between sobs, "Shizun, it's me…look…it's
me…"
It turned out Chu Wanning had only just woken up and had gone to
take a bath, which was why his touch was cold and a little clammy. He
remained rooted in place. Though the light was dim, now that he had
calmed down, it was enough to see by.
The person kneeling before him was a young man of around twenty.
He had fair skin and dark, thick brows that were lower and closer to the
eyes than most, giving him a pensive and compassionate look. His lips were
full and pouty, with a pleasing shape.
A face like this would look spoiled even when angry. It was in truth
all too easy for people with such features to be called "coquettish"—but not
him. Eyes were the most expressive part of one's face, and Xue Meng's eyes
were like a strong liquor: spicy, fiery, and unfettered in the light, giving off
a domineering air. Those twin pools of liquor were unmistakable, even
when contained in a pot of fine white jade.
It had been five years. Xue Meng had been only sixteen when Chu
Wanning died; he was twenty-one now. Adolescent boys shoot up around
sixteen or seventeen: a new look every year, a different build every six
months. Having missed five years of this development, Chu Wanning
hadn't recognized Xue Meng at all upon unexpectedly encountering him.
Chu Wanning stared at him for a long time. "Xue Meng," he said
slowly. As if he was calling to him, but also as if he was telling himself—
this was Xue Meng, no longer that half-grown youth in his memories. He
was a grown man with wide shoulders and a height that was…
Chu Wanning pulled Xue Meng to standing with a face that betrayed
nothing. "What are you kneeling for? Get up."
…And a height that was not much different from his own.
The passage of time was the most obvious in the young, carving a
child into maturity in a few deft strokes. The first person Chu Wanning had
seen when he woke up had been Xue Zhengyong, so it hadn't quite hit him
just how long five years was. But now, faced with Xue Meng, he was struck
with the realization that it had indeed been a very long time, and that many
people and things had changed.
When he finally managed to calm down a little, Xue Meng began to
talk of this and that, clutching at Chu Wanning the whole time. "Shizun, at
the Spiritual Mountain Competition, I…I got first place."
Chu Wanning glanced at him, and a small smile tugged at his lips.
"Of course, that's hardly a surprise."
Xue Meng continued, red-faced, "I-I fought Nangong Si. He—he had
a holy weapon, I didn't; I…" Feeling a little awkward about boasting so
openly, he lowered his head and bashfully tugged at the hem of his robes. "I
didn't embarrass Shizun."
Chu Wanning nodded, still smiling. "It must've been bitterly
difficult."
"Not bitter!" Xue Meng paused, and then said, "It was sweet."
Chu Wanning reached out to pat Xue Meng on the head like he used
to, but abruptly remembered that Xue Meng wasn't a child anymore and it
might not be the most appropriate gesture. His hand veered off-course to pat
him on the shoulder instead.
The two of them picked up the books strewn across the floor and
stacked them on the table. "You've bought so many," Chu Wanning mused.
"How am I supposed to read them all?"
"It's not that many. Shizun can read ten lines at a time; it'll only take
a night."
Even after so long, Xue Meng's admiration hadn't waned in the
slightest—yet it was Chu Wanning who found himself at a loss for words.
Not knowing how to begin, he lit the candle and lightly flipped through a
few of the books.
"Jiangdong Hall has a new sect leader now?"
"Yup, the new sect leader is a woman, and according to rumor she has
quite the temper."
Chu Wanning kept reading. The page he was on was a longwinded chronicle of the comings and goings in Jiangdong Hall, which he
read raptly, but as he came to the section entitled "Biography of Jiangdong
Hall's New Sect Leader," he asked, as if it had only just occurred to him,
"How has…Mo Ran been, these past couple of years?"
He had taken care to ask the question in a very mild and carefully
controlled tone, so Xue Meng didn't think much of his interest. He replied,
"He's all right."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Chu Wanning asked, looking up.
Xue Meng thought about how best to phrase it. "Means he's more or
less a decent person now."
"Was he not a decent person before?" But before Xue Meng could
even open his mouth to reply, he nodded to himself. "Indeed not.
Continue."
Xue Meng hemmed and hawed. His specialty was laying out his own
deeds in lengthy, dramatic narratives while describing the deeds of others in
a simple and brisk manner—especially if that other person happened to be
Mo Ran. "He's been running around everywhere these years. Grew up
some," he said eventually. "That's about it."
"He didn't attend the Spiritual Mountain Competition?"
"Nope, he was cultivating in Snow Valley then."
Chu Wanning didn't pursue the matter. The two of them chatted about
other sundry topics. Worried Chu Wanning might get tired, Xue Meng
tucked away all the countless things he still wanted to say and excused
himself.
After he left, Chu Wanning lay down on the bed, still dressed. He
remembered everything that had happened in the underworld, so he wasn't
at all surprised at how Mo Ran had changed. Time waited for no one. In the
years he'd missed, even Xue Meng had grown so much as to be almost
unrecognizable. He wondered—what did Mo Ran look like now?
He recalled what Xue Zhengyong had said to him before leaving
earlier: "Yuheng, let's have a banquet tomorrow at Mengpo Hall to
celebrate your coming out of seclusion. No refusing now; I've already sent
a letter to Ran-er. Surely you wouldn't want him to rush back all this way
without a warm meal and good wine to welcome him?"
So Chu Wanning hadn't refused. He didn't like crowds, but Mo Ran
had always been his weakness.
Xue Zhengyong had mentioned that many villages at the foot of
Baitou Mountain had been destroyed during the latest Heavenly Rift at
Butterfly Town, leaving most of the survivors either injured or crippled.
Such was the severity of the damage that the villages were in ruins even
now, and the entire stretch of snowy plains resembled a hell on earth. That
was where Mo Ran was presently, helping the villages rebuild.
Chu Wanning continued reading by candlelight for a while, but
couldn't resist the urge in the end. He rose and summoned a messenger
haitang with a swish of his sleeve, then thought for a moment before
speaking. "Sect Leader, if I may trouble you, please send Mo Ran another
letter and tell him to not rush. It would be great if he made it back in time,
but it's also all right if he doesn't. I won't blame him. The weather's getting
cold, and winters in the Baitou Mountain region have always been harsh.
Tell him to take care of the villages first, no sloppy rush jobs allowed."
Only after setting the haitang adrift did Chu Wanning finally sigh and
lie back in bed, picking up the half-read copy of the cultivation world
annals to continue where he'd left off. He wasn't such an outrageously
quick reader as Xue Meng had said, able to read the whole pile of books in
one night. But finishing a few of them was no problem.
Melted wax pooled in the candle holder as the night grew deep. Chu
Wanning closed the book and shut his eyes, a slight crease between his
brows. He had essentially read through most of the major events in the
cultivation world within the last five years. The contents of the records had
been rather unremarkable at first, but once he had reached the second
Heavenly Rift at Butterfly Town, Mo Ran's name began cropping up in
passage after passage. Chu Wanning had started off lying on his side,
propping his cheek on one hand while flipping lazily through the pages with
the other, but at this part, he instinctively sat up, holding the book with both
hands and reading closely.
The people of the lower cultivation realm fled eastward but were met
with a guarded wall at the border and denied entry. This coincided with
several days of overcast skies that allowed fiends to walk freely in the day.
The common people died by the thousands before the wall, and blood
flowed in rivers. September saw the food supply route cut off for seventeen
days; murder and cannibalism were common…
Here was the chronicle of when ghosts and fiends had run rampant,
and many commoners had thought to seek refuge in the upper cultivation
realm, only to be turned away at the border. In the end, desperate and
starving, they had resorted to killing and eating their fellows to survive.
That scenes of such horror and carnage had been reduced to a handful of
lines on paper left a sour taste in Chu Wanning's mouth as he read.
The defense was led by young masters Meng and Ran of Sisheng
Peak. Xue Meng's reputation soared as thousands of fiends were
exterminated and many more driven back by the blade Longcheng. Mo Ran
singlehandedly repaired the Heavenly Rift, banishing the demons back to
the underworld with barrier arts astoundingly similar to those of his master,
Chu Wanning.
Chu Wanning opened his eyes a touch wider; though he knew the
Heavenly Rift described here was not so severe as the one in which he'd
lost his life, he was still surprised. "He can repair a rift all by himself now?"
As he kept reading, there were more mentions of Mo Ran's deeds,
vanquishing evil as he roamed the land.
The Hedong region was set upon by a monster, which Bitan Manor
refused to engage with for reasons undisclosed. Hearing of this, Mo Ran
traveled there and found the Drought Demon of Yellow River. After a threeday battle, he decapitated the demon and burned its head to eliminate the
threat. However, the young master was gravely injured, his abdomen and
ribcage having been pierced through. He was fortunate to meet Jiang Xi,
the sect leader of Guyueye…
Even the tips of Chu Wanning's fingers were ice-cold. The young
master was gravely injured, his abdomen and ribcage having been pierced
through.
Whose abdomen, whose ribcage? Mo Ran's? Chu Wanning read the
passage over four or five more times, refusing to believe his eyes despite
never having misread anything before in his life. On the sixth read, he even
placed a finger on the page to follow along as he read the words one by one.
Hearing of this, Mo Ran traveled there…a three-day battle…
Chu Wanning could envision that black-robed silhouette, long boots
striding through the towering waves of the Yellow River, one hand held
behind his back and the other wrapped around a bright holy weapon in the
form of a willow vine.
Decapitated the demon and burned its head to eliminate the threat.
However, the young master was gravely injured.
His hand on the page clenched into a fist so tight the knuckles went
white. He saw Mo Ran lashing out with the vine amidst the thunderous
waves, Jiangui snapping across the sky in a fiery arc, severing the drought
demon's head and sending blood flying; at the very same instant, the
drought demon's sharp claws pierced clean through Mo Ran's torso.
The giant headless beast lurched for a moment before toppling to the
ground with a deafening crash, its colossal body cutting off the flow of the
Yellow River itself. Mo Ran collapsed by the riverside, unable to remain
standing as blood soaked his robes…
Chu Wanning slowly closed his eyes and did not open them for a
long, long time. His lightly quivering lashes grew damp.
In the end, all the books, without exception, referred to Mo Ran as
"Mo-zongshi." These words left Chu Wanning with a feeling of
indescribable strangeness and unfamiliarity. He couldn't reconcile the
brightly smiling, indolent adolescent residing in his memories with a term
of address like "Mo-zongshi." When it came to Mo Ran, he'd missed so
much; Chu Wanning suddenly wondered whether he'd still recognize this
disciple of his if he came back tomorrow.
A disciple who bore many more scars, a disciple who had become
Mo-zongshi. Chu Wanning couldn't help his vague unease at the thought.
He both very much wanted to see Mo Ran and hadn't quite the courage to.
Troubled by these anxieties, Chu Wanning didn't doze off until the
latter half of the night. Even after dying once, this man still didn't know
how to take care of himself: he lay there in a mess of books with no blanket.
He was as yet fatigued from not quite being fully recovered, and since
scarcely a soul dared enter the Red Lotus Pavilion without permission, no
one came to wake him. Chu Wanning ended up sleeping the whole day
away.
By the time he awoke, it was already the evening of the next day. He
opened the window to a setting sun and fell into a prolonged silence. The
lake reflected the dusk-red clouds, and a crane soared across the horizon,
returning to its nest at the end of a long day.
It was already evening… Had he slept through the night and the entire
next day?
Chu Wanning's face was ashen. A crack sounded where his hand
rested on the window frame—he'd nearly snapped the wooden beam in
half. How absolutely unacceptable. The banquet the sect leader was holding
in his honor was about to start, yet here he was, still drowsy-eyed, clothes in
disarray and hair undone… What to do? He fretted anxiously. What to do,
what to do, what to do?!
"Yuheng!" Just his luck—Xue Zhengyong chose this exact moment to
invite himself in. He froze at the sight of Chu Wanning sitting on the bed
with an indecipherable expression on his face. "Are you still not up?"
"I'm up," Chu Wanning replied. And he would've pulled off a
dignified look too, if not for that stray strand of hair sticking up at his
temple. "Did Sect Leader need something, to personally come all this
way?"
"Oh no, I'm good, was just getting worried 'cause I didn't see you
come down from here all day." Xue Zhengyong rubbed his hands together.
"Well, since you're up, get yourself washed and dressed, then come over to
Mengpo Hall for dinner. Before leaving, Master Huaizui said you should
hold off on food for twenty-four hours. Well, you haven't eaten anything
since you woke up yesterday, and it's now been twenty-four hours. Perfect
timing. I had them make a bunch of your favorite dishes: stewed crab
meatballs, sweet osmanthus lotus root, and all that. C'mon, let's walk over
together."
"Thank you for going to the trouble." Upon hearing that stewed crab
meatballs and sweet osmanthus lotus root awaited, Chu Wanning no longer
cared to waste time getting ready and planned to instead to throw on a
change of clothes and immediately set off down the mountain with Xue
Zhengyong. Stewed crab meatballs had to be eaten hot; they got bland once
they cooled.
"No trouble, no trouble." Xue Zhengyong rubbed his hands some
more as he watched Chu Wanning put on his shoes, then suddenly
remembered another piece of news. "Oh yeah, one more thing."
Chu Wanning had never been good with the mundane tasks of daily
life, and his five-year slumber had only made him worse. He tried to put his
left sock on his right foot for a good minute before wising up and swapping
them, bearing all the while a perfectly straight face that betrayed absolutely
nothing. Focused on righting the socks, he answered mildly without looking
up, "What is it?"
"I got an urgent letter from Ran-er this morning," Xue Zhengyong
said with a grin. "He says he'll definitely make it back tonight. And he got
you a congratulatory gift too; he's really getting quite thoughtful as he gets
older, I… Hey, Yuheng, why are you taking off your socks?"
"No reason, they're yesterday's," Chu Wanning said. "They're a little
dirty. I'm changing to a fresh pair."
"…Then why didn't you do that earlier?"
"I just remembered."
Xue Zhengyong was an open and forthright fellow; he didn't think
much about this. He looked around the room for a bit before commenting,
"You know, Yuheng, you're not getting any younger. If you ask me, it's
about time you got a cultivation partner. Just look at this place—it was neat
and tidy when Master Huaizui left, but now you've woken up, there're
already papers and clothes all over even though you've barely lived in the
place yet… I'll keep an eye out for you, how about it?"
"Sect Leader, kindly see yourself out."
"Eh?"
Chu Wanning's face was like a storm cloud. "I'm changing."
"Ha ha, sure, I'll get out. But the cultivation partner thing…?"
Chu Wanning's head snapped up, his eyes cold as a pair of frozen
lakes as he nailed the tactless Xue Zhengyong with a glare. Finally catching
on, Xue Zhengyong chuckled awkwardly. "Just asking. I was wondering
what you look for in a partner. I'm sure you wouldn't settle for just
anyone."
Chu Wanning shot Xue Zhengyong another glare from beneath his
lashes.
Xue Zhengyong sighed. "What, am I wrong?" he said helplessly. "I
know you're picky."
"I just have better things to do, is all," Chu Wanning replied mildly.
"How is that being picky?"
"All right then, if you're not picky, then tell me—what's your type.
No pressure or anything, just so I can keep an eye out."
Already annoyed and refusing to waste any more breath on this topic,
Chu Wanning said dismissively, "Alive. Female. Sect Leader can feel free
to keep an eye out. Kindly see yourself out."
He shooed Xue Zhengyong toward the door as he spoke, but Xue
Zhengyong wasn't about to give up just yet, especially after the whole
dying thing—he was really, truly, wholeheartedly invested in getting Chu
Wanning hitched.
Back when Chu Wanning had died, Xue Zhengyong greatly regretted
that this man hadn't left a child behind like Xue Zhengyong's brother had,
which meant he had nothing to remember him by, and no one to look after
and make amends to. Chu Wanning had neither children nor siblings and
had always kept to himself. Xue Zhengyong had been disconsolate and had
felt incredibly guilty. More than that, he'd felt that Chu Wanning really was
too pitifully lonely.
"That tells me absolutely nothing… Yuheng, really, I'm being serious
here—hey!"
Xue Zhengyong, struggle as he might, was finally shoved out and the
door slammed in his face. Followed by a barrier to make sure he stayed out.
He stared at the barrier, stupefied.