In the split second before Mo Ran looked over, inspiration had
struck Chu Wanning. He'd spun around at the last possible moment, leaning
against the wall with his arms crossed and leaving Mo Ran a plain view of
the lean, well-proportioned muscles of his back. This way, Mo Ran
wouldn't be able to see his front.
Chu Wanning thought he was being awfully clever. But the dummy
didn't realize he'd only exposed to Mo Ran the sensual dimples low on his
back, his full and firm buttocks, and his slender and powerful legs… He
was like a rabbit who'd peeled off its own pelt and climbed over the fire to
grill itself to a delectable crisp. He was practically saying, Please enjoy,
thanks.
Mo Ran felt his throat go dry. His eyes reddened, and he had to steady
himself for a moment before he could speak. "Shizun, what…what are you
doing?"
What was he doing? Hm… His position was certainly a little strange.
What could he say to smooth this over without arousing suspicion…? Chu
Wanning glanced over his shoulder, his expression cold and solemn as he
racked his brain.
Mo Ran had already set his clothes down and was walking toward
him. Perhaps it was because his back was to the light—Chu Wanning
thought the expression on Mo Ran's face was frightening, like a wolf in the
wild that had been starved for too long and was looking at a fresh, tender
piece of meat. But the meat was hung over the jaws of a trap, and thus, the
wolf hesitated. His hunger and reason waged a fierce battle, the flames of it
spreading to his eyes—those dark eyes were terribly bright, lit with a
haunting radiance.
Finally realizing that something was not quite right, Chu Wanning
nocked three sharp words on a bow and pierced through this peculiar
atmosphere with one sentence: "Scrub my back."
"Huh?" It took Mo Ran a moment to respond, and when he did, it was
as if the moisture in his breath had frozen in his throat; he sounded a little
husky and rather sensual. "What?"
At the end of his wits, Chu Wanning had come up with a random
excuse in his panic. But since he'd said it, he might as well commit. He
faked calm and stonily said, "Since you're here, scrub my back before you
go."
There was no reply from Mo Ran.
"I've been sweating from all the work we've done these last few
days. It's uncomfortable." Chu Wanning threw everything he had into
appearing nonchalant and unconcerned. "It'd be nice to be scrubbed clean."
He couldn't tell if Mo Ran was buying it, if his lies were convincing.
Either way, Mo Ran obediently did as he was told. He brought over a towel,
soaked it in warm water, and began to scrub Chu Wanning's back.
Yuheng of the Night Sky had always been wise. This had to be the
stupidest thing he'd ever done.
What was the most excruciating torture in the world? It was to have
the person he loved standing right behind him, those large hands dragging
across his body, separated by a single coarse washcloth, each stroke
skimming over a thin layer of water to leave a trail of heated, reddened skin
in its wake. Even with Mo Ran holding his strength in check, the firmness
of his strokes, along with the fact that Chu Wanning's body had never
before been caressed like this, made every fiber of his muscles tremble. It
was all he could do to keep his entire body still, barely managing to conceal
his unusual state from the man behind him.
He pressed his forehead against the wall and bit down hard on his lip
where Mo Ran couldn't see, the rims of his phoenix eyes red and his desire
so unbearably hot and hard that moisture collected there as dew gathered
upon a branch. He had no sexual experience whatsoever. How could he
possibly stand before the one he loved and pretend to be virtuous and
dignified while enduring this kind of stimulation? It was excruciating…
Now, if you asked Mo Ran what the most agonizing torture in the
world would be to him? His answer would probably be somewhat different:
it was to have a certain man standing naked in front of him, hands braced
against the wall, smooth planes of his shoulders and back spread before
him, wholly unsuspecting as he offered up his body to Mo Ran and his
filthy thoughts, letting him rub his fevered hands all over that body with
only that vexatious washcloth in the way.
Mo Ran knew he was just scrubbing his shizun's back for him. But if
he were to apply even a touch more force, this man's skin would bloom red,
looking bullied, abused, erotic.
Mo Ran's hands pressed over Chu Wanning's shoulder blades and slid
down to the small of his back. As his dawdling hands came to the sides of
Chu Wanning's waist, their strokes unconsciously grew more vigorous. He
thought he felt the person beneath him tremble—but he was probably just
imagining it. His eyes, fixed on those fair, plump curves, grew bloodshot
with the effort it took to stop himself from tossing the washcloth aside and
reaching out to grab and squeeze with his bare hands until he'd left marks
in the form of five provocative red streaks.
He had long since tasted the ambrosial nectar of the man before him.
How could he be expected to stand before Chu Wanning and pretend to be
honorable and gentlemanly while swallowing down his hunger? It was
excruciating…
Time stretched endlessly as the two stewed in their respective
torments. If this scrubbing were to continue, the both of them just might
catch fire. At last, Chu Wanning couldn't contain himself. Voice cracking,
he said, "You can go. I can reach the rest of my back; I'll do it myself."
Mo Ran, forehead covered in a sheen of sweat, released the breath
he'd been holding. His voice was low. "Yes…Shizun…"
The curtains rustled; Mo Ran was gone. A long moment passed as
Chu Wanning leaned against the wall, forehead pressed to the cool surface,
unable to pull himself together. The tips of his ears were bloodred,
mirroring the marks left in the wake of the scrubbing. He wondered whether
Mo Ran had noticed.
He cracked open his phoenix eyes and bit his lower lip in humiliation.
After hesitating at length, he reached down to touch himself where he was
so hard it almost hurt. He'd run back to shower in an attempt to suppress
these vulgar impulses. Who could've known the heavens had other plans,
and circumstances would see him pushed even deeper beneath the waves of
desire by Mo Ran. Chu Wanning had ever relied on his purity-based
cultivation to suppress his primal needs. But now, he finally couldn't resist
any longer and resorted to this base, humiliating method to relieve himself
of the desire that threatened to spill out of him. His lips were lightly parted,
his phoenix eyes half-lidded. His expression was somewhat pathetic,
somewhat aggrieved. He pressed his burning forehead to the icy wall,
delicate shoulders hunched, and the jut of his throat bobbed as he tried to
suppress his low, choked, gasps.
So sinful, yet so beautiful. Like a white swallowtail butterfly snared
in a spider's web, wings powerlessly quivering in tightly knit lust, never,
never, never, to escape. He'd finally been dirtied. Dirtied to the bone,
dirtied so wretchedly, so pitifully, that the filth was an allure unto itself, one
that tempted others to violation, drew them into addiction.
When it was over, Chu Wanning slammed his fist against the wall.
That strike held so much viciousness, so much fury, so much resentment,
that it split the skin of his knuckles. Blood seeped out.
"Bastard."
He didn't know if he was cursing himself or Mo Ran. Chu Wanning's
eyes were damp and vaguely dazed, filled both with tender affection and
regretful self-loathing.
Thus time went on; in the blink of an eye, a month had passed since
they'd arrived at Yuliang Village. The busy harvest season was coming to
an end.
Since the day of the back scrub, Chu Wanning had avoided Mo Ran as
snakes and scorpions avoid ferocious beasts. Not because he noticed
anything unusual about Mo Ran's behavior, but because he couldn't accept
the change in himself.
It was natural that someone who had remained pure and austere for so
many years would grow accustomed to it. Why else would Chu Wanning be
so scornful toward those who paired off to dual cultivate? It wasn't that he
was jealous; the Yuheng Elder truly found such acts unbearably distasteful,
even sickening. He also didn't look at erotica because he really had no
desire to; his avoidance wasn't put on for the sake of appearances. To Chu
Wanning, liking someone or kissing them were things he could tolerate.
Anything further—masturbation, for example, or intercourse—would make
his face go blue. He couldn't take it. He was like someone who had been
vegetarian his entire life: he might think a bit of lard smelled good if you
snuck it into his bowl, but would probably die of disgust if you gave him a
piece of seared meat still pink on the inside.
That day, after he'd gotten himself off in a confused flurry, Chu
Wanning had sobered. He'd panted as he stared at the stickiness in his hand
and felt as if a bucket of cold water had been upended on him. His face
went pale.
What was he doing? Was he so stirred up by a kid barely past twenty
that he couldn't restrain himself, that he actually needed to touch himself to
pacify the rolling tides in his heart? Gooseflesh had sprung up on Chu
Wanning's back.
From that moment on, he'd kept three feet away from Mo Ran at all
times, afraid he might accidentally unleash the raging beast in his heart and
do something regrettable.
As he withdrew, so did Mo Ran. When Mo Ran reflected on what had
happened, he, too, was terrified. He'd discovered that his yearning for Chu
Wanning was much stronger than anticipated. The dam he'd erected could
barely hold back the tempestuous currents, and the passion in his bones was
going to overflow at any minute. He was keenly aware that one moment of
weakness was all it took to go from man to beast. He didn't want to hurt
Chu Wanning again, so he unconsciously avoided him.
With the distance interposed between them, they almost seemed
merely a respectful disciple and a benevolent master. In this way, the days
passed peacefully without incident.
One day, the village hunter caught a plump deer. The villagers
proposed holding a bonfire in the evening at the small drying field near the
entrance of the settlement. Every household contributed food, from pastries
to dried meats, and the village chief opened two jars of gaoliang liquor. The
crowd sat together, jolly with anticipation. How merry it was to watch the
dancing of the bonfire, to smell the aromatic grease of roasted venison and
eat and drink together.
Chu Wanning and Mo Ran sat apart. The two settled down with the
bonfire between them, gazing at each other through the flames, each hoping
the other wouldn't notice. One would sneak a discreet glance only to meet
the eyes of the other and pretend it was a coincidence, dropping his gaze.
After a few seconds, when the other was unguarded, that gaze would
secretly fix upon the other's face once more. Orange light surged and
firewood crackled. Laughter and cheer flowed and eddied around them, but
they had neither eyes nor ears for any other. The moon in the sky seemed to
shine for these two beating hearts alone.
The jars of liquor the village chief had opened quickly emptied, but
the party went on unabated. Mo Ran, remembering that he still had a jar of
the top-quality pear blossom white in his own residence, excused himself
and rose to go grab it.
He was halfway to his room when he heard a noise behind him. He
turned. "Who's there?"
The rustling of footsteps instantly paused. A pair of verdant green
shoes embroidered with yellow flowers slowly shuffled from around the
corner.
Mo Ran blinked. "Oh, it's you, Miss Ling-er."
Ling-er had drunk a little too much, and her snowy, jade-like cheeks
were flushed red, her lips rich and bright. She stood under the moonlight,
gazing at him with affection, her full bosom rising and falling with her
quickened breaths.
"Mo-xianjun," she said. "Please wait. I have something I want to say
to you."