Chu Wanning looked Song Qiutong up and down. At Xuanyuan
Pavilion, he had thought she possessed a beauty that could topple nations.
Up close, he thought she was lovely as a lotus blooming over water or a
rosy sky reflecting the dawn, the world around her set to sparkling by the
light glinting from her ebon hair. Her beauty was without compare. No
wonder Nangong Si was taken with her.
Chu Wanning stole a glance at Mo Ran to catch his reaction. He
didn't expect, the moment he looked over, to find Mo Ran gazing back at
him. Mo Ran hadn't been looking at Song Qiutong at all; Nangong Si might
as well have been standing next to empty air. Instead, Mo Ran had been
staring at Chu Wanning all this time.
Eyes met eyes, and Mo Ran smiled warmly. Chu Wanning felt
himself go weak under Mo Ran's gaze but insisted on maintaining his
unaffected expression. He and Mo Ran looked at each other for a fleeting
instant before Chu Wanning turned his face aside with as much dignity as
possible.
"We keep lots of faewolves at Moonwhistle Fields. Naobaijin is the
most fearless of them—and also my favorite." Nangong Si led the group to
the middle of the empty field and blew three shrill whistles on the jade flute
he kept at his waist. There was a moment of silence. Then a fierce wind
whipped out from the dense forest, white light and inky shadow whirling
like a tornado. In the blink of an eye, a faewolf with a shimmering coat and
golden claws leapt out of empty air, body curving into a sinuous arc.
Silhouetted against that pale winter sun, the beast howled before alighting
upon the ground. It drew to a halt just before Nangong Si and let out a short
bark.
Nangong Si stepped forward to stroke the soft, fluffy ruff on
Naobaijin's neck, then turned and grinned at Chu Wanning. "Zongshi, look
—he's gotten so big. He was a tiny pup when you left."
"When I left, he was already the height of a full-grown man," Chu
Wanning said expressionlessly.
"Ha ha ha ha, really? I always thought he was really small, like a
puppy."
Chu Wanning eyed him doubtfully.
"Zongshi, why don't you take him for a ride?" Nangong Si blew into
the flute again, summoning two more snow-white faewolves from the
forest. "Mo-zongshi, wanna try too?"
The three of them climbed onto the backs of their faewolves. "Hold
on tight to the reins or their scruffs, and make sure to keep your legs tucked
in," Nangong Si advised. "It's much like riding a horse." He bent down to
offer a hand to Song Qiutong. "Qiutong, you come up with me."
Chu Wanning had thought he wouldn't know how to ride the faewolf,
but after a few moments on the wolf's back, he found that it wasn't terribly
difficult. Faewolves were highly intelligent and sensitive to their riders'
intentions; they were in truth easier to ride than the average horse.
"How do you find it?" Nangong Si asked with a smile. "Shall we take
a lap?"
"Are we allowed to go anywhere?"
"Of course—you can run your wolves anywhere in the forest behind
the mountain or Moonwhistle Fields."
Mo Ran grinned. "Are you proposing a race?"
Chu Wanning looked over at Nangong Si sitting astride his faewolf
with Song Qiutong behind him. Perhaps, he thought, this was a perfect
opportunity for the young couple to bond. He gladly agreed. "Let's do it."
Nangong Si cheerfully unclasped a bracelet of spiritual stones from
his wrist. "How about this: we make for Ganquan Lake on the north edge of
the forest and catch five groupers from the lake. The first to return to this
spot with their catch is the winner, and this bracelet will be the prize. What
do you say?"
"A bracelet of septimal-star
2 spiritual stones? Nangong-gongzi is too
generous by far."
"A thousand gold couldn't buy me good cheer." Nangong Si took up
the reins and tilted his head to instruct Song Qiutong. "Make sure you hold
on tight to keep from falling. Just let me know if we're going too fast."
Mo Ran shot a glance at Song Qiutong and said with a small smile,
"Perhaps Nangong-gongzi should just give his bracelet away now and save
the effort."
"Ha! Don't underestimate me. I grew up on wolfback. A passenger is
nothing—even a second one wouldn't make a difference. Let's go, on the
count of three: one, two—three!"
Three snow-white streaks darted toward the forest like arrows,
clearing Moonwhistle Fields in a trice. They leapt into the hunting grounds
and vanished into the depths of the woods.
At first, Chu Wanning kept pace behind Nangong Si and Song
Qiutong. But his ears began to ache under the onslaught of Song Qiutong's
high-pitched screams. Unable to withstand the girl's affected terror a
moment longer, he spurred his wolf on and shot past. As the cries of
"Gongzi, slow down!" faded behind him, Chu Wanning gradually began to
see the appeal of riding a faewolf. These spiritual creatures were incredibly
sharp—at the slightest twitch of his fingertips, Naobaijin grasped his intent
and responded. It was little wonder Nangong Si loved these animals so
dearly.
The wintry wind stung his face, but Chu Wanning didn't feel the
cold. He looked into the sunbeams scattering through the trees ahead as the
ground rushed past beneath his feet like the receding tide. A smile stole
across his face; this high-speed dash really was exhilarating. He urged
Naobaijin on faster, the wolf's claws kicking up dust as they struck the
thick carpet of pine needles.
Behind him, Mo Ran was perched atop a black-clawed wolf; he had
tailed Chu Wanning closely the whole ride. An indescribable comfort and
contentment welled in Chu Wanning's breast. He was struck by the hazy
feeling that, finally, there was someone who would always follow close,
footsteps echoing unceasingly—someone who would follow him no matter
how far he ran, and no matter what floods he willfully forded into.
Chu Wanning and Mo Ran reached Ganquan Lake at nearly the same
time. The jade-green lake was clear as a mirror, its waters rippling with
spiritual energy that nourished the shores and sheltered the flowering and
fruiting trees from the turn of the seasons. Even now, in the dead of winter,
the tangerine trees here flourished—their emerald leaves hid countless
golden fruits, the sweet scent of citrus diffusing on the wind.
Chu Wanning deftly dismounted and looked around. "What a
wonderful place."
Leading the black-clawed faewolf, Mo Ran came nearer and smiled.
"If Shizun likes it, we can plant lots of fruit trees when we get back to
Sisheng Peak. We'll support them with spiritual energy year-round so you
can eat fruit whenever you want."
Chu Wanning gave a noncommittal snort. He strode to the shore of
the lake and summoned Tianwen.
Mo Ran, finding this strange, stopped him at once. "What are you
doing?"
"Catching fish."
Mo Ran eyed him dubiously. "Surely Shizun isn't gonna cast Wind
and snatch all the fish out of the lake?"
"Where do you get these ideas?" Chu Wanning glared at him. He
tossed the golden vine upon the surface of the lake and said mildly, "Which
of you tire of living? If you are willing, come to the hook." After repeating
this refrain thrice, Chu Wanning recalled Tianwen. The shining golden
leaves indeed bore a few bighead carp with nothing left to live for. Bubbles
leaked from their mouths as their white, puffy eyes rolled up to stare at the
sky.
Chu Wanning looked over his catch, then turned to Mo Ran, "Did he
say he wanted groupers?"
"Mn."
Chu Wanning hesitated. "Do you know what groupers look like?" He
considered that this question might still be too roundabout, so he brought
Tianwen over to Mo Ran and held up the fish he'd caught. "Have I got any
here?"
"…How about I catch some for Shizun?"
Mo Ran swiftly caught ten fish and split them between the qiankun
pouches around the two faewolves' necks. Chu Wanning lowered the
despondent fish he'd caught back into the water. "Life is but a short period
of suffering," he said softly as he let them go. "I must trouble your
eminences to endure a while longer."
Mo Ran, listening, found this man both incredibly silly and cute.
After he had safely stowed the last grouper, he turned and caught sight of
Chu Wanning walking up the bank from the edge of the frigid, jade-green
pool. The lake waters rippled behind him, blurring the edges of his white
silhouette.
A violent impulse suddenly surged within Mo Ran's heart. He wanted
to stride over and gather Chu Wanning into his arms. He wanted to hold
him close, to caress him with utmost gentleness. Yet he also wanted to crush
him to pieces, to drag him into the tangerine grove, press him against a tree,
lift his legs, and ferociously invade his body. As he watched Chu Wanning
approach, he was startled by how contradictory, how intense, this longing
was. Both his softest and most vicious desires were destined to be aroused
by Chu Wanning.
Love, oh love—wasn't it just like this? Unyielding and hot was the
fierce blade that pierced one's burning chest; gentle and warm the
tenderness that embraced one like spring water.
Chu Wanning missed the turbulence in Mo Ran's eyes as he drew
closer to examine the qiankun pouch around Naobaijin's neck. "Nangong Si
is really something," he said. "Riding so slowly just because he's got a girl
with him."
Mo Ran felt rather feverish. As Chu Wanning lowered his head,
Mo Ran stared wolfishly at the fair skin of his exposed neck. Heat stirred in
his belly, and he muttered thoughtlessly, "Maybe they're doing something
else."
Chu Wanning froze. "Doing what?"
Only then did Mo Ran realize what had slipped out. He coughed and
turned aside. "Nothing."
But Chu Wanning caught the implication. His eyes flew wide, then
narrowed dangerously in aggravation. "What the hell are you thinking! Get
back on the horse! Let's go!"
Mo Ran opened his mouth to say, It's not a horse, it's a wolf. But
when he saw Chu Wanning's baleful expression and the flushed tips of his
ears, he swallowed his words. Watching Chu Wanning reach up and mount
Naobaijin in one swift motion, the picture of unmatched refinement and
beauty, Mo Ran felt almost rueful. He yearned after him with such single
minded fervor. Wouldn't it be perfect if Chu Wanning were his, he thought
—he'd fuck all the strength out of this man's body. Chu Wanning wouldn't
be able to mount any horse or wolf; he'd only be able to collapse into
Mo Ran's arms.
This idea was too outrageous, too heinous—Mo Ran unconsciously
shook his head. Chu Wanning caught the movement. "What?" he snapped.
"Why're you shaking your head? Don't tell me you think I'm wrong to
reprimand you?"
"No no, Shizun's instruction is always correct. I was thinking too
much."
But I wasn't thinking about Nangong Si and Song Qiutong doing any
of that ridiculousness. The person I was thinking of was you…
Mo Ran had another thought. Ah, wouldn't it be great if he could
break Naobaijin's legs? Then Chu Wanning would have no wolf to ride.
Perhaps he'd do Mo Ran the honor of climbing onto his own black-clawed
wolf.
Mo Ran wanted so badly to hold him again. He was like a man about
to die of thirst, reminiscing about the sweet dew he'd once sullied… He
galloped at Chu Wanning's heels the whole way back, drowning in these
irrepressible imaginings.
When they returned to Moonwhistle Fields, Song Qiutong and
Nangong Si were there waiting. Song Qiutong sat on the ground, one
luminous, jade-like ankle extended in front of her, streaked with traces of
blood. Halfway through the ride, she had forgotten Nangong Si's warning to
tuck her legs in and been cut by some brambles. Though it was a minor
injury, Nangong Si refused to ignore it and brought her back at once to
dress the wound.
Mo Ran glanced at her legs and feet. Those feet were objectively
pleasing to the eye, but they couldn't compare to Chu Wanning's. How
pathetic it was that he had really liked Song Qiutong's feet in his past life.
He must've been blind.
These days, he felt that every aspect of Chu Wanning was wonderful,
no matter where he looked. Even those unforgiving, scornful, coldly
glinting eyes now simply felt proud and distinctive, just the way Chu
Wanning ought to be. He was just so handsome—too damn handsome. So
handsome that even being subjected to Chu Wanning's glares, reprimands,
and eye rolls left Mo Ran ecstatic in the face of such beauty.
"I willingly made a bet, so I'll willingly accept the loss." Nangong Si
forthrightly passed the bracelet, worth a thousand gold, over to Chu
Wanning. "This is for Zongshi."
Chu Wanning peered at the trinket. "Septimal-star spiritual stones are
excellent for nurturing the spiritual core. It's precisely what I need—thank
you very much."
Irked, Mo Ran muttered, "I'll get you something even better next
time."
"What?" Chu Wanning hadn't caught Mo Ran's words and turned to
look at him.
Mo Ran gazed into those phoenix eyes, so close he could see his own
face reflected in Chu Wanning's pupils. The two of them were near enough
to practically blur into one. That tight feeling in Mo Ran's chest abated
slightly as he grinned. "I said, when I see something better for Shizun, I'll
buy it for you."
"Okay."
Chu Wanning's blunt assent made Mo Ran even more gleeful. He
cast a petty glance at Nangong Si. Of course, Nangong Si was completely
oblivious—but this didn't stop Mo Ran from pitting himself against
Rufeng's young master. Bursting with self-satisfaction, he wanted to crow
to Nangong Si—Shizun responds to your gifts with such a courteous "thank
you very much," but not with me! You see, we're so close there's no need for
him to be polite.
Chu Wanning continued, "Remember to get a receipt from the seller,
and I'll pay you back when I get the chance."
Mo Ran's internal crowing screeched to an unceremonious halt.
Nangong Si retrieved the ten freshwater groupers from the qiankun
pouches and brought everyone to a little wooden hut on the fringes of
Moonwhistle Fields. Outside was a stove covered in soot, complete with an
assortment of pots and utensils. The wooden hut looked dilapidated,
especially in contrast to the magnificent expanse of the grassy field—as if
they were from two different eras.
Chu Wanning trailed his fingertips along the fence until he reached a
yak-hair flag tied to a post. The flag seemed to have endured the elements
for many years, its once-vivid colors faded.
Nangong Si was collecting seasonings from the wooden hut when he
saw Chu Wanning stop to examine the flag. "I tied that here the year
Zongshi left," he said with a smile. "It's practically rotted away by now."
Chu Wanning sighed softly and sat on a low stool carved from a tree
stump. Nangong Si had been a small child when Chu Wanning served
Rufeng Sect. Back then, Chu Wanning had often taken the boy on walks
around Moonwhistle Fields, on which they'd stop by this hunting shack.
A fire soon roared to life. They roasted the groupers on fruit-tree
branches, the rich juices emitting a mouth-watering aroma as they dripped
from the crisp, seared skin into the flames. Nangong Si tossed six of the fish
to the faewolves lying beside the wooden fence. He sprinkled the remaining
four with salt and handed them out, one to each person.
Song Qiutong ate only a few bites before passing hers to Nangong Si,
who'd already devoured an entire plump fish all by himself. "I won't be
able to finish it. Gongzi, please have the rest."
Chu Wanning watched Nangong Si take the roasted fish and happily
polish off a second helping. This Song Qiutong seemed gentle and
deferential, he thought—a considerate person, nothing like the scarlet
woman rumors made her out to be. Gossip really couldn't be taken at face
value.
As he mulled this over, a lotus leaf was pressed into his hand. It
contained neat filets of fish with the bones picked out, the delicate, smoke
scented flesh steaming in the cold air. With some astonishment, Chu
Wanning turned to see Mo Ran tucking away the silver dagger he always
carried. "Shizun, have this," he said with a smile.
"Where'd you get the lotus leaf?"
"I picked it when I was catching the fish." Mo Ran pushed the fish
toward him. "Eat while it's hot. It won't taste as good once it gets cold."
Chu Wanning took the lotus leaf, his heart fluttering. "Thank you."
It was true that he didn't like eating fish with bones, and the tender,
fileted grouper practically melted in his mouth. Chu Wanning ate bite after
bite yet never found it too heavy. By the time he finished, the tea hanging
over the fire had come to a boil. Song Qiutong rose to take the iron teapot
off and poured everyone a cup. She respectfully offered a teacup to each of
the three men with both hands.
"Chu-zongshi, please have some tea."
Song Qiutong held the little porcelain cup in her fine, jade-white
hands, her arms luminous as the moon, an eye-catching cinnabar mark on
the inside of her wrist.
Chu Wanning recalled that at Xuanyuan Pavilion's auction, the
pavilion master mentioned that Hanlin the Sage had placed a cinnabar dot
of chastity on Song Qiutong's wrist—this must be it. If the mark yet
remained, all talk of Song Qiutong's affair with Ye Wangxi was bound to be
nonsense. Chu Wanning breathed a quiet sigh of relief. Nangong Si was a
pure-hearted young man, like a wild horse on the plains or a solitary wolf
roaming the wild, full of fighting spirit and vigor. Chu Wanning thought
well of people like him. He didn't want Nangong Si to make a bad match.
Song Qiutong had made her way over to Mo Ran to offer him tea. He
accepted the cup but put it aside without taking a sip. "Miss Song, I have
something I'd like to give you," he said with a slight smile.