Mo Ran produced a delicate bracelet sparkling with beads made
from East Sea nacre and Xihe sunstone from Zhurong Peak. That it was an
item of luxury was obvious at first glance.
"In your letter, you asked me for the carp spirit's lunar crystal.
Unfortunately, my cousin has already used it to refine a sword. I didn't
prepare any other gifts, but I bought his water-and-fire crystal bracelet for
you—it should suit you perfectly."
"This…this is much too valuable; Qiutong couldn't possibly accept
it…"
"Surely there's no reason to refuse a gift of congratulations?"
Mo Ran chuckled. "What's more, this bracelet has a restraining effect on
fire elemental spiritual energy, but it's only suited for ladies. If you wear it
at Nangong-gongzi's side in the future, it should also moderate his spiritual
power. It's a useful little item."
Song Qiutong turned her head to look at Nangong Si. After receiving
his nod of approval, she took the bracelet in both hands and bowed
deferentially. "Many thanks, Mo-zongshi," she said warmly.
The four drank their tea and chatted a while. Chu Wanning, by now
quite invested in Nangong Si's big day, reminded him to take care with the
wedding preparations and make sure every detail was in place—he
wouldn't want anything to go awry at the last moment.
Nangong Si gulped his tea and tossed the empty cup idly in his hand.
"Zongshi, don't worry. I make sure to check up on things every night." He
grinned. "I'm grown now—I know where my responsibilities lie. Actually,
just last night I found that Qiutong's dress robes were missing a pearl and
got someone to fix it right away."
When he spoke of the wedding, a touch of shyness crept over his
carefree face. He glanced over at Song Qiutong and smiled. "Qiutong will
look gorgeous when the time comes."
These words fell on the ears of Song Qiutong's husband from a past
life. Mo Ran absentmindedly poured himself a new cup of tea. Of course he
knew that Song Qiutong was exceptionally lovely, a peerless beauty—but
so what?
Back then, in a ceremony at Dawning Peak, Taxian-jun had married
the first empress of the cultivation world. Phoenix-patterned candles had
burned bright on the night of the great wedding, but Mo Ran didn't spend it
in the bridal chamber. He'd had too much to drink that evening. Amidst the
hazy glow of the red candles and the blur of wedding veils, he tilted up his
new bride's flushed, bashful face and stared down into it.
It was common, on important milestones, for people to feel regret.
The passage of time washed over them, and they realized the world had
changed before their eyes. Even this man who styled himself Taxian-jun
was no exception. He felt suddenly that nothing was real. His gaze seemed
to pierce the charming mist of scarlet around him and fix upon a wind
blown snowy sky from many years ago. When he had only rags to protect
him from those freezing winds… When he had been on the brink of death
from thirst and starvation, and someone had taken pity on him, had held out
rice porridge for him to lap up…
When he'd first arrived at Sisheng Peak, anxious and scared… When
he'd stood on tiptoe to pluck that haitang blossom beneath the round-bellied
moon… When he'd knelt before Chu Wanning, the willow vine striking
down on his body…
Had he ever imagined that one day, he'd trample upon the world's
cultivators and rule all under the sun?
"Husband, what are you thinking about?" His bride's vermilion lips
parted, and her gaze lingered upon him. Even her exhalations were
cloyingly sweet, as sweet as the position to which he'd ascended today. He
seemed to have everything. A beauty, status, power… What was left for
him to be displeased about?
He couldn't name a single thing. Yet he felt hollow, as though he
stood at the chilly summit before a sea of downturned faces, all murky and
indistinct. He pushed his way through these simpering figures as they
showered praise and admiration upon him, as they prostrated and fawned,
their faces indistinguishable from each other. A voice charmingly called out
to him, tender as the petals of a peony. "Husband… My husband…"
He felt disgusted. He wanted to flee those surging waves of
sycophants, but the saccharine sound of that voice wound around him like
syrup.
Without warning, he shoved Song Qiutong away. His lovely new
bride was no match for this rough treatment; she crumpled onto the bed
spangled with dragons and phoenixes in the scarlet bridal chamber, gold
and silver ornaments jingling in her hair.
Trapped in this mirage of glittering jewels, Mo Ran found everything
distorted, unreal. That shimmering golden glow was like hellish fire; that
brilliant crimson candle like tears of blood. He felt repulsed, but he didn't
know who repulsed him—was it Song Qiutong? Or was it this version of
himself who had changed beyond recognition?
He bolted out the door.
In the last lifetime, this was something known to precious few—that
on the day of Taxian-jun's great wedding, the empress Song Qiutong was
abandoned in the bridal chamber as Mo Ran, clad head-to-toe in gold and
red, pushed open the door to the Red Lotus Pavilion. Song Qiutong's groom
walked in, and after a time, the candles in the pavilion went out; he stayed
the whole night through.
Only at dusk on the second day, when Xue Meng charged up Sisheng
Peak to make trouble, did Mo Ran languidly open the door, straighten his
disarranged clothes, and saunter over to the main hall, his face suffused
with a sinful satisfaction.
Nobody beyond the walls of the Red Lotus Pavilion would ever know
what transpired that night.
After bidding farewell to Nangong Si and Song Qiutong, Chu
Wanning and Mo Ran returned to the guest courtyard side by side.
Voice carefully neutral, Chu Wanning spoke up. "Just now when
Nangong said Song Qiutong was beautiful, why did you space out staring at
her like that?"
"I was thinking how she'd look in wedding robes," said Mo Ran.
Chu Wanning was suddenly washed by a wave of jealousy. He shook
out his sleeves and said, icy, "Preposterous. Who told you to concern
yourself with someone else's bride?"
Mo Ran laughed. "Who said I'm concerning myself with her? I was
just thinking that no matter how she looks in wedding robes, she wouldn't
look half as wonderful as Shizun did."
Chu Wanning couldn't muster a reply. He'd been prepared to vent a
belly full of anger, but instead a little wolf pup had licked his palm,
catching him off guard. His face went white, then red, and he couldn't get a
word out for several long seconds. At last, he waved his sleeves and
snapped, "Don't mention that ridiculous ghost ceremony ever again."
Mo Ran sighed to himself. It's not like I brought it up—you're the one
who asked. I don't want to lie to you. When I tell you how good you look,
you turn all your fierceness on me. But even when you're fierce, it feels
sweet. When I think of how I lost you… Chu Wanning, you could reprimand
me with all your might for a lifetime, and it would still be like soaking in a
jar of sugar…
What can I do? I can't help but long for you.
Time flew swiftly by, and soon it was the eve of Nangong Si's
wedding. Rufeng Sect was teeming with guests who'd traveled from all
over—leaders and young masters from the major sects, wandering
cultivators of the jianghu, and even some business moguls with no spiritual
abilities whatsoever. All those who had waited until now to arrive crowded
at the gates of the host city. Carriages and horses wove in and out of the
throng, their canopies billowing like clouds. An endless stream of men and
women decked out head to toe in finery drifted into the city until Rufeng
Sect's main avenue resembled the flowing silver river of the Milky Way
with the light glinting off of their silks and jewels.
Xue Meng's father had hauled him into the city to meet a lady
cultivator around his own age.
"Wang-xianjun, long time no see! A pleasure indeed. Aiya, is this
little Mantuo? She's all grown up now, how pretty. Come, Xue Meng, come
here and give your regards to Wang-bobo."
Xue Meng reluctantly sidled over. "Hello, Wang-dabo," he blurted.
Xue Zhengyong smacked him upside the head. He kept smiling as he
muttered through gritted teeth, "It's Wang-bobo, not Wang-dabo."
"Ha ha ha, it's fine, it's all the same. The darling of the heavens is
handsome as expected, the spitting image of you, Old Xue. Lucky man!"
After more of the same, Xue Meng was coerced into taking a stroll
around the garden with "little Mantuo." Little Mantuo was sixteen this year,
but so much for sweet sixteen: her demeanor was decidedly icy. After
walking side by side with Xue Meng for some time, she proclaimed,
"Surely Xue-gongzi understands what our elders intend by pushing us
together like this."
"Mn."
"Allow me to be candid: I'll take a walk with you, but I don't care for
your personality, Xue-gongzi. So don't get any ideas."
"Oh… Wait, what?" Flabbergasted, Xue Meng stopped in his tracks,
face ashen, and stared at little Mantuo.
The little coquette raised her chin and narrowed her eyes at Xue
Meng, haughty and forbidding. "My heart is my own," she said coldly.
"Even if you've fallen in love with me…"
"Are you crazy?" Xue Meng exploded. "Me?" He jabbed a finger at
his own chest in disbelief. "Fall in love with you?"
"Why else would you be leading me down this little alleyway? Is it
not because of your unsavory intentions?"
Xue Meng's volatile temper flared. "You should've told me your
brain was full of holes!" Spitting in rage, eyes flashing, he couldn't help
stammering, "I like you? I like you? I—"
"Why do you need to say you like me so many times? Pervert!" Little
Mantuo was a principled young lady. She stamped her foot, lifted her head,
and slapped Xue Meng soundly across the face.
Xue Meng was so mad, the world was tilting; after being slapped by
this delicate hand for no reason, he was ready to spit blood. Were it not for
Madam Wang's repeated exhortations to let women have their way, he
would likely have pushed the young woman to the ground and pummeled
her black and blue.
It was at just this moment that a man with pale eyes and a regal
profile appeared at a distance. When little Mantuo spied him, her mouth fell
open in disbelief and her eyes welled with tears. "Mei-gongzi!" she coyly
called, before pelting toward that man.
This newcomer was Mei Hanxue, who clearly hadn't expected to run
into anyone in such an obscure little alleyway. He was taken aback, and
upon seeing little Mantuo coming at him full tilt, raised a hand to defend
himself. The girl, caught off guard, ran headlong into a hastily conjured
lightning-laced barrier. With a screech of alarm, she crumpled to the
ground.
Mei Hanxue made no move to help her up. He looked down and
furrowed his brow. "Miss, I'm afraid you have the wrong person."
"Impossible! How can that be… You promised me a gold spice
sachet as a token of your love! You said I'd be ever in your thoughts from
the moment you first laid eyes on me! You said once I turned eighteen,
you'd marry me! Did you… Did you forget?"
Mei Hanxue eyed her but did not deign to reply.
"Mei-gongzi…"
"You really do have the wrong person." Without another word, Mei
Hanxue shook his head and strode away from the weeping girl.
Watching this scene unfold, Xue Meng felt at once furious and
vindicated—furious over this dirty womanizer Mei Hanxue, who would
pretend he didn't recognize a girl the instant he pulled up his pants. No
wonder this heartless villain only dared to walk along deserted back alleys
during such an occasion.
At the same time, he felt vindicated. So it turned out little Mantuo
had her heart set on this scoundrel Mei Hanxue, who was precisely as his
name implied—flowery and frigid.
It was said this rogue had two faces:
one he wore before he fooled around with a woman, and one after. Little
Mantuo would be doomed for eight lifetimes if she'd fallen in love with
him.
As Mei Hanxue strode toward Xue Meng, he narrowed his limpid
eyes to cast Xue Meng a glance.
What do you think you're looking at? Xue Meng thought. What's a
jerk like you eyeing me for? You're famous for being a dirty player, while
I'm famous for being a great warrior—I've got plenty more clout than the
likes of you.
Xue Meng loftily raised his chin and glared sidelong at that jackass
Mei Hanxue. He planned to huff in a very dignified and scornful manner the
moment Mei Hanxue passed by.
What he didn't anticipate was that Mei Hanxue would come to a halt
before him and look at him coolly. "Why is your face so swollen?" he
asked. "It's a rather unique look on you, to be sure."
Xue Meng had no time to stop the arrogant "hmph!" that came out
like a runaway carriage. Mei Hanxue eyed him in the ensuing awkward
silence. Xue Meng's cheeks immediately heated. He turned away and
snapped, "None of your business! I fell while I was walking!"
"Be more careful when walking in the future," Mei Hanxue said
calmly. "It's no small feat to come out of a fall with your face in that
shape."
With that, Mei Hanxue swept off, leaving Xue Meng rooted to the
spot for several beats before he began to hop around in fury. "Mei Hanxue!
You son of a bitch! Y-you stop right there! I'll get back at you or die
trying!"
Bursting with indignation, the rims of his eyes bright red, Xue Meng
dashed out in such a rush that he ran headlong into someone's chest. "What
the hell!" Xue Meng cried, enraged. "Watch it; are you blind?"
He looked up and saw a tall, charismatically handsome man in green.
The stranger's robes were embroidered with a gold pollia motif, and his hair
was bound up with the green jade ornamental crown of Guyueye. His
lowered gaze was framed by long, delicate lashes. As he looked up, his eyes
seemed to hold within them the misty rains of Jiangnan, set in a face so
arresting it could steal one's souls.
The man shoved Xue Meng away and straightened his hair and robes.
Irritation was scrawled on his face as he smoothed the creases in his collar
with slender fingers. It was then that Xue Meng noticed the silver ring
engraved with a xuanwu tortoise shell on his index finger. He stared blankly
for a moment, then exclaimed, "Jiang Xi?"
The sect leader of Guyueye, the richest man under the sun—Jiang Xi!
Although Jiang Xi was around the same age as Xue Zhengyong, his
method of cultivation left him looking like he was yet in his twenties. He
was exceedingly wealthy and exceedingly beautiful—no doubt a darling of
heaven favored by the gods.
At the Spiritual Mountain Competition, Jiang Xi had been the only
truancy among the leaders of the ten great sects. Xue Meng had wondered
back then what this absent man looked like. Now, confronted with his
distinguished and opulent presence, Xue Meng gawked openly.
Jiang Xi's expression was steady, yet his temper was anything but.
"You dare call a sect leader by his given name? What a joke."
Xue Meng felt a hundred times more humiliated than he had with
Mei Hanxue. "What, are people not allowed to call you by your name when
you're old?" he angrily blurted. "Does everyone have to call you 'esteemed
sect leader'? Even Nangong Liu isn't as full of himself as you!"
"Insolent whelp!" Jiang Xi thundered. "Whose disciple are you?"
"Why should I answer to you? Who do you think you are? Guyueye
might be a bunch of monkeys who listen to your orders, but do you think
everyone will bend to your will so easily? There's no way I'd tell you! If
you ask me, you're just a—"
"Meng-er!" An elegant voice called out.
Xue Meng's mouth snapped shut as he stepped away from Jiang Xi
and cast a glance behind him. Madam Wang had come at some point;
perhaps she had overheard Xue Meng being insolent. She looked pale and
nervous as she hurried to intercept her son. "Meng-er, be quiet and come
over here."
Xue Meng gave Jiang Xi one more furious glare before shaking out
his sleeves and walking over to Madam Wang. He lowered his head
deferentially. "Mom."
Jiang Xi was still for a moment. He slowly turned and narrowed his
eyes; despite their beauty, they flashed with a malevolent light. Casting a
detached look at the mother and son standing before the white walls and
black tiles, his mouth moved in a derisive sneer. "Then this must be the
darling of the heavens, Xue Zhengyong's precious son, Xue Meng?"
Madam Wang remained silent.
Jiang Xi's lashes quivered, and he closed his eyes. When he opened
them again, they brimmed with disdain. "Truly Xue Zhengyong's son, with
that level of self-discipline."
"Who said you could insult my dad?!"
"Meng-er!" Madam Wang yanked Xue Meng behind her before
bowing formally to Jiang Xi, her face pale. "My son Xue Meng is too
headstrong. I beg Jiang-zhangmen for his forgiveness."
"Heh, Jiang-zhangmen…" Like a viper, Jiang Xi savored these words
in his mouth before slowly swallowing them. "It's no matter. He's half
Shijie's blood, so given your seniority, I might consider him an adoptive
nephew…"
"Who wants to be your adoptive nephew! Take a good look at your
own ugly-ass face and go to hell!"
"Meng-er…"
With a chilly laugh, Jiang Xi stared at Xue Meng, then slowly shifted
his gaze to Madam Wang. Lowering her eyes, Madam Wang said, "Sect
Leader, please don't joke around. I'm no longer a disciple of Guyueye. How
could I be considered your senior?"
After a long moment, Jiang Xi nodded. "Very well." He continued,
voice cold, "Very well, very well indeed. I've seen an old friend and her son
today, and it's been a truly eye-opening experience. What a sordid place
Sisheng Peak must be—a perfectly fine white magnolia has been spattered
in mud."
Hearing Jiang Xi insult his mother right to his face, Xue Meng's
blood rushed to his head. He dashed forward heedlessly. "Jiang Xi! Shut the
fuck up! I'm gonna rip your mouth in half!"
Madam Wang, unable to hold him back, could only watch the
situation spin further out of control.
A brilliant firework burst noisily in midair, and the time-keeping
drums boomed. The voice of Rufeng Sect's master of ceremonies rang
across the seventy-two cities with the aid of a sound-amplifying technique:
"To all our esteemed guests, we kindly request the honor of your attendance
at the welcome feast beginning this evening in Poetry Hall…"
Jiang Xi cast Xue Meng one last frigid look. Then he flicked his
sleeves and turned on his heel, departing in a huff of rage.