Chu Wanning felt like he was caught holding a hot potato. He had
no idea what to do. As more and more eyes turned in his direction, his ears
flushed red with embarrassment.
At that moment, a pair of hands reached out to take the child from his
arms. Chu Wanning let out a breath of relief and turned. "Mo Ran?"
"Mn." Mo Ran shifted the child to the crook of one arm. With his
free hand, he ruffled Chu Wanning's hair. His expression was solemn, his
features weighed down faintly with melancholy after the tragedies in Linyi.
Still, he made an effort to lift the corners of his lips in front of Chu
Wanning, not wishing to show him an unhappy expression. His half-smile
wasn't so gallant as usual, but it radiated an indescribable warmth.
"All settled with the islanders?"
"Mn, all settled."
"The fire in Linyi probably won't burn itself out for a few days. We
should stay on Flying Flower Isle for now. But there aren't many houses on
the island, and we've brought so many people…"
"I've asked the village elder. He said there will be room if we double
up."
Mo Ran had always been good at handling such things. He had a
knack for getting on well with others, and as for his looks… Chu Wanning
remembered how the girls in Yuliang Village had eyed Mo Ran when
they'd helped with the rice harvest. Without a doubt, Mo Ran was vastly
more likable than he. Chu Wanning stood in silent thought for a while,
unable to identify what he was feeling. He nodded. "You've worked hard."
"No need for that with me." Mo Ran took one look at the candy, still
in Chu Wanning's hand, and understood what had happened. With a laugh,
he turned to comfort the oblivious child in his arms. "Hey you, why are you
crying?"
"I want Mommy… I want Daddy…"
The child was so young he still walked unsteadily, yet he'd already
lost both parents forever to the sea of flames. Mo Ran's heart ached as he
looked at the boy. He pressed his forehead to the child's and consoled him
softly, "Your mom and dad…have some things to take care of. It'll be a few
days before they can come stay with you. Be a good boy now, so they'll be
happy when they see you…" The child gradually calmed as Mo Ran held
and soothed him. Although he still sniffled from time to time, he'd stopped
screaming and wailing.
Still holding the candy, Chu Wanning stood to the side and watched
Mo Ran lower his head toward the tearful child. His profile was beautiful,
its contours strong and crisp. Were he a watercolor painting, his
brushstrokes would be vigorous and masterful, an extraordinary
composition that effortlessly produced a face without equal. His features
were cleanly defined, but his lashes and the eyes that peered through them
were soft, like delicate leaves unfurling in spring.
Chu Wanning's mind began to wander.
When Mo Ran leaned over to take the candy at his fingertips with his
mouth, Chu Wanning jerked back in surprise, his eyes widening. "What are
you doing?"
The sticky rice candy was small. Mo Ran's lips had naturally brushed
against Chu Wanning's fingers when he bit into the candy. In fact, the
warm, wet tip of his tongue had even flicked the pads of Chu Wanning's
fingertips by accident. Chu Wanning's whole body went numb. This tiny,
fleeting intimacy sent an itch scuttling down his spine, like a tender sprout
breaking from its seed and pushing the impassive soil out of the way,
pressing against the suffocating earth until it became soft and malleable…
Mo Ran grinned at him with the candy between his lips, and then
turned to wink at the child. He tossed the candy up to catch it in his mouth,
his throat bobbing as he did. "See, it's not some scary medicine," he said to
the boy. "It's only sweets."
Chu Wanning was speechless. Lost in thought, he hadn't been paying
attention to Mo Ran's murmured conversation with the boy. Only now did
he look back toward the child, who was staring at Mo Ran with timid,
earnest eyes. "Ah, it's really candy…" he finally said in a tiny, astonished
voice.
"Yup." Mo Ran smiled. "This cultivator-gege is such a good person,
how could he possibly kidnap you and make you into pills?"
Chu Wanning thought it better not to respond.
The sky was brightening by the time Mo Ran had settled all the
refugees. After the shocking occurrences of the night before, he wasn't
sleepy at all. He ventured down to the shore of Flying Flower Isle by
himself. The tide had receded in the morning, revealing shoals that couldn't
be seen in the darkness.
Now that he was alone, his worries came rushing to the surface,
clouding his thoughts in a haze he couldn't dispel. He slipped off his shoes
and walked slowly along the shoreline, leaving two crooked trails in the wet
sand.
He found many things about Xu Shuanglin inexplicable. For instance,
why did he refuse to wear shoes in the dead of winter, walking everywhere
barefoot instead?
Mo Ran had hidden much of his past, and people had rarely treated
him with kindness. Perhaps that was why he felt he understood why Xu
Shuanglin had put every effort into destroying Rufeng Sect and Jiangdong
Hall, throwing the entire upper cultivation realm into chaos. The most
painful thing in the world wasn't being beaten down or pushed aside. On
the contrary—the most painful thing was to be betrayed by those closest to
you. It was to be someone who had been innocent of wrongdoing, someone
with a heart bursting with passion, who strove to become a zongshi of his
generation, who then had everyone at the foremost competition in the
cultivation world pointing at him, saying he'd stolen his techniques from
his older brother—the techniques he'd poured his heart and soul into… He
had been buried under this ridicule and contempt, never to rise again.
After the present calamity passed, the cultivation world would
inevitably have to deal with how the cards had been reshuffled. The sects
that had suffered grievous injuries, whether to their reputations or their
members, would all think, Xu Shuanglin is truly a madman. Perhaps only
Mo Weiyu, who had once himself been a beastly, bloodthirsty murderer,
would stroll alone along a peaceful, unbroken stretch of shore and consider:
just what kind of person was Xu Shuanglin?
Had that madman ever exhausted himself training in the tangerine
grove when he was young and full of vigor? Had he returned after nightfall,
weary and satisfied, with a sweet tangerine tucked into his sleeve for his
lazy brother, never knowing that this useless brother's silver tongue would
later make him a pariah in the world of cultivation?
Had that madman ever been engrossed in reading cultivation scrolls,
earnestly loading his brush with ink to pen some naïve opinion? Had he
bitten the brush's handle in dissatisfaction, sinking into deep thought, never
knowing that no matter how hard he worked, what awaited him was a
ruined reputation, his hopes forever extinguished?
Mo Ran closed his eyes. The sea breeze washed over his face, the
dawn light gilding his lashes. He remembered Xu Shuanglin's courtyard,
Farewell to Three Lifetimes. "One sip of Mengpo's soup bids farewell to
three lifetimes of memories." Could Xu Shuanglin have given his home
such a name on a mere whim?
There was also the question of what had happened in Mo Ran's
previous lifetime. Back then, Xu Shuanglin had similarly sequestered
himself within Rufeng Sect, and his goals ought to have been no different
than they were in this one. But in that life, he had died amidst the beacon
fires to save Ye Wangxi…
Ye Wangxi. Xu Shuanglin had given her this name, Wangxi—to
forget the past. But what was he trying to forget? Had he once tried to
forget those unjust, unfair times, to forget the hatred and glory of the past,
to forget each and every repulsive face in his memory?
And the corpse that Xu Shuanglin had gone to such great lengths to
drag out of the Infinite Hells—Luo Fenghua's corpse. What did he need this
corpse for? In the illusion, Xu Shuanglin had told Nangong Liu that the
curse on the ring could be broken by obtaining the caster's spiritual core.
But it seemed, considering the outcome, that Xu Shuanglin hadn't intended
to help Nangong Liu get rid of the curse at all.
The Heavenly Rift, the Zhenlong Chess Formation, Rebirth… And
there was the hand that had reached out of the rift at the end of those events.
Mo Ran vaguely felt that something wasn't right. His brows knitted tighter
as he mulled it over.
All of a sudden, his eyes flew open. He remembered—
Years ago, by Jincheng Lake, the ancient dragon Wangyue had said
before his death, That mysterious person used the Heart-Pluck Willow's
power in Jincheng Lake to practice two secret techniques—the first was
Rebirth, and the second was the Zhenlong Chess Formation.
There had been no mention of the Space-Time Gate of Life and
Death. If Wangyue was to be believed, Xu Shuanglin only cared about
learning the techniques of Rebirth and the Zhenlong Chess Formation. The
benefits of the latter were obvious—controlling chess pieces would make
executing his schemes much easier.
But what about Rebirth? Whom did he want to bring back to life?
After some thought, Mo Ran felt there were two options: Rong Yan
and Luo Fenghua. Xu Shuanglin had implied that Rong Yan actually
favored him in love but had turned her back on Xu Shuanglin for reasons
unknown and ultimately married his brother.
But upon further consideration, Mo Ran concluded that she couldn't
be the one. If Xu Shuanglin were really in love with Rong Yan such that
he'd do anything to revive her, why would he have murdered her only son
in the previous lifetime? Besides, he had spent years by Nangong Liu's side
disguised as Shuanglin Elder. If he'd wanted to use the Rebirth technique
for the sake of Rong Yan, why did he not simply prevent her from being
sacrificed at Jincheng Lake in the first place?
So it wasn't Rong Yan.
Mo Ran turned to gaze at the ocean dyed red by the rising sun, its
crashing waves surging without pause. Following the sun's eastern ascent,
the tide swelled, eating up the sand as Mo Ran watched. Framed between
heaven and earth was a vision of golden splendor.
It had to be Luo Fenghua. Mo Ran was certain of it. The person
Nangong Xu wanted to revive was Luo Fenghua.
Rufeng Sect's affairs were the opposite of simple, no matter how they
appeared on the surface. They were much like the rise and fall of the sea—
the broken cowries and the starfish with their brilliant, dangerous colors all
disappeared beneath the churning waves of dawn.
As the tide rolled in, the waves swept away the pebbles and spread
over the shoal he was walking on. Feeling a sudden chill beneath his soles,
Mo Ran looked down and saw that the surf had risen to beat against the tops
of his feet. As he wiggled his shapely toes, he felt a little cold, and turned to
head back up the beach for his shoes. But as soon as he looked back, he saw
that Chu Wanning had walked over to join him. Set against a sky full of
rosy clouds, he bore a mild expression and carried in one hand the shoes
and socks Mo Ran had tossed upon the sand. He handed Mo Ran his shoes.
"It's too cold to be walking around barefoot."
Mo Ran followed him to the top of a dune and lowered himself down
next to some craggy boulders on the shore. He brushed the sand from his
feet and put his shoes back on. Suddenly, he felt rather comforted. Even if
he never received the kind of love he wanted from Chu Wanning in this
lifetime, Chu Wanning was still the best shizun in the world—he cared for
Mo Ran and looked after him. When Chu Wanning saw him walking
barefoot, he worried Mo Ran would catch cold.
"What do you make of the affair at Rufeng Sect?" Chu Wanning
asked.
"It's more complicated than it looks."
"I agree." Chu Wanning's brow had hardly smoothed once since the
events of last night. Despite the calm of the moment, his forehead still
creased with worry. Seeing that Mo Ran had put on his socks and shoes, he
turned again toward the vast ocean.
The sun burnished the water's surface a brilliant red-gold. It was hard
to tell where the sunrise ended and the distant conflagration in Linyi began.
"It'll be difficult to track Xu Shuanglin through the space rift," said
Chu Wanning. "If he hides and covers his trail well, a decade could pass
before we catch sight of him again."
Mo Ran shook his head. "He won't wait a decade. After he recovers
his strength, he'll definitely make his move."
"What makes you think so?"
Mo Ran explained his theory, then added, "The corpse of Luo
Fenghua we saw isn't real flesh and blood—it's merely an artificial body
reconstructed in the Infinite Hells. After it exits the ghost realm, it'll rot
quickly without a supply of yin energy. I'm guessing he'll show himself
again within a year, even if he's not completely prepared."
Chu Wanning didn't reply. He had always been exceedingly cautious
in both thought and action. Unlike Mo Ran, it wasn't his way to make bold
conjectures regarding something so amorphous. But as he listened, he felt
perhaps there was no harm in doing some guesswork. "What about that
hand?" Chu Wanning asked. "What do you think about the hand that pulled
Nangong Xu away?"
Mo Ran shook his head again. "I'm not well-read on the first
forbidden technique, so it's hard to say. I don't know."
These words were untrue. Even if Mo Ran no longer wanted to lie to
Chu Wanning, there remained some things he simply couldn't say—that he
didn't dare to say. For as long as he could remember, the days of peace he
had been afforded were so pitifully few—likely totaling less than a year
over the course of two lifetimes. If someone who had spent decades adrift
was suddenly sat before a bonfire with a pot of hot tea, how could he bear
to step away? How could he bear to shatter this sweet dream with his own
hands?
So he could only say, I don't know.
But his heart stirred restlessly. Even if they knew whose hand it was,
that wouldn't solve the mystery. Why hadn't the past life's Xu Shuanglin
also gathered five elemental spiritual essences and slaughtered all who
opposed him? One could assume, from how things played out, that Xu
Shuanglin wouldn't have figured out how to resurrect Luo Fenghua at all
unless someone who was himself reborn had enticed him, led him astray…
Years ago at Jincheng Lake, Xu Shuanglin's white chess piece had
said to Chu Wanning, If you think that I'm the only one in this world who
knows the three forbidden techniques, then I'm afraid you won't have much
longer to live.
Mo Ran reasoned that Xu Shuanglin must know someone who had
come to this world from another. At the same time, he was fairly certain Xu
Shuanglin didn't know that Mo Ran himself had been reborn. Otherwise,
why hadn't he revealed Mo Ran's origins when they'd clashed at Rufeng
Sect? He would've needed only capture some of Mo Ran's memories in the
scroll and expose them in the inferno. No amount of Chu Wanning's
goodwill could endure that; he'd probably disown Mo Ran as his disciple
on the spot. And then it would all be over for Mo Weiyu; he would never
rise from such a fall again.
Why hadn't Xu Shuanglin done this? There were two possibilities.
One: because he wasn't able to, for one reason or another. Two: because he
didn't know Mo Ran's secrets.
In any case, there was no action Mo Ran could take—he didn't have
enough information. If his opponent covered their tracks carefully, Mo Ran
could only stand and wait for that gleaming, cold knife to come at his back
at any moment.
Mo Ran pursed his lips and lowered his thick lashes with a slight
flutter. There was only so much he could do. In the past life, consumed by
selfish vengeance, he had committed too many outrageous deeds. In this
life, he wanted to try his best to live each day well no matter the outcome,
to repay the people to whom he owed debts, and to protect his shizun, Shi
Mei, Xue Meng, and all of Sisheng Peak. He wanted to try his best to hold
onto this brief warmth he'd never before experienced.
As Mo Ran was lost in thought, a fisherman rushed over. "Esteemed
cultivators, bad news!" he cried.
Startled, Mo Ran sprang off one hand and leapt to his feet. "What
happened?"
"The head of our island's merchant family just returned this morning
from being out at sea for several days. Wh-when the village elder explained
the situation, she was awfully unhappy with how he'd handled it. She threw
a fit and said she wouldn't let the children and elderly stay in the vacant
rooms. She's already kicked them out—everyone you brought i-is standing
outside."
The fisherman was a gentle soul; as he spoke, his eyes grew teary.
"Those poor people—it's such a cold day, and she's not even willing to
spare a coat or a blanket… The merchant also said…"
Chu Wanning also stood, his expression dark. "What else did she
say?"
"She also said that…since those people from Linyi ate Flying Flower
Isle's rations and drank Flying Flower Isle's water, she…she's going to
charge them for every last copper, and if they can't afford it, then…then
she'll round them up and keep them on Flying Flower Isle…as slaves…"
Before he'd finished, Chu Wanning was storming off toward the
center of the island in a whirl of pale blue robes.