The pair of them reached the edge of the cliff on Flying Flower
Isle. Far below the craggy cliffs lapped the roaring sea, its waves scattering
into snow-white flecks of foam as they crashed to shore. Before them was
only the endless sea and sky, and the waxing crescent of the moon.
Mo Ran summoned his oathbound sword and turned to Chu
Wanning. "Shizun, how is it that you never learned to ride swords?"
"It's not that I never learned," replied Chu Wanning. "I'm just not
good at it."
"How are you not good at it?"
Chu Wanning shook his sleeves out. His expression took on a touch
of haughtiness, but his ears had turned red. "I can only fly close to the
ground."
This somewhat astonished Mo Ran. It required the same amount of
spiritual energy to ride a sword whether you were one inch off the ground
or hundreds of feet in the air. If Chu Wanning could fly near to the ground,
there was no reason he couldn't travel at greater heights. "Shizun, just give
it a try—let me see."
He was met with silence. Chu Wanning didn't summon his sword.
After a moment, he said with a bland expression, "The reason I don't
usually ride my sword is because I believe weapons deserve respect. It's not
fitting to step on them."
Mo Ran blinked in confusion. He didn't understand why Chu
Wanning had abruptly launched into this explanation, but still he nodded.
"Shizun is right, of course. But…we can't fly lying down or hanging from
our swords, can we?"
Chu Wanning was momentarily speechless. He glanced up to see
Mo Ran looking at him bright-eyed in the moonlight and felt a spike of
irritation. "Usually, I use the Rising Dragon Array to fly if it's urgent."
Taken aback, Mo Ran asked, "That little dragon?"
"It can get bigger," said Chu Wanning. He felt as though he had
saved himself some face, but embarrassment quickly set in again.
"However, it was impossible to use that technique during the inferno at
Rufeng Sect. It's afraid of fire."
This time, Mo Ran was flabbergasted. "So Shizun wants to learn how
to ride a sword because you want to—"
"I want to be ready in case it's necessary."
Mo Ran sank into silence. The furious sea of flames and smoke in
Linyi had claimed innumerable lives. At that time, Chu Wanning had stood
on Mo Ran's sword, watching the hellish inferno devour the commoners
below. Entire families had burnt to ash, leaving not a single bone behind.
Chu Wanning, despite being a great cultivator, had found himself powerless
—he couldn't carry a single person out of the carnage on his sword. How
must he have felt then? It was small wonder that this man, who had always
preferred to ride in a horse-drawn carriage rather than on his sword, had
suddenly made this request of his own disciple.
"I understand. Don't worry, Shizun. I'll teach you properly."
Chu Wanning made no reply but cast his gaze downward, his
thoughts unfathomable. At last, he sighed and raised a hand. "Huaisha,
come."
A beam of golden light coalesced. Above the serene sea and below
the moon, Mo Ran once again laid eyes on the holy weapon that Chu
Wanning, in the past life, had summoned only once, in their battle to the
death.
Chu Wanning's killing blade: Huaisha.
It was clear at a glance that this longsword suited Chu Wanning
perfectly; there was probably no one else in the world more fitting to be its
master. It was sparsely decorated, and its body glowed with a golden light
of such intensity that it appeared almost white. Brilliance emanated,
unhurried and unceasing, from the blade, its light like a blazing fuse, or like
grains of white sand scattered across the nightscape.
"This is Huaisha." Chu Wanning eyed the blade. "You've never seen
it. I don't use it often; its nature is too vicious."
Mo Ran's mood was complicated. After a long silence, he nodded
and said in a low voice, "It's a good sword."
The night wind whistled past. Mo Ran stepped onto the blade of his
own sword. As he shifted his weight ever so slightly forward onto his toes,
the sword obediently rose several inches into the air.
Mo Ran turned around. "Shizun, try this."
Chu Wanning stepped onto Huaisha. The blade rose steadily into the
air and carried Chu Wanning in a tight circle.
"Not so bad, is it?" asked Mo Ran. "Now try going a little higher." So
saying, he coaxed his own sword up until it was nearly five feet off the
ground. He looked down and grinned at Chu Wanning. "Come up here."
Chu Wanning pressed his lips into a tight line. Without a word, he
directed Huaisha to draw level with Mo Ran's sword.
"No problem at all—see, Shizun, you already know how. Let's—"
Mo Ran swallowed the rest of his sentence. He'd suddenly noticed
Chu Wanning's deathly pale face, his features rigid and his lashes trembling
in the breeze like blades of grass. He looked like he was silently enduring
with all his might.
After glancing down at the ground, which was less than five feet
away, Mo Ran stared up at Chu Wanning in disbelief. A preposterous notion
struck him—
Could it be that Shizun couldn't ride a sword because…he was afraid
of heights?
Mo Ran was at a complete and utter loss for words. This was
simultaneously incredibly awkward and surpassingly difficult to believe.
Chu Wanning's qinggong was second to none—he could scale any tower at
will and leap from any height on a whim, soaring countless lengths with a
single light bound. How could such a person be afraid of heights? But Chu
Wanning now wore a dreadful expression atop his sword, his eyes darting
restlessly back and forth. As much as he tried to restrain it, a faint panic
surfaced on his features.
"Shizun?" Mo Ran ventured cautiously.
Chu Wanning's reaction was extreme—he jerked his head up at once.
The night wind blew stray locks of hair into his face, but he didn't raise a
hand to brush them away. His elegant phoenix eyes flashed with annoyance,
sparks of warning issuing from behind the windblown strands. "Hm?"
"Cough… Pfft."
"What are you laughing at!"
"My throat's dry. I coughed." Mo Ran's ribs nearly cracked with the
effort of holding back his laughter. Gotcha, he thought. So Chu Wanning
really was afraid of heights. No wonder he'd gone to such lengths to
explain himself earlier—he was just trying to rescue his dignity.
Well, if Shizun wanted to save his dignity, then his disciple naturally
had to play along and provide his master a graceful way out.
"To tell the truth, riding a sword gets more difficult the higher you
go," Mo Ran said. "When I first started, I couldn't go much higher than five
feet either. It just takes practice."
"You also couldn't go any higher?"
"Mm-hmm." Mo Weiyu, who had flown several hundred feet into the
air the very first time he'd stepped on a sword, nodded kindly. "It might not
have even been five feet—I was too scared to look down, so it was
probably…only three? So low Xue Meng kicked me back to the ground
without any trouble."
Chu Wanning's heart settled ever so slightly. He had always been
mortified to tell anyone about his fear of heights and attendant inability to
ride a sword. But it seemed it wasn't anything to be ashamed of after all.
"Shizun, try not to look down."
"Hm?"
"Just look at me." After a moment's thought from his vantage high
above Chu Wanning, Mo Ran dipped lower once more. "Don't think about
how high you are—just come up until you're level with me."
Chu Wanning gritted his teeth and rose higher. With the narrow and
slippery blade under his feet, the once warm night wind became as cool and
damp as a snake. It squirmed beneath his collar, hissing and flicking its
tongue.
"Don't look down, don't look down." Mo Ran chanted patiently as he
held his hand out to Chu Wanning. "Come up and take my hand."
Chu Wanning was fully absorbed in his task. "There's no need, I'm
fine."
Mo Ran didn't push. He knew Chu Wanning's temperament; if he
wanted to do something himself, as long as the situation wasn't dire, it was
best to let him have his way. This man, accustomed to being a towering
tree, wasn't used to relying on others. He could only make Chu Wanning
feel comfortable and at ease by staying at his side and standing alongside
him.
Mo Ran very much wanted to turn Chu Wanning into gentle and
pliant spring water, to crush Chu Wanning with his body, to break him in his
arms and melt him into his blood. He was no different from most men in the
world—he would always have some unrealistic, frightening desire to take
possession of the person he loved so deeply. Such was his nature; these
were his instincts. That domineering male instinct made him yearn to lock
Chu Wanning up, to spend their endless days and nights entwined, to force
Chu Wanning to swallow all of Mo Ran's boundless passion.
He longed to have Chu Wanning lying atop a soft bed all day,
wreathed in swirling incense and heady perfumes, hidden from the sight of
all but himself. He longed for Chu Wanning to spend a lifetime beneath him
as he buried himself within Chu Wanning's warmth without surcease. He
longed for the dark bruises on Chu Wanning's skin to never fade. He longed
to transform him into a greedy beast whose hunger could be sated only by
the most potent and fiery lovemaking night after night.
But love made the thought of doing these things unbearable to
Mo Ran. Because of love, he wanted to treat Chu Wanning with respect. He
wanted to see him stride ahead with white robes afloat, to see him fly far
afield with sword in hand. He wanted to watch Chu Wanning rise haughtily
above the forest, unfurling his leaves and casting out his kindly shade. He
wanted to allow him to flourish, even if it meant his branches might be
broken in the wind and rain.
Love chained his instinct and bridled his beastly desire. It compelled
him to lower his lashes and restrain his ardent breath, and demanded that he
abide by the rules. It tamed his primal impulse and pulled the frightful fangs
from his mouth.
In the last lifetime, love had made him possessive, so he'd become
selfish. In this one, love made him accepting, and thus he became selfless.
He wouldn't, as he had in the past, attempt to imprison Chu Wanning or
change him. This belated, pure love rendered the man who had once been
Taxian-jun willing to serve, to spend the rest of this lifetime as Chu
Wanning's companion and no more.
Bit by bit, their swords circled higher. At a certain point, Chu
Wanning couldn't keep his fingers from trembling slightly within his wide
sleeves, even if he didn't look down. His scalp tingled.
Mo Ran could tell he was nervous. "Don't be afraid. It's the same as
qinggong."
"It's not the same," Chu Wanning replied. "I rely on myself for
qinggong. For sword-riding…"
"You also rely on yourself."
"You rely on the sword to ride the sword!" Chu Wanning snapped.
Mo Ran held his tongue. He was beginning to have some idea of why
his shizun's qinggong was exemplary, yet he was terrified of riding swords.
Chu Wanning wasn't in the habit of relying on anyone or anything. He felt
most at ease when he relied on himself and himself alone.
The realization made Mo Ran's heart ache. "It's okay, Shizun," he
said. "You need to trust Huaisha."
Though Chu Wanning remained outwardly calm, he couldn't hide the
anxiety and alarm in his eyes. When Mo Ran noticed the light sheen of
sweat on his brow and the unsteadiness of his stance, he knew they couldn't
go on like this. If Chu Wanning were to fall from his sword now, his fear
would only grow. "Let's go back down," he suggested.
Chu Wanning couldn't have been happier to hear this. Once they
were safely on the ground, he gathered his bearings for a moment, then
asked, "How high did we go?"
Mo Ran promptly decided to round up. "More than fifty feet."
As expected, Chu Wanning's eyes widened in shock. "Really?"
"Yup." Mo Ran grinned. "Shizun's pretty impressive—next time,
we'll manage five hundred with no trouble."
The mere notion of so much height made Chu Wanning's already
pallid face blanch further. Wordlessly he waved a hand and stared blankly at
Huaisha.
After a moment's consideration, Mo Ran added, "Shizun, how about
this—I'll take you up on my sword for a lap so you can get used to it."
"You don't have to. It's not like we haven't done that before."
"But have you ever looked at the ground from atop the sword?"
He had hit the nail on the head—whenever Chu Wanning rode on
someone else's sword, he would always fix his eyes on the wielder's back
or on some other random spot as much as possible, using all the power of
his imagination to pretend his feet were planted squarely on the ground.
Mo Ran summoned his sword again and enlarged it. After stepping
on, he turned to Chu Wanning. "Come on now," he said gently.
Chu Wanning gritted his teeth and leapt nimbly onto the hilt.
"Watch your footing," Mo Ran said. He pushed lightly off his toes,
and the sword spiraled upward into the clouds. Chu Wanning closed his
eyes without thinking and heard Mo Ran's low laugh in his ear. Shaking off
his nerves, he steeled himself and looked down.
With this single glance, every hair on Chu Wanning's body stood on
end. That rascal Mo Ran had taken him soaring into the highest reaches of
the clouds. Far behind them, Flying Flower Isle was receding steadily into
the distance. The wind whistled past his ears, and the frigid evening air
thoroughly chilled him even through his robes. Other than the sword, there
was nothing else beneath his feet. They flew above the vast ocean, the blue
black waters like the yawning maw of an ancient beast ready to swallow all
passing souls.
Frozen lashes trembling, Chu Wanning was about to instinctively
shut his eyes again when he heard Mo Ran's voice from behind him. "Don't
be scared. Everything's fine."
"I'm…not scared." Chu Wanning's face was white as paper.
Mo Ran chuckled. "Okay. If you say you're not, then you're not. If
you're cold or bored, just let me know. I'll take you back to the island."
Chu Wanning said nothing. He knew Mo Ran was trying to salve his
dignity. After all, a mighty cultivator shivering from cold was slightly more
respectable than a mighty cultivator shivering from terror.
Mo Ran could tell Chu Wanning was struggling but unwilling to
admit it. His heart twinged. "I'll make the sword a little bigger." He lifted a
hand, and the sword expanded to several times its original size. Now he and
Chu Wanning could stand side by side.
Chu Wanning was drawn taut as a bowstring. In an attempt to get him
to relax, Mo Ran said, "Shizun, the fire in Linyi will die down in a few
more days. What should we do about the people we brought here when we
return to Sisheng Peak?"
Amazingly, even in his distress, Chu Wanning seriously considered
the problem. "We'll bring them back to Sichuan."
"Hm?"
"Let's take them to Sichuan first. Once the fire goes out, Linyi will be
nothing but scorched earth. No one will be able to live there."
"Okay." Mo Ran gazed at Chu Wanning's stark white face until he
couldn't bear it anymore. "Should we head back?"
"Not yet."
Mo Ran directed the sword to grow wider still. Thinking it would be
more comfortable than standing, he gestured for Chu Wanning to take a
seat, then cast a barrier spell.
Looking over at him, Chu Wanning asked, "What are you doing?"
"Just a cold-dispelling barrier." Mo Ran's eyes were gentle. "It's
chilly up here."
Chu Wanning didn't stop him. This barrier was very similar to his
own—even down to the glowing haitang blossoms adorning the diaphanous
membrane. The principal difference was that Chu Wanning's barrier was
gold, while Mo Ran's was a brilliant red.
Surrounded by this translucent barrier, Chu Wanning's tense muscles
slowly relaxed, and his breathing became more even. Even if he knew the
spell did nothing but dispel the cold, it felt like there was another layer of
protection around him. Or perhaps it was that the boundless black of the
ocean below didn't look quite so unnerving through the barrier.
Mo Ran sat down beside him and smiled. "Shizun, look over there."
"What is it?"
"Do you see it?"
He stared in the direction Mo Ran pointed without understanding.
Chu Wanning knitted his brows. "All I see is the moon."
"That's what I mean."
Chu Wanning was puzzled. "What's so great about the moon? It
looks the same from the ground."
Mo Ran laughed. "This is my first time moongazing with Shizun."
Chu Wanning didn't reply right away. It was only after a long
moment, after Mo Ran already assumed he would leave it at that, that he
murmured softly, "It's not the first time."
"…What?" Caught off guard, Mo Ran turned to look at him.
With his handsome features bathed in silvery moonbeams, Chu
Wanning's complexion was like the pristine white petals of a flower in the
cool night. Behind the dense curtain of his lashes, his eyes seemed to be
filled with memories deeper than the ocean.
"It was so long ago, you've probably forgotten," said Chu Wanning.
"It's not a big deal."
Mo Ran didn't know what to say. He had been alive longer than this
version of Chu Wanning before him, and many of the earlier events from
his past had lost their definition. Just because Chu Wanning remembered
something didn't mean it was also hidden within Mo Ran's heart.
He looked at Chu Wanning's profile and was swept by a wave of
guilt—but within that guilt, too, blossomed an irrepressible sweetness. He
found himself thinking of the brocade pouch, of what he'd wanted to ask
yesterday. Why had Chu Wanning kept their interlaced locks of hair, and so
many old memories? Butterfly Town, Jincheng Lake…
During the Heavenly Rift, he had given up his life to save Mo Ran.
Why?
Mo Ran had never before dared to entertain such brazen fantasies.
He'd thought himself unthinkably bold, irredeemably shameless. But every
new discovery over these past few days had only stoked his wild audacity.
Why?
"Shizun."
"Mn?"
Hot blood surged through Mo Ran's chest. His throat felt dry. As he
stared at Chu Wanning, his eyes were very bright. He had a sudden urge to
move closer, to cup his face and kiss it, to gather his courage and ask: Do
you… Do you like me?
On this sword, between heaven and earth, Mo Ran had a fantastical
thought. It seemed as though none of the world's shackles could restrain the
two of them any longer. As if all the love and hate of the past had never
transpired, and what was between them was as serene and pure as the
moonlight streaming through gossamer clouds. He felt as though the small
seedling in his chest had grown into a great tree. Its rough roots loosened
the heavy, stifling dirt, filling the air with the rich scent of the earth.
Noticing that Mo Ran had sunk into a long silence, Chu Wanning
turned to look at him. "What's wrong?"
Mo Ran didn't answer. His mind was a whir; he wanted to have him,
to hold him, to kiss him. Without thinking, he leaned in.
Only then did he realize that, though Chu Wanning had recovered
somewhat since he'd put up the barrier, his bloodless lips were still pressed
together, and his complexion remained wan. He sat with his arms crossed,
gripping his own elbows, his long, slender fingers clenched tight in the ice
cold fabric of his sleeves.
Even when Chu Wanning was afraid, he clung to himself instead of
others.
Mo Ran stared, dumbstruck. The possessive glint in his eyes winked
out and rekindled as glimmering motes of light, like the gentle lanterns of
fishing boats at sea. He pursed the lips that had yearned to kiss Chu
Wanning, curving them instead into a soft, bittersweet smile. He stilled the
hands that had wanted to brashly embrace him, and, after a moment,
touched the back of Chu Wanning's freezing hand.
"You…" Chu Wanning was caught off guard. A faint flush surfaced
on his pale face, but he spoke in a low voice laced with warning. "What do
you think you're doing?" He wanted to yank his hand away, but Mo Ran
had already grabbed it and wasn't letting go. Chu Wanning felt a large,
warm palm close around his ice-cold fingers. His entire hand was
seamlessly engulfed, from the back of his palm to the ends of his fingertips.
"You don't have to do everything yourself," said Mo Ran. "I'm here
—you can rely on me."
Up until this point, Chu Wanning had managed to maintain a
modicum of calm. But he couldn't miss the emotion contained in these
words, no matter how oblivious or uncertain he was—to say nothing of
those heart-stoppingly dark eyes gazing at him, solemn and serious, gentle
and doting. Chu Wanning's pulse drummed like raindrops in a driving
storm, pounding away in the space between his souls.
He didn't dare meet Mo Ran's eyes; he jerked his face aside and
ducked his head.
It was too hot. They were hundreds of feet in the air—how was it so
hot?
Chu Wanning had always been independent and in control. But right
now he seemed to have stepped into a realm wholly foreign to him. His
armor had been peeled away, his sharp claws clipped. Faced with Mo Ran's
earnest expression, Chu Wanning felt all his usual tricks were useless. This
man had pried open his shell and now stared unflinchingly at the trembling,
lustrous meat within, gleaming pearls and salty-sweet flesh alike laid bare
before his eyes. With his armor removed, this proud and self-possessed
person suddenly felt terrifyingly vulnerable.
What to do…
What was he supposed to say?
He…
Mo Ran was still holding his hand, grasping it tightly in his own.
Anxious and nervous, Chu Wanning found himself at a loss. The rims of his
eyes reddened, and he unconsciously tried to yank his hand away again.
But Mo Ran tightened his grip at the first twitch. His palm was
slightly clammy with sweat. "Don't pull away."
Chu Wanning said nothing. Mo Ran had used considerable strength,
and his hold was stubborn and insistent. Somehow, Chu Wanning thought
he heard a note of sorrow in his tone.
Mo Ran's eyes were fiery as he fixed Chu Wanning with a long stare.
Finally, voice low and husky, he said, "Chu Wanning…"
"What did you just call me?"
"…I misspoke."
Chu Wanning tensed even more, and his heart raced faster than when
he'd stood on his own sword. He wasn't used to this at all. Teetering at the
edge of this vast abyss, he mounted a final struggle, making a last-ditch bid
to take control of the situation. He looked downward. "Mn, at least you
recognize your mistake. Perhaps you're not beyond…"
Mo Ran's heart was on fire. Finally, he blurted thoughtlessly,
"Wanning."
…Saving.
Chu Wanning didn't manage to get the last word out. When he heard
Mo Ran's last sighing, gentle utterance, his mind filled with a buzzing
blankness. He couldn't finish the sentence.
Beyond saving.
Beyond saving—
They had hesitated so long at the brink of the mire that was love. At
last, they couldn't resist that final step forward, falling deep into its
embrace. Henceforth, they would be hopelessly ensnared, that ache sinking
down to their bones.
Mo Ran's eyes were fixed on Chu Wanning, and his voice was deep
and hoarse. "Wanning, these past few days, there's something I've been
meaning to ask you."
Chu Wanning watched him, silent.
Mo Ran's heart burned. His fingers shook as he gripped Chu
Wanning's hand. "No—I won't ask you."
Chu Wanning let out a breath of relief—but Mo Ran continued.
"I won't ask you anything. I just want to tell you." Mo Ran steeled
himself; there was no turning back. With a single deep breath, he
summoned all of his courage. "I like you." His heart juddered violently.
"I like you, not in the way a disciple likes his shizun, but…I know I'm
being horribly bold—I…I like you."
Chu Wanning closed his eyes. His fingers, surrounded by this man's
humid warmth, gradually stopped shaking.
How.
How…
He had surely misheard. He was so ugly, so harsh, so clumsy with his
words, so uninteresting. He was a total fool without a single redeeming
quality. Who would like him?
"I like you."
Chu Wanning remained frozen for what seemed like an age. He truly
didn't know what to say. His heart was filled with grief; he was thrown off
balance. Somewhere within him, he felt both bitterness and dread, yet his
mind was curiously blank. He wanted to sweep his sleeves back and snap
Nonsense! or Ridiculous! as he normally would, but all the words that
occurred to him remained stuck in his throat.
When he finally unfroze, Chu Wanning mumbled blankly, "I have a
terrible temper."
"You're very good to me."
"I-I'm too old."
"You look younger than I do."
Chu Wanning was on the edge of panic. Bewildered and helpless, he
said, "I'm so ugly…"
Now it was Mo Ran's turn to be stumped. His eyes widened as he
gazed at the handsome man before him. He didn't understand how someone
so beautiful could disparage himself so.
Seeing Mo Ran silent, Chu Wanning felt all the more lost and
scattered. He dipped his head. "I'm not good-looking."
Mo Ran stared.
"Not as good-looking as you." As Chu Wanning muttered quietly, he
suddenly felt a warm hand brush over his cheek. He heard Mo Ran sigh,
gentler than the moonlight.
"Do me a favor—look into my eyes?"
"Your eyes?" Chu Wanning asked, confused.
Mo Ran's gaze was warm and mild. In his irises was reflected the
image of a man in white robes. "Do you see him?" he said. "The most
beautiful person in the whole world."
Chu Wanning gaped at him. Even as his heart roiled with fearsome
waves, his wintry features, not so easily thawed, remained mostly
impassive.
Mo Ran's hand was damp as he gripped Chu Wanning's palm. "I like
you," he repeated softly.
It was as though Chu Wanning had been stabbed. His fingers
trembled, and after a moment, he let his head fall. The words I like you
were like a sharp knife piercing his heart, from which blood spilled in an
unstoppable stream. The rims of his eyes were red. Perhaps he had waited
too long to hear these words; he'd never expected to have this kind of
reaction. He was so fretful he was on the verge of tears. "I'm no good.
Nobody's ever liked me."
Nobody's ever liked me. Nobody's ever felt happy or proud or lucky to
have me. It's been thirty-two years, and nobody's ever liked me.
As Mo Ran heard this, as he watched the man before him with his
head bowed and face obscured, a staggering ache tore through his heart, as
though it might fracture. Chu Wanning was his treasure, yet he had been
hidden beneath the dust for half his life.
Mo Ran ached so much he couldn't speak. He didn't know what he
was supposed to say. Finally, he squeezed Chu Wanning's hand and said
clumsily, over and over, "That's not true, that's not true."
You have someone who likes you. I like you. Someone wants you,
you're wanted—don't be so self-deprecating and foolish anymore. Don't
speak of yourself as if you're worthless, because you're the best. Dummy.
Chu Wanning, you dummy. I like you.
After a long stretch of silence, Mo Ran asked, "And you?"
It took Chu Wanning a moment to respond. "What?"
Mo Ran lowered his quivering lashes. "I…I'm really dumb and
oblivious and unreasonable, and I…I've done many unforgivable things."
He paused. "Could you like me?" he asked in a small voice.
Chu Wanning had already raised his head, but upon hearing this
question, he met those soft black eyes, his heart a jumble. Without knowing
where he got the strength, he ripped his hand out of Mo Ran's and turned
his face away.
He didn't nod or shake his head, neither confirming nor denying. But
Mo Ran could see plainly that Chu Wanning's ears had turned red, a blush
that extended all the way down his lovely neck like the stem of a flower.
"That brocade pouch…"
"Don't say it," Chu Wanning cut in. His whole face was red now.
"You're not allowed to say it."
Mo Ran looked at Chu Wanning's chagrined yet embarrassed, angry
yet bewildered face. Light and shadow flickered in his pupils, blending with
the moonlight. He shifted closer and grasped Chu Wanning's fingertips
again. Chu Wanning was shaking, but Mo Ran's fingers were trembling too.
He covered Chu Wanning's slender fingers. And then, one by one, he
interlocked them with his own for the first time—their fingers folded
together, their palms pressed close.
Blushing furiously, Chu Wanning turned his face even farther away.
But this time he didn't try to struggle free. Holding onto Chu Wanning's
hand, Mo Ran finally, belatedly, disbelievingly confirmed that Chu
Wanning…liked him too.
At last, he knew.