“No, really, I was so busy the whole time, and I haven’t eaten yet. I’m starving.” Mo Ran tugged on his sleeve pitifully. “Shidi, my kind shidi, my good shidi, please, may Shixiong have some soup?”
Chu Wanning continued to say nothing, but he eventually moved to place the jar of soup on the ground. He lifted his head a little and tilted it to the side a bit before turning away again, meaning for Mo Ran to help himself, if he wanted.
Mo Ran grinned. “Thanks, Shidi.”
The little clay jar was stuffed full. A single glance and Mo Ran could tell that his shidi hadn’t eaten much, leaving him the majority of the meat. It was actually mostly meat with a little bit of soup.
Mo Ran stared for a bit, eyes lit with amusement. “Are you sure this is soup?” he teased gently. “Looks more like chicken stew to me. Shidi is so generous.”
Still no response.
Mo Ran stopped chattering then; after spending half the day taking care of Shi Mei, he really was starving. Besides, his shidi had worked so hard to make the soup, he couldn’t possibly let the kid’s good intentions go to waste. He broke off two small branches from the peach tree, smoothing them into a pair of chopsticks with a flare of spiritual energy from his fingertips, and got right down to stuffing a piece of chicken in his mouth.
“Whoa, delicious!” Mo Ran said around a mouthful of steamy chicken. “It’s really good. My shidi is so capable.”
In truth, it wasn’t that good, and it was a bit salty too, but Mo Ran still dug in heartily to make his little shidi happy, plowing through most of the chicken in short order. The entire time, Chu Wanning sat there quietly without looking at him.
Mo Ran gulped down a big mouthful of soup—it was even saltier than the meat, so much so that it was practically bitter, but it was still bearable. He scooped up another drumstick and was about to shove it in his mouth when he froze.
“How many legs does a chicken have?” Of course there was no reply, so he answered himself: “Two.”
Mo Ran looked at the drumstick held between his chopsticks, then looked at the bone from the other drumstick that he had eaten. After a long moment of silence, the idiot finally lifted his head, dazed, and asked Chu Wanning, “Shidi, were you…” He didn’t have the courage to say the rest.
Were you waiting for me this whole time, and so haven’t even eaten yet?
The jar of soup is all meat. Is it because you waited for me for so long that all the soup boiled off and there was only meat left, so that’s all that was left to put in the jar? Only to have me think…
Only to have me think that you’d already eaten…and just left some for me… That you’d cooked it wrong and turned chicken soup into chicken stew…
Mo Ran put the clay jar down wordlessly. He had realized too late; there was hardly any meat left.
Chu Wanning finally spoke. His voice was still calm and even, with a bit of youthfulness. “You said you would be back for dinner. So I waited,” he said slowly, tonelessly. “If you don’t want it anymore, then at least send word so I’m not waiting like an idiot. Okay?”
“Shidi…”
Chu Wanning was still facing away, refusing to look at him. Mo Ran couldn’t see his expression.
“Have someone pass me a message that you’re going to go keep Shi…that you’re going to go keep Mingjing-shixiong company instead. Would it have been that hard?”
Mo Ran could not reply.
“You took my jar and rambled so much before eating, but you didn’t even ask if I’d eaten yet. Would that have been so hard?”
Mo Ran had no reply.
“Would it have been so hard to check and see how many drumsticks were in the jar first?”
That last one sounded a little funny. Even through all his remorse, Mo Ran could only smile, but his dimples froze before they had even formed.
His little shidi was crying.
Chu Wanning never would have cried over such a minor thing in his adult form. No one had realized that, although being turned into a child by the willow sap hadn’t affected his mind that much, there had been some impact after all—his temperament became more childish whenever he was tired or overexerted himself. This hidden property of the sap was extremely difficult to detect, so neither Madam Wang nor the Tanlang Elder had noticed it when taking his pulse.
“I also feel hunger and sadness, I’m human too…” Even with that younger mentality in the foreground of his mind, Chu Wanning still clung to his self-restraint, fighting back sobs without a sound. But his shoulders shook uncontrollably as tears welled and fell from his reddened eyes.
All those years, the Yuheng Elder had always endured silently. No one liked him, no one kept him company, and he always feigned nonchalance as he walked through the reverent crowd, lofty and composed. Only with his mind tinged by childish thoughts could he break down and speak the truth, let out the misery that had built up within him for so long.
It wasn’t that he didn’t care for those around him, only that he did it quietly. Such quietude, day after day, without anyone to see or notice, was also a kind of torment.
As Mo Ran watched the minute shivering of his little shidi’s shoulders, his heart clenched, and he reached out to soothe him. His hand was slapped away before it made contact. “Shidi…”
“Don’t touch me.” Chu Wanning always put up a strong front, regardless of his age. He firmly wiped away his tears and stood. “I’m going to bed. You can go keep your shidi company. Just stay away from me.”
There was an awkward moment of silence. In Chu Wanning’s indignation, he had forgotten that Shi Mei was older than Mo Ran.
Mo Ran opened his mouth to say something, but Chu Wanning had left. He disappeared into the other bedroom and the door slammed shut with a loud bang.
There were only two bedrooms in the courtyard of Campsis Pavilion. Mo Ran had been planning to let Shi Mei sleep in one while he squeezed into the other with his little shidi, but it looked like his shidi’s room was out of the question, given how he was so mad he’d even locked the door.
Mo Ran didn’t want to climb into bed with Shi Mei either. Not to mention, having been scolded by his little shidi, and even made him cry, Mo Ran’s head was a complete mess. He wasn’t in any mood to think about any kind of flirting. So he simply sat there in the courtyard in a daze, surrounded by peach blossoms in full bloom, holding the clay jar that his little shidi had brought him all the way from the cave. A long while later, he sighed and slapped himself across the face, cursing in a low voice. “You good-for-nothing.”