Chu Wanning looked at Mo Ran and his perfectly functional limbs, then hmphed coldly. “You’re neither sick nor injured. Why would I do it for you?”
Still, he waved him over.
The candle cast warm light on Mo Ran’s incomparably handsome face. It had already been almost a year since his rebirth, and he was reaching that age when growth spurts occurred. Without really noticing it, he had gotten quite a bit taller these past few months. At present, when he sat on the bed, he was nearly the same height as Chu Wanning.
This height made it a little difficult for Chu Wanning to wipe his hair, so Mo Ran leaned back on his arms and shifted his body lower. Standing at the side of the bed, Chu Wanning rubbed his long hair dry with an exasperated expression. Mo Ran yawned contentedly, closing his eyes to enjoy this rare moment of peace. Outside the window, a frog croaked now and again.
“Shizun.”
“Mn.”
“Did you know? The feathered tribe’s illusion sent me back to Lin’an two hundred years ago, and I met someone named Chu Xun.”
The rubbing didn’t even pause. “How would I know that?”
Mo Ran rubbed his nose with a grin. “He looked like you.”
A long pause. Then, “There are plenty of similar-looking people out there. Nothing strange about that.”
“No, really,” Mo Ran said, all serious. “You were practically cast from the same mold. Shizun, do you think he might be your ancestor?”
“It’s possible,” Chu Wanning replied mildly. “But with something from two hundred years ago, who can say?”
“He had a son who looked like Xia-shidi,” Mo Ran continued.
“I feel like all this is a bit too much to be coincidence. Shizun, is Xia-shidi perhaps a lost relative of yours?”
“I don’t have any relatives.”
“That’s why I said, ‘lost’…” Mo Ran mumbled. He was so close to Chu Wanning that he could detect the light, soothing fragrance of haitang.
It smelled so good. Whether in their previous lifetime or this one, Chu Wanning’s scent always seemed to soothe him. In his past life, whenever he returned from a bloodbath, he had always needed to bury his face in the crook of his shizun’s neck just to breathe again.
Whether he wanted to admit it or not, he was already hopelessly addicted to Chu Wanning’s scent. He closed his eyes and slowly relaxed into the familiar peace, mind drifting in the flow of time.
In his last lifetime, he would on occasion return to the empty Wushan Palace after another slaughter, soaked head to toe in rain. He had clearly committed countless sins, but he was nothing more than a drenched stray with no home to speak of.
At such times, he would sit and wrap his arms around Chu Wanning’s waist, bury his face against his abdomen, and have his shizun stroke his hair over and over again. It was the only way to calm the madness within.
Those bygone dreams were things of the past—of another life. But with his eyes closed, they seemed like only yesterday.
Chu Wanning noticed that the chatterbox had stopped talking and lowered his lashes to glance down at him. In the dim light of the candle, Mo Ran’s face was relaxed, at peace.
Although his face still had a touch of the soft tenderness of youth, his features had matured with striking definition, like a natural handsomeness blooming through haze that still carried the deadly freshness and vitality of the young.
Chu Wanning’s hand wavered for a split second, and his heart seemed to beat a little faster. He had no idea what compelled him to say in a soft voice, “Mo Ran.”
“Mm…” Mo Ran absentmindedly mumbled a reply. Then, as if exhausted, he leaned closer and pressed his face against Chu Wanning’s waist, just like he once had in his past life.
Chu Wanning was struck speechless.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
His heartbeat was rapid in his chest, like war drums on a battlefield. The reverberations made him dizzy.
Chu Wanning pressed his lips together. Not knowing what else to do, he could only continue to wipe Mo Ran’s hair, steaming away the last droplets of water.
A long while passed in this fashion, until he set the towel down, brushed aside some stray strands of hair from Mo Ran’s forehead in passing, and said in a low voice, “All done. You can go to sleep now.”
Mo Ran opened his eyes, black with a tinge of purple and still a bit dazed. After a few moments, they gradually became clearer.
When he finally broke out of his daze and noticed that he had gone so far as to give in to habit and lean into Chu Wanning’s waist—
and even more unexpectedly, that he hadn’t in fact been shoved off—Mo Ran was startled, to say the least. His eyes opened wide in stupefied astonishment, making him look just like a dumb dog.
Chu Wanning had at first still felt a bit uneasy, but he couldn’t stop himself from smiling at that look on Mo Ran’s face.
As Mo Ran realized that he was actually smiling—however lightly, it was definitely a smile—his eyes became even rounder. He sat up straight, hair a bit of a mess, and suddenly said with utmost seriousness, “Shizun, you have a scent. It smells really nice.”
Chu Wanning was once again struck speechless.
Mo Ran paused, then suddenly furrowed his brows, as if trying hard to remember something. When he did manage to remember it, consternation crept into his expression. “Huh, that’s strange,” he mumbled. “Doesn’t…Xia-shidi also smell like that?”
Chu Wanning’s expression went instantly rigid. He flung the towel onto Mo Ran’s head before he could react and physically tossed him off the bed. “I’m tired now,” he said coldly. “Get the hell off and go to sleep.”
Mo Ran landed stupidly on his back, caught completely off guard. He lay on the floor in a daze for quite a while before sitting up and rubbing his nose, not mad at all, and obediently got up to make his bed on the floor.