Chapter 83:
This Venerable One Wants You
THE LUDICROUS THOUGHT made Mo Ran see red. Reason had left him. He shook uncontrollably as his hand tightened around Chu Wanning’s throat, pressing for a response with a deep-voiced roar.
If Chu Wanning said the rest of it—if he said, “in life or in death,”—then there could be no doubt… No doubt…
“Ngh!”
A stifled groan by his ear. Chu Wanning couldn’t breathe. His face flushed from the lack of air as his struggles weakened.
Mo Ran stilled, madness and clarity chasing one another across his red-tinted, wide-open eyes—before he snapped out of it and hastily let go. Chu Wanning slumped heavily back onto the bed. The five stark stripes of finger-shaped bruises against his neck gradually returned Mo Ran to his senses.
He opened his mouth, wanting to say, “Shizun,” but it wouldn’t come out. He tried to say, “Chu Wanning,” but his voice failed him there, too, until finally, hesitantly, he uttered hoarsely, “You…”
Mo Ran’s throat was parched, as if it had been scorched by fire. He swallowed with difficulty while retrieving the scattered pieces of his rationality. Scenes from the days prior flashed before his eyes:
In this lifetime, Chu Wanning had never behaved strangely. There was no way he could have been reborn.
Then why had he said those words? His dying words from their past life: “It was I who wronged you”? Why now, at this time?
Hadn’t Chu Wanning only uttered those words to save Xue Meng? To save those sanctimonious cultivators? Weren’t they empty words that he had said merely because he had no other choice?
Mo Ran had never believed—had never wanted to believe—that Chu Wanning would genuinely admit his wrongdoings to his face. That he would actually say something softly compassionate to him. No matter what, Chu Wanning had obviously been lying. He obviously detested Mo Ran. No matter what, his shizun had always looked down on him—had never treated him with sincerity.
Mo Ran didn’t regret killing him at all. He didn’t regret…
Mo Ran turned away, slowly closing his eyes. He didn’t want to stay here a single second longer. What did it matter to him if Chu Wanning lived or died?!
He turned to leave. He wanted to leave. His feet refused to move.
It was I who wronged you.
In his memories, in the end, that cold, handsome face had looked gentle even when covered in blood. At the edge of Kunlun’s Heavenly Lake, this man had lain in a pool of blood and slowly lifted a hand to poke Mo Ran’s forehead. His fingers had been cold as ice, yet there had been warmth in his phoenix eyes.
Mo Ran had been sure, back then, that he was only seeing things.
I won’t blame you, in life or in death, Chu Wanning had whispered, even as a trail of blood dripped slowly from his eyes.
“Mo Ran…”
The man on the bed murmured in his dream. Just two quiet syllables, and the one he called to began to tremble all over. By the time Mo Ran realized what was happening, he was standing at the bedside, one hand braced against the headboard as he leaned over Chu Wanning, staring fixedly at his pale face.
Those thin, lightly colored lips opened slightly to say again:
“Mo Ran…”
Closing his eyes, Mo Ran drew his brows tightly together as his fingers dug into the cold, hard surface of the quince wood,
as if he was striving to restrain something. Ultimately, he couldn’t, and it came out in a raw whisper. “Chu Wanning, did you mean it? Everything that you said, did you mean it all?”
His chest hurt so terribly that it felt like it might explode. There was no way Chu Wanning had also been reborn. If he was saying these words now, it could only mean that, at this point in time, in his heart, he already felt remorse for how he’d treated Mo Ran.
Did he mean it?
Chu Wanning was only talking in his sleep, so of course he didn’t answer. Even so, Mo Ran waited and wished for one.
No response. For a long while, he waited with his eyes closed, but there was only silence.
Mo Ran sighed quietly and reluctantly opened his eyes, only to be met unexpectedly by a pair of hazy, half-lidded phoenix eyes, caught between wakefulness and slumber.
He didn’t know when Chu Wanning had raised his lids, but it was clear from his expression that he wasn’t truly awake and aware. This was only a momentary stirring between bouts of torment. That pair of eyes the color of the night sky were vacant and glazed, as if they held eternity.
Yuheng of the Night Sky was always lightning sharp. He rarely looked so disoriented. Without his habitual keen edges, the man lying there looked unexpectedly beautiful. The corners of his eyes were tinged with a faint red as he gazed at Mo Ran, unguarded.
Mo Ran felt a violent tremor in his heart and a tightness in his throat. Voice low, he murmured, “You…”
Chu Wanning looked much too like he had when they made love in their past life. Something stirred inside Mo Ran, and for a moment he felt as if he was still at Wushan Palace and Chu Wanning was his prisoner, his personal plaything. The thought made his mouth dry and his breaths grow heavy.
I can’t… I don’t like him. Don’t touch him anymore. The sins of a bygone life are sins of the past. In this life, we’re nothing more than master and disciple.
And so Mo Ran stayed as he was, looking down at Chu Wanning with one hand braced against the headboard, preventing himself from crossing that line. His hair pooled over his shoulder from where it was tied in a ponytail, the tips brushing the pillow.