Chapter 56

Yue Wuhuan set down his bird whistle and smiled at Song Qingshi, curious to see what other peculiar things he might produce.

Song Qingshi hesitated for a long time, as if organizing his thoughts, then took a deep breath and presented a golden soul lantern to Yue Wuhuan. Inside, the wicked soul he had long sought writhed in desperate agony.

Yue Wuhuan, stunned, took the soul lantern, awaiting an explanation.

"I caught him," Song Qingshi declared, his gaze earnest as he met Yue Wuhuan’s eyes. "I won't spare anyone who has ever harmed Wuhuan. Don't worry—I'm fierce, skilled at killing, and the Netherfire poison is a torment. They won't die easily. I'll even extract their souls and present them to you as gifts..."

He knew. He knew about his pastime...

Yue Wuhuan instinctively reached for his own wrist, trying to regain his composure.

"I don't care about such things," Song Qingshi quickly seized his wrist, preventing self-harm, then held it tightly in his palm. "You can tell me anything you desire. If there are people you wish dead, just give me their names. I will kill them one by one until every last beast is gone."

Yue Wuhuan tried to pull his hand away, but Song Qingshi’s grip tightened. He couldn't help but laugh. "You can't do it."

Song Qingshi insisted, "I will try my best."

"My Lord, you don't know how many there are... Too many. Far too many to kill," Yue Wuhuan murmured. "Golden Phoenix Manor is a renowned sect in the immortal realm. Most of the guests who frequent it are not minor figures. Among the beasts I've served, many were elders, even sect leaders, of major sects. Golden Core cultivators, Nascent Soul cultivators, Soul Formation cultivators, and there was even a Grand Ascension Ancestor..."

His beauty was widely known, and all desired a taste.

And after offending Jin Feiren, he had been deliberately humiliated, made fair game for anyone's abuse.

Most cultivators had sects backing them, offering mutual protection. To disturb one was to disturb the whole. How could they ever be eradicated?

"I gave up long ago," Yue Wuhuan chuckled bitterly. "To kill all those beasts, you would have to turn this world into a mountain of corpses and a sea of blood, utterly destroying it..."

Even in his madness, he knew such a feat was impossible.

"If you desire a mountain of corpses and a sea of blood, then a mountain of corpses and a sea of blood it shall be," Song Qingshi held him firmly, resolute. "I will strive my utmost. As long as I draw breath, I will continue to kill! I will never give up!"

"I don't want that. Revenge is merely a secondary game—if the opportunity arises, I'll kill; if not, so be it. There's no need to dirty your hands with trash," Yue Wuhuan was both exasperated and amused. He pinched the stubborn Lord's cheek, hoping to change his expression, then teased, "I've already found something more important, something far more precious."

Song Qingshi looked bewildered. "What is it?"

"Stop brooding over unhappy things. I like your gift," Yue Wuhuan blew into the bird whistle again, its cheerful melody attracting two larks to entertain him. "The moonlight is so lovely. Let's do something joyful. My Lord, do you wish to solve problems or read?"

Song Qingshi looked troubled. "Wuhuan, you don't have to humor me in everything. I'm foolish. I never understand people's hearts. I always do the wrong thing..."

Yue Wuhuan smiled. "I like you just as you are."

The Lord was good. It was he who didn't want his own tainted heart to be seen.

***

After much deliberation, Song Qingshi found his answer in the storybook *The Three Tiger-Hunting Brothers* and Immortal Lord Yan Yuan's lecture notes: When men encounter confusing matters of the heart, they should drink together. Once drunk, all truths come out.

He pulled out the *Beauty's Drunkenness* wine he had just purchased and presented it to Yue Wuhuan with grand enthusiasm. "Let's finish this!"

Yue Wuhuan looked bewildered.

"A specialty of South Sea City—sweet, limited edition, exceptionally delicious!" Song Qingshi recited the vendor's sales pitch in one breath, then added, "I checked—this wine is clean, nothing foul! I... I rarely drink, but I want to try this!"

Yue Wuhuan considered it. So much had happened today, affecting his mood. If drinking could cheer up the Lord, then so be it.

Suppressing his fastidious habits, he produced suitable drinking vessels, checked the wine's purity, and poured a full cup for him.

*Beauty's Drunkenness* was indeed a sweet, mellow wine, gentle on the throat, making it easy to drink even for those unaccustomed to alcohol. Yet, its potency was surprisingly high.

"My Lord, drink less," Yue Wuhuan advised, holding his cup. "This wine is named 'Drunk on a Beauty's Lap.'"

But his words came too late. Song Qingshi had already downed three cups, his face flushed and burning, before collapsing into Yue Wuhuan's arms, motionless.

Yue Wuhuan hadn't expected his alcohol tolerance to be so low. With no other option, he gently turned him over to rest on his lap.

With such poor alcohol tolerance, he still wanted to extract confessions...

Truly adorable.

Yue Wuhuan stroked his soft, disheveled hair like petting a cat. After a long while, he mischievously asked, "My Lord, are you still awake?"

Song Qingshi mumbled for a moment before honestly replying, "Awake."

Yue Wuhuan probed further, "Does My Lord have any secrets hidden from me?"

Song Qingshi looked at his lips, thought for a moment, then said, "I want to eat something sweet."

Yue Wuhuan guessed, "Is it ice cream?"

Song Qingshi shook his head slightly. "No, something even tastier."

Yue Wuhuan guessed a few more desserts, but Song Qingshi seemed too muddled to continue answering. Yue Wuhuan picked up the soul lantern beside him, tormenting the trapped soul inside for a while, his heart filled with warmth. It suddenly occurred to him that Song Qingshi had never asked him for any gifts.

Aside from his initial plea not to harm himself, Song Qingshi had never made a single request of him. Yet, the things Song Qingshi gave him came one after another, while the only gift he could offer in return was...

Yue Wuhuan retrieved the Phoenix Blood from his Mustard Seed Bag. He had long since strung it onto a golden necklace engraved with an array, but the array was not yet complete. He intended to add the most intricate soul mark, ensuring this gem would follow this person through lifetimes—like the brand he had left, never to part.

Yue Wuhuan traced a fingertip lightly over Song Qingshi’s pale neck, utterly pleased.

This was the perfect spot.

Song Qingshi, tickled by the warmth of the touch, twisted his neck and hummed softly again.

Yue Wuhuan chuckled and withdrew his hand, casually probing, "My Lord, do you have any great wish?"

Song Qingshi was silent for a long time before whispering, "Yes, something I really want..."

Yue Wuhuan froze. His mind raced through possibilities: research equipment, rare ancient texts, precious medicines, lab mice... Unable to find an answer, he couldn't help but ask, "What do you want? I will find it for you."

"Music," Song Qingshi turned over, clutching his leg, and whimpered, "I really want to hear Wuhuan play music, but... Wuhuan seems sad when he does... So, I won't ask for it..."

He loved music.

The melody Yue Wuhuan had played on Langgan Terrace still echoed in his mind—the most beautiful sound he had ever heard.

But the emotions in that music were too sorrowful, too agonizing...

Everything about Golden Phoenix Manor and the Yanshan Sect might be Yue Wuhuan's nightmares.

So he didn't dare ask again. Didn't dare listen again.

***

Yue Wuhuan was stunned. He had never imagined Song Qingshi would have such a wish. Inside his Mustard Seed Bag was a purple bamboo flute, casually bought by Song Qingshi during their trip to Music City. Back then, Song Qingshi had bought many things haphazardly, shoving them all at him, so he hadn't thought much of the flute's significance.

"I don't hate music. I just hate *that kind* of music." Yue Wuhuan smiled bitterly. He had cradled his mother's harp at three, studied the guqin under the empress's guidance at five—how could he hate music? He merely disliked vulgar, decadent tunes. He had stopped playing because there were always more pressing matters, no mood or reason to lift the flute.

But if this person wished to hear it, he would play...

The purple bamboo flute was taken out, and its tones were tested.

Song Qingshi playfully reached out and removed his golden mask: "I want to see your face."

Yue Wuhuan smiled, placed the flute to his lips, and softly began playing *The Phoenix Seeks Its Mate*, a melody that had echoed in his heart countless times.

Under the night sky, the lingering notes of the music drifted gently. The noisy crows ceased their cries, the nesting orioles peeked out, several larks alighted nearby, and thrushes and mannikins descended one after another. White cranes spread their wings and flew over from the pond...

Every emotion flowed through the flute's song.

Song Qingshi slowly sat up, listening dreamily as he gradually grasped the meaning within the melody, understanding the plea hidden in the music. He stared blankly at Yue Wuhuan’s rosy lips, recalling words from books and the couples he had seen in the bamboo grove. A peculiar yearning surged deep within him—the more he looked, the sweeter it seemed, the more he craved it, as if it surpassed all the world's sweets.

He adored it, cherished it beyond words...

He felt Yue Wuhuan harbored the same thoughts.

As the final note of the melody faded, its echoes lingered in the air.

Yue Wuhuan’s lips parted from the purple bamboo flute, only to find Song Qingshi smiling at him, his expression hazy with drink, as if lost in some amusing thought...

Song Qingshi leaned closer, nuzzling near Yue Wuhuan’s chin, and asked with a smile, "Wuhuan, do you crave sweetness too?"

Yue Wuhuan, not understanding his meaning, replied casually, "Yes."

Suddenly, Song Qingshi grabbed his shoulders and crushed their lips together in a forceful kiss.

Yue Wuhuan’s eyes widened in shock, the sheer astonishment leaving him momentarily frozen.

It was an awkward, inexperienced kiss—like a newborn pup clumsily gnawing on a bone. Clearly unsure how to kiss, Song Qingshi kept trying nonetheless, first lightly licking every inch of Yue Wuhuan’s lips until they were wet, then gently nibbling with his teeth as if wanting to devour him yet afraid of causing pain. He fumbled around, unsure how to proceed, and finally emitted a small, frustrated whine.

Yue Wuhuan finally snapped back to reality. In a fluster, he shoved Song Qingshi away and frantically wiped the wetness from his lips with his hand. Finding it insufficient, he fumbled through his Mustard Seed Bag for a handkerchief: "Don't kiss me... You—you don't know how many disgusting things my mouth has touched. It'll... it would taint you."

"Why do you always say you're dirty?" Song Qingshi asked, completely perplexed. "Wuhuan is clean, not dirty at all."

Yue Wuhuan pleaded, "My Lord, you don't understand these things. You are pure—don't touch me..."

Song Qingshi pondered this and decided a scientific approach was needed. Using the speed and strength of a Nascent Soul Cultivator, he lunged forward to taste Yue Wuhuan’s lips again, verifying the flavor.

Yue Wuhuan, unable to evade him, was thrown into complete panic.

Song Qingshi concluded, "Wuhuan is sweet."

Yue Wuhuan stared at him, speechless.

"If you think you’re dirty," Song Qingshi mused on the solution before kissing him again, "don’t worry, I’ll lick you clean..."

Yue Wuhuan’s breathing grew ragged, his mind in chaos.

The chains of desire loosened.

The beast caged within stirred restlessly, howling wildly...

He would only taste a little, just a little...

A multitude of Blood King Vines surged forth wildly, weaving into a net once more, firmly binding the person before him and dragging him close, locking him in his embrace—permitting no escape, no chance to flee.

"My Lord, this isn't how you kiss. Let me teach you."

Yue Wuhuan leaned down and savagely claimed those pale pink lips, then pried them open, invading the untouched sanctity within. He tangled madly with the soft, wet sweetness, advancing and retreating, probing and conquering—like a tune both skilled and awkward—until he found the perfect rhythm, becoming one, inextricably entwined.

Their hot, ragged breaths mingled between them.

Song Qingshi finally came to his senses... He realized what he had done.

A therapist must never harbor ambiguous feelings toward a patient. It was professional ethics, an inviolable rule—which was why he had never dared to think or act on it. But now, what had he done? What had he done to his patient?

He had trespassed into forbidden territory, shattered an ironclad law.

This was a gross violation of medical ethics, a catastrophic ethical breach...

What should he do?

Song Qingshi clutched Yue Wuhuan’s shoulders tightly. Any attempt to retreat only invited fiercer advances. Lightheaded from the kiss, his mind blank, he didn’t know how to handle this medical misconduct or what price he must pay to be forgiven.

Could a lifetime of responsibility suffice?

***

Yue Wuhuan kissed him deeper and deeper. To him, only the person in his arms was real in this world. He had no intention of letting go of this most exquisite taste—no matter how deeply he drank, his thirst remained unquenched.

In the shadows of the bamboo grove, An Long watched the scene silently. His eyes had long darkened into crimson, their pupils slit like a hellish creature's—devoid of any human emotion.

Yue Wuhuan noticed the terrifying presence. He flashed a careless smirk and continued kissing with reckless abandon.

He had finally waited for this creature’s appearance. Many things could now be settled.

This was twice the pleasure.