Chapter 247
by 肉包不吃肉Chapter 247: "Dragon Blood Mountain" Swallows
Lying on the bed, Chu Wanning's mind was hazy, flickering between consciousness and delirium.
He vaguely heard two people arguing, seemingly Shi Mo and Mo Ran. Later, the voices faded, leaving only the sound of wind in his ears.
After that, he found himself lying in a warm bed, with someone talking to him. The fragmented voice sounded like it was coming from across an ocean, too distant for him to make out clearly. Only occasional words reached his ears, mentioning past lives and Master—though he sensed it might be Shi Mo's voice, he lacked the energy to ponder further, and those phrases dissipated like morning mist.
His memories gradually pieced together, becoming clearer, like raindrops merging into rivers before rushing into the sea.
In his dreams, he first saw a long, winding corridor. It was built on the peak of the Red Lotus Water Pavilion, atop the divide between life and death. The corridor was covered in vines, and when the wind blew, petals resembling snow fell, filling the pages with fragrance.
He sat beneath the corridor, writing a letter at a stone table.
The letter would never be delivered. The Tyrant of Immortals forbade him from interacting with outsiders or keeping pets or any living creatures. Even the area outside the Red Lotus Water Pavilion was layered with countless howling curses.
Yet, Chu Wanning still wrote.
It was too lonely, just one person in this world, probably destined to live this way for a lifetime.
To claim that he was not bored would be a lie.
The letter was addressed to Xue Meng and contained nothing substantial, merely inquiring about his recent well-being, if he was safe, and how the world outside was faring, as well as any old acquaintances.
But in truth, there were no longer any old friends to speak of.
Thus, it took him an entire afternoon to compose the letter slowly, without much substance. By the end, he found himself lost in thought, vaguely recalling the days when all three of his young disciples had been by his side, content and healthy, when he had taught them how to write poetry and paint.
Both Xue Meng and Shi Mo had picked up the skills quickly, but Mo Ran, on the other hand, would often make mistakes even after writing a character three or four times, requiring constant guidance and assistance.
What had they written back then?
In a daze, Chu Wanning's brush gently spread ink across the rice paper.
He began with "I am the bodhi tree, my heart a mirror bright," and followed with "Life has no roots, like dust on the roadside," each stroke and curve precise and orderly.
Whether writing a book or a letter, his handwriting had always been clear and upright, ensuring that readers could comprehend it and his disciples would not learn bad habits from him.
One's character was reflected in their handwriting; his spine, as proud as ever.
He wrote "Where is my old friend?" and "The sea is vast, the mountains distant."
Later, as the wind blew the wisteria flowers down, they landed gently on his washing flower parchment. He hesitated to brush them away, gazing at their delicate purple hue. His pen danced across the paper, and he continued, "Awakening from a dream, I watch the gentle rain fall. The world remains as tender as before."
Rhythmic and melodic.
May I be like a star to you, and you a moon to me, shining brightly together each night.
As he wrote, his gaze softened, as if he had returned to those peaceful days of old.
A breeze stirred, sending the papers fluttering. Some that weren't held down by paperweights were carried away, scattering across the ground amidst the dappled sunlight and fragrant afternoon air.
Chu Wanning set down his calligraphy brush and sighed, venturing to gather the scattered letters and poems.
One by one, they lay on the grass, on the stone steps, among withered flowers, and between fallen leaves. He was about to pick up a sheet that had drifted into the blossoms' sweet aroma.
Suddenly, a slender and well-proportioned hand, with distinct joints, entered his field of vision. Before he could reach it, the hand picked up that page.
"What are you writing?"
Chu Wanning froze, straightening up to see a tall and handsome man standing before him – none other than the Immortal Emperor Mo Weiyu, who had seemingly arrived at the pavilion without notice.
Chu Wanning said, "…Nothing."
Mo Ran was dressed in a resplendent black golden robe, adorned with a nine-tassel crown, and his slender, pale fingers still wore a dragon-scale ring, indicating he had just returned from the imperial court. He gave Chu Wanning a cold glance, then smoothed out the Huanhua paper in his hand and read a few lines before narrowing his eyes. "As if meeting you in person, opening the letter brings a smile to one's face..."
After a moment of silence, he lifted his gaze. "What does this mean?"
"Nothing special," Chu Wanning replied.
As Chu Wanning spoke, he attempted to retrieve the letter, but Mo Ran firmly raised his hand to block him.
"No, don't," he said. "What are you so nervous about?" After saying this, he looked down again, scanning several lines without any change in expression. "Oh. It's addressed to Xue Meng, huh?"
"I wrote it on a whim," Chu Wanning said, not wanting to involve others. "I had no intention of sending it out."
Mo Ran sneered. "You don't have the divine power to send it either."
Chu Wanning had nothing more to say to him and turned back to the desk to gather the scattered brushes, ink, paper, and inkstone. To his surprise, Heaven-Stepping Lord followed and, with a sweep of his black-gold robe sleeves, pressed down on the letter Chu Wanning was about to put away.
Raising his phoenix eyes, Chu Wanning met Heaven-Stepping Lord's narrowed face.
"..."
Well, if he wanted them, he could have them.
So he withdrew his hand to grab another letter, only to be stopped again by Mo Ran.
In this manner, every time Chu Wanning tried to take one, Mo Ran blocked him. Eventually, Chu Wanning grew impatient, wondering what kind of odd mood swing this person was having. Lifting his eyelids, he said in a grim tone, "What do you want?"
"What does 'reading your letter is like seeing you, opening it brings a smile' mean?" Mo Ran gazed at him with deep, dark eyes, his thin lips parting softly, "Explain."
The swaying branches and twining vines cast flickering shadows, and Chu Wanning couldn't help but recall the younger Mo Ran who had just become his disciple. Back then, Mo Ran's smile and words were gentle as he respectfully asked, "Master, if my body is a bodhi tree and my mind a clear mirror, what does that mean? Can you teach me, Master?"
Comparing the two versions of Mo Ran, the aggressive attitude of the current Heaven-Stepping Lord stirred a hidden pain in Chu Wanning's heart. He suddenly lowered his head, saying no more and closing his eyes.
Silent, Mo Ran gradually sank into gloom. Amidst the quiet, he picked up the letters on the table, reading through each one. As he went on, his eyes narrowed dangerously. Lost in thought, he muttered, pondering about a man who could use "Ji Ba" as an era name, searching for meaning in the lines carved on the stone table.
In the end, his expression turned sinister as he abruptly swept the stack of letters onto the ground.
He lifted his eyes coldly.
"Chu Wanning, you miss him."
"...No."
He didn't want to engage in this confrontation and turned to leave, but after only a few steps, his robe sleeve was tugged, followed by a fierce grip on his chin that spun the world around. Before he knew it, he was roughly pushed against a stone table.
Mo Ran's grip was so strong, so ruthless, leaving bruised purple and red marks on his cheeks in an instant.
The sunlight filtered through the vine flowers, shining into Chu Wanning's eyes, which reflected the almost deranged and distorted face of Heaven-Stepping Lord.
Handsome, pale, and blazing with intensity.
Unaware of shame, Heaven-Stepping Lord began tearing at Chu Wanning's clothes right there, beneath the open sky. If being pushed against the stone table still left room for interpretation, tearing off clothes undoubtedly left no turning back. Frustrated and enraged, Chu Wanning growled, "Mo Weiyu—!"
The tone laced with anger and disappointment did nothing to extinguish Mo Ran's wicked flames; instead, it was like pouring hot oil onto a fire, igniting an intense blaze.
When he was forcefully penetrated, Chu Wanning could only feel intense pain.
Reluctant to touch the nape of Mo Ran's neck, he instead clutched convulsively at the edge of the stone table, his breath coming in low, ragged gasps. "Abomination..."
Mo Ran's eyes were veiled with a bloody tinge. He didn't comment on the term "vile beast," but instead spoke in a sinister tone, "It's fine if you don't explain. I shouldn't be asking you anymore, anyway. You can no longer be considered this seat's master."
His movements were fierce and relentless, seeking only his own pleasure and gratification, dismissing Chu Wanning's sensations as insignificant as straw.
"What does Wanning count for now?" he almost gritted his teeth: "Just a concubine, a forbidden delicacy... Spread your legs a bit more for me."
In the midst of their entanglement, Mo Ran flipped Chu Wanning over, sending the papers and ink across the desk in disarray, the writing brush tumbling to the ground. Chu Wanning was pinned against the table's edge, overwhelmed by unceasing torment, with an endless expanse of emptiness before his eyes.
He gazed at those characters, each word, each stroke.
My body is like a bodhi tree, my heart a bright mirror stand...
Where, oh where, is that old friend?
The sea is vast... the mountains distant.
Words pierce the heart.
Before his eyes, the young Mo Ran still smiled, his dark eyelashes fluttering gently like a curtain of black butterfly petals.
Yet, in his ears was the low, ragged breathing of Heaven-Stepping Lord, humiliating and violating him, growling hoarsely, "Chu Wanning... ha, my Chu Concubine still holds thoughts for another?"
"May I be a star and you be the moon, shining brightly each night together," his voice laced with malice, "Do you really think I don't understand at all?"
Chu Wanning gritted his teeth, leaning on the stone table. His body bore wet, crimson marks from being bitten and pinched, but his phoenix-like eyes remained resolute, "You don't understand."
Despite knowing full well that his defiance would invite even harsher treatment, he obstinately spoke, "You don't understand."
You don't know who Old Acquaintance refers to, nor do you comprehend the reason behind the vast seas and distant mountains.
You have no clue who Lord is, or to whom the Moon points.
You... will never grasp it.
After a ridiculous exchange, Mo Ran finally relented and let him be.
Amidst tangled purple vines and scattered calligraphy, Chu Wanning lay with disheveled attire, his eyes rimmed with a crimson tinge reminiscent of crushed hibiscus petals on fingertips. His bitten lips were stained with blood.
He rose slowly, meticulously dressing himself... After being confined for so long, his pain had evolved from piercing agony to a profound despair that numbed the heart.
What could he do now, with his spiritual core destroyed? The only vestige of dignity left was his stubborn insistence on dressing himself, refusing assistance.
As he did this, Mo Ran sat at a stone table, perusing the letters he had written, one by one.
When he reached the letter that mentioned watching a gentle rain in a dream, his hand seemed to pause slightly, but he quickly turned the page, then mocked, "Your bones may be weak, but your handwriting remains elegant."
Tucking the stack of letters into his robe, he stood up. The wind played with the hem of his black garment, the golden threads adorning it shimmering with brilliance.
"I'm leaving," he said.
Chu Wanning remained silent.
Mo Ran cast a sidelong glance, his dark eyes appearing even more profound beneath the purple wisteria's shadows. "Are you not going to see me off?"
Under the tree's dappled shade, Chu Wanning's voice was low and hoarse as he slowly spoke, "I've taught you this before."
Startled, Mo Ran asked, "What?"
"Reading a letter is like meeting in person, unfolding it brings a smile to one's face." After saying this, he finally lifted his eyelashes and gave that man who had ascended to immortality a glance. "I taught you how to write that. It seems you've forgotten."
"You taught me how to write that?" Mo Ran furrowed his brow. This wasn't an attempt to tease Chu Wanning; judging by his expression, he genuinely couldn't recall.
The one who was about to leave paused in his steps again.
Mo Ran inquired, "When did this happen?"
Looking at him, Chu Wanning replied, "A long time ago."
After saying this, he turned around and walked towards the Red Lotus Water Pavilion's house.
Mo Ran stood rooted to the spot, neither leaving nor entering. Later, Chu Wanning caught a glimpse of him from the window, returning to the stone table and flipping through the remaining stack of letters that were weighted down by the paperweight.
Chu Wanning shut the window as well.
That night, he fell ill with a cold due to his suffering and inability to properly clean himself. It wasn't a serious matter, and he assumed Mo Ran wouldn't find out. But for some reason, Uncle Liu mentioned that Song Qiutong had prepared a bowl of wontons, which inexplicably enraged the Imperial Deity of Trampling Immortals. Not only did he refuse to stay in the empress's quarters, he didn't even have dinner before storming off.
As the night deepened, a heavy downpour began. At that moment, someone arrived at the Red Lotus Water Pavilion.
"The emperor has an order. Master Chu, please move to the imperial bedroom."
These attendants were well aware of the relationship between Mo Ran and Chu Wanning, yet they were still required by Mo Ran to address him as a master. If it weren't for a trace of kindness remaining in their hearts, their actions would be considered cruel and vicious.
Chu Wanning was in great discomfort, his face pale and his mood gloomy. "I'm not going," he said.
"The emperor has —"
"Regardless of what it is, I'm not going."
"..."
Certainly, sharing a bed with an ailing person held no amusement. In the past, when Chu Wanning was particularly unwell, Mo Ran would not insist on anything further.
Yet, it wasn't long before the dismissed palace servant returned. He entered the Red Lotus Water Pavilion and bowed before Chu Wanning, who was coughing profusely. With a detached expression, the servant conveyed the emperor's message: "His Majesty has commanded that, as it is but a minor ailment, Grand Master is to attend to him in the Wu Mountain Palace for the night."
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