SEVERAL TIMES, Mo Ran's lips parted, only for him to close them in silence. His temples throbbed and ached as his pulse rampaged through his veins. But his blood seemed to carry no heat—it was cold, cold as ice. As he wrestled with his thoughts, even his fingertips seemed to freeze over.
"Shizun." A long pause. "Actually… I…"
He only managed three words before falling apart again. Did he really have to confess it? All those deeds belonged to the past life. He had already killed himself at Wushan Palace; he had died a long time ago. All that remained from that past life were his memories…
Did he have to confess it? If he spoke, his conscience would be clear, but was it really the correct choice? Things were so good right now
—Xue Meng smiled at him, Chu Wanning was his, his uncle and aunt were healthy and well, and Shi Mei was alive… Nothing could be more important than this. Even if he spent the rest of his life consumed by guilt, living like a fugitive, he couldn't bear to destroy everything before his eyes.
But still he felt he should confess.
He was certain the villain behind the scenes had also been reborn. He was the only one who could tell the world the truth and prepare them. This was an opportunity for him to atone for his crimes. Perhaps the heavens had allowed him to keep his memories after death for just this moment: so he might step forward and prevent this crisis from unfolding, even if he paid with his life.
Mo Ran closed his eyes. He was shaking from head to toe, his lashes damp.
He didn't fear dying—after all, he had died once already. But there
were things in this world more terrifying than death, and he'd had his fill of them in the past life. He had chosen suicide to escape those things. In the present lifetime, especially after Chu Wanning's death, he had been running as fast as he could, trying to throw that invisible monster off his trail. Yet it had chased him into a corner, its talons an inch from his throat. In the end, this was his destiny, eternal loneliness and revilement—he couldn't escape…
Mo Ran was crying, tears rolling silently down his face and dripping onto the floor. Trying desperately to suppress the quaver in his voice, he choked out, "I'm sorry… I… I don't know where to begin… I actually… I…"
A pair of strong arms encircled him.
Mo Ran's eyes flew open. Chu Wanning had stepped over and embraced him from behind.
"If you don't want to say it, then don't." Chu Wanning's voice floated over his shoulder. "Everyone has their secrets… Everyone makes mistakes."
Mo Ran froze. Chu Wanning already understood.
But of course—how could he fail to catch on? He had seen Mo Ran admit to so many mistakes, both phony and sincere, evasive and earnest. He didn't know what wrong Mo Ran had committed, but he was certain he meant to come clean about something from his past—something he didn't wish to speak of.
"Shizun…"
"If it's bothering you and you want to tell me about it, go ahead. I'm listening," said Chu Wanning. "But if it's too painful to say, you don't have to tell me, and I won't ask further." He paused. "I know you won't do anything like it ever again."
Mo Ran felt like a dagger was twisting in his chest. He shook his head minutely. No… It's not as simple as that… It's not nearly so simple… It's not like picking a flower I wasn't supposed to—I killed; I covered the land in blood and bones. I ruined most of the cultivation realm; I ruined you.
He broke down again.
I ruined you, Chu Wanning! You comfort your executioner… You comfort the man who stabbed a knife into your heart! Why did you use your dying breaths to tell me to spare myself? Why didn't you just kill me at the very beginning…
He was trembling, shaking uncontrollably. Chu Wanning felt a warm droplet on the back of his hand and flinched. "Mo Ran…" he murmured.
"I want to tell you." "Go ahead, then."
Mo Ran's thoughts were a mess. Shaking his head, he said haltingly, "I… I don't know how to say it…" Up till now he had managed to speak clearly, but sobs finally began to choke his words. "Really… I really don't know where to begin…"
"Then don't say it." Chu Wanning pulled Mo Ran around to face him. In the darkness, he reached up to touch his cheek. Mo Ran flinched away, but Chu Wanning was insistent—he cupped his face in his hand. It was wet, drenched with tears.
"Don't say it," Chu Wanning repeated. "I…"
As Chu Wanning leaned in to kiss him—the first time he'd ever taken such initiative—the only warning Mo Ran had was the faint scent of haitang growing stronger. Chu Wanning pressed his mouth against the agonized twist of Mo Ran's, moving clumsily to deepen the kiss. Bit by bit, he guided Mo Ran's mouth open, tongue slipping in to slide against Mo Ran's.
Despite the chaos, the fear, the madness, Mo Ran found himself returning the kiss, though he couldn't say why. Perhaps love was the harbor that gave him shelter from his pain. Or perhaps humans were not so different from beasts in the end; sex could force just about anything to the back of one's mind. In abandoning oneself to desire, pleasure became the only reality. It was mercy to the helpless, a moment of respite for the desperate.
Neither said any more. As their kisses grew more passionate, Chu Wanning felt Mo Ran's arousal through their clothes, hard against him. He hesitated for a moment, then reached down.
Mo Ran grabbed his hand, lacing their fingers together. "This is enough." He held Chu Wanning close. Here was the only person who could soothe his pain, who could cleanse his soul. "You don't need to do anything more. This is enough…"
Chu Wanning reached up to caress Mo Ran's face. His heart ached. "Why are you such a fool?"
Mo Ran took his other hand, all their fingers now tightly linked. He pressed his forehead to Chu Wanning's. "If only I'd always been such a fool."
Chu Wanning saw persuasion was futile. He didn't know any more
sentimental words; he clumsily nuzzled Mo Ran's cheeks and the tip of his nose, and then gently captured his lips once more. Even as the tips of Chu Wanning's ears burned, he strove to maintain his composure. He'd moved first to kiss and hold Mo Ran, doing all these things he wasn't at all accustomed to doing.
"Shizun…" Mo Ran tried to squirm away, his breathing ragged from their kisses. "Enough… Don't do this."
"You're always the one taking the lead." Chu Wanning tugged a hand out of Mo Ran's grip and looped it around his neck. "Let me do it this time."
"Shizun…"
Chu Wanning looked into Mo Ran's puppy eyes, warm and shining, and reached up to pat him on the back of the head. "Be good," he said, voice steeped in tenderness.
In the darkness, they kissed against the wall, the movements of their lips and hands going from gentle to urgent, to hungry, to insatiable, overflowing with desire and impatience.
"Shizun… Wanning…" Mo Ran chanted his name—tenderly, ardently, madly, ruefully. For him, the tiniest scrap of love from Chu Wanning was the world's most potent aphrodisiac. At last he stopped thinking. He pinned Chu Wanning to the wall, kissing him fiercely, dragging his hands over his body. They panted for breath, hearts pounding. Mo Ran was almost mad with desire, the corners of his eyes scarlet.
"The candle…" Chu Wanning gasped as they broke apart, brows knitting slightly.
"It's been put out, hasn't it?" Mo Ran trailed kisses along his earlobes, his neck.
He heard Chu Wanning say into his ear, voice heavy with suppressed moans, "No, light it…"
Mo Ran froze.
"I want to see you," said Chu Wanning.
The candle flared to life, chasing away the darkness.
Chu Wanning's phoenix eyes were bright and clear, resolute yet misted with desire. His features yet carried a hint of their usual frost, but his ears were a vivid scarlet. "I want to see you," he repeated.
Mo Ran's heart ached so sharply he felt he might die. How could his filthy, ailing, once-coldly-unfeeling heart survive beneath this gaze? As he folded Chu Wanning into his arms and kissed him, Mo Ran took Chu Wanning's hand and pressed it to his own throbbing chest. "Remember this place," he said.
Chu Wanning blinked at him, uncomprehending.
"If there comes a day when my sins can no longer be pardoned," Mo Ran mumbled, brushing his nose against Chu Wanning's. "Then kill me.
Right here."
A shudder ran through Chu Wanning. He stared at Mo Ran in disbelief. "What are you saying?"
Mo Ran's face broke into a smile—one that held both Mo-zongshi's gallant sincerity and Taxian-jun's wicked madness. "My spiritual core was formed because of you, and my heart is yours too. If a day comes when I must die, they should both belong to you. Only then can I…"
He stopped. Never had he seen such shock and fear in Chu Wanning's eyes; it dragged him to a halt. He lowered his lashes and offered Chu Wanning a wry smile. "Just kidding. I'm only saying all this because I want to tell you…"
Mo Ran drew Chu Wanning more tightly into his arms.
I don't know how many more chances like this we'll have.
"Wanning…"
I love you; I want you; I can't be without you.
He so badly wanted to tell him all this—but just like the events of his past life, he couldn't say any of it aloud.
Chu Wanning was caught between confusion and astonishment. He didn't know how grave a mistake had to be for someone to say something like this. But as Mo Ran kissed him, his consciousness frayed. Mo Ran's kisses weren't entirely to blame; Chu Wanning didn't lack for self-control. He was also unwilling to follow this train of thought to its end.
Desperation colored their passion, like roiling oil tossed into flames.
Their entanglement grew wilder as their restraint slipped away. Before they reached the bed, most of their clothes had been shed. Mo Ran pinned Chu Wanning down on the mattress, no longer so shy and cautious as he had been the first time, that lustful male craving a simple and brutish need.
Pulling open Chu Wanning's underclothes, Mo Ran bent to kiss the hardened tip of him and take him into his mouth, glancing up as he did to drink in Chu Wanning's slack gaze in the candlelight, his head thrown back as he gasped.
How many more times could they be together like this? One? Two?
In the morning they would set off for Mount Jiao, where they might immediately run into the villain orchestrating everything. If that person could really use the Zhenlong Chess Formation, only Mo Ran would be able to defuse the situation. The truth would inevitably come to light.
But as they lost themselves in each other, he tried to convince both his shizun and his despairing self—they would have many, many more chances like this. They would always be together. Just as love and desire entwined endlessly from the dark of the night to the brilliance of day, he wanted to have Chu Wanning countless times until they fell asleep with limbs tangled, until the blush of dawn painted the horizon. Then he would awaken in his warm embrace and again take him between the sheets, surrendering themselves to indulgence beneath the bright sun, drowning in filth, love, and want.
Mo Ran pressed his own heavy length to Chu Wanning's, stroking them off together, chasing release. Chu Wanning's phoenix eyes were overflowing with hazy desire. His lips were lightly parted, soft sighs escaping to the rhythm of Mo Ran's hands, his gaze going scattered and blurred.
Drowning in intoxication, they suddenly heard a knock at the door.
Chu Wanning started, color draining from his face as Mo Ran clapped a hand over his mouth to silence him. It was quiet in the room, but Mo Ran's other hand didn't slacken its frenetic pace, driving himself and the man in his arms to the brink.
Chu Wanning tried to shake his head, but Mo Ran's grip was unrelenting, pinning him in place. He only had use of his phoenix eyes, caught between rapture and suffering, protestation and despair.
"Shizun, are you there?"
Chu Wanning glared at Mo Ran, fury kindling in his gaze. He rapped his knuckles lightly against the headboard.
Mo Ran swallowed, the jut of his throat bobbing—an alluring sight. "Mn. I know, it's Xue Meng," he rasped.
"Shizun?" A minute later, after getting no response, Xue Meng mumbled, "Weird, the candle is lit… Shizun?"
But how would Mo Ran heed him? He was still on top of Chu Wanning, lost in the throes of lust. Even with the candle, the room was dark enough that he had mistaken the indignation in Chu Wanning's eyes for cresting desire.
"Shizun?"
The disciple at the door had no intention of leaving, and the disciple in his bed had no plans to stop. Chu Wanning was left with little choice but to clamp his teeth down on Mo Ran's fingers. At the jolt of pain, Mo Ran released him, a wisp of hurt surfacing in his eyes.
"Ouch, that was really hard…" Mo Ran's voice was low and heated. "Serves you right." Chu Wanning threw him a glare, then took a
deep breath and called out to Xue Meng at the door, "I'm already in bed. Is something the matter?"
"Ah, no, everything's fine," said Xue Meng. "I'm just… Something's bothering me; I can't sleep, so I wanted to talk to Shizun…" Xue Meng trailed off.
Chu Wanning could practically see the little phoenix standing outside, his neck drooping piteously. Was there something in the air? How was it that two of his disciples were so beset with worries tonight?
Concerned, Chu Wanning patted Mo Ran on the shoulder. "Get up and put on your clothes," he whispered.
Mo Ran's eyes widened, producing exactly the look of a dejected puppy. "You're going to let him in?"
"It sounds like something's really wrong…" "Then what about me?"
Chu Wanning paused. Weathering his embarrassment, he said, "Get dressed and hide under the bed."