Startled, Shen Gurong lost control of his spiritual power, directly collapsing his own house.
Finally, he had no choice but to be helped to a side courtyard by Mu Zhe.
By the time Xi Guxing learned of the news, Shen Gurong was already comfortably nestled in his disciple's room, preparing to go to bed.
He took off his shoes and asked Mu Zhe for the fourth time, "Are you really not planning to rest?"
Mu Zhe was closing the window; the spring night breeze was still quite cool. He turned around and said, "Yes."
Cultivators rarely sleep; they usually meditate after nightfall. Mu Zhe had never seen a cultivator with such a mortal-like lifestyle as his master.
Mu Zhe walked over and saw Shen Gurong, dressed in red, his eyes misty as if veiled by water, sitting unguarded on his bed, currently frowning as he unfastened his waist belt.
Perhaps the red robes were too dazzling, but Mu Zhe dared not look directly at him.
Mu Zhe stood stiffly for a moment before taking a deep breath to compose himself. He approached the bedside and gently brushed aside the white hair that was resting on the edge of the bed.
Shen Gurong's hair was still a little wet, with water dripping from the ends.
Shen Gurong felt a slight tingling sensation on his scalp as a strand of hair was grasped. He pulled back slightly and asked, "What's wrong?"
Mu Zhe said, "Master's hair is still dripping wet."
Shen Gurong said "Oh," and was about to reach out to dry his hair when he heard Mu Zhe say, "Let me help you."
Shen Gurong was happy to not have to do it himself. He turned slightly to the side, half-facing Mu Zhe, letting his disciple help him.
Having disciples is truly wonderful. Shen Gurong thought with satisfaction, 'I should take on a few more in the future, preferably young ladies.'
Mu Zhe: "..."
Mu Zhe was still happy with the first half of the sentence, but upon hearing the second, his heart suddenly skipped a beat, and he felt a strange pang of sadness.
He seemed to finally understand why Yu Xinghe had always competed with him for his affections when they were children.
Mu Zhe used his spiritual power to dry Shen Gurong's hair little by little, his gaze fixed on the faint red mole on the back of Shen Gurong's neck, somewhat absentmindedly.
By the time he realized what was happening, his five fingers were already embedded in the roots of Shen Gurong's white hair, slowly stroking it downwards.
Shen Gurong's scalp tingled from the touch, but he mistakenly thought that drying hair always required this step, so he forced himself to endure it. Soon, his whole body went weak, and his shoulders trembled slightly.
Mu Zhe's hand trembled, and he quickly withdrew his rebellious hand.
Shen Gurong tilted his head slightly, a stray strand of hair falling across his forehead. His eyes were slightly moist, a tear glistening in his eyelashes, and he asked with a slightly nasal tone, "Are you done?"
Mu Zhe: "..."
Mu Zhe understood once again why the sect leader always forbade Shen Gurong from acting cute; no one could resist that.
Mu Zhe lowered his head, his voice slightly hoarse: "It's all better now."
Shen Gurong didn't notice Mu Zhe's unusual expression. He casually swept his hair back and turned back, saying calmly, "Thank you."
Mu Zhe replied, "It's what this disciple should do."
Shen Gurong coughed lightly and said softly, "How about you help me untie my waist sash again?"
Mu Zhe: "..."
Without the ice silk, Shen Gurong was completely blind. His previous haphazard attempts to untie the waist sash not only failed, but also tore his clothes into a mess, completely tangling the six red silk ribbons into a tangled mess.
Mu Zhe glanced down, thinking that his master was quite capable, managing to tie those six red silk ribbons in a more intricate and chaotic way than Su Xiyan's magic array.
Shen Gurong's tone sounded guilty, and Mu Zhe, momentarily softened, nodded in agreement.
Mu Zhe was bending over, fiddling with Shen Gurong's waist, when suddenly a series of hurried footsteps sounded outside.
Before the two could react, Xi Guxing kicked the door open, stormed in, sword in hand, and demanded sharply, "Shen Eleven, what's wrong?"
Shen Gurong jumped in fright.
Xi Guxing's gaze fell upon the disheveled Shen Gurong on the bed, and Mu Zhe, kneeling on one knee, fiddling with something at Shen Gurong's waist.
Xi Guxing: "..."
Shen Gurong, unaware of the misunderstanding their posture was causing, asked in confusion, "What? What happened?"
Xi Guxing's short sword, originally intended to kill the traitor who had offended the Holy Lord Shen, now seemed likely to be used against Mu Zhe first.
Upon hearing the voice, Mu Zhe temporarily abandoned Shen Gurong's tangled waist belt and rose to bow to Xi Gu Xing.
"Sect Leader."
Xi Guxing's gaze swept over the incongruous waist belt around Shen Gu Rong's waist, a look of understanding dawning on him.
'But it makes sense,' he thought. 'Mu Zhe is generally a law-abiding citizen; he wouldn't do something as rebellious as offending his master, something Yu Xinghe would do.'
Xi Guxing silently breathed a sigh of relief, sheathed his sword, and said impatiently, "Why did Fanjiang Residence collapse? There's a crowd gathered there watching the show."
Shen Gurong coughed, not wanting to admit he'd been frightened again by the vengeful ghost ice silk, and could only vaguely say, "Nothing, just testing my spiritual power."
Xi Guxing frowned: "I've already had someone repair it for you. Tonight you..."
Mu Zhe respectfully said from the side, "Master can stay in the side courtyard."
Shen Gurong nodded: "Yes."
Xi Guxing stepped forward and pulled him off the bed, saying irritably, "What kind of decorum is it for a dignified Holy Lord to stay in a disciple's quarters? Come on, let's go to my place."
Shen Gurong: "But I..."
I was about to take off my clothes and you still pulled me off to make me move? Sect Leader Xi, are you even human?
Mu Zhe: "..."
Xi Guxing, too lazy to waste words with him: "Stop talking nonsense, put on your shoes, let's go."
Shen Gurong had no choice but to put on his shoes and be roughly helped away by Xi Guxing.
The old ice silk was wrapped around Shen Gurong's wrist. Xi Guxing was completely insensitive, letting Shen Gurong pull him by the sleeve as they walked up Changying Mountain. Glancing at the ice silk hanging from the wide sleeves of his red robe, he raised an eyebrow and said, "Were you scared by Old Liu's ice silk again?"
Shen Gurong had experienced something similar ten years ago, and Xi Guxing knew what had happened at a glance.
Shen Gurong staggered along, complaining, "Don't walk so fast, I can't keep up."
Xi Guxing, enjoying the spectacle, said, "Then use the ice silk."
Shen Gurong had a phobia of it and probably needed a while to adjust, so he stubbornly refused to wear it and could only stumble forward.
Halfway there, Shen Gurong seemed to remember something: "Where did Xue Manzhuang go?"
Xi Guxing chuckled: "You hadn't been in seclusion long when the demon race sent people to bring him back. I heard he transformed back into human form a few years ago, and he'll probably be coming to this Chanwei Conference as well."
Hearing about transforming into human form, Shen Gurong frowned, remembering the torment he suffered because of Xue Manzhuang's damned spiritual power.
"The Demon Lord has been waiting for you to emerge from seclusion all these years, wanting you to break the master-servant contract on his son," Xi Guxing said. "Breaking the contract is difficult, but the Demon Lord definitely has other methods. You don't need to say much then; just break the contract to avoid getting entangled with the demon race."
Shen Gurong nodded.
Xi Guxing led Shen Gurong to his bamboo hut on Changying Mountain and instructed, "Mu Zhe and Xinghe have already entered the Dao. Now that you've emerged from seclusion, you should complete the disciple contract this morning."
Shen Gurong guessed that the disciple contract was different from the master-disciple relationship of demon cultivators like Xue Manzhuang, and casually gave a vague reply, planning to review Shen Feng Xue's memories later.
Xi Guxing said, "Then you can rest here."
"Then where are you going?"
"There are too many things to do at the Chanwei Conference. I don't have time to relax." Xi Guxing gave him a disdainful look. "Do you think everyone can pretend to be blind and do nothing like you?"
Shen Gurong: "..."
Get lost.
Xi Guxing left.
Xi Guxing's bamboo hut was extremely desolate. The large room contained only a bamboo bed, a table and chairs, and a desk; nothing else.
Shen Gurong lay on the bamboo bed, his back aching from the pressure. He tossed and turned for a long time, unable to fall asleep, and began to miss his disciple's soft bed.
He thought groggily, 'I shouldn't have come here with Xi Guxing; it's pure torture.'
After rambling on for a while, he started flipping through his memories of the disciple's contract.
The memories of the disciple's contract were extremely dry and tedious, mostly describing how to draw intricate talismans using spiritual power. Shen Gurong only "turned" one page before becoming drowsy and quickly losing consciousness.
***
Mu Zhe, unusually, lay on the bed he hadn't used in many years, vaguely sensing Shen Gurong's icy aura around him.
He lay there for a long time, perhaps because of the excitement of reuniting with his master that day, and after falling asleep, he dreamed of Shen Gurong.
In his dream, Shen Gurong, dressed in a flamboyant red robe, led a child who reached his waist, slowly through a street adorned with lanterns.
He held a sugar figurine, his eyes crinkling as he spoke to a little girl in a pink dress, his youthful face radiating undisguised joy.
Amidst the bustling crowd, Shen Gurong hummed a slightly off-key tune, smiling as he weaved through the throng to the little girl. "...Hmm? That one book? I didn't even get to the end before my brother took it. Isn't that tragic?"
The little girl was exquisitely beautiful, with a beauty mark at the corner of her eye. Her delicate face bore a resemblance to Shen Gurong's. She said in a childish voice, "Brother, that's s so tragic."
Shen Gurong snapped a sugar figurine in his teeth, saying nonchalantly, "Right, right? Xiwu, have pity on your brother."
Little Xiwu blinked her watery eyes, asking innocently, "How can Xiwu pity your brother?"
Shen Gurong looked around, then led Xiwu to the riverbank. Sitting on the stone steps, he grinned mischievously and said, "Tomorrow when I go to the private school, Xiwu, could you help me get that storybook from my brother's room?"
Xiwu tilted her head: "That's called stealing."
Shen Gurong said seriously, "Taking it back is just taking back what belongs to your brother, it doesn't count as... stealing."
Shen Xiwu looked a little aggrieved: "But brother said that stealing without permission is stealing."
Shen Gurong, shameless as ever, grabbed the arm of the girl eight years his junior, shaking her and pleading, "Xiwu, please, help your brother! If Xiwu doesn't help me, how much will it hurt your brother's heart?"
Shen Xiwu, who had been looking troubled, immediately threw herself into her brother's arms, reaching out her soft little hands to rub his chest, saying fearfully, "Brother, your heart doesn't hurt, it doesn't hurt. Your heart..."
Shen Gurong immediately couldn't bear it anymore, hugging his tearful sister and coaxing, "Okay, it doesn't hurt, brother doesn't hurt."
Shen Xiwu had been frail and sickly since childhood, even her memory was slower than others. Seeing that she was still afraid, Shen Gurong skillfully took out a glass bead from his sleeve, rolled it in his palm, and said with a smile, "Look, Xiwu, look, it's round."
Shen Xiwu sobbed, her gaze drawn to the round bead, and the fear on her face slowly faded.
A moment later, Shen Xiwu, holding the bead in one hand and her brother's hand in the other, slowly walked into the crowd.
Mu Zhe only vaguely heard them talking about whether it hurt or not; he heard nothing else. As the two of them left with the crowd, the bustling scene around them gradually disappeared like ink painting.
The scene shifts, and the dashing young man in red robes lies on his bed, his black hair cascading over his shoulders. The icy gaze is gone from his eyes, now fixed on him with bright eyes.
“Mu Zhe,” Shen Gurong, half-lying on the couch, his eyes reddening, beckons him with a soft, boneless hand, his allure captivating. “Come here.”
Mu Zhe walks over almost uncontrollably. Shen Gurong grabs his hand and pulls him forcefully. Mu Zhe stumbles and falls onto the couch, pinning Shen Gurong beneath him.
A hint of red still lingers in Shen Gurong's eyes. He smiles, reaching out to grasp Mu Zhe's shoulder, rising slightly to whisper in his ear, “Mu Zhe, is my waist sash easy to remove?”
Mu Zhe: “…”
Mu Zhe stares at him in horror.
Shen Gurong's smile is seductive. He leads Mu Zhe's hand to his waist, as if luring him into a hellish abyss.
Before dawn, Mu Zhe groggily awoke, and after a long moment of stunned silence, he rose from the bed with a blank expression.
Although he couldn't remember much of his dream, the last image that remained in Mu Zhe's mind after waking was Shen Gurong's soft, almost sobbing breaths beside his ear.
Comments
Post a Comment