Mu Zhe rushed to Lin Shuhe's room next door, urgently calling, "Sixth Martial Uncle!"
Lin Shuhe was already lying down. The beaded curtains and bed canopies of the inner room were drawn, and two wooden puppets dutifully guarded the door, preventing Mu Zhe from entering.
Lin Shuhe, his hair disheveled, leaned against a soft pillow, his fingers lightly tracing the water mirror, and said indifferently, "Noisy. It's done, the effects are gone."
Mu Zhe, without suspicion, hurriedly ran back to his room.
The effects of the medicine had indeed worn off, and Shen Gurong was no longer laughing wildly, but…
Mu Zhe tentatively approached, "Master?"
Shen Gurong, lying on the bed with his back to him, slightly turned his head, and two streams of clear tears rolled down his face, staining it.
Tears streamed down his face as he choked out, "Go...go find Lin Shuhe."
Mu Zhe: "..."
Mu Zhe rushed forward again: "Sixth Martial Uncle! My master's eyes are already damaged; he can't withstand this kind of crying. Please have mercy!"
Lin Shuhe clicked his tongue and said, "His eyes haven't been injured before, what's there to be afraid of?"
Mu Zhe was taken aback. Not injured? Then why is he blind?
But now wasn't the time to dwell on that. Mu Zhe said, "But this is very likely to strain his spirit..."
Lin Shuhe whispered, "So delicate—alright, let's go back."
Mu Zhe said warily, "Martial Uncle won't give him any more strange medicine, will he?"
Lin Shuhe touched his lips, a half-smile on his face, and said, "What do you think?"
Mu Zhe: "..."
Mu Zhe was speechless and could only go back to check on the situation.
Lin Shuhe kept his word; Shen Gurong indeed stopped crying.
Mu Zhe feared Lin Shuhe might have drugged him again, but he couldn't figure out how his master had fallen for it. After much thought, he could only conclude that the problem lay in this room.
He tentatively said, "Master, why don't you stay at my place tonight?"
Shen Gurong was huddled on the couch, clutching the blanket, tears still welling in his eyes. With a gentle blink, the tears trickled down his reddened eyes and into his hair. He looked at Mu Zhe with hazy eyes, a slight smile playing on his lips, and said softly, "Okay."
Mu Zhe: "?"
Shen Gurong struggled to sit up, stretching out his arms towards Mu Zhe, and said in a coquettish tone, "Then hug me."
Mu Zhe: "..."
His sixth martial uncle really had drugged him again?!
The light in Lin Shuhe's room next door was already off. A wooden puppet stood guard outside the door. Every time Mu Zhe approached, the two drew their swords. Finally, having no other choice, Mu Zhe had to turn back for the third time.
Shen Gurong sat on the couch, hugging his knees, his eyes slightly lowered, a pout on his lips, looking utterly aggrieved.
Hearing footsteps, Shen Gurong quickly looked up, whimpering softly, "Where did you go?"
Mu Zhe, unsure what drug Shen Gurong had been given, discreetly walked over, saying, "I went to..."
Before he could finish, Shen Gurong reached out and hugged Mu Zhe's waist, snuggling against him affectionately, whispering, "Don't leave me, I'm scared alone."
Mu Zhe: "..."
Mu Zhe tried to ask, "Master, do you recognize me?"
Shen Gurong chuckled, as if amused, and said softly, "Mu Zhe."
Mu Zhe was about to speak when Shen Gurong rubbed against him again, saying, "Didn't you say I was going to stay in your room? Then why didn't you carry me there?"
Mu Zhe: "..."
Mu Zhe couldn't resist, so he immediately scooped up Shen Gurong by the knees and carried him horizontally to his room.
Shen Gurong seemed to enjoy being held, his arms wrapped around Mu Zhe's neck, his feet, clad in silk stockings, dangling slightly. By the time they reached Mu Zhe's room, half of his stockings had slipped down, barely hanging on the instep.
Mu Zhe placed him on the couch and was about to leave when Shen Gurong, still clinging to his neck, asked in a soft, sweet voice, his eyes crinkling into crescents, "Will you sleep with me tonight?"
Mu Zhe was startled, his face inexplicably flushed. He lowered his head and whispered, "I wouldn't dare offend Master."
Shen Gurong looked intently in his direction, tilting his head left and right, "Is sleeping together an offense?"
Mu Zhe remained silent, his head still lowered, tacitly agreeing.
Shen Gurong said with some disappointment, "Alright then."
Mu Zhe felt inexplicably lost. Just as he was about to force himself to remove Shen Gurong's arm, he heard his master chuckle and say, "Then come and offend your master."
Mu Zhe: "..."
Shen Gurong said, "Master grants permission."
Mu Zhe's mind went blank, as if something had exploded. By the time he came to his senses, Shen Gurong had already pulled him onto the bed.
Mu Zhe then vaguely realized that what had just exploded was his rationality.
Shen Gurong kicked off his stockings, placed his feet on Mu Zhe's calves, and snuggled into his arms. Once he found a comfortable position, he sighed contentedly and said, "So warm."
Mu Zhe froze, afraid to move.
This time was unlike when he was a child, his soft, three-year-old master nestling in his arms for warmth.
Mu Zhe had been struggling with the aftermath of his erotic dream and Qingyu's words these past few days. Shen Gurong's sudden closeness shattered his carefully constructed composure once more.
Mu Zhe stammered, "Master...it's too close."
He repeated the same phrase, unwilling to push Shen Gurong away despite the closeness.
As expected, Shen Gurong replied, "But I'm cold."
Coldness calls for warmth, and the warmest place is Mu Zhe's embrace.
Shen Gurong believed his logic was sound; he was simply puzzled as to why Mu Zhe said it was too close.
He blinked, then suddenly leaned forward, their faces almost touching, their breaths mingling, a passionate yet subtly erotic exchange.
Shen Gurong was still saying, "But I feel like this is closer."
Mu Zhe: "..."
Mu Zhe stared at him intently, his heart pounding. Perhaps to avoid him, he awkwardly lowered his eyes, but his gaze fell on Shen Gurong's thin lips, so close to his own.
Mu Zhe almost froze, clenching his fists tightly to avoid doing anything he himself found presumptuous.
Fortunately, Shen Gurong quickly withdrew, still comfortably nestled in Mu Zhe's arms, and asked, "Is this still close?"
Mu Zhe remained silent.
Compared to their face-to-face earlier, this was indeed no longer close.
Mu Zhe slowly relaxed, and Shen Gurong, completely unaware of his unusual behavior, hooked his fingers around Mu Zhe's clothes, then suddenly, as if something had pricked him, he mumbled a "Hmm?"
Mu Zhe was startled, and before he could react, he felt Shen Gurong's slender fingers slip down his robes, finally finding a glass bottle at his waist.
Curious, Shen Gurong picked up the bottle, looking at it from all angles but unable to see it clearly. He finally asked Mu Zhe, "What's this?"
Mu Zhe: "..."
Mu Zhe's gaze suddenly fell on the jade-like demonic energy lines within the bottle, swirling around it. His face flushed crimson.
He immediately snatched the bottle from Shen Gurong's hand, his voice barely a whisper, stammering, "Nothing, just... a bottle for holding spiritual herbs."
Shen Gurong seemed to have given all his reliance to Mu Zhe. Hearing this, he didn't question him, nestled in his arms again, and closed his eyes, falling into a deep sleep.
Mu Zhe lay frozen on the bed, unable to sleep all night.
The next morning, the rain was still falling. Mu Zhe rose early from his bed and went to the maple grove in the backyard of Lin Shuhe's clinic to practice his sword, hoping to vent his inexplicable frustration.
Judging that it was about time, Mu Zhe sheathed his sword and returned home.
When he arrived at his room, as expected, Shen Gurong had just woken up.
Mu Zhe sheathed his sword, inexplicably unable to look at him, and bowed, saying, "Good morning, Master."
Shen Gurong, his black hair disheveled, sat on the bed, propping his head up with his hand, seemingly in great pain. Hearing the sound, he sleepily turned his head, frowning, and said, "Mu Zhe?"
"Yes."
Shen Gurong rubbed his temples and said, "Bring me my clothes."
Mu Zhe brought over the clothes from the side and presented them to Shen Gurong with both hands.
Shen Gurong didn't bother to put them on properly. After draping his outer robe over his shoulders and hastily fastening his waist belt, he got off the bed. Just as Mu Zhe was about to tie Shen Gurong's disheveled clothes, he heard Shen Gurong coldly say, "Jiu Xi Sword, lend it to me."
Mu Zhe instinctively handed him his natal sword without the slightest hesitation.
After giving it to him, he tentatively asked, "What will Master do with the sword?"
Shen Gurong casually tossed his dark hair, his eyebrows slightly raised, strikingly beautiful. His face was ashen: "Kill someone."
Mu Zhe: "..."
Shen Gurong, with some unknown supernatural ability, managed to leave the room without Mu Zhe's help, carrying the sword and with disheveled hair, rushing towards the front courtyard clinic.
Lin Shuhe was sitting at the courtyard gate enjoying the rain when he heard hurried footsteps behind him. A smile played on his lips as he slightly turned his head.
The next instant, the deadly Jiu Xi Sword, carrying a murderous aura, pierced through the air, directly against his neck; an inch more and it would slit his throat.
Lin Shuhe's expression remained unchanged. He smiled faintly as always, his face weary and sickly: "Eleven, good morning."
Shen Gurong said coldly, "What last words do you need me to convey? Speak quickly."
Lin Shuhe clicked his tongue, casually raising his thin fingers to lightly touch the Jiu Xi Sword blade beside his neck, seemingly unafraid of being cut.
He praised, "Truly a fine sword. Are you sure you want to use it to kill me?"
Shen Gurong: "Exactly. It's your honor."
Lin Shuhe raised an eyebrow: "Even if I could make you ice silk, you would still kill me?"
Shen Gurong's hand paused.
Lin Shuhe continued, "Could I help you unseal your sealed spiritual meridians?"
Shen Gurong's mind, clouded by shame and anger, gradually cleared.
Lin Shuhe delivered another fatal blow: "I can still break the Snow-Clad Pact for you."
Shen Gurong: "..."
By the time Mu Zhe rushed over, his master had already betrayed him, casually tossing the Jiu Xi Sword aside and sitting next to Lin Shuhe, eating the morning tea Lin Shuhe had bought.
As soon as Mu Zhe arrived, Lin Shuhe, who was serving Shen Gurong pastries, glanced at him, his eyes full of a mocking, ambiguous smile.
Mu Zhe didn't understand what he meant, but he felt inexplicably awkward.
"Sixth Martial Uncle."
Lin Shuhe blinked gently, asking Shen Gurong softly, "Third Senior Brother said you're very good at acting cute, I didn't believe it, but after seeing you yesterday, it's true."
Shen Gurong: "..."
Mu Zhe: "..."
Shen Gurong almost spat out his soup, coughing violently for a while, his eyes filled with tears. He said with difficulty, "You..."
Lin Shuhe handed him a handkerchief: "Be careful."
Shen Gurong fumbled for it, wiped his face haphazardly, and then angrily said, "Isn't it all because of your cuteness-enhancing medicine?! I haven't even settled the score with you yet, and you, of all people, come to me willingly!"
Shen Gurong vividly remembered what happened last night. After sobering up, he was so embarrassed that he wanted to find a ditch and drown himself. He had originally planned that if he didn't bring it up, Mu Zhe, who was always good at reading people's expressions, certainly wouldn't bring it up either, so he could just pretend nothing had happened.
Unexpectedly, the culprit spoke first.
Lin Shuhe rested his chin on his hand, his fingertips gently tracing the beauty mark beneath his eye, and smiled, saying, "That's not called a 'coquettish' drug."
Shen Gurong was taken aback, instinctively asking, "Then what is it called?"
Lin Shuhe's lips curved into a smile, saying, "'Follow Your Heart,' it allows you to be yourself, to cast aside all pretense, and to reveal your true self."
Shen Gurong: "..."
Mu Zhe: "..."
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