At noon, Feng Lingjun and Chu Qian roasted two wild rabbits and opened a jar of wine.
The wine was brewed by Chu Qian himself, very tasty and equally intoxicating. After drinking, Feng Lingjun felt dizzy, and with nothing else to do after a satisfying meal, he simply lay down on the bed to sleep.
He fell asleep, and Chu Qian said he wanted to sleep too. The two squeezed onto one bed, with Feng Lingjun lying on the inside and Chu Qian pressed against his back. The bed was only so big, no matter how much they tried to keep their distance, Feng Lingjun could still feel Chu Qian’s hot breath blowing on the back of his neck. Half of his body was numb, yet Chu Qian remained silent, as if nothing had happened.
Feng Lingjun felt a bit uncertain; he thought that Chu Qian wasn’t doing it intentionally and that he was just overthinking it. Ever since they returned from the camellia grove and mentioned his departure, Chu Qian had been sulking. Even during their drinking earlier, he hadn’t given him a pleasant look, as if Feng Ling owed him two hundred taels of silver.
Feng Lingjun shifted a bit further in, but unexpectedly, Chu Qian followed closely behind, even going so far as to rest his chin on his shoulder. Feng Lingjun helplessly asked, “Aren’t you supposed to be going to sleep?”
“I can’t sleep,” Chu Qian’s voice was a bit aggrieved, and he added, “I’m not happy.”
“……”
I can tell you’re not happy. Feng Lingjun pretended not to understand and asked him, “Why are you unhappy? Tell me.”
But Chu Qian refused to say anything, silently wrapping his arms around Feng Lingjun’s waist, holding him tightly, making it hard for Feng Lingjun to breathe, nearly fainting. With great effort, Feng Lingjun managed to break free, laughing, “Your martial arts skills may not be impressive, but you certainly have strength.”
Chu Qian learned he was a martial arts expert, and hearing that made him even more unhappy. He immediately turned around, laying back to back with Feng Lingjun, refusing to say another word.
Feng Lingjun, feeling helpless, had no choice but to turn around and coax him, sweetly calling, “Qian’er.” To pry open his lips, Feng Lingjun made small talk, saying, “Earlier, when we were drinking, you mentioned that the big tree outside the courtyard was planted by your master himself. He made a vow with a woman under the tree. What was the vow?”
“……” Chu Qian couldn’t hold back and honestly replied, “They promised to be husband and wife in their next life, growing old together.”
“Why does it have to be in the next life?”
“Because that woman didn’t have much longer to live; she passed away the day after they made the vow.”
“And then?”
“Then my master stopped caring about the world and spent the rest of his life guarding her grave in this Wangchun Mountain.”
“…”
Feng Lingjun casually asked, not expecting such a story, and couldn’t help but exclaim, “So your senior is quite the romantic.”
Chu Qian scoffed, “Perhaps. My master is just like you, full of nonsense. Out of ten sentences, at least seven are lies. How do I know if he’s just spinning tales to fool me? He even said that in the village at the foot of the mountain, there is a beautiful widow named Wang, who sends him flirtatious glances every time she sees him—ugh, what a lecherous old man.”
Feng Lingjun: “……”
“When did I ever make things up?” Feng Lingjun couldn’t help but protest, “What I said were all heartfelt words.”
“Which part is heartfelt?” Chu Qian turned his head, glaring back at him.
Feng Lingjun immediately leaned forward, resting his arms on either side of Chu Qian’s body, pinning him down, and softly said, “Every part is, which one do you think isn’t?”
“……”
As he got closer, Chu Qian’s face flushed, especially in such an inappropriate position. He seemed to stutter, opening his mouth but unable to say anything.
Feng Lingjun took advantage of the moment, reaching out to catch a strand of Chu Qian’s hair at his temple, holding it in his palm and leaning down to sniff it. Chu Qian nervously tilted his head back, prompting Feng Lingjun to lean in closer, his lips brushing against Chu Qian’s face, and in a daze, he caught a whiff of that fragrance again.
“What scent is that?” Feng Lingjun asked, suppressing the desire to lean in and explore it himself, instead just staring at Chu Qian.
Chu Qian felt very uncomfortable under his gaze: “W-what fragrance? What are you talking about?”
“Is there really nothing?” Feng Lingjun’s narrow eyes narrowed slightly as he locked eyes with Chu Qian for a moment. Seeing Chu Qian’s innocent expression, comparable to that of a young girl, the guilt in his heart surged once again.
Feng Lingjun found it strange. According to Chu Qian’s description, his master should be a very interesting and easygoing person, so how could he have taught such a naive and serious disciple, whose skin was as thin as paper1Sensitive to criticism, easily embarrassed.?
Perhaps he used to be lively? After all, living alone in the mountains for so long, with no one around to talk to, even the most vivacious person might become mute from the isolation.
And what about in the future? Would Chu Qian live a lonely life like his master, forever remaining on Wangchun Mountain until death?
Feng Lingjun felt a pang of sympathy in his heart.
He certainly understood why Chu Qian was unhappy, but that burden was not easy to bear. Once they were outside and back at the sect, their relationship would no longer be as simple as it was now, without worries, just two people joking around and enjoying themselves.
At that time, everything would become much more complicated.
Feng Lingjun hesitated for a moment, weighing his thoughts repeatedly in his mind, and ultimately couldn’t bring himself to do it.
He called out to Chu Qian: “Qian’er, what did you say this morning? Not knowing where to go, with no one you know, then… would you be willing to come down the mountain with me?”
Chu Qian was taken aback, completely stunned by his straightforwardness.
“You want me to go down the mountain with you?”
“Yeah, would you be willing?”
“…”
Feng Lingjun rarely became serious, his gaze appearing very gentle. Chu Qian’s face turned red again, looking at his expression, it seemed as if the question “Are you willing?” carried a deeper meaning, making one feel anxious and flustered.
Chu Qian unconsciously clutched the hem of his clothes, murmuring, “I’ve never been outside, I don’t know what it’s like down the mountain. Can I… can I do it?”
“What’s there to be afraid of?” Feng Lingjun smiled gently at him, “It’s not that scary outside; there are just more people, more hustle and bustle, and many interesting toys, foods, and sights that you won’t find in Wangchun Mountain.”
“Scenery that doesn’t exist in Wangchun Mountain?”
Feng Lingjun nodded, “Doesn’t it not snow here? In my hometown, the scenery changes with the seasons. In winter, the north wind carries large snowflakes, covering pavilions and towers overnight, draping the entire city in a blanket of white. The next day, if the sun comes out, you’ll see children building snowmen and having snowball fights on the streets…”
“But that’s all in the past. When I was young, I learned the family martial arts, and as I grew older, I joined the Yunhua Sect to study swordsmanship. Since then, I’ve rarely returned to my hometown. If you’re interested, I can take you to see it.”
Chu Qian’s eyes revealed a sense of longing.
Feng Lingjun pinched his ear gently: “Do you want to go with me?”
“…”
Chu Qian really wanted to go; he longed for it deeply, but he was also a bit afraid—everywhere outside was a place he had never been before.
“If I go, will you stay with me the whole time?” Chu Qian wrapped his arms around Feng Lingjun’s neck, unable to help but show his dependence on this stranger he had known for only a short while, yet was the only person he knew in his life.
He bit down on Feng Lingjun’s lips, both fierce and fearful, his voice trembling slightly as he called out, “Brother Lingjun.”
Feng Lingjun’s heart trembled. He couldn’t refuse, no matter what—
“Of course, I will.”
