Chapter 156: Shizun Is Good at Riding

Chu Wanning looked Song Qiutong up and down. At Xuanyuan

 Pavilion, he had thought she possessed a beauty that could topple nations.

 Up close, he thought she was lovely as a lotus blooming over water or a

 rosy sky reflecting the dawn, the world around her set to sparkling by the

 light glinting from her ebon hair. Her beauty was without compare. No

 wonder Nangong Si was taken with her.

 Chu Wanning stole a glance at Mo Ran to catch his reaction. He

 didn't expect, the moment he looked over, to find Mo Ran gazing back at

 him. Mo Ran hadn't been looking at Song Qiutong at all; Nangong Si might

 as well have been standing next to empty air. Instead, Mo Ran had been

 staring at Chu Wanning all this time.

 Eyes met eyes, and Mo Ran smiled warmly. Chu Wanning felt

 himself go weak under Mo Ran's gaze but insisted on maintaining his

 unaffected expression. He and Mo Ran looked at each other for a fleeting

 instant before Chu Wanning turned his face aside with as much dignity as

 possible.

 "We keep lots of faewolves at Moonwhistle Fields. Naobaijin is the

 most fearless of them—and also my favorite." Nangong Si led the group to

 the middle of the empty field and blew three shrill whistles on the jade flute

 he kept at his waist. There was a moment of silence. Then a fierce wind

 whipped out from the dense forest, white light and inky shadow whirling

 like a tornado. In the blink of an eye, a faewolf with a shimmering coat and

 golden claws leapt out of empty air, body curving into a sinuous arc.

Silhouetted against that pale winter sun, the beast howled before alighting

 upon the ground. It drew to a halt just before Nangong Si and let out a short

 bark.

 Nangong Si stepped forward to stroke the soft, fluffy ruff on

 Naobaijin's neck, then turned and grinned at Chu Wanning. "Zongshi, look

 —he's gotten so big. He was a tiny pup when you left."

 "When I left, he was already the height of a full-grown man," Chu

 Wanning said expressionlessly.

 "Ha ha ha ha, really? I always thought he was really small, like a

 puppy."

 Chu Wanning eyed him doubtfully.

 "Zongshi, why don't you take him for a ride?" Nangong Si blew into

 the flute again, summoning two more snow-white faewolves from the

 forest. "Mo-zongshi, wanna try too?"

 The three of them climbed onto the backs of their faewolves. "Hold

 on tight to the reins or their scruffs, and make sure to keep your legs tucked

 in," Nangong Si advised. "It's much like riding a horse." He bent down to

 offer a hand to Song Qiutong. "Qiutong, you come up with me."

 Chu Wanning had thought he wouldn't know how to ride the faewolf,

 but after a few moments on the wolf's back, he found that it wasn't terribly

 difficult. Faewolves were highly intelligent and sensitive to their riders'

 intentions; they were in truth easier to ride than the average horse.

 "How do you find it?" Nangong Si asked with a smile. "Shall we take

 a lap?"

 "Are we allowed to go anywhere?"

"Of course—you can run your wolves anywhere in the forest behind

 the mountain or Moonwhistle Fields."

 Mo Ran grinned. "Are you proposing a race?"

 Chu Wanning looked over at Nangong Si sitting astride his faewolf

 with Song Qiutong behind him. Perhaps, he thought, this was a perfect

 opportunity for the young couple to bond. He gladly agreed. "Let's do it."

 Nangong Si cheerfully unclasped a bracelet of spiritual stones from

 his wrist. "How about this: we make for Ganquan Lake on the north edge of

 the forest and catch five groupers from the lake. The first to return to this

 spot with their catch is the winner, and this bracelet will be the prize. What

 do you say?"

 "A bracelet of septimal-star

 2 spiritual stones? Nangong-gongzi is too

 generous by far."

 "A thousand gold couldn't buy me good cheer." Nangong Si took up

 the reins and tilted his head to instruct Song Qiutong. "Make sure you hold

 on tight to keep from falling. Just let me know if we're going too fast."

 Mo Ran shot a glance at Song Qiutong and said with a small smile,

 "Perhaps Nangong-gongzi should just give his bracelet away now and save

 the effort."

 "Ha! Don't underestimate me. I grew up on wolfback. A passenger is

 nothing—even a second one wouldn't make a difference. Let's go, on the

 count of three: one, two—three!"

 Three snow-white streaks darted toward the forest like arrows,

 clearing Moonwhistle Fields in a trice. They leapt into the hunting grounds

 and vanished into the depths of the woods.

At first, Chu Wanning kept pace behind Nangong Si and Song

 Qiutong. But his ears began to ache under the onslaught of Song Qiutong's

 high-pitched screams. Unable to withstand the girl's affected terror a

 moment longer, he spurred his wolf on and shot past. As the cries of

 "Gongzi, slow down!" faded behind him, Chu Wanning gradually began to

 see the appeal of riding a faewolf. These spiritual creatures were incredibly

 sharp—at the slightest twitch of his fingertips, Naobaijin grasped his intent

 and responded. It was little wonder Nangong Si loved these animals so

 dearly.

 The wintry wind stung his face, but Chu Wanning didn't feel the

 cold. He looked into the sunbeams scattering through the trees ahead as the

 ground rushed past beneath his feet like the receding tide. A smile stole

 across his face; this high-speed dash really was exhilarating. He urged

 Naobaijin on faster, the wolf's claws kicking up dust as they struck the

 thick carpet of pine needles.

 Behind him, Mo Ran was perched atop a black-clawed wolf; he had

 tailed Chu Wanning closely the whole ride. An indescribable comfort and

 contentment welled in Chu Wanning's breast. He was struck by the hazy

 feeling that, finally, there was someone who would always follow close,

 footsteps echoing unceasingly—someone who would follow him no matter

 how far he ran, and no matter what floods he willfully forded into.

Chu Wanning and Mo Ran reached Ganquan Lake at nearly the same

 time. The jade-green lake was clear as a mirror, its waters rippling with

 spiritual energy that nourished the shores and sheltered the flowering and

 fruiting trees from the turn of the seasons. Even now, in the dead of winter,

 the tangerine trees here flourished—their emerald leaves hid countless

 golden fruits, the sweet scent of citrus diffusing on the wind.

 Chu Wanning deftly dismounted and looked around. "What a

 wonderful place."

 Leading the black-clawed faewolf, Mo Ran came nearer and smiled.

 "If Shizun likes it, we can plant lots of fruit trees when we get back to

 Sisheng Peak. We'll support them with spiritual energy year-round so you

 can eat fruit whenever you want."

 Chu Wanning gave a noncommittal snort. He strode to the shore of

 the lake and summoned Tianwen.

 Mo Ran, finding this strange, stopped him at once. "What are you

 doing?"

 "Catching fish."

 Mo Ran eyed him dubiously. "Surely Shizun isn't gonna cast Wind

 and snatch all the fish out of the lake?"

 "Where do you get these ideas?" Chu Wanning glared at him. He

 tossed the golden vine upon the surface of the lake and said mildly, "Which

 of you tire of living? If you are willing, come to the hook." After repeating

 this refrain thrice, Chu Wanning recalled Tianwen. The shining golden

 leaves indeed bore a few bighead carp with nothing left to live for. Bubbles

 leaked from their mouths as their white, puffy eyes rolled up to stare at the

 sky.

Chu Wanning looked over his catch, then turned to Mo Ran, "Did he

 say he wanted groupers?"

 "Mn."

 Chu Wanning hesitated. "Do you know what groupers look like?" He

 considered that this question might still be too roundabout, so he brought

 Tianwen over to Mo Ran and held up the fish he'd caught. "Have I got any

 here?"

 "…How about I catch some for Shizun?"

 Mo Ran swiftly caught ten fish and split them between the qiankun

 pouches around the two faewolves' necks. Chu Wanning lowered the

 despondent fish he'd caught back into the water. "Life is but a short period

 of suffering," he said softly as he let them go. "I must trouble your

 eminences to endure a while longer."

 Mo Ran, listening, found this man both incredibly silly and cute.

 After he had safely stowed the last grouper, he turned and caught sight of

 Chu Wanning walking up the bank from the edge of the frigid, jade-green

 pool. The lake waters rippled behind him, blurring the edges of his white

 silhouette.

 A violent impulse suddenly surged within Mo Ran's heart. He wanted

 to stride over and gather Chu Wanning into his arms. He wanted to hold

 him close, to caress him with utmost gentleness. Yet he also wanted to crush

 him to pieces, to drag him into the tangerine grove, press him against a tree,

 lift his legs, and ferociously invade his body. As he watched Chu Wanning

 approach, he was startled by how contradictory, how intense, this longing

 was. Both his softest and most vicious desires were destined to be aroused

 by Chu Wanning.

Love, oh love—wasn't it just like this? Unyielding and hot was the

 fierce blade that pierced one's burning chest; gentle and warm the

 tenderness that embraced one like spring water.

 Chu Wanning missed the turbulence in Mo Ran's eyes as he drew

 closer to examine the qiankun pouch around Naobaijin's neck. "Nangong Si

 is really something," he said. "Riding so slowly just because he's got a girl

 with him."

 Mo Ran felt rather feverish. As Chu Wanning lowered his head,

 Mo Ran stared wolfishly at the fair skin of his exposed neck. Heat stirred in

 his belly, and he muttered thoughtlessly, "Maybe they're doing something

 else."

 Chu Wanning froze. "Doing what?"

 Only then did Mo Ran realize what had slipped out. He coughed and

 turned aside. "Nothing."

 But Chu Wanning caught the implication. His eyes flew wide, then

 narrowed dangerously in aggravation. "What the hell are you thinking! Get

 back on the horse! Let's go!"

 Mo Ran opened his mouth to say, It's not a horse, it's a wolf. But

 when he saw Chu Wanning's baleful expression and the flushed tips of his

 ears, he swallowed his words. Watching Chu Wanning reach up and mount

 Naobaijin in one swift motion, the picture of unmatched refinement and

 beauty, Mo Ran felt almost rueful. He yearned after him with such single

minded fervor. Wouldn't it be perfect if Chu Wanning were his, he thought

 —he'd fuck all the strength out of this man's body. Chu Wanning wouldn't

 be able to mount any horse or wolf; he'd only be able to collapse into

 Mo Ran's arms.

This idea was too outrageous, too heinous—Mo Ran unconsciously

 shook his head. Chu Wanning caught the movement. "What?" he snapped.

 "Why're you shaking your head? Don't tell me you think I'm wrong to

 reprimand you?"

 "No no, Shizun's instruction is always correct. I was thinking too

 much."

 But I wasn't thinking about Nangong Si and Song Qiutong doing any

 of that ridiculousness. The person I was thinking of was you…

 Mo Ran had another thought. Ah, wouldn't it be great if he could

 break Naobaijin's legs? Then Chu Wanning would have no wolf to ride.

 Perhaps he'd do Mo Ran the honor of climbing onto his own black-clawed

 wolf.

 Mo Ran wanted so badly to hold him again. He was like a man about

 to die of thirst, reminiscing about the sweet dew he'd once sullied… He

 galloped at Chu Wanning's heels the whole way back, drowning in these

 irrepressible imaginings.

 When they returned to Moonwhistle Fields, Song Qiutong and

 Nangong Si were there waiting. Song Qiutong sat on the ground, one

 luminous, jade-like ankle extended in front of her, streaked with traces of

 blood. Halfway through the ride, she had forgotten Nangong Si's warning to

 tuck her legs in and been cut by some brambles. Though it was a minor

 injury, Nangong Si refused to ignore it and brought her back at once to

 dress the wound.

 Mo Ran glanced at her legs and feet. Those feet were objectively

 pleasing to the eye, but they couldn't compare to Chu Wanning's. How

 pathetic it was that he had really liked Song Qiutong's feet in his past life.

He must've been blind.

 These days, he felt that every aspect of Chu Wanning was wonderful,

 no matter where he looked. Even those unforgiving, scornful, coldly

 glinting eyes now simply felt proud and distinctive, just the way Chu

 Wanning ought to be. He was just so handsome—too damn handsome. So

 handsome that even being subjected to Chu Wanning's glares, reprimands,

 and eye rolls left Mo Ran ecstatic in the face of such beauty.

 "I willingly made a bet, so I'll willingly accept the loss." Nangong Si

 forthrightly passed the bracelet, worth a thousand gold, over to Chu

 Wanning. "This is for Zongshi."

 Chu Wanning peered at the trinket. "Septimal-star spiritual stones are

 excellent for nurturing the spiritual core. It's precisely what I need—thank

 you very much."

 Irked, Mo Ran muttered, "I'll get you something even better next

 time."

 "What?" Chu Wanning hadn't caught Mo Ran's words and turned to

 look at him.

 Mo Ran gazed into those phoenix eyes, so close he could see his own

 face reflected in Chu Wanning's pupils. The two of them were near enough

 to practically blur into one. That tight feeling in Mo Ran's chest abated

 slightly as he grinned. "I said, when I see something better for Shizun, I'll

 buy it for you."

 "Okay."

 Chu Wanning's blunt assent made Mo Ran even more gleeful. He

 cast a petty glance at Nangong Si. Of course, Nangong Si was completely

 oblivious—but this didn't stop Mo Ran from pitting himself against

Rufeng's young master. Bursting with self-satisfaction, he wanted to crow

 to Nangong Si—Shizun responds to your gifts with such a courteous "thank

 you very much," but not with me! You see, we're so close there's no need for

 him to be polite.

 Chu Wanning continued, "Remember to get a receipt from the seller,

 and I'll pay you back when I get the chance."

 Mo Ran's internal crowing screeched to an unceremonious halt.

 Nangong Si retrieved the ten freshwater groupers from the qiankun

 pouches and brought everyone to a little wooden hut on the fringes of

 Moonwhistle Fields. Outside was a stove covered in soot, complete with an

 assortment of pots and utensils. The wooden hut looked dilapidated,

 especially in contrast to the magnificent expanse of the grassy field—as if

 they were from two different eras.

 Chu Wanning trailed his fingertips along the fence until he reached a

 yak-hair flag tied to a post. The flag seemed to have endured the elements

 for many years, its once-vivid colors faded.

 Nangong Si was collecting seasonings from the wooden hut when he

 saw Chu Wanning stop to examine the flag. "I tied that here the year

 Zongshi left," he said with a smile. "It's practically rotted away by now."

 Chu Wanning sighed softly and sat on a low stool carved from a tree

 stump. Nangong Si had been a small child when Chu Wanning served

 Rufeng Sect. Back then, Chu Wanning had often taken the boy on walks

 around Moonwhistle Fields, on which they'd stop by this hunting shack.

 A fire soon roared to life. They roasted the groupers on fruit-tree

 branches, the rich juices emitting a mouth-watering aroma as they dripped

 from the crisp, seared skin into the flames. Nangong Si tossed six of the fish

to the faewolves lying beside the wooden fence. He sprinkled the remaining

 four with salt and handed them out, one to each person.

 Song Qiutong ate only a few bites before passing hers to Nangong Si,

 who'd already devoured an entire plump fish all by himself. "I won't be

 able to finish it. Gongzi, please have the rest."

 Chu Wanning watched Nangong Si take the roasted fish and happily

 polish off a second helping. This Song Qiutong seemed gentle and

 deferential, he thought—a considerate person, nothing like the scarlet

 woman rumors made her out to be. Gossip really couldn't be taken at face

 value.

 As he mulled this over, a lotus leaf was pressed into his hand. It

 contained neat filets of fish with the bones picked out, the delicate, smoke

scented flesh steaming in the cold air. With some astonishment, Chu

 Wanning turned to see Mo Ran tucking away the silver dagger he always

 carried. "Shizun, have this," he said with a smile.

 "Where'd you get the lotus leaf?"

 "I picked it when I was catching the fish." Mo Ran pushed the fish

 toward him. "Eat while it's hot. It won't taste as good once it gets cold."

 Chu Wanning took the lotus leaf, his heart fluttering. "Thank you."

 It was true that he didn't like eating fish with bones, and the tender,

 fileted grouper practically melted in his mouth. Chu Wanning ate bite after

 bite yet never found it too heavy. By the time he finished, the tea hanging

 over the fire had come to a boil. Song Qiutong rose to take the iron teapot

 off and poured everyone a cup. She respectfully offered a teacup to each of

 the three men with both hands.

 "Chu-zongshi, please have some tea."

Song Qiutong held the little porcelain cup in her fine, jade-white

 hands, her arms luminous as the moon, an eye-catching cinnabar mark on

 the inside of her wrist.

 Chu Wanning recalled that at Xuanyuan Pavilion's auction, the

 pavilion master mentioned that Hanlin the Sage had placed a cinnabar dot

 of chastity on Song Qiutong's wrist—this must be it. If the mark yet

 remained, all talk of Song Qiutong's affair with Ye Wangxi was bound to be

 nonsense. Chu Wanning breathed a quiet sigh of relief. Nangong Si was a

 pure-hearted young man, like a wild horse on the plains or a solitary wolf

 roaming the wild, full of fighting spirit and vigor. Chu Wanning thought

 well of people like him. He didn't want Nangong Si to make a bad match.

 Song Qiutong had made her way over to Mo Ran to offer him tea. He

 accepted the cup but put it aside without taking a sip. "Miss Song, I have

 something I'd like to give you," he said with a slight smile.