Chapter 176: Shizun, Why Don’t You Buy Me

With his ponytail securely tied, Chu Wanning went out to do the

 dishes. There were only three bowls, but he stayed outside for quite a long

 time.

 Mo Ran sat on the bed, restless with anxiety. He unwittingly dug his

 fingers into the crevice between the mattress and the wall, glancing at the

 window from time to time.

 What do I do? he wondered. How am I supposed to sleep tonight?

 This question might have seemed basic, but it was actually

 impossible to answer. Mo Ran couldn't be sure of Chu Wanning's feelings.

 As for himself, lust and rationality dueled in his heart, the flames of war

 roaring sky-high.

 At that moment, the curtain lifted and Chu Wanning stepped across

 the threshold, wreathed in the outside chill and holding three freshly

 washed bowls. When he glanced at Mo Ran sitting on the edge of the bed in

 the flickering candlelight, there was some subtle emotion in his gaze. But

 he lowered his lashes a second later such that Mo Ran couldn't get a clear

 look before Chu Wanning settled at the table with his back to him.

 "Shizun's not going to bed yet?"

 The instant the words left his mouth, he felt he'd blundered. He

 sounded like a desperate man beseeching his lover to come to bed for the

 night.

Chu Wanning didn't turn his head. "I've still got some things to take

 care of," he said mildly. "Go to sleep first if you're tired."

 "I'm not tired either," said Mo Ran. "What does Shizun need to do?

 I'll help."

 "You can't help. I want to make some sound-recording haitang

 blossoms," Chu Wanning replied. With a graceful twirl of his fingers, a

 haitang glowing with golden light blossomed in his hand. He placed it

 carefully near the edge of the table.

 These blooms were made from Chu Wanning's spiritual energy and

 could record and transmit a short spoken message—a secret technique of

 his own invention that none could imitate. Mo Ran was puzzled. He came

 to the table and pulled out a chair, spinning it around to sit backward. His

 sturdy arms rested against its back, his chin pillowed on top. "What's

 Shizun planning to do with these?"

 "Sell them."

 "Huh?"

 At the note of surprise in Mo Ran's voice, Chu Wanning cast him a

 dispassionate glance. "We can't afford to stay on Flying Flower Isle for

 seven days. Isn't Third Lady Sun a businesswoman? Then I'll do business

 with her. These are golden sound-recording haitang blossoms that stay fresh

 all year round. You saw how she's dripping with gold and silver from head

 to toe—she clearly likes things that glitter. I'll sell them on the street

 tomorrow and see if she bites."

 Mo Ran couldn't help but laugh. "Shizun is going to…sell flowers?"

 6

 Chu Wanning's expression shifted slightly. Perhaps because he didn't

 want to associate himself with those tawdry ladies selling white orchids in

alleyways, he corrected Mo Ran sternly, "They're blossoms made from

 spiritual energy. They don't count as flowers."

 "I'll go with you to sell them tomorrow."

 Chu Wanning didn't reply. Bowing his head in concentration, he

 rapidly conjured a few more flowers before replying sulkily, "Do whatever

 you want. As long as you don't find it too embarrassing."

 "Why would it be embarrassing?" Mo Ran plucked a flower off the

 table and sniffed it. The blossom was light in his hand and fragranceless, its

 glow singularly graceful. The golden light washed over his handsome face

 and dark lashes as he smiled. "I imagine Third Lady Sun will weep at the

 chance to buy these from Shizun. How much are you selling them for?"

 "Even a hundred blossoms don't require much spiritual energy. How

 about three for a copper coin?"

 Mo Ran stared at him without a word.

 Chu Wanning glanced at him again and frowned slightly. "Is that too

 much?" he asked, hesitant.

 Mo Ran sighed. Rather than answer the question directly, he said,

 "Shizun shouldn't name a price tomorrow. Allow me."

 "Why? I made the flowers. I should set the price."

 "Three for a copper coin." Mo Ran waved three fingers in front of

 Chu Wanning, not knowing whether to laugh or cry. "Shizun, you're the

 Beidou Immortal, and these are your Nightglow Haitang Blossoms, prized

 throughout the entire cultivation realm. You're going to let them go three

 for a copper coin?"

"No one's ever asked me for them. They're pretty enough and good

 for transmitting messages, but not otherwise useful. I think the price is fair."

 Mo Ran laughed in exasperation. "Then why don't you sell them all

 to me? I'll give you the money right now."

 Chu Wanning's hand stilled. Brilliant golden petals floated down as a

 half-formed haitang blossom was severed from his spiritual power. He held

 out his hand and responded calmly, "All right. Deal."

 Finding himself speechless, Mo Ran reached for his money bag

 before remembering that the island's conniving merchant had already

 squeezed every last coin from both him and Chu Wanning.

 He looked up, a bit embarrassed, and met Chu Wanning's answering

 gaze. There was the barest hint of a smile on Chu Wanning's face. Mo Ran

 felt doubly awkward. "Shizun already knew I didn't have any money

 left…" he muttered.

 Chu Wanning was amused. "You're the one who boasted and said

 you'd buy if I were selling."

 "I…" Mo Ran swallowed the rest of his sentence—he suddenly felt

 that this phrase was rather ambiguous. What Chu Wanning should've said

 was "you'd buy if I were selling flowers," but he'd lazily left off the last

 bit. It made it sound like Mo Ran wanted to spend his money on the man

 before him.

 Mo Ran's heartbeat picked up speed. He didn't dare meet Chu

 Wanning's eyes, afraid his shizun would detect the disgraceful intent in his

 own. But when his gaze caught on Chu Wanning's hand, palm up as he

 waited, he discovered that those fingertips were red and chapped from the

cold. When Chu Wanning had been washing the bowls outside, he had

 stubbornly kept at it until the warm water had turned freezing.

 Without thought—almost out of habit—Mo Ran grabbed the hand

 outstretched on the table.

 Chu Wanning jumped. He'd been feigning calm as he'd held out his

 hand, but instead of any coin, his fingers found themselves pressed between

 a pair of warm, broad palms. Those palms were just the right temperature,

 but he jerked his hand away like he'd been burned by a hot iron. "What are

 you doing?!"

 Mo Ran had no unseemly intentions—heart aching, he'd truly wanted

 merely to warm Chu Wanning's chilled hands. He hadn't expected such a

 strong reaction and was stunned speechless.

 The two of them looked at each other in the dim yellow candlelight.

 A drop of wax sputtered and popped, breaking the silence. Chu Wanning

 knew his skittishness had been suspicious, so he pressed his lips together

 and said nothing for a time, uneasy.

 When Mo Ran saw his expression, the tender sprout in his heart

 pushed upward more vigorously, striving to straighten its soft form, making

 his chest itch. "Shizun…"

 Chu Wanning said nothing.

 "Do you…" Mo Ran's sentence caught in his throat. Not knowing

 what lay ahead, he skidded to a halt before the precipice, held back by

 reason. He couldn't finish the thought.

 Mo Ran's question was incomplete. Nevertheless, Chu Wanning

 responded stiffly: "No."

 Staring at him, Mo Ran asked, "No what?"

"No matter what you say, the answer is no." Chu Wanning scowled.

 Like a cat defending its territory with bared fangs, he was on guard, hackles

 raised. "Let go."

 Mo Ran did. He laid his hand upon the chairback again, the picture of

 obedience. Chu Wanning returned to conjuring flowers, collecting the petals

 that had fallen earlier into a complete blossom. He was sulking, though

 mostly out of helplessness.

 After a while, Mo Ran spoke up again. "Honestly, Shizun, I only

 wanted to ask if you felt cold. I just wanted to…warm your hands."

 "I'm not cold."

 Liar. The hand that Mo Ran touched had been icy.

 It was obvious that Chu Wanning found this situation excruciatingly

 awkward. "If there's nothing else, you should get some sleep," he said. "I'll

 take you to sell flowers tomorrow."

 Mo Ran didn't know how he should answer. Often, Chu Wanning

 used to say I'll take you to cultivate, or I'll take you to meditate, or I'll take

 you to study. What was all this about I'll take you to sell flowers… He tried,

 but mostly failed, to suppress the laughter that bubbled up in his eyes, his

 pupils reflecting the man in the candlelight. He let out a soft hum of

 agreement, but he really couldn't bear to leave the table.

 "Go to sleep."

 Mo Ran glanced at the bed. He'd resolved that he wouldn't go to

 sleep before Chu Wanning no matter what. He didn't know whether he was

 supposed to sleep on the bed or the floor, so he would wait and see what

 Chu Wanning did. If Chu Wanning went to sleep on the innermost side of

the mattress, clearly leaving space for him, then he'd sleep on the bed. If

 Chu Wanning lay right in the middle, then… Ah, then he'd behave.

 His face reddened as he sneakily schemed. "I won't sleep yet."

 "What are you doing sitting here, then?" Chu Wanning frowned.

 Mo Ran raised a hand and brought his long, slender fingers together.

 With a flourish, a fiery red butterfly made from spiritual energy appeared in

 midair.

 Chu Wanning stared blankly.

 "For sale." Mo Ran grinned. With a light flick of his fingers, the red

 butterfly fluttered into the air and landed among the pile of Chu Wanning's

 haitang blossoms on the table. As it dove in and out of the flowers, it

 flapped its glowing wings as if pollinating them. "Mine will be quite pricey.

 I'm a black-hearted scoundrel, so they'll be ten gold apiece."

 Chu Wanning watched that pesky butterfly flying back and forth. It

 paused on one of his haitang blossoms to lap at its tender stamen. His face

 was like a thundercloud. "Mo Weiyu!"

 "What is it?"

 Chu Wanning was so furious, he didn't know what to say or how to

 say it. He managed, finally, to quash the urge to explode. Flustered, he

 choked out, "Three copper coins each at the very most."

 Mo Ran laughed out loud. When he'd chuckled a moment, he spun

 out another fiery red butterfly. He held out his hand, and the butterfly gently

 alighted upon the haitang blossom forming in Chu Wanning's fingertips. "If

 I'm selling them to others, it'll be ten gold. I think the price is fair."

"Then you can sell them to me!" Chu Wanning took a deep breath

 and said fiercely, "I'll go resell them myself. They can't be priced higher

 than my haitang blossoms." After some thought, he added, "But I don't

 have any money on me now. I'll pay you once we get back to Sisheng

 Peak."

 Smiling, Mo Ran spun out the third butterfly and sighed softly as the

 butterfly danced around Chu Wanning on swift wings. With his head

 propped against those sturdy arms the color of golden wheat, he said gently,

 "Not a chance."

 "Are you saying you won't let me buy on credit?" Chu Wanning

 raised his chin, his eyes shining with anger and his face haughty. If Mo Ran

 really dared to say he wouldn't take his credit, then, as his teacher, Chu

 Wanning resolved to properly discipline this impudent, delusional man.

 That delusional man smiled even more brightly, his dimples deep and

 his tone warm. "No, I wanted to say…"

 Wanted to say what? Chu Wanning's claws were bared, ready to

 strike out.

 "I'll let you buy me out." Mo Ran left off the specifics, making this

 statement rather vague and suggestive. Resting his cheek against his arms,

 he gazed at Chu Wanning, perfectly earnest. "It's all yours, free of charge."

 Never in a million years could Chu Wanning have anticipated such a

 response. Dazed, his face immediately flamed red.

 The hour was late. The little cottage was piled high with spiritual

 butterflies and haitang blossoms—they already had more than enough to

 sell. Yet neither was willing to be the first to retire for the night.

Mo Ran's worries were self-evident. He figured he would see where

 Chu Wanning slept and act accordingly.

 Although Chu Wanning wasn't aware of his plan, he wasn't stupid

 either—he felt a vague uneasiness. He, too, wanted to know what Mo Ran

 would choose. Would he sleep on the floor…or on the bed?

 This man was giving Chu Wanning an ever-increasing sense of

 danger…but if Mo Ran really lay down on the bed, Chu Wanning didn't

 plan to chase him off. He was painfully aware of that hidden thread of hope

 in his heart—the hope that he would see Mo Ran wearily get to his feet, say,

 "I'm sleepy," and lie down on the bed.

 Why is he still awake?!

 Chu Wanning and Mo Ran each spun out more flowers and

 butterflies, both impatiently thinking the same thought: Go to sleep already

 —if you lie down on the bed first, then I'll…

 "Shizun."

 "Hm?"

 "Are you tired? It's so late, you should rest."

 "No need, I'm used to it."

 Thus another two hours passed.

 "Mo Ran."

 "Hm?"

 "Why are you still sitting here?"

 "I'm making more butterflies. If Shizun's tired, you should go to

 sleep first—I'll be up a little longer."

Chu Wanning expended every effort to suppress his yawns, grinding

 his molars together. He hadn't slept for two nights in a row, and the rims of

 his eyes were red with fatigue. Yet still he insisted, "I'm not tired yet."

 Mo Ran watched him steadily.

 Little by little, the room became an ocean of butterflies and haitang

 blossoms, overflowing with dazzling red and gold. Who knew how much

 time had passed when Mo Ran blearily raised his head again, only to jolt

 wide awake.

 An exhausted Chu Wanning had slumped against the table and fallen

 asleep where he sat. A half-formed haitang blossom lingered on his

 fingertips, its petals fluttering delicately with each of his breaths.

 Mo Ran stepped around and carefully lifted that fragmented flower.

 He placed it on the table and gathered Chu Wanning into his arms.