Chapter 64
The following day in the afternoon, Ji Chun and Su Ran sat across from each other in the room, engrossed in a game of chess, when the knock came. Su Ran stretched his stiff legs, following Ji Chun to the gate where a young woman stood fidgeting.
Ji Chun's expression darkened instantly. Wang Zhen'er—daughter of that venom-tongued Wang Ergu.
Su Ran's eyebrow arched in recognition. The cornfield girl. What business had she here?
Wang Zhen'er's gaze locked onto Su Ran's face, her cheeks flushing. The swell of his belly drew a startled glance before she stammered, "Ji Dage...
"State your purpose." Ji Chun's tone could freeze sunlight.
Su Ran shot him a sidelong glance. Since when did the monk abandon courtesy? The inconsistency pricked at him, his own scrutiny of the girl turning sharper.
"I—I need your help." She twisted her skirts. "Mother's been scheming to... to match me with you" A desperate glance at Su Ran. "But I love another! She won't listen to me. Please, make her stop this madness!"
Ji Chun's stance softened slightly. Having witnessed her cornfield tryst, he believed her plight. "I'll speak to her."
Silent until now, Su Ran's voice cut like winter wind: "How interesting that I'm only hearing of this matchmaking now." His fingers drummed the doorframe. "What else has my devoted husband kept secret from me?"
Ji Chun turned, startled by the venom in that usually lazy tone. "I only realized her intentions yesterday—"
"Convenient," Su Ran sneered. "Or perhaps you would have accepted, had the girl been willing?"
The barb was deliberate—he knew Ji Chun's loyalty, but the withheld truth burned. That the monk had faced this alone, that rumors had festered unchecked...
Wang Zhen'er fled under the escalating tension. Ji Chun reached for Su Ran's wrist. "Every breath I take is yours. Must I swear it anew?"
Su Ran yanked free, stalking inside. The chessboard upturned in his wake, scattering black and white pieces like fractured loyalties.
"Su Ran..." Ji Chun's voice caught at the accusation, helplessness softening his tone. "I want no one but you."
Heat crept up Su Ran's neck at the monk's uncharacteristic declaration. He turned his face away, muttering, "You'd better not even consider others!"
Noticing those reddened ears, Ji Chun moved behind Su Ran with a quiet smile. He wrapped his arms around the smaller man, lips brushing his flushed earlobe as he whispered, "If the village knew their 'shrew' was actually a man, they'd be fighting to take my place."
"Obviously." Preening under the praise, Su Ran leaned back into the embrace with familiar arrogance. "Countless admirers would line up for me. Consider yourself fortunate, monk."
Ji Chun chuckled, nuzzling his cheek. "The most dazzling man alive. Heaven smiled upon me the day we met."
"Thank me, not heaven." Su Ran turned to capture Ji Chun's lips, then pulled back with narrowed eyes. "You've grown alarmingly smooth lately." His arm hooked around Ji Chun's neck, dragging him closer. "Who's been teaching you these lines?"
Their breaths mingled in the shrinking space between them. Ji Chun's gaze held steady. "Every word comes from here." He pressed Su Ran's hand to his chest.
With a growl, Su Ran closed the distance, kissing him fiercely as his legs wrapped around Ji Chun's waist. "Bed. Now."
Ji Chun's laugh vibrated against Su Ran's lips as he effortlessly lifted him. He leaned into the monk's arms, his gaze fixed on Ji Chun's face. The monk's usual stern demeanor—thick brows, dark piercing eyes, and solemn features—had always been unyielding, his expression rarely betraying emotion. When had his reserved monk developed such roguish charm? The once-stoic face now held playful boldness, the solemn eyes glinting with mischief. This version of Ji Chun left Su Ran momentarily breathless, his fondness for the man deepening with every passing second.
Days slipped by without another visit from Wang Ergu, leaving Ji Chun no opportunity to speak of Wang Zhener. Then, on his way back from discussing matters with the village chief, he passed a pavilion where a cluster of women sat stitching needlework, their voices carrying as they traded village gossip. Though he meant to walk on, the sharp ears of a martial artist caught his own name. He slowed his steps, listening.
"I heard Wang Ergu's daughter is to marry her neighbor—the wealthy one! They don't flaunt it, mind you, but word is their household uses the finest silks in town. Ah, such luck!" one woman exclaimed.
"What neighbor?" another scoffed. "We know every family here. Since when does Wang Ergu have rich neighbors?"
"Must you be so dense? The 'neighbor' is that Ji fellow—the monk-looking man who moved here three months back. Rumor is he's rolling in silver!"
"But doesn't he have a wife? Why would he wed Wang Ergu's girl? Speaking of, what even does his wife look like? She never joins us women."
"Tch! That one's got a temper. More than a few say she lazes about all day, heavy with child, while her poor husband waits on her hand and foot. And mark my words—he's long been sick of her, only putting up with her nonsense for the baby's sake. Now, they say his eye's wandered to Wang Ergu's daughter. A betrothal's in the works for next year!"
"Where'd you hear such tales? Can it be true?"
"True or not, a wife who hides for three months while her man toils? What fool would take such a woman?"
Ji Chun's steps slowed. Each word landed like stones—the distorted retellings of his devotion, the cruel caricature of Su Ran. His grip tightened on the basket. Let them talk. None would ever glimpse the truth: the fierce, magnificent man waiting at home who owned every shred of his heart.