Chapter 98

Ji Chun shook his head gently. "I'll stay and chant sutras for Shifu and my fellow disciples," he whispered. "I won't be going with you."

Su Ran understood the grief weighing on Ji Chun's heart. There was no purpose in his staying—the monk needed this time alone. "Very well," he nodded. "Tell the servants outside if you require anything."

"Yes," Ji Chun replied, rising to meet Su Ran's visibly concerned expression. With careful fingers, he tucked a stray lock of hair behind Su Ran's ear before leaning in to brush a kiss against his cheek. "Don't worry," he murmured.

Su Ran gave a terse nod and turned to leave. At the courtyard gate, he issued strict instructions: no one was to disturb the monk's vigil.

Evening descended upon An Cang Mountain, bringing with it a creeping chill. When Su Ran returned, the cold still clung to his robes. He pushed open the door quietly, finding Ji Chun kneeling on a cushion, eyes closed, lips moving soundlessly in prayer. Not wishing to interrupt, Su Ran began retreating as softly as he'd entered.

"You're back." Ji Chun recognized the footsteps before opening his eyes. He rose, gathering the cushion to place it in the corner before approaching Su Ran. His hands found Su Ran's arms, the cold fabric making him frown. "You should dress more warmly," he chided gently, covering Su Ran's chilled fingers with his own and drawing him inside.

Su Ran offered an easy smile, savoring the warmth of Ji Chun's palms around his hands. "Dinner will arrive shortly. We'll eat and retire early—tomorrow I'll show you around."

"Alright." The ghost of a smile touched Ji Chun's lips, his first genuine one that day. This restrained version of Su Ran—so careful with him, so deliberately mild—pained Ji Chun more than he could express. He far preferred the mischievously bold Su Ran who needed no coddling.

A clear feminine voice interrupted from beyond the door: "Master, your meal is ready."

Su Ran opened it with a command: "Serve us." Immediately, a dozen servants filed in with laden trays, arranging dishes with practiced efficiency before being dismissed by a woman in yellow. When she moved to stay and assist, Su Ran waved her away. "Leave us."

The door closed, leaving them in intimate silence. As Ji Chun lifted his chopsticks, Su Ran was already placing his favorite dish in his bowl. "I had the kitchen prepare this specially," he said. "Taste it."

Ji Chun's throat tightened. He reached for Su Ran's hand. "You needn't do this," he said quietly. "I'm... I'm alright."

In the candlelight, Su Ran's striking eyes seemed deeper still, shadowed now with something like guilt. "I know this loss cuts deep," he murmured. "Your master was wronged, your home destroyed... and now you're here with me, which only confirms their slander. I—"

Ji Chun felt the words like a blade. All day he'd dammed his grief, but now it surged forth—for his fallen brothers, for the temple that had raised this orphan, for the terrifying realization that he had no home left. Su Ran was his anchor now, yet what could a powerless monk offer a man who commanded armies? The thought that he might fail to protect him was unbearable.

Tears spilled over before he could stop them. Ji Chun ducked his head, voice breaking. "I don't care about infamy or justice... I just need you safe."

The admission unleashed a flood. This steadfast monk—pillar of his temple, rock to his juniors, Su Ran's steady companion—now wept like a lost child. Helplessness gnawed at him: his master's murder unavenged, his lover walking into danger, his own two hands useless against the storm to come.

Su Ran stood and gathered him close, saying nothing. There were no words for such sorrow—only presence. He held Ji Chun until the shaking subsided, until the monk pulled away to scrub at his face with brusque embarrassment.

The room held its breath.

"The food's gone cold," Su Ran remarked evenly, as if nothing had occurred. "I'll have it reheated."

Ji Chun nodded silently and retreated to the inner chamber. Soon, servants returned with reheated dishes. An uneasy quiet settled between them—Ji Chun embarrassed by his earlier outburst, Su Ran granting him space. When the meal ended, the woman in yellow directed the cleanup before hesitating at the door.

"Master," she ventured, "Second Master's guest quarters are prepared. Shall I—"

"How dare you!" Su Ran's palm struck the table with a crack. The woman dropped to her knees as Ji Chun stood beside him. "Since when do you dictate arrangements? Report to the Discipline Hall. Now!"

Trembling, the servant fled. Ji Chun, though puzzled, knew better than to question Demonic Cult affairs. He moved closer, fingers brushing Su Ran's sleeve. "Are you angry?" he murmured.

Su Ran's jaw tightened. He despised presumptuous subordinates, but tonight's tension wasn't about protocol. "No," he said curtly. "Let's rest."

They undressed in the lamplit bedchamber. As always, Ji Chun took the outer edge of the bed. When the light extinguished, he turned instinctively, drawing Su Ran against his chest with a rough whisper: "Sleep."

But neither slept. Su Ran shifted to face him in the dark—that forgiving space where daylight restraints dissolved. His fingertips traced Ji Chun's stubbled jaw. "You're bristly," he teased.

Ji Chun nuzzled the caressing hand, arms tightening around Su Ran's waist. "I remember your bearded days," he rumbled.

"Curse Cang Jinwu's poison," Su Ran grumbled. "I'd still have it otherwise."

Ji Chun chuckled, thumb brushing Su Ran's smooth chin. "This suits you better. Why the attachment?"

"Tch. A beard commands respect. Women used to—" Su Ran swatted his hand away with exaggerated indignation, "—practically throw themselves at me. Now? Only monks find me appealing."

The barb struck true. A hot pang twisted Ji Chun's gut. He rolled atop Su Ran, capturing those smirking lips in a slow, possessive bite. "Does this poor monk," he growled between kisses, "displease you compared to those women?"

Su Ran let him stew for a moment—this jealousy served his purpose, distracting Ji Chun from today's grief—before sighing dramatically and turning away. "I guess you'll do."

Ji Chun hauled him back, noses bumping, breath mingling. "Only 'do'?"

A wicked grin flashed in the darkness. "Very well... You surpass them in every regard. Especially..." Su Ran's wandering hand drew a yelp from Ji Chun, whose ears burned.

With a growl, Ji Chun sealed their mouths together. Months of abstinence ignited in the slide of tongues, the press of bodies. As they tangled in the sheets, Ji Chun's turmoil quieted beneath rising heat. Here, with Su Ran arching beneath him, the world narrowed to this: the scent of their skin, the catch of shared breath. Filial piety could wait—tonight, he'd drown in sensation, in the man who anchored his shattered heart.