"Lìngxiāo?! Eh? Are you alive?!" Chóng Fēi felt like his own legs had forgotten how to move—frozen by the horrifying, unexpected situation.
Just when those words escaped, he sharply shut his mouth, biting back as he realized he was being too loud.
Who knew who might step into the room—or worse, if it was his father? His father would burn just by seeing them—two men this close—and then start his lecture, his guilt, his theories about how his bloodline had caught that... 'disease.' And his theory that he was still fantasizing about that boy who might have died by now. And that this was the result of reading 'mindless' ancient romance novels, which had made him believe he might get his friend back someday.
Thoughts bubbled up too fast. He pushed them aside for now.
He moved carefully, awkwardly, but quickly—one hand holding Lìngxiāo by the small of his waist, the other dropping the knife. It landed right beside the needle Lìngxiāo had dropped. Then he held the back of Lìngxiāo's head, which was about to roll down from his shoulder and fall.
His body was heavy on him—since Chóng Fēi wasn't very broad as a young adult. He felt like gravity was pulling him down. He had never carried someone's weight on himself. Not this closely, physically at least. Especially not when his casual behavior had brought such a big chaos.
He slowly slid down to the floor, keeping Lìngxiāo in his arms to steady him.
'You are fucking heavy right now like any dead body..'
'Damn it.. maybe it really got too much on him. And here he is scaring me like I have murdered the most famous exorcist who just came to do his fucking work!'
'My remaining dignity would be gone.. cracked like a sword if something bad really happened.'
'Those girls would say: the dancing blade has murdered the smiling exorcist!'
'No—he has to be alive. He can't die easily.'
He swallowed hard, daring not to look at those rolled-back eyes—as if he was dying or possessed. "L-lìngxiāo..? Are you.. awake?" He called in a low tone, his face burning by this closeness, the faint heat of Lìngxiāo's breathing and the ruthless thrum of his heartbeat pressing against him.
No answer.
But a twitch of fingers. A hand that gripped his sleeve—not to really hold on to him, but to gain strength to stand up. The silk of his sleeve wrinkled under the tight grip.
Perhaps he even muttered something faintly too. Really faint. Maybe it was: piss off.
'Eh? So he is alive.. didn't faint fully? And still cursing me by trying to say it through his holy words? Thank goodness. At least my name is saved.'
He almost held back a small, lazy smirk at the ridiculous situation—as Lìngxiāo's stray hair faintly tickled him.
'Even his curses sound.. endearing in a weird way. Funny. Pinchy.'
'It is his fault for driving me crazy. Not mine. Everybody knows I notice too much and do too much. So does he.'
"You are now cursing me while I just saved your head from cracking like an egg?" He softly muttered near Lìngxiāo's ear, checking if he really had spoken or if he was hearing things.
"You know the robe you are just squeezing like a stress-releasing toy was a gifted robe from my people? You should 'also' be thankful that I am not screaming at you like I usually do." He added like a reminder of how 'sacrificing and apologizing' he was being after everything he had gone through.
At his words, Lìngxiāo shakily looked up, his eyes dry but staring, unblinking. One word hung between them, heavy and cold: DONE.
"Let go.. Fēi Gōngzǐ.." He muttered, a little coldly. Not totally cold—but guarded. His name came out tighter, weaker from his lips.
Perhaps he still wished to leave the room without any explanation.
Chóng Fēi held his gaze.
His earlier frustration twisted into something close to relief—and his dark, teasing humor. He wanted to see if this softer side of him might work, since the drop of violence had earned him nothing but a slap and a small heart attack of losing his dignity. Besides, he needed to keep Lìngxiāo conscious—he didn't want anyone to find out, and he wasn't skilled in healing methods.
'This guy.. he seems to know I like lost coverless books more than what typical books show. And he is exactly that coverless one—no synopsis, no name of the author, no answers to my whys.'
'Yeah, it's frustrating that he doesn't know—or hides—his roots from me, while all other cultivators show theirs like an official banner. But perhaps that's why it is.. addictive.'
'To search for his questions like my own—since I don't find my own questions valuable enough to find.. my own would only be depressing, for sure.'
"No. You haven't apologized, and the questions aren't done. And remember that pixel qì? You will teach me tonight after this annoying day ends. I know your head just gave a twist, but you are not actually sick." Chóng Fēi added, a list already ready for Lìngxiāo—so he couldn't leave yet.
Lìngxiāo stared like his golden-brown eyes would eat him alive.
Then, without warning—a person whose consciousness had only just returned—suddenly, sharply tried to move away with all his strength. He stood up and opened the door, even as he could barely stand straight. Chóng Fēi could see Lìngxiāo's whole world spinning.
'What the—? He is a whole pain in the ass! I just kept him conscious by my stupid talking!'
"H-hey?! Where do you think you are going without my permission again?" Chóng Fēi hissed from behind, his eyes horrified with panic—but trying hard to act in control.
'If zhù fù finds him coming out of my room this way and fighting, he would think something else and ask me a thousand questions. Maybe even question him too—and he already seems to have issues with exactly those types of things.'
He looked around quickly, then ran on the tips of his boots to make less sound on the wooden corridors upstairs. He could hear the disciples eight floors down, probably having their usual shit-talking about the whole situation again.
He just hoped his father wouldn't show up at the wrong time.
His breath left his lungs when Lìngxiāo was almost close to his chamber—but perhaps for seeing unclear, he turned to the right side, where the stairs were, reeling. His movements were still unsteady. His eyes were open but useless, a hand pressed to the corner of his forehead.
'Shit, shit, shit! He's going to break his head—and then my name would be above everything. Why aren't those ghosts helping him now, when earlier they seemed so romantically tangled with him!'
"Lìng. xiāo! Come back here. Your room is not that way!" Chóng Fēi almost screamed into the lowest tone he could manage.
"Mph..?" Lìngxiāo's breath faintly caught when his hand gripped the wood of the railing, half his body leaning toward the empty space without his proper attention.
And this side of him was dangerous—too unguarded, more than Chóng Fēi could digest after hearing common people simp over him like he was the cracked piece left behind by some fallen god.
All he knew was that he was getting too worked up—and still getting into trouble, for Lord knows why.