THE TWO YOUTHS were engrossed in conversation, smiling easily as they chatted. At one point, Xue Meng reached up to tuck a little white and yellow flower in Shi Mei's hair. Shi Mei, simultaneously exasperated and amused, reached up to pluck it out again, sending Xue Meng into a fit of laughter.
"Ah—Shizun?"
It was too late to avoid them. When Xue Meng turned, he'd already seen Chu Wanning out of the corner of his eye. After a moment of shock, he hurried forward and exclaimed, "I didn't expect to see Shizun out so late!"
Shi Mei followed with a gentle smile. "Good evening, Shizun."
Chu Wanning found himself unable to speak. He'd intended to answer as if it was the most natural thing in the world, but before he could open his mouth, the rims of his eyes reddened. Luckily, the night was dark enough to hide it.
Xue Meng's eyes shone with a kitten-like curiosity. "Where are you going, Shizun?"
"Just…" Chu Wanning's voice came out as a hideous rasp. He cleared his throat, but it was a moment before he could continue. "Just taking a walk." After another beat, he couldn't help asking, "What about you two?"
"Us? We just got back from Wuchang Town. We brought back loads of delicious snacks." Xue Meng was in high spirits. "There was a temple festival today; it was tons of fun."
Had they been talking to the Chu Wanning from this timeline, the conversation would've ended there. He wouldn't have cared to know more about these boys' amusements, what delicious food they'd eaten, why they were so happy. At that time, he'd been cool and distant with everyone. He'd never liked to pry into anyone's personal business.
But the Chu Wanning who had traveled back in time found every word, every smile, every twinkle in the eyes of Xue Meng and Shi Mei to be unspeakably precious. He wanted one more glimpse of them, wanted to listen to them talk a little longer. After all, he no longer had any such opportunities in his world.
So he asked, "What did you get?"
"Does Shizun wanna see?" Plainly delighted, Xue Meng drew a handful of items from his qiankun pouch, presenting them like precious baubles. "Hawthorn rolls, pine-nut pastries, sweet osmanthus candies…" He rattled off a list, then grabbed a fistful of osmanthus candies and thrust them into Chu Wanning's empty hands. "I got too many. These are for you, Shizun."
Shi Mei also rummaged through his pouch, but it seemed he hadn't bought much. Unable to find anything worth giving to Chu Wanning, his ears turned faintly pink.
"I don't need any more," said Chu Wanning. He took a few candies and handed the rest back to Xue Meng. His eyes glimmered softly beneath the moonlight. "This is plenty."
He knew the Space-Time Gate could close at any moment. He was already overdrawing Jiuge's power; it would be tremendously difficult to open a second rift. Besides, he only had this single stolen night; Taxian-jun might become suspicious if he was gone for too long.
Quashing the tumult in his heart, he asked, "Where's Mo Ran? Didn't he go out with you?"
Xue Meng and Shi Mei exchanged a glance. "We haven't seen him since lunch," said Xue Meng.
"He hasn't spent much time with us recently," Shi Mei added. "He's probably busy with his own things."
Chu Wanning went to the disciples' quarters and then the temple festival, but Mo Ran was nowhere to be found. As the hours passed, Chu Wanning grew more and more anxious. Brow furrowed, he pondered all sorts of possibilities—until he suddenly remembered.
Surely Mo Ran wouldn't have gone to…
Chu Wanning didn't complete the thought. Even the memory made him rather uncomfortable. His face darkened, fingers curling into fists.
There was one place in particular that Mo Ran frequented often when he'd first started going astray.
An hour later, Chu Wanning stood outside a building of red and purple lacquered wood. Above its doors hung a scarlet plaque that read MAY YOU FEAST ON THE PEACHES OF IMMORTALITY.
This was a well-known entertainment house in the nearby Black Bamboo Town, the Immortal Peach Pavilion. It was now deep in the night, yet here, things were just beginning to get lively. Guests streamed through the doors, most of them either greasy-looking older men or dolled-up youngsters. And then there was Chu Wanning, sticking out like a sore thumb with his austere expression and rigid posture.
"Welcome, welcome—please come on in." An attendant called out at the door. "Take a look around—today we have a famous dan singer8 from Xiangtan. She sings like Xun Fengruo and dances like Duan Yihan. Come see the show, just eighty copper coins, ten more for a front-row seat…"
A sophisticated-looking gongzi waving a calligraphed fan jeered as he walked by. "How shameless. Who are you calling a famous dan? You dare compare her with the bygone goddesses Duan Yihan and Xun Fengruo?"
"That's right! Eighty coins, and they have the cheek to mention her in the same breath as Xun Fengruo. Even eight hundred gold couldn't buy you one of Xun Fengruo's performances."
"This old circus is scamming people again!" A passing night watchman chimed in with a guffaw, scratching his armpit.
Now curious, Chu Wanning lifted the curtain and walked in. Silk lanterns were strung up across the bustling hall, which was filled with people watching shows and drinking wine, losing themselves in a billowing sea of rouge and paint. The singers' voices had the luster of gold, and the rent boys' muscles flexed alluringly beneath jade-like skin.
Onstage, a woman dressed as an imperial consort was drunkenly sprawled within a lush tableau. The opera singer's every gesture was heavy with sorrow, moving many in her audience to tears.
"Amazing!"
"One more song, one more song!"
Chu Wanning knit his brows at the cloying scent of powder and perfume. His phoenix eyes scanned the crowd, but there was no sign of Mo Ran. Had he come to the wrong place?
The brothel madam, busy with the crush of guests, chose that moment to notice Chu Wanning amidst the crowd. She swooped over like a glittering butterfly, vermilion lips parting in a coy smile. "Gongzi, please step up to watch the show, or head inside if you're seeking other pleasures."
Chu Wanning shot her a cool glance. "I'm looking for someone."
"Looking for…" The madam paused, her smile icing over. "You're on your own."
Chu Wanning sighed and reached down for a pendant hanging from his belt. It was a gift from Taxian-jun, made of the finest jade, smooth and warm to the touch. He handed it to the madam and repeated, "I'm looking for someone."
The madam peered down at the pendant, her eyes reflected in the luminous jade. She coughed softly and tucked the little trinket away. Flashing an even more radiant smile, she asked sweetly, "Now who is the gongzi looking for?"
"A young man, about fifteen or sixteen," said Chu Wanning. "Surnamed Mo."
They climbed the stairs to the third floor, which was decorated with elegant carvings, and stopped in front of a sign that said Feirong Boudoir. Chu Wanning's feet sank into the luxurious carpet. Small wonder so many were willing to drown themselves in drunken pleasure here—they could exchange their coin for a fantasy as clustered with beauties as a field filled with poppies. How many heroes had rotted away in such a place? With its tender glow to chase away the endless dark of night, precious few would be willing to face life's devastating realities.
"This is the room." The madam flipped over a wooden placard on the door carved with the name Rong Jiu, her cardamom-dyed nails a pinkish blur.
She looked up, giving Chu Wanning a thoughtful once-over. "Gongzi, please wait a moment—I'll fetch Jiu-er out so you can go in and speak with your friend."
Chu Wanning blinked, then closed his eyes. Even a brothel madam could tell how he cared for Mo Ran. "Thank you for your trouble."
She entered the room. Chu Wanning heard some indistinct snatches of conversation. Some moments later, she stepped out again, a young male prostitute behind her. Chu Wanning glanced at him. Rong Jiu's face was still faintly flushed from wine. As he turned aside, Chu Wanning found he looked very familiar, though he couldn't quite place the resemblance.
The youth bowed deeply to Chu Wanning, then left with the madam.
Chu Wanning pushed the door open. Inside was a garish vision of red and purple; the sight made Chu Wanning's scalp tingle. No incense had been lit, but the room smelled unmistakably of wine.
Mo Ran was sprawled on the bed on his side, cheek propped in one hand. His long fingers toyed with the red tassel of a clay wine jar. The bed was a sea of disheveled crimson; Chu Wanning preferred not to think how it'd gotten into that state. He swept like a frosty gust of wind into this sensual scene a world apart from him.
"Mngh… Shizun's here?"
When Chu Wanning didn't answer, Mo Ran asked, "Wanna sit down and have a cup of wine? It's pear-blossom white—good wine. Bet you never tried it before."
"You're drunk," said Chu Wanning.
Mo Ran giggled as he watched the man in white approach the bed. He really was drunk. His hand shot out, and he boldly grabbed Chu Wanning's waist sash. "It's nice to be drunk, nothing can faze me like this. Come on, the night is young—let's have some fun."
Without a word, Chu Wanning hauled Mo Ran up from the bed, yanking him out of that scarlet sea of desires. The veins on his hands stood out from the strain. Even so, his bearing was solemn, as befitted a respected zongshi. All that betrayed his anxiety was the minute trembling of his fingertips. He closed his eyes. "Mo Ran," he whispered.
The drunken youth grunted in acknowledgment and let slip another mindless giggle.
"I'm already too late," Chu Wanning rasped.
He pressed his forehead to Mo Ran's. With a twitch of his fingers, a terrible pain bloomed in Chu Wanning's chest, and a holy weapon materialized: a black guqin with an upswept tail. Haitang blossoms unfurled along the body made of sacred wood, and its seven strings glowed softly in the dimness of the room.
Jaw clenched, Chu Wanning channeled the holy weapon's bountiful spiritual energy into his own body. This kind of power wouldn't stand a chance against Taxian-jun, but it was enough for him to cast many spells.
Holding Mo Ran's forehead tightly against his own, he closed his eyes. After just a moment, he felt it… The aura of the Flower of Eightfold Sorrows within Mo Ran. He could almost see it, a black blossom with many petals, its roots twining along Mo Ran's arteries to drink from his heart.
Here was the source of his endless hatred, the root of all the evil he'd done.
Chu Wanning inhaled deeply. Following the instructions in the ancient text, he slowly mouthed an incantation. Then, with all the strength he could muster, he cried: "Fracture soul!"
His eyes flew open. A cold light flooded his vision.
The Flower of Eightfold Sorrows could only be suppressed using part of a spellcaster's soul. Just as the book described, he'd cleaved his earth soul in two. He transferred one half into Mo Ran where their foreheads met.
A gale rose within the room, and Jiuge emitted a cry like a phoenix's shriek as spiritual energy blazed to life.
Mo Ran, Mo Ran… Back then, it was your shifu who didn't protect you properly. Now, I'm here to save you. I'll set you free.
The fragmented soul transformed into a wisp of white smoke that issued from Chu Wanning's body. Mo Ran had lost consciousness, and Chu Wanning was in agony. But he didn't let Mo Ran go for a moment, keeping their brows pressed together.
I'll save you…
When the last ray of light faded, both of them reeled backward. Chu Wanning released his grip, and Mo Ran crumpled onto the bed. Jiuge disappeared, melding back into Chu Wanning's body. After tearing away half of his earth soul, he could no longer control the holy weapon.
He settled at the edge of the bed, letting his eyes drift shut. His face was deathly pale, his lips drained of their color. But relief flooded his chest. At last, he'd taken the first step toward rewriting destiny. Using the power of his soul, he had arrested the flower's development. Mo Ran's heart would remain unchanged. He'd swum upstream through the river of time and, finally, he had been able to protect him.
Chu Wanning couldn't tarry here. His first errand—to stop Mo Ran from being devoured by the flower—was complete. Now, he needed to turn his attention to the second.
He didn't know how patient the villain behind the scenes would prove to be. They couldn't yet tear open a rift in space-time, but caution was always prudent. He needed to impart his memories to this world's version of himself—should the worst come to pass, his self here should be equipped to mount a resistance.
Thus, the second thing he needed to do was to find himself.
The alarm sigils on the Red Lotus Pavilion were naturally useless against him; he got inside without a hitch. Standing before the open window, he looked at the white-robed man slumped over the desk inside, fallen asleep in the middle of painting the half-finished Holy Night Guardian before him.
If only dealing with little ghosts and devils was still the worst of his worries—how nice that would be.
Chu Wanning transferred the remaining half of his earth soul to his sleeping other self. This soul was his to begin with, and the slumbering man's body readily accepted it. Chu Wanning watched the silvery radiance curl through the air, wreathing his other self in a gentle glow until it gradually faded. A breeze rose, blowing some of the blueprints from the desk onto the floor.
"If another crisis arises, Mo Ran won't make you his enemy again," he said softly, leaning against the windowsill. "My spiritual core is broken, and I've now split one of my souls in two. This is all I can do. I can no longer change my own world, but you can still change yours."
The man in the room slumbered on.
"My earth soul is the weakest among my three ethereal souls. I gave half of it to you, and the other half to Mo Ran. If your lifetimes remain peaceful, these souls won't affect you. But in case the Flower of Eightfold Sorrows takes root despite my efforts, or if the mortal realm is plunged in chaos, I'll leave a spell to fuse the two halves back together."
If everything went as planned, the Flower of Eightfold Sorrows would be fully uprooted from Mo Ran's heart when those two soul fragments reunited. His other self would also receive the memories from his own timeline.
"Don't resent me for passing this responsibility onto you," Chu Wanning continued. "If it were possible, I'd rather you didn't have to know what I do. But…"
He sighed quietly and said no more.
At last he set about his third and final errand here: He went to Huaizui and entrusted him with a censer he had been working on all this time, on which he'd cast a soul-fusing spell. The spell would take the memory that had left the deepest impression on him and use it to stitch the two halves of his soul back together. What that memory would be, Chu Wanning didn't know. There were too many possibilities, he thought. Perhaps it would be the great battle at the Heavenly Rift, or the experience of being turned into a blood hourglass when Mo Ran took him prisoner, or that agonizing moment when Mo Ran had first defiled him.
Out of so many options, he couldn't guess. Sometimes, people didn't know their own hearts.
He asked Huaizui to seal the censer in the cave on Dragonblood Mountain. He warned Huaizui that, in the event of a great upheaval, he was to bring both Chu Wanning and Mo Ran from this world to the cave.
And then Chu Wanning's time was up. The fabric of space-time had the power to heal itself. Even deliberate tears like the one Chu Wanning had created would eventually knit back together. He wanted badly to remain, to stay in this pristine, peaceful world where all was still well. But he didn't belong here. He wouldn't defy the limitations of the first forbidden technique just to selfishly seek out a little warmth.
So he left. He departed from this world that was like a lovely dream. He didn't look back.
Chu Wanning stepped out of the rift into the backwoods in his own time. Just as he finished concealing the residual traces of spiritual energy, he spied a servant in red robes approaching.
"Chu-zongshi," the newcomer respectfully said. It was the elderly eunuch Liu-gong, one of Mo Ran's personal attendants. "Zongshi, where have you been? His Majesty's been looking for you."
"Where is he?" asked Chu Wanning.
"In the Red Lotus Pavilion."
Chu Wanning found Mo Ran sitting beneath the wisteria vines with his eyes closed. As he heard Chu Wanning open the door, he slowly looked up and beckoned him over. "Come here."
Chu Wanning pressed his lips together, face impassive as ever. "Was the music not to your liking? You dismissed the performers so early."
"It's got nothing to do with liking," said Mo Ran. "All the songs sound the same after a while. So tedious."
He spread his sleeves wide and pulled Chu Wanning into his arms. He didn't bother asking where Chu Wanning had been. After all, Chu Wanning had always possessed an intractable personality. It would be stranger if he idled about in the Red Lotus Pavilion all day long.
Mo Ran made Chu Wanning sit in his lap, then kissed him on the cheek before burying his face in his neck. "This venerable one had a dream just now."
"Hm?"
"I dreamed you were holding my hand, teaching me how to write."
Chu Wanning's heart skipped a beat. But Taxian-jun, lost in his own memories, didn't notice. He continued, speaking smoothly yet with a faint note of sorrow even he failed to discern.
"There was a character I couldn't get right, even after five tries. You were so mad. But you didn't give up on me," said Mo Ran. "You took my hand in your own. Some petals floated into the room through the window. I saw…"
He was so engrossed in recounting his dream he'd forgotten to call himself this venerable one.
Mo Ran paused, suddenly wistful and young again. "I saw on the paper, 'I hope you may greet these words with a smile, for writing is akin to reuniting.'" His face split into a grin, equal parts joyful and menacing. "I can only ever see these things in my dreams."
He raised his head, meeting Chu Wanning's troubled gaze. When he next spoke, his voice contained Taxian-jun's usual coldness once more. "Do you know why this venerable one wanted to see you?"
Mo Ran reached up, touching Chu Wanning's cool cheek. "You looked so beautiful in that dream," he said placidly. "So beautiful this venerable one couldn't forget it. This venerable one wanted to come take a good look at the real you."
Chu Wanning lowered his lashes.
"I'm afraid of not hating you. I need to hate you," said Mo Ran. "Otherwise, I…" His throat went dry. Otherwise what?
Otherwise, I'd never be able to forgive myself? Otherwise, I wouldn't know how to carry on? Otherwise, I wouldn't know how to keep dragging out this sorry existence?
I have to hate you. I haven't changed my mind, and I've never been wrong to hate you.
"Wanning." At length, he sighed and closed his eyes. "At the end, you and I are the only ones left."
Chu Wanning felt like a knife was pushing through his heart. He was about to speak when he felt the ground give out beneath him. He was tumbling through empty air—
He startled awake.
His eyes flew open, but everything was dark. He could hear his racing heartbeat and feel cold sweat soaking his back. Emperor Taxian-jun's leering face seemed to hang before him. He shook all over, gasping for breath. The memories of his other lifetime washed over him, and he trembled with uncontrollable dread as those images of the past surged in wave after frantic wave.
Chu Wanning swallowed thickly. Where was he? Where was he… Why couldn't he see anything? Why was there only darkness? His thoughts were a hopeless jumble. It was a long time before he remembered what had happened at Dragonblood Mountain.
"Mo Ran…" he mumbled absently, trying to gather his fragmented consciousness.
Without warning, a cool hand, smooth as silk, touched his cheek. The hand took hold of his jaw to turn his face, and a thumb ghosted over his lips. A voice obviously warped by a voice-changing spell laughed softly. "Finally, you're awake. I've been waiting for ages."