— Two years after the final battle —2
THE SCENT of congee filled the small cottage.
A young child, pointed ears sticking out from under the pumpkin leaf hat he was wearing, huddled close to the stove as he added fresh wood to the flames. Next to him sat a red-headed girl, chewing on some candy as she stared into the fire.
"Add more."
"No way. Any more and it's going to scorch."
"I don't think it's gonna."
"As if you'd know! All you know is how to eat sweets."
Chu Wanning strode in carrying a brace of wild rabbits, the spoils of his hunt. On his heels came a gaggle of round little grass spirits, flower fae, and even tiny moss sprites no bigger than a fingernail. The tree spirit siblings in front of the stove shot to their feet, scrambling to greet him with a bow. "Sacred Tree-xianjun."
Sacred Tree-xianjun was what all these little wood elemental spirits called Chu Wanning. In his past life, he'd always wondered why he had such a natural affinity with Jiuge and such powerful control over grass- and wood-type energy. Not to mention the strange incident with the Gourd of Debauchery that had escaped from the Golden Drum Tower, who'd been so deferential to him. Only in hindsight had he connected all these little clues. He was created from the Flame Emperor's sacred tree, and the Flame Emperor was the progenitor of all the world's flora.
After the final battle, Chu Wanning and Mo Ran had gone into seclusion in Nanping Valley. Grand destructive techniques were currently of no use to them, yet their days had become a little too ordinary. To enliven things, Chu Wanning created a spell to summon some wood-elemental spirits, assembling a small army of Nanping Valley's spritelings.
"You're quite the little warlord," Mo Ran had commented with a laugh. "All you're missing is a tiger-skin rug to adorn your floor."
Chu Wanning hadn't deigned to respond. After all, this was merely the envious jibe of someone with no summoning abilities of his own.
Over the past few days, however, the warlord Chu Wanning had found himself rather anxious. Xue Meng had announced he'd be paying a visit to Nanping Valley to celebrate the Mid-Autumn Festival with them. The distance of the past two years had eroded much of the awkwardness between the trio, and so Chu Wanning was naturally eager to reunite with his beloved disciple. In the month leading up to the Mid-Autumn Festival, he'd begun to meticulously plan the dishes he would prepare for Xue Ziming's visit.
"Whatcha writing, Shizun?"
Candlelight flickered as Mo Ran came up behind Chu Wanning and enveloped him in his arms, chin coming to rest on his shoulder. His dark eyes fell upon the brush and paper on the table. The answer was immaterial; his true goal was to coax his savior-gege into bed before the hour grew too late. After all, what could Chu Wanning be writing? Most likely he was sketching blueprints for another Holy Night Guardian, which he would send along to Master Ma of Taobao Estate to manufacture and sell cheaply, along with a sincere note directing him to pay all profits to Sisheng Peak. In the end, the manufacturing costs would exceed the sale price per unit, and Master Ma would take his losses to Xue Ziming to seek compensation.
"Mn? Not working on blueprints today?"
"Inspiration doesn't strike every single day," Chu Wanning answered absently.
"Shizun…" Mo Ran nuzzled his cheek against Chu Wanning's and dropped a kiss on his earlobe.
"What is it?"
Mo Ran straightened up and rubbed at his nose. He'd become increasingly worried lately that Chu Wanning was beginning to tire of him. Why else would Mo Ran's affectionate nosing be met with such a flat What is it, without even the slightest inflection to soften it? What in the ever-loving hell?
Only now did Mo Ran finally focus on the words beneath Chu Wanning's brush. Perhaps it'd have been better if he hadn't—what he saw shocked him so badly he took a step back. "What are you writing?!"
What had been an idle question was now a horrified exclamation.
Hearing the alarm in Mo Ran's tone, Chu Wanning paused and lifted his gaze. His phoenix eyes were narrowed dangerously; not even the soft curtain of his lashes hid the sharpness of his glare. But that deadly stare inspired only half the terror of his next words: "A Mid-Autumn Festival menu, of course."
Mo Ran fell into a long, horrified silence.
It was like this: In honor of this reunion dinner with the disciple he felt he'd let down—their first since the great battle—the Beidou Immortal was writing a menu with his own two hands.
As Mo Ran gazed at Chu Wanning's resolute expression in the candlelight, a tremor went through his heart. Surely…Chu Wanning wasn't being serious?
Unfortunately, Chu-xianjun had always been very serious, and he was being serious now as well. Over the next few days, he carefully perused his draft menu with knitted brows, at times striking out an item (whereupon Mo Ran would breathe a sigh of relief), at others adding in more (whereupon Mo Ran would feel a faint spasm in his stomach).
Chu Wanning cleared his throat and brought the final menu to Mo Ran for his perusal. Mo Ran, holding onto his composure with an iron grip, scanned the list of dishes—ten cold, ten hot—before closing the bamboo scroll.
"What is it? Are there not enough dishes?"
"No." Mo Ran realized he had to step in to restrain his savior-gege or risk Sisheng Peak's new sect leader meeting an untimely end at mid-autumn. After some consideration, he raised his gaze to meet Chu Wanning's and smiled. "I just feel like letting Shizun do all the work will show a lack of sincerity."
"Really?" Chu Wanning furrowed his brow.
"It's a reunion dinner, after all." Mo Ran took his hand, gently nudging him toward the idea. "It'd be more festive if everyone was involved, don't you think?" Seeing that Chu Wanning continued to hesitate, Mo Ran—struck by inspiration upon recalling his competitive streak—continued, "How about this, Shizun. You prepare five cold dishes and five hot, and I'll do the same, but neither of us tells the other what he's preparing. When Xue Meng arrives, we'll set all twenty dishes out and ask him which he enjoyed and which he didn't. What do you think?"
Chu Wanning didn't answer immediately, but his eyes lit up. Mo Ran, intimately familiar with the way his catlike lover's mind worked, repressed a smile. He twined his fingers through Chu Wanning's and asked, "Will that do?"
"So a cooking contest?" Chu Wanning lifted his gaze to meet Mo Ran's.
Mo Ran rubbed his nose and answered with a smile, "If you want to think of it that way, sure."
After some consideration, Chu Wanning stood and snatched the bamboo scroll Mo Ran was still holding out of his hand.
"What?" Mo Ran asked, startled.
"I'm not letting you see what I'm making." Chu Wanning's expression was deadly serious. "Forget everything you saw on this list; I'm going to redo it from scratch."
Mo Ran blinked at him helplessly.
"When it comes to cooking, I'm actually just as good as you are." Chu Wanning turned away haughtily, eyes narrowed, but the overall effect was more cute than anything.
"Yes—yes you are." Mo Ran was finding it harder and harder to hide his smile. "Whatever Shizun says is right. I'm looking forward to a feast at the Mid-Autumn reunion dinner." He took Chu Wanning's hand again, squeezing those fingers calloused from years of working with armor and puppets before bringing them to his mouth to kiss.
It seemed Chu Wanning had expected his words to be met with mockery. In the candle's glow, Mo Ran watched as his eyes widened in surprise, as his raised hackles slowly subsided beneath Mo Ran's tender kisses. Mo Ran lowered his gaze demurely. "Whatever my savior-gege makes is wonderful."
Congratulating himself on cleverly avoiding a crisis—truly, he was growing more quick-witted by the day!—Mo Ran got to his feet as well, still smiling, and began to collect the unwashed dishes on the table.
That night, after Mo Ran had gone to wash up, Chu Wanning sat by the window going over the menu he'd worked on so carefully. When he heard the door opening, he hastily rolled up the scroll. It seemed he'd truly taken the competition to heart and saw Mo Ran as his rival. Mo Ran found him foolishly endearing: This man owned few books that could be considered light reading, and of them, only two were related to food: Sichuan Recipes and Linyi Gastronomy. What was there to hide?
But Chu Wanning was determined to keep his plans under wraps. He extinguished the candle by the window and asked casually, "Done washing up?" Mo Ran nodded, smiling. Chu Wanning returned the nod with an approving one of his own, and—still casually—shoved his books back onto the shelf. "Good, I'll go wash up then."
Mo Ran's smile widened. "Shizun."
"Hm?" Chu Wanning turned back.
Mo Ran seemed torn on whether or not to continue. Eventually, rubbing at the back of his head, he reminded him, "You've already washed up. You went before me… Remember?"
Chu Wanning froze. Even the mighty Beidou Immortal could slip up while trying to be sneaky.
The moment stretched. Mo Ran, watching him with amused indulgence, leaned over. The space by the window was just wide enough for a chair and a bamboo bookcase; with one hand against the window frame, he'd effectively boxed Chu Wanning in.
But Chu Wanning didn't intend to retreat. He'd gotten better over the years at not pretending he didn't want something when he actually did, but he was still unaccustomed to this kind of open advance. Not to mention, only a few days ago, on one of Taxian-jun's days, the unreasonable madman had quite literally tied him to this very chair and fucked him, a memory that made his cheeks slowly heat. But this only made him more determined to pretend he was unaffected.
"Well? Let's go to bed, then," Chu Wanning said.
Mo Ran leaned closer and bent to steal a kiss from his cool lips. Truth be told, Taxian-jun and Mo-zongshi had the same proclivities—Taxian-jun was merely more upfront with his tastes, while Mo-zongshi was more restrained. The result was the same. Before Chu Wanning could mount any true resistance, he found himself pressed into the chair. In a beat-for-beat reenactment of what had happened with Taxian-jun, Mo-zongshi twitched his fingers and summoned Jiangui to tie Chu Wanning's limbs to the chair's frame.
"Couldn't you pick a more normal place for this?" Chu Wanning ground out.
Mo Ran's long lashes fluttered innocently as he bent and cupped Chu Wanning's cheek. His voice was very warm as he said, "I'm worried you're growing bored of me."
Chu Wanning stared. How did someone doing something so shameless manage to sound like an insecure wife?
But Mo Ran's gaze was sincere as he dropped to one knee in front of Chu Wanning. "Shizun, we've been together for two years, and there's still the rest of our lives ahead of us. If we did the same thing every night, you'd lose interest in me."
"You're plenty interesting." Chu Wanning leveled a glare at him. "Release me. Now."
Mo Ran stayed where he was, half-kneeling before him, gazing soulfully into his eyes.
"Release me." Chu Wanning repeated sternly.
The fierceness of his glare seemed to stab at the young man's fragile, repeatedly patched-over heart. Mo Ran flinched and dropped his gaze, hurt written plainly on his face as he obediently mumbled, "Jiangui, return." As the willow vine obligingly unwound itself, Mo Ran added a meek "Sorry."
Chu Wanning pressed his lips together. Despite being a tall and strapping man, Mo Ran seemed very small indeed as he knelt before Chu Wanning. At times like these, it was hard for Chu Wanning to forget Mo Ran was technically younger than him by a decade, yet was always so indulgent of him. He rubbed at his arms where the willow vines had left their mark, abruptly feeling he'd been too harsh. He cleared his throat, working out what to say, only to hear Mo Ran mumble, head still bowed, "I'm not really conscious of what goes on when I'm Taxian-jun, but…I do get some fragments here and there."
Chu Wanning's hand froze.
From this angle, Mo Ran's lashes looked even longer and thicker than usual, so that he resembled nothing so much as a loyal puppy. Chu Wanning felt like a pair of fluffy ears would emerge from the young man's hair at any moment and droop, matching the dispirited wilting of a fluffy tail that didn't exist.
"I thought you'd enjoy it," Mo Ran continued to mumble. "I guess I was mistaken."
Of course you were mistaken!
Still, he reached out and patted Mo Ran's head. Mo Ran looked up at the affectionate gesture. His handsome face was all the more striking in the soft glow from the candle. The wavering light refracted in the depths of his dark eyes like twinned rivers of stars. But right now those eyes were woebegone, tinged ever so slightly red at the corners.
"I'm sorry, Shizun. I really only meant to make you happy." When Chu Wanning didn't answer, Mo Ran continued, "I messed up and made you mad, didn't I?"
How could Chu Wanning's heart not soften? He sighed, patting him more firmly, but Mo Ran remained where he was, stiffening against the motion. Chu Wanning patted him a few more times, but when that still wasn't enough, he gave in. "Come here."
Mo Ran jerked in surprise. Still kneeling, he obediently leaned in. Chu Wanning cupped the back of his head, tugging him closer until his cheek was pressed against his waist, then stroked his soft, inky hair and sighed. "Dummy."
Candlelight glimmered in the quiet room. Chu Wanning reached up and tugged at his hair tie. Heedless of the dark hair cascading loosely around his shoulders, he tied the long, lotus-white strip of cloth over his own eyes.
Mo Ran, in a moment of truly dense obliviousness, asked in surprise, "What are you doing, Shizun?"
Even the warm undertones of the candlelight couldn't hide the flush rising beneath the spring-frost paleness of Chu Wanning's skin. He compressed his lips. This guy could melt his heart and provoke him to fury between one moment and the next. He was so mad it felt like his head might blow off; if it weren't for the silk blindfold hiding his eyes and mitigating some of his embarrassment, he would've shoved Mo Ran aside and stormed out the door.
After grinding his teeth in silence for a long moment, he squeezed out, "Get on with it or fuck off."
Mo-zongshi was a straightforward man. After a moment of shock, followed by a moment of pleasant surprise, he turned his full attention to the business at hand. Within seconds, Chu Wanning found himself stripped of his clothes, the evening air rippling cool against his skin.
Blindfolded as he was, Chu Wanning couldn't help lifting his chin, blindly searching for Mo Ran. It was a perilous move on his part, for the lotus-white silk of the hair ribbon resting over his straight nose drew Mo Ran's gaze down to his lips beneath. Normally, the bright coldness of Chu Wanning's eyes arrested the viewer's gaze, trapping it within those icy pools. But now those eyes were hidden, that fierce dignity veiled, and Mo Ran discovered that the features on the lower half of Chu Wanning's face were gentle, in particular those pale-pink lips. At this moment those lips were unconsciously parted, as if begging to be kissed. Though Mo Ran knew his shizun wasn't doing it on purpose, he kissed him anyway.
Even as he was exploring Chu Wanning's mouth, his hands continued moving, calloused fingers roaming over Chu Wanning's waist and chest. By the time he pulled away, both were breathing hard.
Mo Ran pressed his forehead to Chu Wanning's and asked, voice hoarse, "Is this okay?"
"Huh?" The blindfolded Chu Wanning sat panting, kiss-reddened lips the color of blooming haitang. He looked more alluring than ever.
"Can we do it? Here?"
Mo-zongshi, being in all ways an upright gentleman, was always careful to check in with Chu Wanning before continuing. At times, Chu Wanning felt this proactive, consent-seeking behavior was more humiliating than any shameless thing Taxian-jun could ever do. He snapped, "You've already stripped me naked and now you're asking for permission?"
"Ah…" Mo Ran's face had gone pink, though Chu Wanning couldn't see. Realizing the inanity of his question, he pressed his lips together in embarrassment and pecked Chu Wanning on the cheek. "Sorry."
All he got in reply was a huff.
Mo Ran generously said nothing more to humiliate him. His eyelashes, soft as a butterfly's wings, fluttered against Chu Wanning's skin as he pressed kiss after kiss down his nose, his neck, his collarbones, his chest… He could feel the tension in Chu Wanning's body, could see the white-knuckled grip he had on the arms of the chair. Mo Ran knew Chu Wanning didn't enjoy him touching his chest; though the scar there no longer hurt, it still felt vulnerable. So after placing a delicate kiss on one nipple, Mo Ran pulled back and settled between Chu Wanning's parted legs. He lifted his head to take in the sight of his lover, still rigid with nerves, then bent lower. His breath washed over where Chu Wanning was already beginning to harden.
"Ah…" Chu Wanning bit back a moan. Though his eyes were covered, he turned away in heated shame. The shock of Mo Ran's hot, wet mouth around his cock was made more vivid by his blindness, as if all his senses had narrowed down to this. The feel of it ran along his spine like fireworks, sparking all the way down to his toes. Chu Wanning tipped his head back and choked back a startled gasp. Even so, the twitch of his hardening cock betrayed him. Kneeling between his legs, Mo Ran took him deeper into his throat, tongue pressing against his tip then moving languidly along his length. When he pulled back, Chu Wanning's cock was spit-slick all the way down.
"Savior-gege…"
Chu Wanning's face went redder by a few shades. He hissed, "Stop calling me that."
"Okay." Mo Ran huffed out a laugh. His lips were still against Chu Wanning's cock, and each word puffed hot against sensitive skin. "Whatever Shizun says."
Chu Wanning gritted his teeth, unable to decide if the humiliation of Shizun was worse than the awkwardness of Savior-gege. He didn't have long to consider before Mo Ran's mouth began its onslaught anew. He couldn't see a thing; all he could do was sit there and take it, lips parting around ragged gasps. Yet his imagination filled in the gaps, painting a picture of Mo Ran kneeling between his legs, his skillful tongue lapping at him.
The next time Mo Ran pulled back, Chu Wanning couldn't help reaching out to run his fingers through Mo Ran's dark hair. He said in a shaky voice, "Okay, that's quite enough."
Mo Ran paid him no mind. Chu Wanning always put on a tough act, even in bed. When he said that's enough, it was often far from it. Since they'd gone into seclusion, Mo Ran had taken him at his word the first few times, only for Chu Wanning to tear badly. Each time found Mo Ran staring at the blood-spotted sheets in a guilty daze afterward. He had long learned not to take Chu Wanning's that's enough at face value.
Thus Mo Ran blithely ignored him. He reached up to catch the hand that was attempting to push him away and twined their fingers together. He moved lower, running his tongue over Chu Wanning's balls, then even further down. He paused and lifted eyes glazed with arousal. "Shizun…scoot forward a little, please. I can't reach."
His words were polite, but they made Chu Wanning feel like steam was coming from his ears.
Seeing that Chu Wanning neither moved forward nor shoved him away, Mo Ran unwound their fingers and took hold of his hips, tugging him closer to the edge of the chair before proceeding to spread Chu Wanning's legs wider.
"Ah!"
His next lick was directly on his entrance. The sensation was more intense than before; Chu Wanning cried out and flung his head back, bracing himself against the back of the chair. He could feel every swipe of Mo Ran's tongue against the sensitive skin there, feeling it press wetly against and into him. Chu Wanning was torn—on the one hand, this act was too filthy for him to accept, but at the same time, a tender warmth bloomed in his chest. The surety of being loved wholly and completely, every inch of him accepted and laved with affection, made him feel like he was sinking into warm spring waters.
By the time Mo Ran hoisted him up and swapped their positions, Chu Wanning's legs had gone numb with pleasure. Straddling Mo Ran, he could feel that terrifying length pressed against him. Mo Ran kept one arm looped around Chu Wanning's waist while the other worked between his thighs to finger him open. When Chu Wanning, brow furrowed, said "That's enough" for the ninth time that night, Mo Ran laughed and pressed a kiss to his temple.
"Okay."
No amount of preparation would ever make penetration by such a massive cock completely painless. Chu Wanning knit his brows, tremors rolling down his spine as Mo Ran entered him, inch by excruciating inch. When he was fully seated, a groan escaped both of them with that final stretch.
"Shizun, does it hurt?"
"…Want to swap and find out?"
Mo Ran shut his mouth and instead began to rock his hips. Like Taxian-jun, he was prone to losing control once in the throes of pleasure, but their styles and techniques were a study in contrasts before that point. Mo Ran was measured and careful as he moved inside Chu Wanning. The expression of restrained passion on his handsome face only added to his sensuality. With each thrust, he could feel Chu Wanning clenching hot around his cock, a maddening pleasure. He had to exert all his self-control to tame the impulse to press the man in his arms down and fuck him senseless. His breathing came fast and hard, his eyes glittering like freshly polished gems as arousal burned through him.
Sweat traced lines down his bare skin as the heady musk of sex filled the room. Each breath came heavier and more ragged than the last; these restrained rocking motions were insufficient to slake his lust. He shifted the angle to thrust the head of his cock against that familiar, sensitive spot within Chu Wanning and was instantly rewarded: Soft, breathy moans spilled from Chu Wanning's lips. That he was so clearly trying to stifle them made them all the more seductive.
Captivated, Mo Ran moved unthinkingly to catch Chu Wanning's mouth in a kiss. The wet slide of their tongues against each other awakened an insatiable hunger, and he kissed him with a sloppy fervor, hips picking up speed to match.
Seated astride Mo Ran, teased mercilessly by the steady roll of his hips, Chu Wanning felt he was about to go mad. Mo Ran was so gentle, so careful, but his tenderness was a cruel torment. Mo Ran knew Chu Wanning's body better than he knew it himself—that ceaseless press against his most sensitive spot, at a pace that was unrelenting yet without force, was the most exquisite torture, an ever-heightening pleasure with no climax in sight. It was like having an itch he could only scratch around, feather-light, without ever receiving true relief. Under this onslaught, it was all he could do to let out a strangled, broken moan, almost—but not quite—a plea. He felt himself getting hotter and slicker where their bodies joined, felt how his body clung to Mo Ran's, sucking him in deeper…
His ears burned. He dragged his mind away from that line of thought. At least Mo Ran wasn't like Taxian-jun, who seemed addicted to wringing tears and wails of pleasure from Chu Wanning in bed. Or rather, Mo Ran did enjoy it, but not to that extent.
Mo Ran, sensing Chu Wanning beginning to adjust to the pleasure, added more force to his thrusts. He drove ceaselessly into Chu Wanning, groping and squeezing his buttocks. Lust-hazed eyes fixed hungrily on his lover, he asked, "Shizun, does it feel good?"
As if Chu Wanning would respond to a question like that—but his body answered for him. Chu Wanning's fine shivers, his shuddering gasps for breath, the fragmented moans that escaped his slack mouth were answer enough. Mo Ran obligingly picked up the pace. What had started as tender lovemaking became more and more frenzied, until they were fucking hard and rough, the slick sounds of their bodies colliding synchronizing with the creaks of protest from the chair beneath them.
At last Chu Wanning was unable to endure any more. He could barely hold himself upright, his body plastered to Mo Ran's muscled chest beneath him. "S-slow down…"
But the exhortation came too late; Mo Ran was too far gone in pleasure to be obedient any longer. He kept up his merciless pace until Chu Wanning came untouched, splattering his release across Mo Ran's stomach as Mo Ran continued to buck his hips.
Mo Ran glanced up. The blindfold had been tugged askew by the vigor of their movements, revealing half-lidded phoenix eyes and damp lashes. The sight seemed to send a bolt through him; he shoved to his feet, scooping up his lover in his arms. The change of position drove him even deeper into Chu Wanning, still in the throes of his climax. Caught off guard by the sudden jolt of pleasure, Chu Wanning cried out.
"Shizun… Wanning… Baby…" Mo Ran tumbled them both onto the bed, peppering his face with kisses. As they shifted, his cock slipped out of Chu Wanning's slick, quivering hole. Chu Wanning's eyes were glassy; his climax magnified every sensation, and all he could sense right now was that his entrance was shamelessly clenching down on nothing, aching to be filled. With a low moan, he raised trembling fingers to pull away the slipping blindfold, revealing phoenix eyes tinged red at their upswept corners and sheened with tears. With one look, they seemed to pierce Mo Ran's heart.
Swearing, Mo Ran lifted Chu Wanning's legs and pressed his hot, hard cock against Chu Wanning's entrance. The slightest pressure was enough to push the head in, drawing a muffled groan of pain and pleasure from the man beneath him. Unable to hold back a moment longer, Mo Ran mumbled "Sorry" before lifting Chu Wanning's hips and driving the rest of the way in.
What followed was almost animalistic in its frenzy. Once lost in pleasure, Taxian-jun and Mo-zongshi were very alike indeed. Rationality flew out the window, leaving only raw need, the desire to drag moan after shattered moan out of his lover.
Their leanly muscled bodies tangled passionately on the bed. Mo Ran pulled back merely to push Chu Wanning's legs further apart, his hips never stilling, cock buried to the hilt with every thrust. Broken pants and whines filled the room. Chu Wanning felt like he was being swept away beneath the onslaught, each press of Mo Ran against that tender spot like a fresh burst of rain sweeping him further and further out to sea. Everything was slipping out of his control; all he could cling to was the man in front of him, his expression of complete adoration Chu Wanning's last tether to reality.
What remained of Mo Ran's restraint unraveled as he edged closer to climax. His last few thrusts were so fierce, so forceful, that it was almost as if he wanted to shove himself all the way in, balls and all. He came deep inside Chu Wanning, holding nothing back as he filled him to the brim. Chu Wanning was almost insensible with pleasure, so overstimulated that the tips of his toes trembled and his eyes lost focus.
It took a long while for Mo Ran to gather himself. "Feeling okay? Did I hurt you?" He pressed tender kisses to Chu Wanning's sweat-damp brow, his mouth, his nose. "Was it good?"
Exhausted, Chu Wanning turned to face him, feeling warmth pool in his chest at the sincere, gentle expression on Mo Ran's face. This was the face of the man he'd once lost, the man who'd once plunged into the underworld for him, the man whose body had once grown cold beside his own. Now he was right before his eyes, right next to him, still within him after their fervent lovemaking.
Chu Wanning let his eyes fall shut, unable to name the emotion rising bitter at the back of his throat. But an answering sweetness rose in his heart, welling like spring water to mingle with the bitterness, drowning out his voice. Honest self-expression was not Chu Wanning's strong suit. When it came to matters of the bedroom, he couldn't be counted on to give a straightforward response, what with that thin skin of his. There was no way he would answer Mo Ran's bumbling questions—not in words at least.
His answer, though, was better than any words could be. Chu Wanning raised his head. Beneath the sweat-tangled hair clinging to his forehead, his eyes were gentle as they traced the handsome lines of Mo Ran's face. He leaned in and placed a kiss on the sweet curve of Mo Ran's lips. The hand he laid on Mo Ran's chest rested over a scar the twin of his own. Though the wounds had healed, the scars remained, relics of their pasts.
"I love you." Chu Wanning's voice was very soft. Then, as if to hide his embarrassment, he yanked him in for another kiss.
There was no way the night would end here. Mo Ran's brush with demonic energy seemed to have granted him even greater stamina—an alarming development, considering his prodigious stamina before. He flipped Chu Wanning over and onto his knees, pulling his hips up and plastering himself to Chu Wanning's back. Mo Ran held him in place, stifling Chu Wanning's cries with a hand over his mouth as he fucked him from behind. Their bed creaked beneath their enthusiastic lovemaking, the sound echoing through Nanping Valley. Spend from Mo Ran's last climax was pushed from Chu Wanning's hole with each thrust, dripping sticky down the backs of his thighs, and his tousled hair spread over the bedding as he was held down and fucked within an inch of his life.
"Wanning…"
Chu Wanning heard Mo Ran calling for him as if from a distance, his voice thick with love, desire, adoration, need. He opened his mouth to respond, but his throat was hoarse from crying out; no sound emerged. He turned his head, cheek pressed into the sheets with each rock of Mo Ran's hips.
Mo Ran's hand came into view, covering the back of his own. His breath was heavy in Chu Wanning's ear, hitching as he came again with a cut-off moan. The sound seemed to burrow into Chu Wanning's bones. His brows knit in pleasure as he felt Mo Ran release in him once more. His lover's lips moved against the sweat-kissed hair at his temples, his voice steeped in tenderness. "Wanning, I love you."
They were words he'd said many times over the past two years, yet the way he said it seemed like a declaration of intent: He would keep on saying it, over and over, for the rest of their lives. No, not just seemed—it was a declaration.
I love you. From dawn till dusk, in every moment in between, I'll love you. Every day for the rest of our lives, I'll love you. In this lifetime and the next, I'll love you forever.
As for the reunion dinner at the Mid-Autumn Festival…
Though Chu Wanning's cooking skills left much to be desired, he did possess working tastebuds. After countless hours of research and several trials in the kitchen proved futile, and seeing the way Mo Ran bustled about prepping and seasoning and marinating with practiced ease, Chu Wanning finally gave up trying to make his dishes by himself three days before the Mid-Autumn Festival.
And thus, we return to the scene from the beginning, where a dozen-odd grass and wood-elemental spirits and fae clustered around Chu Wanning. Some he assigned to chop wood, others he set to stoke the fire; a few were tasked with prepping ingredients, and a select number would do the actual cooking. Chu Wanning checked on the soup bubbling over the fire. Seeing that it looked and smelled as it should, he turned to the two little spirits attending to it and said, "My thanks to you both."
"No need to thank us!" the tree sprite said with a smile. "When Sacred Tree-xianjun calls for help, we're more than happy to lend a hand."
Chu Wanning took a peek outside the cottage. On the other side of the courtyard, he could see Mo Ran diligently chopping firewood. His tanned skin was sheened with sweat, glistening beads chasing each other down the curve of his jaw. His clothing did nothing to hide his firm chest nor the taut muscle of his lean waist.
Truly a beauty beyond compare.
Unfortunately for this beauty, Chu Wanning's drive to win overrode anything else. He'd sneakily summoned these fae and spirits to help prepare for the feast, knowing full well it was cheating. If anything, this was what Mo Ran deserved for spending every night tormenting him in bed. Newly motivated to get his revenge, Chu Wanning shut the kitchen door firmly and placed a barrier that would prevent Mo Ran from entering. This done, he turned back to his army of summoned spirits and picked up his menu from the table.
"Next, we're going to make sweet-and-sour squirrel fish… Who here knows how to fish?"
The Beidou Immortal's voice drifted from the kitchen, faint and indistinct. Once in a while, there came answering squeaks and chirps from the spritelings in their strange language. Smoke rose in spirals from the chimney, carrying the fragrance of cooking throughout the valley and dissipating in the golden glow of sunset. On this tranquil evening, the memory of that cold winter's night in Nanping Valley all those years ago seemed very far away. Perhaps with time, all the suffering and agony they'd endured would fade as well. Much like an ink stain might remain on a sleeve after one wash, even two, yet with the passage of time, would leave no more than the faintest trace of shadow.
For the rest of their lives, as the seasons turned in Nanping Valley, spring warming into summer, autumn cooling into winter, each change would bring for Mo Ran and Chu Wanning nothing but the most beautiful days.