Chapter Text
Taxian-jun runs his hand over Chu Wanning’s bare stomach, tenderly pressing his fingers into the soft skin. The stroke is almost loving, a caress of desire as he thrusts himself between Chu Wanning’s spread legs. His fingers tickle. Chu Wanning can’t help but shiver at the way his body becomes undone. Still, he keeps his lips pinched.
“This,” Taxian-jun breathes, leaning to drape himself over Chu Wanning’s back, hilting himself fully and whispering in his ear. “Is where you’ll carry our child soon. So full and round. You’ll give this venerable one a family.”
A family. Not an heir like Taxian-jun has complained about his advisors insisting he produce with the empress, much to his irritation.
“Would you like that, Wanning? A little baby toddling around the palace after you? Or will you be generous and give this venerable one twins?”
He kisses behind Chu Wanning’s ear, pressing his lips to the freckle that’s all too sensitive. Chu Wanning can’t help the soft sound that slips past his lips.
“Good,” Taxian-jun hums. “This venerable one knew you’d want a family too.” His fingers slide over Chu Wanning’s stomach to rest at his hip before withdrawing. The weight over his back recedes, but the pressure inside him remains. Chu Wanning hears the faint rustle of paper before Mo Ran returns. Fingers gently press something against his lips. A pill. Soft pink with a pungent sweetness.
“Eat it.”
Chu Wanning doesn’t part his lips at first. Mo Ran tilts his hips, lightly rocking into him until he illicites another moan enough to press the pill into Chu Wanning’s mouth, catching him in a kiss before he can refuse it.
Chu Wanning lays in a daybed set out by Liu-gong near the back door of the pavilion. The autumn has born ample rain this year, and Chu Wanning spends much of his days watching it fall. As of late, he’s been caught in much reflection. Much contemplation. The rain cascading in sheets matches his somber mood: ceaseless and never ending. Miserable but will offer new life after the coldness of winter snows.
The impending winter snow especially leaves him unsure of what to do with himself. How long will winter last? What plants can survive it? When the ancient tree falls, will it make room for new saplings to unfurl when the sun returns, or has its shade been protecting the weaker trees from the beating sun.
Of course, if Chu Wanning is the ancient tree meant to protect, he has failed. Years ago he failed. His ancient bows rose too high, ascended into the heavens unable to see the saplings struggling for light below. He doesn’t know when he failed, just that he did. He didn’t protect Mo Ran from the world, and he couldn’t protect the world from Mo Ran.
Chu Wanning raises an arm over his eyes in search of darkness. He won’t cry over his discovery. He did at first, when he sat in the library in shock at his failures. For weeks afterwards he would sit alone letting the tears well and fall. But now it’s been months and numbness has passed over him. He’s found an answer but the answer might be wrong.
Mo Ran is right that he’s selfish. He knows he’s selfish because he’s scared. He’s selfish because he wants to spend as much time with Mo Ran as he can for as long as he can. It would draw out Mo Ran’s pain and the pain he inflicts on the world, but…
Cold air passes over him from the peak of the mountain. Chu Wanning rolls onto his side, his back to the wind. Curling as tightly as he can he tries to sleep. Soon Mo Ran will finish his day in the palace. He might go to Song Qiutong. Or he might descend the palace to Wuchang Town to enjoy the ample theaters and plays he’s taken to funding. But the odds are that Mo Ran will ascend the southern peak to Red Lotus Pavilion. He will poke and prod Chu Wanning, teasing him for falling asleep during the day like an old man. He might want to vent the day if it was bad, or he might make Chu Wanning read him poetry if it was good, or he might sit and study maps until he gets bored and starts flicking ink at Chu Wanning.
The pitter of rain increases over the passing hours. A small wind chime hanging from the veranda clatters. A lone duck paddles through the pond through the furled lotuses, surely disoriented in staying at Sisheng Peak long past when it should have migrated. It swims between two long defunct human forms that Chu Wanning once made. They used to glow with life, cleaning the ponds and doing Chu Wanning’s bidding but now they stand useless for the rest of eternity.
He’s nearly asleep when the door opens.
“Wanning,” Mo Ran calls through the pavilion. Chu Wanning keeps his eyes shut trying to measure his tone. There is no obvious anger. No white-hot rage of a bellow. Still, the intonation speaks of danger.
Chu Wanning shifts, first curling smaller before stretching his toes and rolling onto his hands and knees.
“There you are,” Mo Ran says spotting him and approaching the wide open door framing Chu Wanning outside. He’s kicked off his shoes. His feet patter lightly over the old wood. It's hard to hear over the rain. “Is my concubine enjoying the garden view?”
Chu Wanning quickly pushes himself up to kneeling, unwilling to be caught on his hands and knees before Mo Ran lest he treat it as an invitation. Mo Ran doesn’t shove him back into the animalistic presentation. Instead he plops down to sit next to Chu Wanning, leaning heavily on him in a way that is meant to be annoying. Today he will try Chu Wanning’s patience to make him snap.
Chu Wanning shoulders him back but doesn’t shove him off. It’s hard to reject him fully since learning of the demonic powers tearing through his heart. He weakly says, “Get off me.”
“No,” Mo Ran replies and leans even further on him. The weight is enough to make Chu Wanning lose balance and fall to the side. Mo Ran laughs a light “Pathetic” and pushes him over so he can lay down with his head on Chu Wanning’s stomach as he stares out at the rain.
“It used to rain a lot when this venerable one was little,” Mo Ran says, making himself comfortable. “I didn’t like it.”
Chu Wanning keeps silent. These moods where Mo Ran wants to recant what few memories he retains are murky waters. Sometimes he grows sentimental with grief, while other times violent with anger.
“Do you like the rain, Wanning?”
“The rain is needed,” Chu Wanning replies blandly when Mo Ran pinches him.
Mo Ran scoffs. “That’s a stupid answer. Why would need decide if you like something or not? If that’s the case, I need to fuck you every day because I like it.”
Chu Wanning looks away.
Fingers brush against his chin. The touch is soft.
“Wanning…
“Wanning look at this venerable one or I will do as I like.”
Chu Wanning keeps his chin high but casts his gaze downwards on Mo Ran who snorts a laugh. “My concubine is so sultry looking at his emperor like that. Perhaps a kiss for my favor.”
Chu Wanning pinches his lips together.
“Ah, a whore putting on a pious show then. Have I not paid you well enough, baobei? Your chambers are lush with gold and jewels. Silks brought by envoys that traveled months to deliver my gifts. What other prize could this venerable one bring to make your spread you legs?”
“Stop.”
“Stop what?” Mo Ran says. He shifts against Chu Wanning so they’re nose to nose. “Giving you gifts or calling you a whore?”
The silence sits heavy in the air. Chu Wanning braces himself for the biting kiss that arrives on his lips.
“Whore,” Mo Ran murmurs in a low, deep voice that echos through Chu Wanning’s chest to root itself there. When it doesn’t provoke Chu Wanning further, he presses his lips to Chu Wanning’s cheek and teases, “Little ghost. Everyone thinks you’re dead.” He pulls back and grins peevishly as if expecting a reaction. He pokes Chu Wanning’s forehead and adds, “Tiny napa cabbage. This venerable one should pick you apart leaf by leaf.”
He twists his face trying to think of something else to call Chu Wanning. When he fails, Chu Wanning coldly asks, “Are you done yet?”
“Never.”
Chu Wanning sighs heavily and resigns himself. Teasing is one of the best outcomes possible for him. Something today put Mo Ran in a good mood.
Mo Ran leans even closer. Dimples sink into his cheeks as he smiles wide.
“Wife.”
Chu Wanning instinctively jerks away. Mo Ran catches him with a cackle, pulling him into a kiss in which he repeats wife each time they break for breath. His touch is soft and tickles, especially when he nuzzles against Chu Wanning who goes pliant in his arms.
It seems to satisfy Mo Ran’s desire for annoyance because he suddenly jumps to his feet, announcing that Chu Wanning will get dressed and they'll go down to Wuchang Town for dinner. He hurries barefoot through the pavilion, moving twice as fast as Chu Wanning to pick out clothes. Stiff with cold, Chu Wanning moves slowly. He's wary in drawing back his robes to replace them with the luxurious fabrics Mo Ran picks out for him.
As they walk through the downpour to the carriage, Mo Ran holds the umbrella over Chu Wanning’s head. It forces an illusion of intimacy, as though they are two lovers on a date rather than captive and emperor. Chu Wanning tries to break that illusion until Mo Ran catches him around the waist, his hand laying flat over Chu Wanning’s stomach.
“This venerable one thought of a story today, babe. Do you want to hear it?”
Chu Wanning replies, “You're going to tell me anyways.”
Mo Ran hums in agreement that he's going to tell it anyways.
“There once was a great, fierce dragon that killed all of its enemies,” he starts in delight at his own imagination. Already Chu Wanning pities the opera company that Mo Ran is going to commission to bring his dragon to life. “The dragon was doing really, really good for itself. Spectacularly. It had a full belly. It has offerings from people who worshiped it. It had, ah…. It had friends.”
Mo Ran stops to think. He pulls Chu Wanning in closer.
“It also had a lot of books. And was really smart and well learned. It was an eloquent dragon. And it could recite poetry really good too. People would gather to listen to it recite poetry all day. Everyone would marvel at how smart the dragon was. A true sage and force of nature.
“But there was still something missing in the dragon's life. Something important. Even though everyone loved the dragon, the dragon still felt…hmm…” Mo Ran stops and contemplates the story he wants to tell.
“Backing up first. The dragon was once really little. The size of a snake. Do you remember that snake that used to spend the summer in your bamboo grove? That size but smaller. And people don't like little snakes much. The little snakes will be like ‘Don't mind me. I just want to sit in the sun a while then I'll go away. I won’t bother you’ but the people are like ‘Ahhh no! It'll bite me and I'll die! Kill it!’ So the little dragon had people trying to kill it everywhere it went. And it had a bigger dragon there to protect if for a while, but then that big dragon was killed by the cruel people, so the little dragon felt even littler. It had no one to protect it. So now when it's big and can kill all the people it wants to, it still looks for a bigger dragon like it's savoir-gege.
“And it doesn't find one. But it finds a person. An ordinary, stupid person with breakable bones. But the dragon thinks to itself ‘Maybe this person is okay. He's resplendent. And he looks nice. And he smiled at me. Maybe he won’t mind if I’m a dragon.’ So the dragon turns into a person too and goes to talk to the human. And- and the human bumps his head on a tree!”
Mo Ran suddenly starts laughing as though it's the funniest thing in the world. Chu Wanning remains silent, his heart aching hearing Mo Ran remember Shi Mei in such a way.
When Mo Ran catches his breath he continues. “So the dragon asks if he's okay and the person is, but the dragon now knows how fragile the person is and he must be careful with him. So he treats the person good. Are you listening to this venerable one?”
“Yes.”
Mo Ran shoots him a doubtful side eye.
“The dragon treats its person well,” Chu Wanning says, proving he was at least half listening. It's enough for Mo Ran who dives back into the story. Somehow it leads to the dragon and human getting wed and then the dragon is less lonely and realizes the people worshipping it don’t matter as much. But still the dragon must choose a human life with its person or life of absolute power and immortality “because all good stories have important choices that we can learn from, right Shizun? And it has to be a hard choice. Can you guess what the dragon chooses?”
If it's a story about himself and Shi Mei, of course Mo Ran would give up everything to be with him. Chu Wanning calmly replies, “He chooses the person” as he lifts the hems of his robes to step into the carriage.
Mo Ran slides in next to him.
“He does,” Mo Ran agrees. He wiggles up close to Chu Wanning, sliding his hand against his leg and pressing his fingers between his pinched thighs. “And he was happy like that, but still because they were happy and deeply in love, they both wanted something more…. They wanted a baby.”
Chu Wanning is subjected to a long carriage ride of Mo Ran describing in detail the sex lives of this human and dragon attempting to have a baby. Mo Ran delights in it, watching Chu Wanning’s expression flicker as he describes in graphic detail what it would be like for a human and dragon to fuck. Chu Wanning is spared by the carriage pulling up at the restaurant Mo Ran picked out, cutting off his story in a fresh excitement for their meal.
A large vat of expensive wine rests at the center of the table waiting for them. Mo Ran pours out an ample glass for himself and another for Chu Wanning, who takes it and drinks heavily lost in thought over the sorrows of Mo Ran’s dragon story. Over the next few minutes food is brought out. First nuts and melon seeds to snack on while their food is cooked, then a basket of boiled crabs to crack into, followed by a thickly cut pork belly glistening under the lantern light. The table is loaded heavily with wensi tofu and steamed dumplings. Lotus crisps and spicy beef. A mild three delicacies soup for Chu Wanning and a dangerously red hot broth with meats and greens suspended throughout that Mo Ran sips with delight.
Mo Ran pokes and prods at Chu Wanning to remind him to eat when he merely sips on the wine and finds himself lost in thought. Sometimes he pulls Chu Wanning into kisses that make him cough and choke on the lingering spice of the meal. His coughing only serves to turn Mo Ran on and make him kiss him more. Chu Wanning coughs and splutters, trying to push Mo Ran off him, but his fingers curl around the soft silks of his robes, catching him against himself. He closes his eyes and turns his head away, letting a thin trail of tears catch at the corners of his eyes, telling himself that it’s from the spice burning his throat.
Mo Ran sees it and laughs, licking the tears from his cheeks. He nips at Chu Wanning’s ear and croons, “Is my wife not enjoying his meal? When the cooks worked so hard to prepare it for the peckish consort Chu.”
“Let me go, Mo Weiyu.” Chu Wanning replies weakly, turning his head away knowing it won’t happen. Not when his fingers clutch Mo Ran’s chest. He is their point of union, not Mo Ran’s claws sunk into his back.
Mo Ran snorts and nips at his throat to make him whimper. “The dragon is still hungry and wants a meal. If you don’t think this meal is suitable, it leaves this venerable one with one other choice to devour.”
“The meal is fine,” Chu Wanning replies. Mo Ran’s grip tightens on his waist in warning. He believes it to be a lie to placate him. The food truly is fine. It’s Chu Wanning who isn’t.
“Because this venerable one is so generous, we can finish our meal and see if the dragon is still hungry after.” Mo Ran tightens his grip around Chu Wanning, reaching over the table to pluck a single grape from its bushel. He holds it out for Chu Wanning, expecting him to open his reddened lips for him to set it on his tongue. After a moment, Chu Wanning complies. He slowly bites into the grape as Mo Ran watches him chew in rapture, as though these grapes mean something more to him than Chu Wanning’s humiliation.
The rain is still falling when they finish their meal. They leave the restaurant squeezed together under the umbrella. The wind is cold and nips at Chu Wanning’s bones, but Mo Ran holds him tightly against himself. Chu Wanning wishes he could simply melt away or melt into Mo Ran’s arms. As they walk he dares steal glances at Mo Ran’s chest. At where his heart rests under those layers of luscious fabrics. He knows it beats but still he feels like Mo Ran is dead. A part of him is, the part that has been bored away by the flower. His memories. His kindness. His happiness. All those parts of him are gone because of Chu Wanning.
A flash of lightning cuts through the sky. The few people that are out in the streets stare up at it waiting for the rumble. Mo Ran barks a laugh at the heavens and keeps walking, tugging Chu Wanning along towards a familiar inn.
The room is kept ready for the emperor. It’s a large room that would be more suited to a merchant than Taxian-jun. Everything is fine but not refined. Soft fabrics but no expensive animal hides drape the beds. The bath is a wooden tub rather than metal twisted into a bowl. The rows of perfumes and soaps and lubricants smell nice but lack the air of decadence that those in the palace hold. The only true sign that the room is kept for Taxian-jun is that there are no incense burners in it. In fact, not a single incense burner survives within the bounds of the building, so delicate is his nose.
The moment they’re in the room, Chu Wanning is pushed back onto the bed. He scrambles not to collapse and be consumed by the dragon Mo Ran spoke of. Mo Ran lets him. He stands over the bed tugging at his own robes watching Chu Wanning attempt to maintain some semblance of dignity on this strange day of teasing softness.
He ends up sitting facing the window and the falling rain as Mo Ran draws back his layers, letting them fall onto the soft lavender blanket. He presses his lips to the round of Chu Wanning’s shoulders, gently taking the slope into his mouth and biting hard enough to leave his impression on his flesh. His fingers trace over Chu Wanning’s spine with a crudely poetic intonation he croons, “My fussy wife was right that the meal was subpar. This venerable one should go back and kill the owners. I’m still hungry and I can tell that you’re still not full. You’re hungry here…” He cups Chu Wanning’s ass, squeezing him. “And empty here.” His fingers press against Chu Wanning’s stomach, kneading the soft muscle enough to make him involuntarily shift.
Mo Ran hums against his skin. Any reaction, no matter how small, always sates some aggrieved need deep inside him. He takes the chance to catch Chu Wanning in his arms and bury his face in his shoulders, inhaling deeply and pressing a kiss at the nape of his neck.
“Wanning,” Mo Ran murmurs softly. His long eyelashes tickle. “Just for tonight… could you pretend you don’t hate me?”
The question breaks through Chu Wanning’s defenses. The question is so honest and vulnerable. Amidst the teasing, what Mo Ran wants is to not be hated.
Chu Wanning wants to not hate him. He wants to not have to hate him to protect him. He wants to not hate him for what he’s done to him. He wants to not hate him for what he’s done to the world.
He wants to love Mo Ran. Protect him and guard his heart. He wants to guide him and comfort him. He wants to be his guiding star to lead him home, but over the years neither of them have any home left.
He closes his eyes to hide from the world, hanging his head to hide from Mo Ran who accepts the gesture as a sign of surrender.
The night is strange. Chu Wanning lets himself fall back into the blankets, Mo Ran settling between his thighs. He can’t bring himself to pretend he hates him, not after hearing what’s left of Mo Ran’s bleeding heart. But he cannot bring himself to show his own heart either.
Mo Ran’s dirty talk is strange too. He doesn’t try to degrade Chu Wanning, humiliate or hurt. Instead he talks about binding Chu Wanning to him, of bedding and breeding him. It’s not said in a way to hurt him and make him wither away as such remarks usually are, but instead spoken in the way a husband might speak to a wife. Excitement and eagerness as he fucks his concubine.
At the end of the night he lays wrapped around Chu Wanning, settled so their bodies intertwine. He leaves his face pressed against the back of Chu Wanning’s neck so close he can feel when his eyes flutter closed. Mo Ran exhales a long, slow breath and murmurs “I know you hate me, Wanning. Believe me, I hate you too. I’ll drag you to hell so you can rot with me.”
Chu Wanning closes his eyes letting the words wash over him.
Outside the rain still clatters over the roof, cascading past the window of the inn in waterfalls. Beyond, someone plays a pipa and sings an old song. On the floor below whispers of life can be heard. And pressed to Chu Wanning’s back is Mo Ran, who eagerly told the story of a dragon who found a human worth choosing.
Taxian-jun sits outside with Chu Wanning enjoying the autumn day. Vast flowers still bloom, proving that life does not end even as frosts set in. Hollyhock stands tall over the garden beds. Mo Ran likes them. He likes watching how towering they can grow, sending handsome flowers of pinks and reds to bloom high into the heavens. When he was little his mom used to measure Mo Ran by hollyhocks, admiring if her son had outgrown the flowers or tease him for being smaller than the blooms. She’d point out which flower he’d grown up to meet and Mo Ran would count how many flowers tall he was. It’s one of the flowers he’s planted in Chu Wanning’s garden, much to Chu Wanning’s annoyance at him changing his perfect ecosystem.
The sun shines down on the flowers. It’s a hot sun, sure to be one of the final hot days of the year. He sips his plum juice watching Chu Wanning who plays the qin. A result of a promise that Taxian-jun made this morning so he’d get to hear the music. A promise to grant Chu Wanning the reprieve of music for a day while keeping his hands off him. He regrets the promise. Each note drives straight to his cock, making him yearn to pin Chu Wanning down and ravish him over the beautiful instrument.
It’s even harder for him given he’s just returned from a siege. He’s only touched Chu Wanning once when he arrived back this morning before he had to rush to court. He hates that the emperor must be drawn away with responsibilities and tasks. He’d rather simply kill those he wishes to kill and fuck those he wishes to fuck. That’s the life an emperor should live.
He closes his eyes and smiles to himself, listening until it becomes too much and he needs to be closer. He approaches Chu Wanning whose hands land over the strings to silence the music before Mo Ran can get too near. He warily studies Mo Ran, thin lips pressed tightly together in displeasure at their proximity, dark sword-like eyebrows knitted together. A slight pink to his cheeks from the warmth of the day. His long robes painted with swirling patterns cascade around him, his delicate wrists emerged from the vast sleeves. It serves to make Mo Ran’s throat feel dry as he sits down across from Chu Wanning.
Mo Ran turns his head away, looking out at the trees trying to appear as though he doesn’t care. Like a wolf stalking its prey knowing it feels eyes penetrating it, he tries not to look at Chu Wanning directly in the hopes that he’ll resume his song independently. He clicks his tongue and wiggles his fingers, absentmindedly feeling the weight of a chess piece appearing that he pockets for later. He taps the beautiful dark wood of the qin, supposedly absent-mindedly tapping a small beat of his own before leaning back with his hands supporting him, buried in the grass, still staring up at the skies pretending not to care.
“Don’t stop,” he orders when the music doesn’t resume.
Chu Wanning heaves a sigh and resumes playing. Instead of the complex symphony of notes mixing into song, Chu Wanning plucks a single string at a time to weave together a weak ting of tune. Mo Ran pinches his lips together. It’s not what he wanted. He says as much, telling Chu Wanning to do better or there’s no use listening to him play.
“You made an agreement,” Chu Wanning coldly replies. His fingers curl, retreating away from the chords.
“And this venerable one breaks agreements all the time. Play something better or I’ll break your fingers so you can’t play at all.”
Chu Wanning forcefully plunks the string out of spite, making aggressive and aggrieved eye contact with him the whole time, his gaze saying I will kill you someday. Mo Ran knows he might attempt it, but Chu Wanning is now weak and would never succeed.
As Chu Wanning plays with disgust, Mo Ran listens and hums to himself. He smiles at the nice sound filling him.
Suddenly Mo Ran starts laughing to himself.
“Wanning, you’d never guess what happened when this venerable one was coming home,” he says. Abruptly the music ends. Chu Wanning was looking for any reason not to play with Mo Ran so near. Mo Ran makes a gesture for him to keep going. The music resumes, although less harmonious than usual. Mo Ran continues his story about spotting a porky, ugly child playing near a stream. “He had these stupid robes on that were too fancy for him. Made him look like some ugly doll. And he was eating a bao bun. And– and–” Mo Ran starts laughing hard thinking about what he saw. “And he got too close to the water and a giant fish jumped out and ate his food right from his hand. The little porker was sobbing and crying all over the place. And you know what this venerable one did? Wanning, do you know what I did?”
Mo Ran eagerly looks at Chu Wanning who wordlessly glares at him. Mo Ran eats up the attention and mimes pushing the child into the water before cackling loudly again. “He couldn’t even be mad when he saw it was me. Imagine having a fish steal your food and then the emperor kick you into the stream. HAhahaha! His parents came running out and began sobbing and crying and begging this venerable one for mercy. And guess what I did, Wanning.”
“You killed them,” Chu Wanning replies flatly.
“Nooooo” Mo Ran leans in close over the qin. His hands brush against Chu Wanning’s. He grins. “I made those opulent fucks strip naked and give their clothes to the little street rats hiding in bushes. Stupid little kid lost his food and his stupid parents lost their clothes. HA! And those tramps looked so absurd walking around in robes dragging out behind them. One kid– Wanning! One kid was like 4 years old and tripped every time she tried to walk in those robes. But she looked happy so…This venerable one is the most generous emperor ever.” He taps the wood of the qin with a smile remembering the happiness of the street kid compared to the misery of the greedy rich merchants he tormented. He chuckles and huffs again. Suddenly he stands. “Come, my ghost.”
Chu Wanning remains sitting. “You said I could play.”
“And you have. Now I could fuck you over the qin or you can sit with me on a blanket and watch the clouds and snack on those plum preserves, and we can fuck tonight. You pick. This venerable one is feeling generous.”
Chu Wanning rises.
They sit out on a soft blanket where the slope of the Southern Peak begins its descent. The view overlooks the entire grounds of Wushan Palace. The grounds of the sect. There’s a view of Aaaaaaa and Wahhhh peaks from here. Mo Ran looks out at them for a moment before lying down on Chu Wanning’s lap, opening his mouth for Chu Wanning to set food into every so often.
Chu Wanning remains sitting. His legs are outstretched for Mo Ran to rest on. His hands rest behind him to support his weight. His long hair is down. So used to the high ponytail even now, the relaxed look feels deeply intimate. Of late Chu Wanning has been twisting his hair into a bun to keep Mo Ran from grabbing it and using it as a leash, but today it cascades over his shoulders.
Mo Ran reaches up to catch a strand in his fingers, twisting so neither it nor Chu Wanning can get away. Chu Wanning doesn’t take notice, or, more likely, refuses to acknowledge it. He stares out at the slopes of Sisheng Peak, at the peak that once held the bodies of most the people he held close. Or as close as a heartless person like Chu Wanning could hold someone.
“Xue Meng isn’t there,” Mo Ran suddenly says.
Chu Wanning’s jerks out of his daze. Sharp, almost scared, he asks, “What?”
“Xue Meng. He isn’t on Aaaaa Peak. He’s never rested there. You know where he has been though?” Mo Ran grins mischievously. Chu Wanning glares. Mo Ran decides to tell him anyways. “This is a hole. Even though you told him not to go there. I caught him there right after I joined the sect. The imbecile was climbing and his boot slipped off. He was just standing on a ledge of the hole with a socked foot on top of his shoed foot. And he asked me for help and made me promise not to tell you. Are you mad, Shizun? Aren’t you mad he ignored your orders and then made me climb into the hole too?? Right? You’re mad, aren’t you.”
Chu Wanning looks back out at the twined peaks named after wails. “I’m not mad,” Chu Wanning replies after a moment. “I wasn’t when he told me either.”
“What! When did he tell you!”
Chu Wanning’s lip twitches. “When I saw you had a scraped knee and… and I caught Shi Mingjing helping bandage it. Xue Meng didn’t want you getting in trouble so he told me.”
“Stupid bastard” Mo Ran grumbles that Xue Meng went and tattled on himself so many years ago. “At least Shi-ge helped me.”
They fall into uncomfortable silence. They always do when Shi Mei is brought up. It leaves Mo Ran feeling strange. Uncomfortable. An itching in his chest.
“I’d like to return inside,” Chu Wanning says after a while. “Cold.”
“Nope.”
The awkward silence resumes.
“Soon this venerable one should go back down to the palace,” Mo Ran thinks out loud.
“Then go.”
“Not yet.”
The clouds slowly move over the sky.
“Weren’t you going to leave?”
Mo Ran opens one eye and closes it again. “Not yet. This venerable one is comfortable.”
Indeed he is. There’s something about Chu Wanning that allows him to relax. Perhaps it is the soft florals of haitang wood that seems to surround him. Or the way that Chu Wanning’s warmth permeates him. Or the way that sometimes, on a rare occasion, Chu Wanning’s hand will brush his shoulder to chase away an insect. Mo Ran likes those moments the most.
Chu Wanning tucks a strand of his hair behind his ear, tired of the narrow strand tickling his nose. Before the hand can retreat fully, Mo Ran grabs it and drags it down to his lips. He nips at a knuckle before pulling it into a kiss. Chu Wanning doesn’t bother trying to tug his hand back. He lets Mo Ran keep it.
His pulse is discordant.
At first Mo Ran thinks it’s Chu Wanning’s heart quickening at being caught. Then he worries that Chu Wanning might be sick. And then it clicks. The pill he gave Chu Wanning. The pill that was a gift from an ex-disciple of Guyueye who wished to pledge his allegiance to Taxian-jun. The pill that would make any body a fertile ground to be tilled and raked three days later, seeded and put to rest until ready to bear the fruits of hard labor. Mo Ran didn’t think much of it except another aphrodisiac. He didn't believe it possible.
He focuses on the familiar pulse for so long that the shadows pass over him. He closes his eyes and investigates what he feels. There’s a weakness to it, a hint of Chu Wanning coming down with a cold. There’s the faintest hint of spiritual energy, so faint that nothing could ever come of it. The aftermath of his broken core. And there is…
There is indeed the faintest hint of something unfamiliar. Something that feels like part of Mo Ran. Something of a flame alight in a nest of wood.
Suddenly Mo Ran jerks up, kneeling right in front of Chu Wanning who jolts away from him, alarmed at the sudden movement. He narrows his eyes to decipher the impenetrable man before him. He doesn’t want to get his hopes up. Not until he’s certain.
Chu Wanning recoils when his fingers brush against his bare throat. Mo Ran bears his teeth in warning, a wolf ready to bite. Chu Wanning stills, his head tilting back ever so slightly to yield but revealing no other signs of weakness. Somehow even now he looks down on Mo Ran before his long lashes kiss his cheeks and his lips part, exhaling his life as though expecting Taxian-jun to close his fingers around his neck and strangle him.
Eagerness builds in Mo Ran feeling his pulse. He grabs his wrist again, checking that pulse point. The other wrist too. Each time he grows more and more certain of what he feels. After Jiang Xi refused him, he didn't think he would actually achieve it. He had written it off as amusement and ideation. But there in his pulse, amongst the shattered spiritual veins, is a second thread of spiritual energy.
This is whole and strong.
Wooden.
Healing.
No metal base energy at all.
A thrum of wooden spiritual energy strong and healthy. Impossible to be Chu Wanning’s.
"Wanning!" Mo Ran says sharply, his hand flying to Chu Wanning's stomach to lay flat over it. He can’t feel a hint of life there, but it doesn’t matter. It’s the layers that prevent him from feeling it. Layers and times. In a few weeks, he will be able to feel it.
“No.” Chu Wanning says, refusing what he doesn’t even know Mo Ran wants. He tries to pull Mo Ran’s hand off his stomach.
“Yes!” Mo Ran says in the budding eagerness of a new father. He tilts forward to kiss Chu Wanning’s stomach. "Just to think you carry my child now."
"Don't spew shameless nonsense" Chu Wanning reprimands and rolls to get out from under him. He struggles, his legs asleep from being crushed under Mo Ran for so long. He stumbles and stamps his feet trying to regain feeling enough to walk. Mo Ran lets him rise but wraps him in an embrace from behind, kissing his shoulders and neck while rocking back and forth. His hands drift downwards to rest against Chu Wanning’s pelvis where his womb rests, thrumming with life.
“A princess," Mo Ran says happily. "Or a crown prince."
"I'm not playing your games" Chu Wanning replies. He cranes his head away from Mo Ran and tries to start walking.
Mo Ran walks with him. He can’t stop smiling. He wants Chu Wanning to smile too.
"Pick out something nice to wear," Mo Ran decides. "Tonight we're going out again. We can go to Wuchang Town. My wife can pick where we eat. This venerable one doesn't care. I-" Mo Ran thinks hard trying to pick a prize that Chu Wanning might appreciate for bearing him a child. "This venerable one will even give up spices for you, as a reward for such a fertile gift. On my heart, no spices until the baby is born."
Chu Wanning clearly doesn't believe him and believes him in a heated arousal of delusion, but he can't bring himself to turn down a trip down the mountain. He returns to Red Lotus Pavilion, bidding Mo Ran remain outside. In such a good mood, Mo Ran lets him have a moment alone. He stands by the dark waters of the pond as happiness wells up in him. He wants to scream to the skies that he will have a family.
A family…
It’s been a long, long time since Mo Ran has had a family.
Not since he killed Xue Zhengyong… No. Xue Zhengyong was never his family. Xue Zhengyong raised a parasite, a monster who stole the life of his bloodkin and claimed it for his own. Xue Zhengyong would have never considered Mo Ran family if he knew the truth in time. Mo Ran saw it the moment Xue Zhengyong believed that he raped that girl in the mill. He never knew Mo Ran. Not actually. He never would have loved him. No. Mo Ran hasn’t had a family ever since Shi Mei died.
Or, in truth, ever since his mom died.
Inside, he spots sight of Chu Wanning only in his pants, his hands touching the bare skin of his stomach trying to feel if Mo Ran is telling the truth in his brief moment of solitude. Mo Ran admires the slope of his shoulders turning into a long, elegant spine and narrow waist until the sight vanishes and Chu Wanning changes robes and gathers his hooded veil. He doesn’t acknowledge Mo Ran as they walk to the stables. He turns his head away from him. Mo Ran swears he catches the corner of a tear and forcibly draws back his veil to kiss it away murmuring “Maybe this time you’ll care about someone other than yourself.”
Chu Wanning’s dour mood can’t do anything to put a damper on Mo Ran’s good mood. In Wuchang Town Mo Ran buys Chu Wanning every shiny gift he lays eyes on. His own arms are weighed down in all the gifts that he buys for his concubine, unwilling to leave any with the shopkeeps to deliver to the palace in the morning. He wants Chu Wanning to see how much he buys, see the volume and expense and know it’s all for him and the baby. The only things he makes Chu Wanning carry is a small pair of slippers for babies knitted of a soft wool in a rich, dark red color. The same color as a haitang blossom. And a necklace Mo Ran drapes over his head carrying a pendent of health, happiness, and fertility.
He knows that when he’s not looking, Chu Wanning’s long fingers travel to the necklace perched on his chest and close around the stone in desire of ripping it off. He expects him to. He expects that by the end of the night Chu Wanning will make some excuse of the cord breaking and it falling off somewhere in the streets. Mo Ran is already trying to balance the anger of anticipation, warning himself that he cannot be too cruel to Chu Wanning until he has a live-in physician with more skill than old man Liu-gong.
Despite his expectation for Chu Wanning’s callousness, Mo Ran is giddy. He can’t stop smiling. There’s a bounce in his step, and a lightness in his heart. He just wants to hold Chu Wanning’s hand as they move through the streets. He flicks a gold ingot at a street performer and demands a song of celebration. All the goods he’s bought he dumps at the closest shop to deliver to the palace for him. And then he returns to Chu Wanning and wraps his arms around him, pressing his palms against that precious stomach and slowly rocking to the music.
Chu Wanning lets him. It’s not like he has a choice anyways. Trying to fight it will only draw a scene and rumors will fly of the concubine’s pregnancy. This is his life. A life of humiliation and repentance without redemption.
“After this, this venerable one is going to have to fill you with more babies” Mo Ran murmurs. “It’ll be all you’re good for. Perhaps if this venerable one is too busy taking care of our children, I won’t have time to crush as many people who annoy me. Maybe this venerable one will be too busy to hunt my cousin. Three, maybe four children will make me too busy... Do you think this venerable one will make a good father, Wanning?”
Chu Wanning pulls away. Mo Ran catches his hand and trails after.
Finger’s clasped together and connected at the palm, Chu Wanning’s pull on Mo Ran feels like those dates he used to see people going on. Dates where one eager fool would tug the other way to a private place to kiss and embrace. Never in his life has he had a date like that, even if he secretly wanted one. It makes his heart leap to think of Chu Wanning pulling him into a dark corner to catch him in a kiss. He knows it’s his own delusion, one he should be mad his concubine will never grant him, but instead that giddy eagerness rises at the absurd possibility.
Unwilling to give up the thought entirely, Mo Ran stops at the highest arch of a lantern lit bridge. He tugs Chu Wanning in close, wrapping an arm around his waist so they stand side by side looking out at the glittering lights over the dark waters.
“They’re like stars,” Mo Ran muses in a rare fit of poetic ideation. “Like the heavens are here with us. Almost attainable but not quite. We could touch them but doing so would destroy the illusion of what we have here with us.”
The veil shifts. He can feel Chu Wanning looking at him. For once Mo Ran doesn’t look back at him. Like the glittering lights feeling like the stars are with him, Mo Ran doesn’t want to break the illusion that Chu Wanning is sharing this romantic moment with him rather than caught captive.
“Do you think we could ever attain the stars, Wanning? Even as emperor they feel untouchable. I could ask for all the gold under the soil but the stars… They’re not for us are they? They aren’t for us mortals. All we get is to look at them. We'd have to ascend to meet them.”
Chu Wanning is silent.
“I like the stars,” Mo Ran says. “Have I told you that?
“Do you even care?
“It doesn’t matter….heh…Yuheng of the night sky,” Mo Ran suddenly grins and reaches for Chu Wanning’s veil. “This venerable one has myself a star already, haven’t I?”
Caught by surprise by his veil being raised, Mo Ran catches the flash of curved lips before they flatten into a line. Almost a hallucination under the scattered light reflected off the waters. An illusion of what Mo Ran wants to see. He knows it wasn’t real, just like the stars of the river’s depths.
Mo Ran leans downward under the brim of the hat to meet those deceptive lips in a soft kiss.
Chu Wanning is sweet. He tastes like the candied grapes Mo Ran bullied a shopkeep into giving them. Sugar and fruit. Mo Ran presses closer. Caught between the stone railing and Mo Ran, he has nowhere to escape from the kiss.
It’s Mo Ran’s shock when Chu Wanning’s fingers curl against his chest and the kiss is returned. Soft, not at all the fit of biting passion that Mo Ran is used to when Chu Wanning is desperate enough to kiss him.
How strange that since the night Chu Wanning stumbled in his room and told him about the letters he once wrote, the man has been so different towards Mo Ran. Less combative and merely despondent. And now, a year later, he returns kisses. He wonders what broke him back then. He knows what broke him tonight.
Mo Ran closes his eyes and deepens the kiss. There they remain frozen in time until Mo Ran breaks the bond. He closes his hand around Chu Wanning's wrist to feel that thread of alien energy again.
He grins down at Chu Wanning’s wrist where he can feel that wooden energy. The tips of Chu Wanning’s fingers are pink from the night air. Mo Ran cups them in his hands to warm them, drawing them to his lips to kiss.
A gust of wind rises. The wide brimmed hat set on Chu Wanning’s long hair is caught. It rises from his head, tumbling through the air and onto the water before. The hat floats disrupting the dancing lights but the white veil sinks through the water, hanging under the surface like a ghost.
It won’t do to have anyone see his concubine. Mo Ran tugs Chu Wanning at a run back to their favorite restaurant where stewed crab meatballs have already been prepared since the moment they heard the emperor descended the mountain.
Over their meal, Mo Ran recounts observing Xue Meng the last few days. Maybe it's to upset Chu Wanning. Maybe it's not. Mo Ran isn't sure and he's not going to think about it now while his spirits are unusually high.
Chu Wanning sits without making a sound or revealing his thoughts. He just eats in silence, his eyes downcast so his dark lashes rest against his pink cheeks. Without Mo Ran eating spicy foods, he accepts kisses from his husband without complaint.
Chu Wanning lays in silence that night, caught under the weight of Mo Ran’s thigh draped over his hip and arm wrapped around his waist. He stares out at the window where the skies have cleared to reveal the bright stars. Tiny, flickering lights of gold and silver. Some are strong while others are so faint he can hardly see them. Perhaps he's making those ones up.
Mo Ran shifts in his sleep, humming faintly and pressing his lips to Chu Wanning’s back.
Chu Wanning closes his eyes and rolls so he can bury himself against Mo Ran’s bare chest. All he can think about is what this means for Mo Ran and his hopes to save him.