UCTOOT CH112

One before the other, severed by light and shadow, their gazes locked.

In the bamboo grove, Shi Shu looked at Xie Wuchi standing in the moonlight. He recalled that night at Xiangnan Temple, where a Buddhist shrine stood beside stone steps, the mutilated face of the idol draped in cobwebs, and Xie Wuchi had stood looking down at him from above in just this way.

Shi Shu’s eyes burned hot: “It’s not like that.”

Speak… say it! Tell him that was merely a passing thought from before; that now, you understand the bitter trials each of you has endured in this world, and have decided to walk beside him forever along the road ahead.

Shi Shu urged himself silently: Say it, hurry and say it!

Tell him… Anxiously, Shi Shu chased after him. Xie Wuchi released his grip, striding silently through the layered bamboo branches without a word. Unaware of what had transpired, the accompanying guards hurried their pace in silence, keeping watch on both flanks.

In the dark courtyard bathed in moonlight, the door opened with a creak. The moment Xie Wuchi stepped inside, Shi Shu lunged forward to wrap his arms around him from behind, choking back a sob: “Ge…”

How could Shi Shu have known that the venom in Xie Wuchi’s words was aimed not just at Shi Shu, but at his entire past?

Shi Shu clung to him: “I’m sorry… I was wrong. I really love you now, I’m already… a man’s little puppy… sob sob sob…”

Wiping away scalding tears, Shi Shu thought that no one had ever warned him falling in love would make him cry like this.

His wrists were pried away. Carrying an oil lamp, Xie Wuchi turned and stepped into the inner chamber.

Following his footsteps, Shi Shu watched Xie Wuchi sit down by the head of the bed, stepping up to embrace him: “Xie Wuchi, I’m sorry. I wanted to tell you that in the past, I genuinely thought that way. I wanted to go home, and that system gave me that answer…”

Xie Wuchi sat motionless, the pastries bought from the market resting upon the tabletop, his eyes glancing at Shi Shu once. Down Shi Shu’s fair, handsome face, tears streamed unchecked.

Shi Shu had cried for him only a few times: once when parting in Senzhou, and once now. Xie Wuchi looked out the window, his tone level: “A person like me never forgives those who hurt me, nor do I ever look back.”

With glistening, tear-filled eyes, Shi Shu whispered: “Xie Wuchi.”

Xie Wuchi: “Any past that brings me displeasure, I sever completely. It was the same when I lived among them: treating me as personal property, locking me away in solitary confinement, psychological manipulation, surveillance, heaping harsh censure in the name of love, restricting my freedom, negating and controlling me.”

Xie Wuchi turned his head to look at him: “All my life, if I wasn’t obedient enough, no one would ever genuinely treat me well.”

Shi Shu felt a heavy pang strike his heart: “It’s not like that.”

Xie Wuchi lowered his eyes: “Yet a man like me—aside from the pleasure of grinding others underfoot and harvesting the warmth of skin through debauchery—truly has no other desires.”

“Whatever fairness, justice, propriety, or sensible obedience you all desire, I happen to have never empathized with in the slightest.”

Back turned against the moonlight, when he pulled up his trouser hem, the scar along his calf remained stark, the wound still fighting inflammation. His hair spilled loose across his brow, exposing the scars upon his wrist.

Shi Shu wanted to draw near: “That was in the past…”

Reaching out to caress his wrist, Shi Shu remembered: these were the marks Xie Wuchi had carved stroke by stroke to discipline himself, transforming into what Shi Shu desired. That night in the bamboo lodge of the Chou Army, Xie Wuchi had bled from his wrist, repeating endlessly: “I must change… fix it…”

Xie Wuchi wanted love; he wanted Shi Shu to love him.

He wanted Shi Shu to accept who he was, rather than forcing him to change.

Shi Shu suddenly understood the piercing agony Xie Wuchi had endured day and night.

Unable to bear it, Shi Shu stepped forward and embraced him: “I—I love you.”

Desperately: “I like you talking dirty to me every day too, and stripping naked for me to see.”

Shi Shu pressed close, kissing his cheek: “Xie Wuchi, I love you. Everything about you is wonderful.”

A chill lingered on Xie Wuchi’s cheek as he stared at the floor: “She seemed to be right. A man like me always harbors cravings for filthy, shameful things in his heart, clinging to petty romantic entanglements.”

“When in truth, in this world, the sea is wide enough for fish to leap, and the sky vast enough for birds to soar.”

Shi Shu: “It’s not like that.”

Shi Shu didn’t want him deriving extreme conclusions from extreme premises, trapping himself in an emotional dead end. Clearly, amid endless invalidation growing up, Xie Wuchi’s twisted perceptions had reinforced themselves layer by layer.

Shi Shu simply leaned in and sealed his lips.

Yet Shi Shu was pushed away. Xie Wuchi: “I am not in the mood.”

Knowing his state of mind, Shi Shu hugged him from behind: “Xie Wuchi.”

Propping his elbow on the bed, Shi Shu mustered his courage, leaning in to lick and kiss his Adam’s apple, sliding a hand inside his robes while he kissed. Xie Wuchi’s body was scorching hot, yet he was coldly detached.

Shi Shu could only encircle his waist, slender fingers first brushing against the chiseled contours of his abdominal muscles. Moving lower, a chaotic tremor flared in Xie Wuchi’s dark eyes, and he let out a sharp, ragged breath.

Shi Shu sensed that his body had reacted. Turning around, Xie Wuchi stared at him: “Have you had enough?”

Shi Shu loosened his collar: “Xie Wuchi, kiss me.”

Beneath pale blue moonlight, Shi Shu’s handsome face was fraught with unease. The window remained propped open, the lamp snuffed out, leaving only the simple bed and modest furnishings.

Shi Shu pressed forward eagerly to kiss him again—tracing from his throat down to his heaving chest. The robes were pulled apart, revealing fluid muscles and prominent veins. Long ago, Shi Shu had probably never imagined he would ever kiss a man.

Feeling the urgency, Shi Shu gathered his courage and kissed downward along his torso until his nose caught that faint, unmistakable scent.

“Shi Shu.”

Xie Wuchi’s fingers tangled tight into his hair, Shi Shu’s face guided against him.

“You want me?” Xie Wuchi’s voice was frigid.

Shi Shu felt near tears. He had never imagined dating Xie Wuchi would entail so many perilous extremes. Everything experienced in this world was forging them.

Shi Shu nodded. In the next second, he was taken into his mouth.

“I have been far too gentle with you. You’ve almost forgotten that at my core, I am a selfish monster who lives only for myself.”

Forced to kneel on the bed, Shi Shu clutched the sheets beside him with both hands. He seemed to grasp that Xie Wuchi’s emotional state had plunged into a blind alley.

“Whatever you want, I can grant you—whether for those villagers, the common folk, or sparing soldiers from dying in vain. In this fractured realm of warlords, if you want me to play the benevolent hero, I can fulfill your wish.”

Xie Wuchi’s hand gripped his hair unsparingly, his movements devoid of gentleness.

Shi Shu let out a choked sound, tears welling as his fingers left faint nail marks on his skin.

Tears spilling over, he was held against the tattoo, pushed firmly forward.

“…Feels so good,” Xie Wuchi murmured, grasping his neck.

Tugging at his hair with one hand while stroking him with the other.

[Censored]

Shi Shu could feel the simmering fury within Xie Wuchi. Something was completely off by ten or twenty thousand degrees; Shi Shu suddenly began to regret choosing this method of resolution at a time like this.

Shi Shu pulled back a pace: “Xie Wuchi, let’s calm down first.”

His jaws ached sore. Turning to scramble away, his ankle was suddenly caught in an iron grip.

Startled, by the time he registered it, his body had already been dragged back. Shi Shu scrambled to seize the quilt, only for the blanket to be pulled back along with him.

Shi Shu tensed in alarm: “Xie Wuchi, don’t…”

Darkness filled his eyes. Shi Shu reached out, catching hold of the window frame and gripping it tight, but behind him, scalding heat pressed against him through his clothes. Stretching one hand out the window toward the ruined temple where Xin Bin was resting, he stammered in frantic disarray: “Xie Wuchi, I said stop, don’t…”

In truth, since they started dating, the reality that Xie Wuchi was a man occasionally gave Shi Shu moments of dissociation. Looking back, Xie Wuchi’s upper garments were stripped bare, the moonlight carving the masculine lines of his shoulders, neck, and torso—devoid of any softness.

Shi Shu’s eyes went wide, clutching the window frame desperately: “Xie Wuchi, I’m begging you, I’m begging you! Ge, ge…”

Shi Shu’s mind was in total chaos, thinking he was completely finished. A few seconds later, Shi Shu’s arms bent, his back arching—

Shi Shu’s ears flushed crimson. He didn’t dare look at Xie Wuchi, didn’t dare tighten around his fingers while meeting his face.

Shi Shu trembled all over, hearing the wet sounds of fingers stroking inside.

Shi Shu tightened his fingers, handsome brows knitting: “Xie Wuchi…”

So strange, so tingling… Shi Shu covered his face with both hands, kneeling before the window, his pale waist curving inward while his body faced behind him.

Moonlight spilled into the quiet courtyard, his vision blurring.

Shi Shu’s eyes were reddened, staring out the window: “…Can’t take it… why…”

Xie Wuchi was stirring within him; the only point of contact was the burning heat of fingers deep inside his body.

Shi Shu clenched his fists, wanting to lose his temper, resting his pale forehead against the wall beneath the window frame: “Xie Wuchi… you can’t…”

Before he could say more, heat and weight pressed down over his back. In a panic of lost composure, a burning palm clamped over his waist.

Another hand pinned his slender neck. Frowning, before Shi Shu could hesitate for a second, sharp teeth sank into the back of his neck.

…

Moonlight illuminated the thatched roof of the cottage.

Nestled among the mountain woods, it was merely an inconspicuous dwelling, overgrown with wild grass, a pomelo tree planted by the entrance.

Hundreds of meters away in the ruined temple, Xin Bin slept in his clothes. With sharp ears, he faintly caught indistinct sounds drifting on the wind.

Rising several times during the night, Xin Bin looked toward the cottage. It stayed dark, though the moonlight was brilliant tonight, having just passed the full moon of the fifteenth.

By close calculation, once this night passed, it would be General Commander Xie’s birthday. He hadn’t known initially, but seeing the Second Young Master scouring the bazaar these past two days, he had deduced as much.

Faintly catching an anomaly—what sounded like muffled cries—he hesitated, picking up his lantern to step forward.

Crunch. Stepping on dry leaves in the bamboo grove, just as Xin Bin drew near, he halted.

For the General Commander had ordered: none were to approach at night without summons.

Xin Bin returned to the temple, blew out the lamp, and lay down to sleep in his clothes once more.

…

Inside the room, the bed frame swayed with subtle tremors.

Shi Shu was drenched in sweat, droplets trickling down his jaw, pale neck, and red-marked chest. Gripping the bedpost with one hand, his head hung low, kneaded entirely pliant and weak.

“Ah…”

He was gathered back into an embrace, hands resting on Xie Wuchi’s shoulders, his hazy brown eyes locking with Xie’s gaze.

In an instant, residual shame made Shi Shu turn his face aside.

That motion seemed to provoke Xie Wuchi further; he reminded Shi Shu with greater clarity that he was possessing him through kisses.

Unable to penetrate at first, Shi Shu wept from the pain. Held in Xie Wuchi’s arms, he could feel that the man couldn’t vent his fury, able only to toy with him roughly with his fingers.

Parted wide, that hand kneaded his back with heavy, searing force, bordering on pain.

[Censored]

It lasted until the dead of night.

Shi Shu passed out from exhaustion, dark hair spilling beside his ears, his lip bitten open and crusted with blood.

After Shi Shu fell into deep sleep, Xie Wuchi sat beside the bed, gazing down at the bruised body upon the mattress.

Xie Wuchi remained silent for a long while. With dark, quiet eyes, he looked down at his own hands, seemingly at a loss for words.

Only late into the night did quiet truly return to the room.

…

The next morning, dazzling sunlight illuminated the courtyard. August heat flared up. Shi Shu opened his eyes to a wave of soreness; trying to rise, his whole body ached.

The sunlight was brilliant today, illuminating the floating dust motes in the room as well as Shi Shu’s frame.

Fair all over, his skin was dappled with crimson marks—hickeys and bruises from Xie Wuchi’s kneading. Furthermore, Xie Wuchi hadn’t cleaned him, and his scent still hung in the air.

Shi Shu wondered if Xie Wuchi was still angry. Hearing voices outside, he grabbed an outer robe to throw on.

Xin Bin and other guards had arrived, reporting: “My Lord, King Zhouchi specifically sent an invitation today, requesting Scholar Xie Xun to dine with him. This servant wagers that pressed hard by debts from the various tribes, his resolve is wavering.”

Shi Shu understood: Xie Wuchi and his circle were actively agitating and unsettling King Zhouchi.

Fastening his outer robe, Xie Wuchi had changed into simple scholar’s attire. Hearing the report, he ordered: “Step down.”

Shi Shu waited inside. Xie Wuchi stepped through the door, their eyes meeting.

“…”

With a cut on his lip, his brown eyes stared blankly at Xie Wuchi. After a moment, he shifted the topic awkwardly: “Heading out already? So soon? Wait for me, I’ll wash and change to go with you.”

Xie Wuchi: “No need. I don’t particularly want to go out either; I want to sleep, and I feel like dropping the whole thing.”

Shi Shu: “Huh?”

Xie Wuchi: “I cannot find any meaning in it anymore. But this is your wish.”

Xie Wuchi picked up the cold medicinal broth from the table and drank it down in one gulp: “You gave me great pleasure last night. As a reward, I should see this through for you.”

“…” Shi Shu stared: “What?”

Picking up the bamboo hat from the table, Xie Wuchi said: “I will likely be very busy over the next few days. Just stay put; I might not return.”

“…………”

Shi Shu stood frozen, struggling to process these words, but noticed Xie Wuchi seemed to have gone without sleep all night—likely insomnia, dark circles beneath his eyes, looking worn from last night’s indulgence.

Shi Shu: “But tomorrow is your birthday.”

Xie Wuchi: “Such things hold no meaning for me.”

While Shi Shu was bewildered, Xie Wuchi stepped outside and vanished along the field ridges with the others.

The guard checking on Shi Shu noticed the cut on his lip: “Second Young Master, excessive internal heat? Shall this servant fetch some medicine?”

Watching Xie Wuchi’s retreating back, Shi Shu snapped out of it: “No need, no need.”

Bright, sunny weather filled the courtyard. Shi Shu stood looking at the green leaves and melon trellises, the soft breeze rustling the foliage.

Shi Shu went to the kitchen; no water was boiling in the pot. Xie Wuchi could bathe in cold water, but Shi Shu couldn’t, so Xie usually left hot water for him.

Thinking of this, Shi Shu sat down on a wooden bench.

Though Xie Wuchi’s anger was expected, Shi Shu hadn’t known just how furious he truly was.

By afternoon, Xie Wuchi had not returned.

Pondering back and forth, bored out of his mind, Shi Shu went into town to search for him. He couldn’t find him. Along the road, however, he ran into King Zhouchi’s cavalry rushing frantically toward the mountains—word was that King Wushan from next door had come to kick him while he was down, aiming to seize his fertile pastures amid the defeat.

Shi Shu instantly recalled Xie Wuchi’s order to Daoist Han Tian; needless to say, this was Xie Wuchi’s doing.

Shi Shu found Xin Bin, but Xin Bin said: “His Lordship must attend a private banquet tonight and cannot return.”

Shi Shu: “Huh?”

Xin Bin explained, “Vertical and horizontal alliances—like Su Qin and Zhang Yi during the Warring States period, honored as esteemed guests through sheer eloquence. That is the path His Lordship walks. King Zhouchi is under massive pressure: just suffered defeat, tribes demanding debts, neighbors eyeing his land—flustered and blind, making him prime to be lured.”

Shi Shu: “Alright, I’ll wait for him.”

Xin Bin studied him carefully: “What is it, Second Young Master?”

Shi Shu thought for a moment: “Tell him I’m heading back first. I’ll come again tomorrow morning.”

Walking all the way back, Shi Shu picked up a slender bamboo stick, poking at the roadside grass and wildflowers as he trudged along.

The next morning, poking at the wildflowers and weeds, he went again, and returned again.

The grass he flattened had wilted under the sun, contrasting with the vibrant growth around it. Returning to the courtyard, the guard sat cooling off, likely admiring how much running around their Second Young Master could endure.

“Xie Wuchi, today is your birthday.”

“I looked forward to it for so long, counting down day by day. To think that when the day finally arrived, it feels so quiet, and you don’t care at all.”

Shi Shu mumbled silently in his heart, rubbing the corner of his lip; for some reason, his wisdom tooth began throbbing again.

Memories from a couple of days ago surfaced: Xie Wuchi biting his back, kissing his earlobe, fiercely possessive… Shi Shu was actually in fine spirits today. He bought a stewing hen, fetched the fish kept in the water vat from the rain days ago, and guessing Xie might not return for lunch, began cooking in the afternoon.

He chopped the chicken into chunks to simmer in the pot with Chinese yams, put his best effort into sweet-and-sour ribs, and finished with fish in pickled mustard greens.

Bickering was bickering, but birthdays still had to be celebrated.

Whenever it was Shi Shu’s birthday, his parents would cook a feast at home and buy him toys.

When mealtime arrived, the guard slipped away on his own. Looking at the table of dishes, Shi Shu took a bite—the flavor was underwhelming, and Xie Wuchi hadn’t returned by dusk: “Good thing you didn’t come back; these dishes really aren’t that tasty.”

Yet hesitation crept into Shi Shu’s mind: Is he really not coming back?

Shi Shu went to the kitchen, set down the knife, poured flour, and kneaded dough. Since he couldn’t pull noodles, he rolled the dough out and sliced it into thin strips, dropping them into the boiling pot with an egg to make a bowl of longevity noodles.

Fresh noodles tasted best; left too long, they grew soggy. Shi Shu sat waiting for Xie Wuchi’s return.

Daylight bled into darkness.

“Is Xie Wuchi really not coming back today?”

Shi Shu scratched his head. Truth be told, he felt a bit hurt. Still, he decided to wait a little longer.

The night grew deeper.

Xie Wuchi probably wasn’t coming back.

Shi Shu stood waiting by the door. He knew a rift had opened with Xie Wuchi because of the system, but he didn’t know what to do; if saying “I’m sorry” helped, he would say it a thousand times.

Yet Xie Wuchi seemed deeply hurt. Drowsy from waiting, a silhouette suddenly appeared at the door—Shi Shu truly hadn’t expected him to return.

In the dim lamplight, Shi Shu’s brows lifted: “Oh?”

Xie Wuchi looked at the dishes on the table: “The guard told me your tooth was aching.”

He drew medicine from his sleeve: “I bought you some chewable tablets.”

Shi Shu caught on immediately, stepping forward to throw his arms around him: “Xie Wuchi.”

Xie Wuchi: “I am leaving.”

Shi Shu hugged him from behind: “Don’t go, don’t leave, I’m begging you, don’t go! I made longevity noodles for you, they’re in the pot. Are you hungry?”

Xie Wuchi seized his wrists, pulling them away for reasons known only to himself.

Shi Shu grabbed his hand: “I beg you, don’t leave. Xie Wuchi, I went looking for you twice and you wouldn’t see me. I’ve waited all day for you to come home for your birthday. Let me celebrate your birthday with you.”

Lowering his eyes, Xie Wuchi was dragged inside by Shi Shu. While he paused, Shi Shu hurriedly ladled the noodles from the pot; as expected, they had gone soggy and looked unappealing: “How were things in town? I couldn’t find you. You didn’t forget, did you? Did you remember it’s your birthday?”

Xie Wuchi: “Nothing special.”

“Didn’t even order a few extra dishes, drink some good wine?”

Seated, Xie Wuchi’s eyes were unsettled. After a moment, he cooled down: “I—”

Before he could finish, Shi Shu cut him off. The room was humble and cramped, housing only a plain desk with books and maps; daily meals were eaten by the bed.

Shi Shu pulled up a stool to sit before him, cradling the half-bowl of noodles: “Xie Wuchi, stop being mad at me. It’s my fault. Come on, take a bite—smooth and long, blessed with fortune and longevity.”

Xie Wuchi turned his face away: “I don’t want to eat.”

Shi Shu: “Don’t judge by how it looks; it tastes good! I’ve been practicing making noodles these past few days. There’s an egg inside too—take a bite.”

Xie Wuchi gripped the wooden bedframe, then released his hold, his face carrying a cool mask. He seemed about to say something, but Shi Shu held the boiled egg right to his lips: “Just one bite, birthday baobao.”

Xie Wuchi lifted his head, dark, cool eyes gazing at him.

Shi Shu’s face was brimming with smiles, radiating the bright, sunny warmth of a youth. Seeing him back seemed to bring pure joy, holding no grudge or dwelling on the events of recent days.

Xie Wuchi: “Shi Shu.”

“Eat the noodles, eat. We’re celebrating your birthday today. The moment you came back, I knew you weren’t angry with me anymore.”

Coaxing him gently, Shi Shu urged: “Hurry, hurry, hurry.”

Xie Wuchi leaned forward and took half a bite.

Shi Shu smiled and said: “Xie Wuchi, happy birthday.”