SS CH81

After hearing this tale of the past, Shen Wuduan remained silent for a long time.

He was a man who loved to laugh; even without speaking, a slight raise of his eyebrows exuded romantic charm. Although the years had left traces of aging upon him, they had also fermented his former frivolity into a bone-deep, intoxicating allure.

But right now, Shen Wuduan lowered his eyes, staring fixedly at the small silver pot on the table. After a long while, he finally spoke. “So… that is how it was.”

Having said that, he picked up the small silver pot, stood up, and brushed past Ye Fusheng without another word.

It wasn’t that he was indifferent. To Shen Wuduan, since Duanqing was still alive in this world, any reprimands or blame were not his place to deliver. He had no desire to take his anger out on a junior; although the young man had faults, he was also innocent.

It was just that people have varying degrees of closeness. Compared to Ye Fusheng, whom he was meeting for the first time, he had shared a much deeper bond with Gu Qifang and Duanqing. He had walked alongside that married couple through those glorious, unrestrained years—the woman drinking and singing on horseback, the Daoist playing the zither and placing go stones. Every melody and tune reflected the quietly passing time.

He had waited too long, from the prime of his youth to the twilight of his heroic years. Sadly, his old friends were no longer the people of yesterday.

Long after Shen Wuduan left, Ye Fusheng finally moved.

He had maintained one posture for far too long; moving now produced several cracks from his bones, leaving him uncomfortably sore. Turning his head to look at the three wooden puppets sitting around the table, Ye Fusheng suddenly felt too afraid to stay in this room any longer.

Kneeling on the ground, he kowtowed three times. Wiping the dust from his forehead and patting down his clothes, he walked out of the study and paced back to the front courtyard.

He had stayed in the study for quite a while, and the sky had already darkened into night. After pacing back and forth in the courtyard a few times, Ye Fusheng suddenly felt a craving for wine.

Just as the thought crossed his mind, a faint aroma of wine drifted over with the wind. It wasn’t overpowering, but richly fragrant. Ye Fusheng first detected the scent of osmanthus, and upon closer savoring, he actually felt slightly tipsy.

It was top-tier, aged osmanthus wine.

His nose had always been sharper than a dog’s. Following the scent, he turned his head and discovered it was drifting from the neighboring Liufeng Residence.

Shen Wuduan had long since moved to the Qingxu Pavilion, so the current master of Liufeng Residence was Chu Xiwei. Ye Fusheng thought to himself, Good brat. Back then he would collapse after a single cup, and now he knows how to drink. No, I have to go mooch a few mouthfuls and mess with him.

Imagining Chu Xiwei hugging a wine jar and acting like a drunken fool, Ye Fusheng immediately smiled. The gloom in his chest dispersed significantly, replaced by a mischievous glint in his eyes.

He glanced at the courtyard wall. It was built quite high, but not enough to stop his qinggong. He vaulted onto the top of the wall, planning to give Chu Xiwei a “disaster falling from the sky.”

However, before he could jump down, the scene before him left him stunned atop the wall.

In the front courtyard of the Liufeng Residence stood another osmanthus tree.

The tree wasn’t particularly tall, but it was incredibly thick and sturdy. Its branches were lush, blooming like a sky full of stars. Although it was already deep autumn, only a thin layer of flowers and leaves had fallen; there was no sign of withering decline.

As the scent of osmanthus wafted against his face with the night breeze, Ye Fusheng blankly lowered his gaze and saw Chu Xiwei sitting by a small stone table under the tree, warming wine over a small stove. The aroma he had smelled earlier was coming from here.

Hearing the commotion, Chu Xiwei looked up, his brow furrowing. “What are you doing climbing walls in the dead of night?”

Snapping out of his daze, Ye Fusheng abandoned all seriousness and grinned cheekily. “The garden’s beauty cannot be locked away; a single wisp of hidden fragrance breaches the wall.”

The moment he finished speaking, an empty wine pot was hurled straight at his face. Dodging it with a tilt of his head, Ye Fusheng noticed Chu Xiwei’s slightly uncomfortable expression. Only then did he belatedly realize his words sounded far too much like flirtation.

Logically, harmless jokes between men were common, but he had, after all, been his Shifu for two years; he shouldn’t act so frivolously. Moreover… Chu Xiwei liked men. Speaking like this was somewhat inappropriate.

Coughing lightly to mask his embarrassment, Ye Fusheng jumped down from the wall and strolled over to Chu Xiwei. Looking at the two wine pots warming in the hot water, he beamed. “One sniff and I know it’s good wine. You have good taste, A-Yao.”

Chu Xiwei used a small knife to peel a long strip of fruit skin, ignoring him.

Finding things to talk about, Ye Fusheng looked at the osmanthus tree behind him. “This tree is growing beautifully. It must be over a hundred years old, older than the one we…”

His voice abruptly cut off. His gaze locked onto a weathered carving on the thick trunk, unable to look away.

Thirteen years ago, when Gu Xiao suffered a catastrophic change, he luckily reunited with the then-child Chu Yao at an inn in Jinshui Town. Otherwise, he truly didn’t know what he would have become.

The osmanthus tree growing in the inn’s backyard was his final memento of his arrogant youth. When he left the inn holding the child’s hand, Gu Xiao ultimately couldn’t resist using his blade to carve his name into the trunk.

The cuts were three-tenths of an inch deep, the sharp edge transitioning from exposed to restrained. Just a simple name, yet it felt like a silent tribute carved onto a tombstone.

Later, after joining the Lueying, he had passed through Jinshui Town and intentionally went to take a look. But people and places had changed. The inn had long closed down and been converted into a private residence. The new owner found the osmanthus tree took up too much space and wasn’t precious, so they didn’t want it.

He heard it was supposed to be chopped into a wooden stool. Fortunately, a foreigner had bought the tree, uprooted it completely, and moved it away. From then on, there was no more news of it.

Ye Fusheng had wondered if it would take root and grow in a new place, or if it had been chopped into firewood. He never expected to see it again.

His palm rested on the rough trunk, tracing the old carving stroke by stroke. Many parts were blurred, but Ye Fusheng traced it back and forth several times, reluctant to pull his hand away.

He murmured, “This tree… how could it be here?”

Chu Xiwei glanced at him, then returned his gaze to the tree. “Six years ago, I passed through Jinshui Town. The inn had just been sold, and this tree was about to be chopped down. I figured my courtyard was missing an old tree, so I just moved it back.”

He rarely lied without blushing, but Ye Fusheng didn’t believe a single word of it.

Old trees have deep roots. This osmanthus tree had grown at that inn for over a hundred years; uprooting it completely was already difficult enough. Moving it across mountains and rivers to a new home meant even the slightest mistake would cause the roots to rot and the tree to die.

Yet the tree before him was thriving, showing absolutely no signs of the decline typical of transplantation. It was even more beautiful than it was thirteen years ago—a testament to how much effort its caretaker had poured into it.

Ye Fusheng’s gaze swept over the water bucket and ladle in the corner of the wall. Without exposing the lie, he turned and smiled. “Meeting you was the blessing it cultivated in its past life.”

Hearing these words, Chu Xiwei’s heartbeat suddenly accelerated. He turned, sat back on the stone stool, and lifted a wine pot to pour a cup, only for Ye Fusheng to snatch it away.

“You aren’t a little girl, why act so petty?” Ye Fusheng sat across from him as if he had no bones, leaning his back against the tree trunk and blinking. “A real man drinks straight from the bottle!”

With that, he tilted his head back and took a massive gulp, so fast that Chu Xiwei couldn’t even stop him.

Osmanthus wine was predominantly sweet and fragrant. In terms of intoxicating power, not to mention Shaodaozi, even Nü’erhong could beat it by ten streets. Ye Fusheng had originally intended to tease him with, “Such a grown man still drinking sugar wine,” but after one mouthful, his brain went blank.

A large mouthful of liquid passed his throat. At first, it was soft and mellow, not strong at all. But the moment it hit his stomach, it was like boiling oil poured onto a fire. A scorching, burning heat flared instantly. His head buzzed, and everything before his eyes split into two, swaying constantly.

Chu Xiwei: “…”

Back then, he truly couldn’t drink. But after mixing in the Hundred Ghosts Sect for ten years, unavoidable drinking banquets were common. Having Shen Wuduan and Sun Minfeng—two massive drunkards—by his side, his tolerance had naturally grown. Though he couldn’t drink a thousand cups without getting drunk, he at least wouldn’t collapse easily.

He had blended these two pots of wine himself. Half was sweet osmanthus wine, but the other half was a potent liquor known as “Heavenly Drunk,” famed to “make a celestial immortal collapse in one cup, and sink a mortal of the red dust for a hundred years.”

Knowing someone had moved in next door made it hard for Chu Xiwei to sleep tonight, so he decided to use drunkenness as a way to rest. However, this type of liquor was so strong that even a seasoned alcoholic like Shen Wuduan only dared to sip it. Not wanting the alcohol to ruin things, Chu Xiwei had blended it with osmanthus wine. Even so, its aftereffects were incredibly potent.

Seeing Ye Fusheng’s eyes suddenly turn glazed, he reached out, snatched the wine pot, and shook it. He instantly rubbed his forehead and sighed—the palm-sized pot was nearly bottomed out in a single gulp. The fact that Ye Fusheng hadn’t collapsed instantly proved his alcohol tolerance was extraordinary.

Warm currents rushed wildly through his limbs, heating his entire body so much that even the cold wind couldn’t sober him up. Chu Xiwei stood up, poked his shoulder, and asked, “Are you okay? Do you want me to help you—”

Before he could finish, Ye Fusheng squinted his drunken eyes, stared at him for a long time, and suddenly struck out like lightning. Hooking an arm around his waist, he yanked Chu Xiwei—who was now half a head taller—down into his lap. Grinning cheekily, he stroked his face. “A beauty throwing themselves into my arms. So passionate!”

Chu Xiwei: “…”

His heart skipped a beat, but he quickly recovered. Seeing Ye Fusheng’s flushed face and profoundly confused eyes, he suspected that right now, even if he grabbed a sweeping auntie, this drunkard would still spout nonsense and praise her as “Xi Shi or Diaochan.”

Taller than Ye Fusheng, Chu Xiwei felt incredibly awkward trapped in his embrace. Pressing a hand down, he tried to stand up. Unexpectedly, the drunkard wasn’t well-behaved at all. Reaching out, he groped Chu Xiwei’s chest and let out a confused “Huh?” “Beauty, why is your chest so small and hard… hic, whatever, I won’t hold it against you.”

Chu Xiwei: “…”

Swaying unsteadily, Ye Fusheng stood up, forcefully grabbed him by the waist, puckered his lips, and leaned in for a kiss. Chu Xiwei’s lungs were about to explode. Seeing how skilled this bastard was, he knew exactly how many women he must have fooled around with over the years.

A murderous glint flashing in his eyes, Chu Xiwei broke free from the embrace, steadied his footing, and immediately pinned the drunkard against the tree trunk.

Pressing one hand against the tree and the other against the back of Ye Fusheng’s head, he forced the man to look up and meet his eyes directly. “Look closely at who I am!” he commanded softly.

Ye Fusheng stared blankly at him like a dumb goose. After a long while, he finally slurred, “A-Yao…”

Chu Xiwei breathed a sigh of relief, yet felt a pang of disappointment. Before his complex emotions could fade, Ye Fusheng suddenly leaned in, bit his cheek, and smacked his lips. “Why is there no meat left?”

The bite wasn’t hard, but Chu Xiwei’s gaze darkened.

Because of his pale skin, his dark eyes had always stood out. Now, deepening further, they felt as vast and oppressive as the night sky, heavily enveloping the person before him.

Oblivious to the danger, Ye Fusheng continued his drunken antics. Cupping Chu Xiwei’s face with both hands, he squinted, inspecting him from left to right, and chuckled. “You’ve lost weight. Have you been living poorly… hic, come here, Shifu loves you.”

He seemed completely unaware that the Chu Xiwei before him was no longer little A-Yao. Cupping the face, he pulled him closer, nuzzling against Chu Xiwei’s cheek as if coaxing a child. However, the other party used the momentum to grab his head, pressing heavily against his lips.

Chu Xiwei hadn’t drank, yet he felt far more intoxicated than Ye Fusheng.

Pinning the man in his arms, he kissed him with near ferocity. The scent of alcohol transferring between their lips ignited a fuse in his brain. In an instant, his heart burst with joy. The figures and the night vanished from his sight, leaving only the brilliant bloom of invisible fireworks.

Chu Xiwei liked Ye Fusheng. He liked him like crazy.

The romantic fantasies of his youth, the agonizing pain of sudden betrayal, the shock of finding life in a desperate situation… all the events of the past churned endlessly. Countless grudges and affections had brewed into a jar of aged wine, sealed away in an unspeakable place in his heart, fermenting to the point of deterioration over ten years of life-and-death struggles.

Chu Xiwei had always believed that his hatred for him outweighed everything else—until the day on the wild ferry, when he heard of his death from Chu Ziyu’s mouth.

In that moment, the collapse of heaven and earth could not compare to the shattering of his soul; the pain of a thousand cuts could not compare to the agony in his heart.

He had hated Ye Fusheng so much, yet learning the man was no longer in this world birthed an indelible, absolute despair.

When they reunited later in Guyang City, it was like the clay seal of that heart-wine had been ripped open. The potent aroma left him dizzy, unaware of what day it was, completely lost on what to do.

Until he faced Helian Yu. Knowing full well that his life hung by a thread, Chu Xiwei didn’t hesitate for a single second to shield Ye Fusheng.

In that dazed moment, he finally understood: When you hate someone to the bone yet cannot bear to hurt a single hair on their head, and are even willing to risk your life for them… it only proves that you love them far more than you hate them.

Unfortunately, whether love or hate, a thousand strands of affection were divided on the opposite shores of gratitude and grudges, impossible to confess.

Yearning for the one right before my eyes, yet our hearts are separated by the ends of the earth.

Chu Xiwei never thought this moment would come. When Ye Fusheng nuzzled against him, a dam of a thousand miles collapsed entirely from the touch of skin. He finally slapped aside all his reservations and conflicts, recklessly thinking, I’m drunk too. So be it!

Like a beast that had finally caught its prey, a fiery glint ignited in his eyes as he bit at Ye Fusheng’s lips. His free hand landed on the man’s back, groping blindly through the thin fabric of his clothes.

Ye Fusheng’s brain felt like it had been shoved into a steamer. Already dizzy, being ravaged like this left him completely devoid of reason. Instinctively copying Chu Xiwei, he tore at his clothes with equally fierce movements, turning what was essentially taking advantage of a drunk person into the illusion of mutual consent.

It wasn’t until Chu Xiwei pinned him back against the osmanthus tree that Ye Fusheng, trapped between his arms and apparently finding the posture uncomfortable, raised a leg to kick. Instead, the back of his knee was hooked, pulling him even closer.

Chu Xiwei’s mind was buzzing. He knew that doing this carried a despicable lack of morality, but his emotions were uncontrollable, his body acting on its own.

Staring at Ye Fusheng with a burning gaze, he desperately tried to steady his breathing, intending to slowly let go and step back.

Suddenly, a hand caught a lock of his hair. Ye Fusheng leaned in, his drunken eyes hazy as he slurred, “A-Yao, you’re so young… why do you have white hair?”

Startled, Chu Xiwei saw he didn’t look sober at all. Not daring to yank it away forcefully, he let him hold it.

Fortunately, Ye Fusheng soon let go. Touching his own hair, he mumbled, “I have them too. I pulled out two yesterday… Ah, a person’s life goes by so fast.”

Years pass in the blink of an eye, fleeting like a white horse flashing past a crevice. Even a hundred years of a floating life is nothing but the closing and opening of eyes, instantly whittling away the time.

Ye Fusheng was over eight years older than him. He was no longer a young man. Even Chu Xiwei himself sometimes felt the illusion of “growing old” when looking at Qin Lanshang.

He had waited for Ye Fusheng for ten years.

But in a person’s lifetime, how many ten years are there?

Completely oblivious, Ye Fusheng closed his eyes and fell into a deep sleep the moment he finished speaking. Chu Xiwei caught him, feeling the warm breath entering and leaving against his arm.

He scooped the man up horizontally. Staring at that face for a long time, he ultimately couldn’t resist lowering his head and gently kissing Ye Fusheng’s eyes.

The turbulent, restless emotions in his heart suddenly calmed.

Letting Ye Fusheng’s head rest against his shoulder, Chu Xiwei murmured, “It is me who has lost…”