Chapter 10: Things Unattainable in Youth
The lamps were lit in the small courtyard of Cuiyu Mountain.
A gentle night breeze was blowing.
Rong Zhao sat on a small stool, slightly raising his head, thoughtfully rubbing his Adam's apple.
His fair neck was quickly rubbed red.
Standing behind him, Meng Zhifan used a comb to carefully brush away the duckweed and algae from his hair.
The chirping of insects rose and fell at night, accentuating the surrounding silence.
"All done."
"Did you want to engage in dual cultivation with me just now?"
They both asked at the same time.
Meng Zhifan paused slightly.
When he had bitten him on the boat, he hadn't really thought that deeply; it was simply a moment where…he couldn't help himself.
The thrill of their embrace and kiss hadn't completely subsided, yet Rong Zhao asked such a question with such seriousness, which came across as rather seductive.
Although he certainly didn't mean it that way.
Seeing that he didn't answer, Rong Zhao thought he hadn't understood: "Dao companions are equivalent to husband and wife among mortals, and dual cultivation means consummating the marriage. Do you want to consummate the marriage with me?"
Meng Zhifan: "..."
That sounded even more seductive.
"It's too soon for that." He put away the comb, brought over a basin of water, and scooped up Rong Zhao's hair to soak in it. "We've only known each other for a short time; one shouldn't casually promise such a thing to another."
The wet ends of his hair slipped from his hands in an instant.
Rong Zhao turned his head, seemingly puzzled: "So what?"
Meng Zhifan was speechless.
After a moment, he chuckled and said, "Although mortals have short lifespans, they still live forty or fifty years. To entrust those years to another so easily after only a month or two of getting to know each other is rather hasty."
Rong Zhao's eyelids twitched.
Hearing this, it seemed he would have to wait several more years before they could engage in dual cultivation.
The "Dao Companions Manual" said that dual cultivation was the best way to enhance feelings, that a single night was enough to ignite a passionate, earth shattering fire between two souls.
Previously, he felt the time wasn't right, but he couldn't quite figure out when it would be. However, that bite he had taken earlier had sparked a sudden flash of insight, clearing away his confusion. So he decided to broach then and there.
He hadn't expected to be thwarted by such a nonsensical reason.
That simply wouldn't do.
Venerable Rong was a very efficient person.
So that night, wearing only a thin robe, he slipped into Meng Zhifan's bed.
Meng Zhifan: "..."
Rong Zhao's hair carried the pleasant, fresh scent of zaojiao (soap pod) he had just used.
Meng Zhifan got out of bed, rummaged through the closet for a thin quilt and returned to wrap Rong Zhao up in it.
Rong Zhao: "?"
It was already late at night. Having gone missing and fallen into the water that day, Meng Zhifan was exhausted and didn't want to get entangled with Rong Zhao. So he casually patted the rolled-up quilt and made up an excuse: "Even if we're going to consummate our marriage, we should choose an auspicious day. For the Venerable One to be so casual about it; could it be that you're not sincere?"
Rong Zhao was silent for a while, rolled up in the quilt, and didn't bother him anymore.
-
The next morning.
A misty mountain fog shrouded the courtyard.
Meng Zhifan searched around the house twice but couldn't find Rong Zhao.
He had a bad feeling and carefully recalled what he had said last night.
It seemed... not very hurtful.
Perhaps he had just gone out for something.
There were still some ingredients left in the kitchen. Meng Zhifan picked a few vegetable leaves, cooked himself a bowl of vegetarian noodles, and ate it absentmindedly.
At noon, Rong Zhao still hadn't returned.
Night fell.
Rong Zhao was still nowhere to be seen.
...Another day passed.
Venerable Rong arrived at the mountaintop, looking travel-worn, a faint bloodstain still clinging on his sleeve.
The spirit herbs planted by the door became excited upon seeing him, chirping incessantly.
Hearing the noise, Meng Zhifan looked up and tossed aside his gardening trowel.
"...You're back?"
Rong Zhao replied casually, seemingly oblivious to the fact that he had disappeared for two days without a word. He pulled a thick old almanac from his storage bag.
"Here."
"Almanac? Why did you suddenly decide to buy this?" Meng Zhifan wiped the dirt from his hands, took it, and flipped through it.
The corner of the pages marking auspicious days suitable for marriage had all been folded down.
"The list of auspicious dates you requested is all here." Rong Zhao picked up the storage bag and shook it, revealing a pile of bright red festive items such as silk flowers, red candles, red satin quilts, silver wine sets, wedding robes, ceremonial crowns, and so on. "And the things mortals use for consummating their marriage are all here too."
Meng Zhifan: "...?"
"There are also peanuts, osmanthus seeds, and red dates..." Rong Zhao continued shaking the storage bag.
"Wait, wait a minute." Meng Zhifan finally snapped out of his shock, both amused and exasperated. He stepped forward and held Rong Zhao's hand to stop him. "You..."
Rong Zhao looked up.
His dark eyes were devoid of emotion, calm and serene, yet revealing an indescribable persistence.
Meng Zhifan paused slightly under his gaze, then changed the subject, asking, "Do you really want a Dao companion that much?"
"Yes."
"Do you know how to do everything a Dao companion should do?"
"Yes."
"But you forgot the other day."
"What?"
"You left without saying a word to me, and you've been gone for two days."
Rong Zhao mulled over the words, it sounded like blaming him.
Immediately displeased, he coldly said, "Where I go is none of your business."
Meng Zhifan didn't speak, but reached out and picked up the blood-stained cuff, rubbed it between his fingers, and sniffed it.
It was indeed blood.
"Because I'm worried, wondering if you're safe," he said. "Rong Zhao, Dao companions worry about each other."
Worry.
Rong Zhao's fingertips trembled slightly.
That ruthless sect leader who had severed the meridians in his right hand had once worn a benevolence expression as he spoke those very words to his beloved disciple, who was about to descend the mountain for travel.
For a fleeting moment back then, he had even felt a pang of envy.
It was all blurry now, the memory had faded.
Everything, absolutely everything, had been utterly obliterated on the night the Chuyun Sect was destroyed.
That's what he had thought.
Rong Zhao tilted his head, slightly puzzled.
So… it turned out.
The things one yearned for but never obtained in youth linger far longer than resentment.
He didn't dwell on his emotions for long, only momentarily lost in thought, before quickly withdrawing his sleeve and saying indifferently, "With my strength, I hardly need you to worry about me."
With that, he left behind the festive decorations in the courtyard and went back inside to change his clothes.
Just before entering the room, Rong Zhao stopped abruptly without warning.
It seemed like a sudden impulse, or perhaps a long-dormant memory had been stirred, leaving him unable to control his emotions.
He turned back, looking somewhat uneasy, and said softly, "Then worry about me a little more, and I'll treat you well."
-
Venerable Rong kept his word.
From that day on, he never urged Meng Zhifan to dual cultivate with him again.
Whatever Meng Zhifan wanted, Rong Zhao gave him.
Various sects were robbed, but fortunately no one was injured, and the stolen items weren't anything valuable, so they turned a blind eye and let it go.
-
Spring gave way to autumn, and a year had passed in the blink of an eye.
Tonight was different from usual.
Only one red candle was lit in the room, casting the dimness that was just right.
The kiss, tinged with the scent of wine, was tender and lingering, the fabric rustling softly filling the air. Rong Zhao, his eyes lowered, leaned back against the headboard, his arm loosely draped over Meng Zhifan's shoulder, his fair skin visible beneath his open robe.
He remained silent, not even a soft groan, simply gazing at Meng Zhifan kneeling before him.
If it weren't for the moist redness in his usually cold eyes, the occasional twitching of his muscles, and the barely perceptible, restrained teeth marks on his lips, one might mistaken Venerable Rong for a man with a heart of stone, unmoved even by the most exquisite pleasures of the world.
Suddenly, the hand gripping Meng Zhifan's shoulder tightened.
"...Enough," he mumbled, his voice trembling with suppressed gasps, "Don't waste time."
Meng Zhifan lifted his head, grasped his wrist, gently pulled him down beneath his own body, and leaned in to kiss him.
Rong Zhao tasted a faint, musky smell, at the same time, his last piece of clothing was hastily stripped away and thrown under the bed.
He tilted his head back, pressed hard on Meng Zhifan's nape, and returned the bite with a fierce, lustful bite.
"Rong Zhao, don't bite." Meng Zhifan soothed the agitated cultivator with practiced ease, his fingers tracing across the soft lower abdomen, gently caressing it a couple of times. "Don't be tense... don't be afraid."
The skin there was fair to the point of paleness, and where it was caressed, a light pink, like peach blossoms, immediately rose and spread outwards.
"I'm not afraid." Rong Zhao frowned, looking slightly uncomfortable. "Why are you so talkative? Dual cultivation is a perfectly normal cultivation method..."
He suddenly shut his mouth, turned his head, and bit his wrist.
"Perfectly normal?" Meng Zhifan whispered tenderly in his ear, his voice full of affection, yet his fingers showing no mercy. "Could it be that the Venerable One has cultivated through this method?"
Rong Zhao's eyelashes trembled violently, driven to a point of exasperation.
He cultivates the Path of Ruthlessness, how could he engage in dual cultivation!
It was indeed because he had indulged him too much this past year that allowed this mortal to become so arrogant and lawless… Just as he was lost in thought, an indescribable, overwhelming pleasure suddenly washed over him, and without realizing it, he let out a soft moan.
“Mmm…”
This sound was soft and light, unlike his usual cool voice; the ending note curved upwards, carrying a hint of alluring charm.
Meng Zhifan was momentarily stunned, then tightened his clasped fingers.
“Rong Zhao, Rong Zhao,” he kissed Rong Zhao’s lips fervently, lingering over them as he murmured, “Do you have any idea…”
Rong Zhao heard nothing.
He was swallowed up.
…
The night was deep and intoxicating.
There was little sound in the room, except from the bed creaking intermittently, there was only the sound of ragged disordered breathing, and the bubbling sound of boiling tea.
Meng Zhifan was naturally restrained and gentle, not to mention that Rong Zhao was quite picky.
The Venerable Rong did not allow any other inappropriate positions, nor did he allow mortals to make any fancy moves, nor did he allow excessive demands. Apart from that initial soft moan, he made no further sound.
The curtains hung gently, concealing the spring scenery.
Long eyelashes gradually became damp with sweat, and the naked body gleamed with sweat, reflecting a warm, jade-like luster in the dim candlelight, swaying and rising with each movement, like pear blossoms on a branch, trembling lightly on the rain.
Only when the candle burned down to a stub did the passion finally subsided.
Rong Zhao, somewhat wearily, nudged Meng Zhifan.
"That's enough," he said. "Go wash up."
