Chapter 6: Things Dao Companion Should Do
Rong Zhao looked at him.
Then, he extended a finger, pressed it against the other man's chest, and effortlessly flipped him over.
This time, it was the mortal's turn to fall onto the quilts.
Rong Zhao propped himself up, touching the tip of his nose where the sensation still lingered. Surprisingly, he didn't feel much displeasure; instead, he had a strange, indescribable feeling.
Tonight, he seemed unusually tolerant.
He glanced at the half-dead mortal lying on the bed, pondered for a moment, and felt that what the other had said earlier made some sense.
Their interaction certainly didn't seem like that of Dao Companions.
If they couldn't even fake it, how could they expect anyone to take their relationship seriously?
So Rong Zhao pulled him over, pressed him against the headboard, and recalling the actions he'd seen between Dao Companions before, imitated them.
Meng Zhifan thought he was finally enraged and about to kill him.
As he was roughly pulled over, he closed his eyes, feeling the burning pain in his throat.
...Death didn't come as expected; a soft breath, accompanied by a tingling sensation, approached.
Meng Zhifan suddenly opened his eyes.
Breaths mingled, long, thick eyelashes fluttered before his eyes, and a soft touch came from his lips, awkward and cautious, seemingly just a light rub.
Occasionally, there were even playful nips.
Meng Zhifan: "...?"
He leaned back, and the cultivator followed, pressing his lips against his again.
It felt like being nuzzled by a small animal, neither offensive nor repulsive.
He was slightly uncomfortable with the clumsy kiss, wanting to dodge but unable to, his eyes half-lowered as he looked at Rong Zhao so close, lost in thought.
Could it be that he genuinely wanted to be his Dao Companion?
Meng Zhifan pondered, raising his hand to gently touch the back of Rong Zhao's neck, intending to test the waters further.
But the moment he touched him, the softness on his lips vanished, and the person in his arms transformed into a gust of wind, appearing at the foot of the bed in the next instant.
"What do you want to do?" Rong Zhao wiped his lips, "This is what Dao companion should do. Are you unwilling?"
"..." Meng Zhifan thought to himself, ‘what do you know about what should be done?’
He knew cultivators didn't partake in worldly affairs, but to be so oblivious to romance and intimacy was truly rare.
However, he didn't have the strength to argue at the moment; the pain from the suffocation hadn't lessened, but instead intensified with time. As Rong Zhao released him, his body went limp and slid downward.
Rong Zhao: "!"
Meng Zhifan fainted.
Just before he blacked out, he seemed to see the cultivator rushing over anxiously, and then he knew nothing more.
-
Rong Zhao spent another whole day taking care of the delicate and fragile mortal.
To call it taking care of him was really just shaving off half a medicinal pill and dissolving it in water and force-feeding it to him, while also applying some medicine to the bruises on his neck.
Venerable Rong, however, didn't see it that way.
Taking care of mortals was hard work; one wrong move and he'd crush them to death.
-
After Meng Zhifan woke up, he didn't ask anything, and Rong Zhao naturally didn't think anything was wrong.
He continued to feed the mortal methodically, no longer having time to kill and seek revenge. In his spare time, he studied the "Dao Companions Manual" he had bought from the foot of the mountain, and occasionally went out to find interesting things for Meng Zhifan to play with.
Although what he brought back were mostly useless trinkets.
For example, squeaking spirit herbs, a duck raised by a certain sect for decades that had absorbed spiritual energy and could speak human language, a human skin that could dance the Yangge folk dance, and other such bizarre objects.
Meng Zhifan subtly hinted several times, but Rong Zhao remained oblivious, continuing to do as he pleased, even bringing back such gifts more frequently.
Left with no other choice, Meng Zhifan stewed the duck right in front of Rong Zhao, dug a large pit behind the house to bury all the inedible items in it, and finally planted the squeaky spirit herb at the entrance to the courtyard.
Rong Zhao stared at it for a long time, seemingly realizing something, and asked in puzzlement, "You didn't like any of these?"
"..." Meng Zhifan, carrying a hoe, remained silent for a long while before asking in return, "Why would I like these things?"
"Then what do you like? Rare treasures and precious herbs? Mortals can't eat or use them."
"I like..." Meng Zhifan paused, looking around the simple courtyard, "If you have time, get some pretty flower and grass seeds, and buy a few yards of fabric, the color... just pick your favorite color."
Rong Zhao noted it down.
Then, single-handedly he ventured into Hundred Flowers Valley, renowned for its exotic flowers and herbs, and practically stripped the land bare. Afterward, he went to Wangling City, the most prosperous city under the jurisdiction of the Immortal Alliance, and bought out all the…black fabric in the cloth shops.
Venerable Rong loved black.
He returned to Cuiyu Mountain laden with his spoils.
Meng Zhifan, staring at the piles of black fabric filling half a room, was almost speechless with shock. He turned and asked, “Whose funeral are you planning?”
“What funeral?”
Meng Zhifan rephrased, “Why did you buy all black?”
Rong Zhao replied matter-of-factly, “You told me to choose.”
“I told you to choose…” Meng Zhifan’s gaze fell on him, and he was speechless for a moment. Finally, he said helplessly, “Fine, you can put them away for now. I’ll make you a couple of clothes another day.”
“You can make clothes?” Rong Zhao’s eyes lit up. “That’s great.”
His clothes were easily damaged or stained with blood. Of course, he could buy them, but custom-made clothes would take a lot of time.
If they encounter enemies or are pursued by the Immortal Alliance during this time, they often forget where or which clothing store they ordered clothes from, and end up in the predicament of having no clothes to wear.
This mortal is really quite useful.
Venerable Rong was very satisfied.
"Making clothes requires needles and thread, remember to buy some next time... Where are you going?"
"To buy needles and thread."
"So soon? Then buy a few more flowerpots while you are at it, some planks, nails, and a hammer..."
Rong Zhao never forgot what he heard once, and he bought things very quickly, without haggling over the price. The amount he bought was enough to last for several years.
While he went down the mountain to buy things, Meng Zhifan squatted alone in the yard, using a small hoe to tidy up the strange flowers and herbs that still had soil on them, thinking aimlessly: This cultivator is really quite useful except for his strange temper.
And...
Meng Zhifan was slightly distracted, and with a swift motion of the hoe, he broke off a flower stem.
"Snap—"
Sap splashed everywhere, and a strange fragrance filled the air.
Meng Zhifan was stunned for a moment, picked out the unlucky flower, and casually tossed it next to a squeaking spirit herb, which startled the herb and made it burrow into the ground with a "whoosh."
Furthermore, ever since that night, Rong Zhao would often come to him in the middle of the night to do "what Dao Companion should do."
Sometimes it was wontons or noodles, sometimes chilled fruits in well water. In short, they would sit side by side and eat a late-night snack, seemingly affectionate, but in reality, he couldn't get a single bite of what went into Rong Zhao's bowl.
He was incredibly possessive of his food.
If it had merely a matter of sharing a late-night snack, it wouldn't be so bad, after all, making a larger portion wasn't difficult, but—
Rong Zhao would do things that crossed the line.
Usually, after finishing the snack, he would randomly press him down somewhere, lean in and press his lips to his, rubbing against him clumsily until his lips were flushed red and glistening wet, kissing him earnestly yet perfunctorily.
It was like a nighty ritual: a late-night snack, a kiss, and then they would each go back to their own rooms to sleep.
Meng Zhifan… Meng Zhifan couldn't even get angry.
The bare courtyard was soon filled with flowers.
When Rong Zhao returned, he thought he had gone to the wrong mountain. It wasn't until he saw the withered, squeaking spirit herb by the entrance that he realized this was indeed his humble little courtyard, a place as barren as an empty house.
"You're back?" Meng Zhifan poked his head out of the kitchen, wearing an apron, sleeves half-rolled up, holding a bowl of fragrant duck soup. "The duck you bought is stewed now. I added ginger and garlic to remove the gamey smell; it tastes good. Want to try some?"
"No." Rong Zhao refused.
Having a late-night snack with him was already a huge favor; he couldn't allow a mortal to take advantage. Rong Zhao thought coldly. Even if this mortal tried everything to appease him later, he still wouldn't…
"Alright then." Meng Zhifan showed no intention of urging him to eat further, changing the subject, "This duck is too fat; I can't finish it in one meal, it'll spoil. Can I borrow your Qiankun bag to store it?"
"…"
"Or I could make it into crispy duck for tonight's late-night snack."
"… …"
Seeing that he remained silent, standing there lingering on the doorway, and even seemed a little depressed, Meng Zhifan couldn't help but wonder, "What's wrong?"
Rong Zhao hesitated, a rare occurrence for him.
It felt incredibly awkward to say such a thing himself, and it wasn't something a dignified Venerable should do. Besides… This mortal had just tried to stuff a plucked duck into his Qiankun bag.
Outrageous!
Just as he was about to abandon the idea, the manual for “The Path of Ruthlessness” hidden in his sleeve shifted slightly, and the words "attain the Dao and ascend" began to buzz in his mind again.
To attain the Dao… he needed to cultivate a relationship with a Dao Companion.
A certain "Dao Companions Manual" he had recently been studying said that frequently doing the things that Dao companions should do could help him gain someone's true heart more quickly.
For example, going on dates.
“I hear there is a Lotus-Picking Festival nearby.” Rong Zhou finally made up his mind, looking at Meng Zifan, he deigned to extend an invitation. “It’s happening today.”
“So?” Meng Zifan couldn't quite grasp the meaning，after a moment of thought, he asked hesitantly. “Do you want to go?
“……I have no interest in such a mundane festival.”
Meng Zifan had such a sudden realization. He understood that Rong Zhou thought that he, being a mortal, might want to go. So he smiled, “I am not interested either.”
Rong Zhao：“……？”
Venerable Rong was left completely disoriented by this mortal refusal to play by the rules. He stood dumfounded in the doorway, having even forgotten what he was supposed to say next.
A moment later, he snapped out of his reverie, walked over to Meng Zifan and firmly grasped his wrist.“You have to go”
“Why？”
“The Lotus-Picking Festival is meant to be spend with one’s beloved.” Rong Zhao repeated the information he had heard with earnest precision, then drew his conclusion. “Since it's something that Dao companion should do, then you must come with me.”
“But I……”
“You have to go。”
Venerable Rong simply hauled the mortal down the mountain with a word of explanation.
To prevent the flesh-bodied Spirit Mushroom from being recognized, Rong Zhao thoughtfully put a mask on Meng Zhifan to block divine sense detection, ensuring that not a trace of his aura would leak out.
Yunshui Town.
The lakeside was crowded with vendors, and a dense stream of pedestrians. On the lake, bamboo poles cleaved the water, and small boats, like fish, nimbly navigated among the lush lotus leaves.
An incense stick's time later.
Rong Zhao realized that he had lost the mortal.
