Chapter 5: Having a Late-Night Snack
Rong Zhao waited inside for a while.
The mortal wisely didn't follow him in.
A moment later, the sounds of "rustling" and "shuffling" began to come from outside the window, seemingly someone tidying up the pile of things he had thrown on the floor.
Soon after, it turned into the clinking of bowls and chopsticks.
Rong Zhao restrained himself from using his divine sense to investigate, but unfortunately, his hearing was too good that the sounds alone allowed him to piece together a fairly accurate picture of what was happening.
Meng Zhifan liked to eat in the courtyard.
He sat cross-legged on the bed trying to enter a meditative state, but failed repeatedly. The faint, persistent sounds outside kept drifting to his ears, and he would easily lose focus.
...So noisy.
Rong Zhao thought expressionlessly.
On the day he attained Dao, he would surely cut off this mortal's tongue.
Although it's not the tongue that's making all the noise right now.
Venerable Rong tried for a while longer, but still couldn't enter a meditative state, so he gave up and pushed open the door.
"Splash—"
By the well, Meng Zhifan was drawing water to wash dishes.
"Venerable?" Stray locks of hair across his forehead were covered with a few water droplets, which shimmered with a beautiful light as he moved slightly. "Is there something you need?"
Rong Zhao was immediately dazzled.
He squinted his eyes but remained silent.
The scene before him was beautiful.
The mortal stood by the well, with sword-like eyebrows and bright eyes, broad shoulders and a narrow waist, as upright as a pine tree, and water droplets in his hair sparkling in the sunlight. To make it easier to draw water, his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, revealing his smooth and firm forearms.
Although he was still a bit thin, with such a good appetite, he would probably regain his strength in a month or two.
The ancient tree cast dappled shadows, and the sunlight fell like scattered gold on his broad shoulders and back, making his simple clothes look as fine as brocade woven from clouds.
It was a pleasing sight.
Even if you're abandoned by heaven and hated by people, there are still times when luck is on your side. Rong Zhao mused.
...
Seeing that he didn't react for a long time, Meng Zhifan called again, "Venerable One?"
"Where's the food you made?" Rong Zhao asked, deciding to show a touch of benevolence and humor the mortal. "Let me try it."
Meng Zhifan was stunned, glancing at the wooden basin with bowls soaking beside him, feeling inexplicably apologetic.
"I finished it all." He said calmly.
Rong Zhao: "?"
Didn't he say he cooked a lot and couldn't finish it? ???
"If you want to eat, I'll go stir-fry another plate." Meng Zhifan wiped his hands clean and said sincerely, "There's a little bit of gourd left, which I was planning to eat tonight."
"..."
Venerable Rong felt deeply played, once again, he swept his sleeves in indignation and stormed off.
The path of cultivating a Dao companion is full of hardships and thorns, so Rong Zhao was pricked and bleeding as soon as he stepped in.
The bright moon hung in the sky, faintly visible on the treetops.
Rong Zhao sat on a rock, clutching the manual of Path of Rutlessnes, flipping through it over and over, trying to forge a path that no one had ever trodden before.
However, every word seemed to say: there are no shortcuts.
He decided he wanted to raised a different mortal instead.
So he secretly slipped away to a nearby town under the cover of night, climbing onto rooftops and removing tiles. After inspecting the inhabitants one by one, much like picking melons, he returned dejectedly to Cuiyu Mountain, sneaking into his own courtyard and staring intently at the sleeping Meng Zhifan.
His eyes immediately felt much better.
Meng Zhifan was awakened in the middle of the night. Opening his eyes, he saw a shadowy figure sitting beside his bed, the moonlight reflecting in those dark eyes, strikingly bright.
It was as if he had encountered a hungry wolf in the dark, its eyes gleaming a wild, predatory light.
It took Meng Zhifan a while to recognize him: "...Venerable One?"
Rong Zhao said softly, "It's me."
"Can't sleep?" Meng Zhifan rubbed his eyes, sat up, not particularly angry about being woken up, just somewhat bewildered.
"This Venerable One doesn't need to sleep."
Meng Zhifan fell silent for a moment.
Looking at the black-haired, black-clad cultivator before him, a sudden wave of pity washed over him.
Neither eating nor sleeping, wandering aimlessly in the dead of night, like a lost soul with nowhere to go.
Truly pitiful.
Rong Zhao was unaware that a mortal was pitying him.
He saw Meng Zhifan get out of bed and reach out to grab his wrist.
Rong Zhao pulled away, frowning, "What are you doing?"
"Since you can't sleep, let's have some late-night snacks." Meng Zhifan seized the opportunity, not insisting, and, having learned from his daytime experience, considerately said, "Wait, there'll be some for you too."
Rong Zhao sat on the edge of the bed and waited.
After a while, he suddenly realized.
He had already abstained from grains, so why was he still waiting for Meng Zhifan to make him a late-night snack?
Absurd.
Inexplicable.
But Rong Zhao remained rooted to the spot, sitting motionless on the edge of the bed.
He was also very confused—why not leave?
It was just a late-night snack.
A very ordinary late-night snack made by a mortal.
He was a cultivator who had long since transcended the need of food, a dignified Venerable One just one step away from attaining enlightenment, and a notorious villain whose name struck fear across the Immortal Alliance List. He absolutely shouldn't be sitting here waiting, nor should he harbor any secret expectations for a mere late-night snack.
Rong Zhao's brows furrowed into a deep frown, his heart filled with turmoil, but he didn't leave.
Before he could figure things out, Meng Zhifan had already returned with the food and generously shared a bowl with him.
Rong Zhao, lost in thought, instinctively picked it up.
Looking down, he saw a bowl of sliced, seedless watermelon, its flesh bright red and icy cold.
There were no lights in the room, only the bright moonlight shining in from the window, enveloping the two sitting side by side.
"It was chilled in the well during the day, so it's perfect to eat now." Meng Zhifan tasted a piece, made a "hmm" sound, seemingly very satisfied, "So sweet."
Rong Zhao held the bowl, his brows furrowing again and again, unsure whether he was displeased with himself or with the late-night snack.
Finally, he slowly forked a piece and put it in his mouth.
It was slightly cool, and sweet.
Perfect for a summer night where the heat still lingered, the bowl of watermelon even seemed to ease some of the pent-up emotions in Rong Zhao's heart.
Rong Zhao didn't say anything, nor did he find anything particularly appealing about this simple late-night snack, but he still ate it all, piece by piece.
Then, the mortal leaned over and asked, "Is it sweet?"
Rong Zhao glanced at him without answering, wiped his mouth, put down the bowl, and was about to leave.
Just then, Meng Zhifan asked from behind, "Aren't we going to sleep together?"
"I don't need to sleep..."
"I remember you said before that you wanted me to be your Dao companion," Meng Zhifan still had a faint smile on his lips, tinged with a hint of probing, "If I understand correctly, a Dao companion to a cultivator is the equivalent of a husband and wife among mortals. Why then, do you never come to spend the night with me?"
Rong Zhao: "..."
The room fell into a deathly silence.
After a long silence, Meng Zhifan asked, "Could it be that the Venerable One doesn't truly desire a Dao companion?"
Before he could finish speaking, a muffled thud was heard.
He was grabbed by the neck and forcefully slammed onto the bed.
The five fingers gripping his throat slowly tightened. Rong Zhao coldly lowered his eyes, watching this mortal, oblivious to his impending doom, gradually show signs of pain, struggling in vain, scratching bloody marks onto his wrist.
Rong Zhao fingers remained unmoved like iron clamps, as if the dying creature he held wasn't human, but a tiny insect, or some other mayfly-like thing.
Meng Zhifan couldn't utter a sound.
Panic was like a pebble thrown into water, creating ripples before returning to calm.
He gradually stopped struggling, gazing at Rong Zhao, whose face was half-hidden in darkness, his gaze gradually unfocused.
His fingers, limp and powerless, rested on Rong Zhao's wrist, unconsciously rubbing it lightly twice. His lips moved, as if calling out "Venerable One."
Rong Zhao suddenly released his grip.
"Cough cough...cough cough cough!" Meng Zhifan gasped for air, collapsing onto the bed, coughing violently. Cold sweat beaded on his forehead, trembling with each breath.
Rong Zhao's expression was unreadable, his hand gripping his wrist tightly, as if he'd been burned, not brushed. After a long pause did he recall what he should say.
He said coldly, "You have no right to question me. Don't push your luck."
His words were muffled by the violent coughing; it was unclear whether the mortal had heard him.
The coughing gradually subsided, and in the darkness beyond the reach of moonlight, the mortal lay motionless on the bed.
Rong Zhao waited, but there was no sound.
...
He'd almost forgotten; mortals were very fragile.
Rong Zhao pursed his lips, took out a pill, and broke it in half. Holding it in his hand, he knelt on the edge of the bed, leaning over to feed it to the mortal.
Before he could find Meng Zhifan, a hand silently reached out from the darkness, clammed firmly onto his wrist and yanked him inward —
Half the pill flew out.
Venerable Rong fell flat on his face.
His mind went blank; he couldn't think of anything, or rather, he had never encountered such a complex situation where he couldn't resort to lethal force. Thinking about it was useless.
Rong Zhao landed on the soft bedding.
Moonlight lay behind him and darkness before him, the mortal’s warm breath was so close, almost touching his ear.
"I didn't mean to offend Venerable One," Meng Zhifan's voice was weak and hoarse, resonating heavily amidst the humid, warm breath. "You deceived me first, saying you were my Dao companion…"
He even chuckled hoarsely.
"I just wanted to know if I'd be used for alchemy. I didn't want to live in constant fear. If Venerable One wouldn't tell me the truth, then I had no choice but to this…"
Rong Zhao felt something soft and cool touch his nose.
Meng Zhifan kissed him.
In an instant, his pupils dilated, and his scalp went numb.
This was a feeling akin to having one's vital point gripped.
The mortal, however, pushed his luck even further. He propped himself up and pressed Rong Zhao's wrist onto the bed, pinning him down in a rather ambiguous position.
Strands of loose hair brushed against his cheek, tickling him intensely.
Rong Zhao was momentarily stunned.
He heard the audacious mortal lazily say, "...I suppose I have no choice but to sincerely treat Venerable One as my Dao companion. If you find this offensive, then just give me a quick death, saving you the trouble of deceiving me. Wouldn't that be a win-win situation?"
