At this moment, Bian Menghan had completely reined in his hostility, appearing pure and innocent. Shi Changting had always favored a warm, pure, and clean soul; he knew this, and he had always known it.
As long as he was willing, he could disguise himself as anyone’s ideal, including adopting the simple, harmless persona that Shi Changting loved, just to make Shi Changting happy. But the prerequisite was that Shi Changting must remain by his side forever. If that was the case, he was willing to spend his entire life playing the role of a devoted, loving disciple in this grand, melodramatic play of master-disciple affection.
“Master,” Bian Menghan lifted his head, kneeling on both knees before Shi Changting. His eyes, dark and glistening like grapes, looked up—innocent, pitiful, and begging for affection. “Can you promise this disciple to never leave me again; to stay by my side forever?”
Shi Changting was shocked. “I…”
The words of refusal seemed stuck in his throat; no matter how he tried, he could not force them out.
What is going on? Speak! Refuse him! What are you doing?
He heard his own chest heaving heavily, a suffocating tightness that made it hard to breathe. He said with a sense of helplessness, “Menghan, to be honest, Master…”
Shi Changting paused.
To be honest? To be honest about what? To be honest that I don’t actually dislike you?
Yes, he did like him. But he had explained it many times: that was the affection and care one felt for family. It was not the love between a man and a woman. It was not the kind of affection that allowed two people to lie in the same bed every night until the early hours of the morning.
But so what? Bian Menghan would not listen, and he no longer wanted to say it.
Shi Changting’s conflicted expression was not lost on Bian Menghan, who had clearly already anticipated this. He said slowly, “Master, do you hate this disciple?”
Bian Menghan’s hands were trembling, his gaze incomparably sincere.
Shi Changting closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He opened them and looked deeply at his disciple, revealing a complex emotion he had not even realized himself. “I do not hate you.”
From the beginning until now, he had never hated him. Even when Bian Menghan forced himself upon him, his only thought had been to escape. He was the author of this book; in all fairness, Bian Menghan’s tragic life was entirely authored and caused by his own hands. Now, bearing such twisted and paranoid affection was just his own retribution. He could not blame anyone else.
“Then Master, do you loathe this disciple?”
“I do not loathe you.” Shi Changting’s voice was as cold and clear as white jade. His skin was like fine porcelain, and his long, pale fingers traced Bian Menghan’s cheek inch by inch, gently brushing away the tears.
Stop crying. He was reaching his limit.
“Master, I beg you, do not leave this disciple, please? You promised this disciple that you would look after me and protect me; that you would always stand by my side and never let anyone hurt me. Have you forgotten, Master? Master cannot break your word. This disciple really cannot live without Master. This disciple only has you. No one else loves this disciple; only Master treats me well. If even Master rejects me, what am I supposed to do? I beg you, I beg you, Master, do not abandon me, Master!”
Bian Menghan’s shoulders trembled lightly, and tears surged forth. The despair and desolation in his eyes were like shattered glass, cutting through every one of Shi Changting’s breaths. It was like a person on the verge of death in the desert, making one last, undignified plea for life.
Shi Changting felt a pang of sharp, albeit subtle, pain in his heart, as if someone were pricking his heart with fine needles, one jab at a time. Bian Menghan’s eyes were bloodshot, his face drenched in tears, appearing like a puppy abandoned by its owner—humbly crawling at his master’s feet, desperately clutching the hem of his trousers in an attempt to make him stay.
It was too pitiful. Bian Menghan had never been like this before him. Whether it was the innocent, callow version or the dark, paranoid one, he knew them all. But this version, he had never seen before.
To say he was not moved at all would be a lie. If everything were still as it was in the past—if there were no taboo, coercive relationship between them—it would not be impossible for him to grant Bian Menghan’s wish and stay by his side to care for him. But Shi Changting firmly believed he was a straight man. He could not maintain this kind of relationship with his disciple, a relationship that the world would never tolerate for the long term.
Ultimately, he would still have to run. But in order to pacify him, he could only say, “I will not leave.”
Bian Menghan looked at him, his eyes swimming with tears.
Shi Changting sighed. “Master truly will not leave.”
“Then will Master take another disciple in the future?”
Shi Changting: …
I’m exhausted. Just let it all be destroyed.
“No, Master will only ever have you as a disciple.”
Damn it. Even though he never intended to take another disciple after all, one was already such a headache saying such nauseating words aloud still made him feel like retching.
Bian Menghan, crying, gripped Shi Changting’s neck. He sobbed innocently, “Master, Master, please, do not leave me!”
You are mine! You are mine! No one is ever going to take you away from me!
Shi Changting [censored]
In his daze, a vague image flashed across his mind: a handsome youth standing before a man in white, saying timidly yet with incomparable sincerity and resolve, “Master, I like you.”
The man in white said gently, “Xiao Han, are you not afraid?”
“This disciple is not afraid. As long as Master is by my side, this disciple is not afraid of anything.”
“Ugh!”
My head hurts. What is this? Is this the past between the original Shi Changting and Bian Menghan before I transmigrated? But this does not seem to be part of the content I wrote.
His consciousness gradually blurred, and Shi Changting lost the ability to think. He stared groggily at the dim moonlight casting shadows on the bed curtains, and he did not sleep for the rest of the night.
The next afternoon, Shi Changting finally drifted awake. As he moved, he could not help but hiss, cursing the culprit in his heart.
Beast! Scoundrel!
Just as he finished cursing, the curtains were pulled aside, letting in the scorching midday sun. The “beast” walked in, smiling, carrying a bowl of medicine that he brought to Shi Changting’s lips.
“What is this?”
Bian Menghan’s smiling appearance at this moment made it seem as if he were a different person from the one who had been sobbing uncontrollably in his arms the night before. “Master worked hard last night. This is medicine I had the pharmacy prepare to nourish your body.”
A plant! A plant! A plant!
Do you have no shame? I have a reputation to maintain!
You even specifically went to the pharmacy to get medicine! Doesn’t that mean the whole Demon Realm knows what you did to me? God! Someone, just strike him dead with a palm blast! I don’t want to live anymore!
“The temperature is just right now. Master, drink it quickly.”
Shi Changting turned his face away and said stiffly, “I will not drink it.”
Bian Menghan was not angry upon hearing this; instead, he smiled ambiguously. “Master is throwing a tantrum again. It does not matter. If Master does not want to drink, this disciple can feed you.”
After saying this, he drank the medicine in the bowl in one gulp, grabbed Shi Changting’s chin, and passed it into the other’s mouth, lip to lip.
“Mmph! Mmph!”
The bitter yet sweet decoction slid down his throat, carrying the familiar scent of that person, feeling inexplicably scalding. After a long while, and only after the medicinal juices had been thoroughly tasted by the other party, did he finally let go.
“Cough! Cough!”
Shi Changting coughed violently, his eyes reddening to the corners, brimming with transparent moisture. Seeing this, Bian Menghan’s throat tightened, and he could not help but want to “bully” his Master even more aggressively.