That hand simply rested against his face, wiping away his tears little by little.
Rong Xuanhe froze, looking out through the gaps between his fingers with tear-soaked eyes, stealing a peek at Su Wenchuan.
Su Wenchuan maintained a blank expression. Seeing him peek, he simply halted his movements. “What do you want to say?”
Perhaps sensing that the commotion inside had died down, the child servant reignited the bonfire outside. Mottled, warm light filtered in, casting soft halos within the carriage.
Seeing the red mark on Su Wenchuan’s chin from where he had bitten him earlier, Rong Xuanhe summoned up courage from unknown origins, asking with a heavy nasal twang, “Why are you so mean to me?”
Su Wenchuan offered no reply.
If it was because he had uttered words he shouldn’t have and needed punishment, then why let him bite back?
He could endure being scolded, given the cold shoulder, or ignored. He felt he wasn’t anyone important, so being treated a bit harshly didn’t matter.
Yet this person was simply too wicked, blowing hot and cold, unpredictable from one moment to the next. It left him feeling as though he were tossing about on a cloud, his feet dangling unsteadily, where a single misstep would plunge him into a bottomless abyss.
Rong Xuanhe lowered his head, his voice trembling, “You shocked me with that lightning; I thought my hand was truly going to break, and that you meant to kill me here.”
As he spoke, the rims of his eyes turned red once more, teardrops clinging to his eyelashes, trembling as though they might fall at any second.
Su Wenchuan said calmly, “I bore half of the life contract just now.”
“What does that have to do with you using it to shock me?”
Deeply aggrieved, the young man glared at him with wide eyes. “I only said a single wrong sentence, yet you scolded me and shocked me! Do you hate me so much that you brought me back from the Den of Iniquity just to torture me? You have no idea how terrified I am of you, walking on eggshells every single day, afraid of offending you all over again! But I’m not a mind reader dwelling inside your stomach, how could I possibly know what you are thinking?”
The more he spoke, the more agitated he became, reaching out to grab Su Wenchuan’s lapels. “Let me tell you, I have never seen anyone as unreasonable as you! I hate you!”
A rabbit will bite when pushed into a corner, let alone a living person terrified of injections.
In a fit of anger, Rong Xuanhe gave a fierce tug, failing to even notice when his wrists had regained their strength, and used all his might to push Su Wenchuan down in reverse.
Su Wenchuan tightened his arm to keep him from moving, but Rong Xuanhe began kicking and thrashing in his arms, using both hands and feet while tears streamed down in torrents.
“Let me go! Let me go!”
After struggling in vain a few times, Rong Xuanhe grew exasperated and frantic, simply giving up the struggle as his tears soaked a large portion of the man’s lapels.
He turned his head away, his face flushed a brilliant red, completely indistinguishable whether from tears or anger.
Su Wenchuan smoothed his ruffled lapels and lowered his gaze to look at him.
After panting for breath a few times while lying there, Rong Xuanhe suddenly propped himself up on his arms, sitting straight up as he prepared to march right out.
Su Wenchuan caught him by the waist. “Where are you going?”
Without looking back, Rong Xuanhe spat out viciously, “To feed the wolves!”
He would rather die today than stay with Su Wenchuan for another moment.
Su Wenchuan knitted his brows. “Get back here.”
“I won’t!” Rong Xuanhe clawed at the hand around his waist, acting purely out of spite. “Don’t you just want to watch me die? I’ll go die right now, are you satisfied?”
Su Wenchuan spoke in a stern, severe tone, “Nonsense! Try dying and see what happens.”
His tone carried absolute severity, causing Rong Xuanhe’s body to instinctively shudder, though he stubbornly refused to yield verbally. “I dare! Compared to staying with you, feeding wolves might actually be better!”
Yet the hand around his waist remained immovable like cast iron, refusing to loosen its grip no matter how he scratched at it.
The two deadlocked for a moment. When his fingers grew sore from prying, Rong Xuanhe finally released his grip in exasperation, his voice verging on collapse. “This won’t do, that won’t do, what on earth do you want from me!”
Silence settled inside the carriage for several seconds, broken only by his heavy breathing and occasional sobs.
After a brief pause, Su Wenchuan released his grip, his tone softening. “Stay inside the carriage.”
Rong Xuanhe glared at him with red-rimmed eyes. Without looking back, Su Wenchuan stood up and opened the carriage doors.
Warm red firelight surged in from outside. The child servant sat quietly nearby, not daring to cast a single glance in their direction.
“Rest well, and no feeding the wolves.”
With those words, Su Wenchuan stepped out of the carriage.
Rong Xuanhe froze for a moment, watching him close the door as light was once more shut out, leaving him entirely alone.
Outside the carriage.
The bonfire crackled and burned. Staring at the flames with his eyes darting back and forth, the child servant still couldn’t resist stealing a glance at Su Wenchuan’s chin.
There was no helping it; that bite mark was simply too conspicuous.
Moments ago, the Exalted Lord had shut the carriage doors and extinguished the bonfire. A commotion of crying and shouting had erupted from within, immediately followed by the Exalted Lord being driven out of the carriage, looking rather disheveled in both appearance and attire.
Just what transpired inside was truly difficult to guess.
Striving to keep his face completely devoid of expression, the child servant lowered his head to poke at the bonfire, asking in a low voice, “Exalted Lord, the bonfire might attract wild beasts. Should we switch to night-pearls instead?”
Su Wenchuan offered no answer, his gaze fixed quietly on the flames.
The orange-red firelight reflected across his profile, flickering rhythmically as if he were deep in thought.
The child servant had no choice but to shut his mouth, terrified of provoking his anger.
Yet unexpectedly, the next second brought Su Wenchuan’s voice, “Tell me, when someone returns from the dead, do they discard all past memories completely, or do they retain fragments of the past?”
The child servant was startled, pondering cautiously before replying, “That is hard to say. Perhaps the Exalted Lord could send a letter inquiring of the Underworld Sovereign or scholars across the realm?”
Su Wenchuan fell silent for a moment, his gaze obscure and unreadable.
After a long while, he suddenly let out a self-deprecating chuckle, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Forget it, why ask you?”
From that night onward, Su Wenchuan never entered the carriage again.
Rong Xuanhe had no idea where he went. Over the past few days, lifting the carriage curtain occasionally revealed that white figure sitting serenely at the front, while other times only the lonely child servant remained.
Pulling his knees to his chest, he huddled on his seat, thinking that everything was utterly ruined.
To have a falling out while still on the road meant that once they reached Su Wenchuan’s territory, wouldn’t the other party be able to do whatever he pleased? When the time came, cries to heaven would go unanswered and pleas to the earth would fail, leaving him nowhere even to run.
His luck was dismal too. After suffering so much hardship, he had only drawn a meager spirit stone gift package.
To make matters worse, the system would still issue tasks, forcing him to comply despite every ounce of reluctance.
He did not want to die, and certainly not a painful death.
If he wanted to prevent this situation from turning into a dead end, he had to mend relations with Su Wenchuan.
At this thought, the young man bit his lower lip.
Carefully lifting the carriage curtain, he saw the child servant meditating with eyes closed while Su Wenchuan remained absent.
As for that messenger bird, it was perched securely atop the spiritual steed’s head, fluffing its wings against the wind with its snowy white feathers puffed out to the extreme.
Seeming to notice movement from his direction, the little bird abruptly turned its head, fixing its bean-sized eyes straight upon him.
Since idling away time offered nothing better, Rong Xuanhe leaned by the window and beckoned toward it.
The little bird turned its back to ignore him, even shaking its tail feathers with an air of supreme arrogance.
Opening its eyes and following its line of sight, the child servant smiled. “Is the Young Master awake? We will reach the foot of Mount Cangyi in another quarter of an hour.”
Rong Xuanhe blinked. “So soon?”
Looking down below, the scattered towns had long since vanished from view, replaced by endless rolling green expanses shrouded in pale mist like a layer of gauze, their distant contours undulating faintly.
“How massive.” He sighed with genuine emotion.
Yet upon second thought, escaping from a mountain of this magnitude would be ten times harder than escaping the Den of Iniquity.
His spirits slumped instantly. The child servant offered consolation, “Young Master need not worry; azure birds guide all who enter or leave the mountain gates, so walking is unnecessary.”
Assuming Rong Xuanhe had been frightened by the rugged, impassable mountain trails, the child servant received no correction as Rong Xuanhe offered a vague sound of agreement, looking up just in time to find the little white bird gone.
Had it flown away?
The youth glanced around, when a calm voice suddenly sounded from directly above.
“What are you searching for?”
Stiffening, Rong Xuanhe raised his head to look up.
The person missing all day stood atop a flying sword, his white robes snapping in the wind, looking down at him with frosty brows and eyes.
He curled his lip, whispering, “Am I not allowed to just look around?”
Regret hit him the moment the words left his mouth.
He had just been pondering how to mend relations with Su Wenchuan, only to snap right back at him the second he spoke.
Quietly cursing himself, Rong Xuanhe felt his cheeks grow somewhat hot.
He couldn’t bring himself to utter shameless phrases like wanting to make up. He really was a terrible actor.
“Umm.”
Taking a deep breath, the young man hesitated. “Would you like to come inside? It looks like it is going to rain.”
Retreating into the carriage like a deserter after finishing his sentence, he waited a few breaths before a jointed, pale hand lifted the curtain.
Su Wenchuan ducked inside and stepped in.
The person inside tensed their spine as if pricked by a needle. Su Wenchuan sat down across from him, those hazel eyes fixing quietly upon him.
Uncomfortable under the scrutiny, the youth lowered his head to study his fingers for a long while before finally thinking of something, sluggishly rising to pour a cup of tea for the other party.
Placing the cup before Su Wenchuan, he mumbled softly, “This cup of tea serves as an apology. I shouldn’t have bitten your chin that day.”
Su Wenchuan did not accept it.
“Just like that?” the man asked.
Stiffly, Rong Xuanhe retorted, “Then what else do you want?”
Did he expect him to spend two days outside as well?
The two stared at one another for a long stretch before Rong Xuanhe ultimately conceded defeat.
Slowly, he stood up and started toward the exit.
If he had to stay outside, so be it; they would be landing in a quarter of an hour anyway.
Before he could take a single step, his wrist was caught and yanked backward. He tumbled backward, landing squarely beside Su Wenchuan as an arm instantly wrapped around his waist.
“Did I not say feeding wolves was forbidden?”
“When did I!” Rong Xuanhe managed to sit upright. “Am I not even allowed to step outside for some fresh air? Why must you be so overbearing?”
The man’s arm remained looped around his waist without the slightest intention of releasing him. “We are almost there, do not wander about.”
At the mention of this, a latent spark ignited in Rong Xuanhe’s mind, prompting him to lift the carriage curtain once more to gaze outside.
Having nearly fallen victim to a lack of intelligence regarding the terrain back at the Den of Iniquity, he refused to let this opportunity slip by.
In his mind, he frantically called out, “System, draw me a map of the area below!”
Just a little closer.
Staring intently outside while trying to commit the layout to memory using his limited mental capacity, Rong Xuanhe failed entirely to notice the movements of the person beside him.
Click.
A cold sensation suddenly wrapped around his ankle.
Lowering his gaze, Rong Xuanhe saw a jade-textured lock securing his ankle, its lustrous sheen shifting softly under the sunlight. Reaching out to tug at it proved futile, as the lock refused to budge.
The youth’s slender, pale ankle remained encircled by the jade lock, his toes curling unconsciously while pale blue veins traced faintly across his smooth instep, fragile and pristine.
“What is the meaning of this?”
He asked foolishly.
Glancing down at him with cold, thin apathy, Su Wenchuan replied in a low voice, “A spirit lock.”
Choked for words, Rong Xuanhe muttered, “I know it is a spirit lock.”
Having experienced a lock back at the Den of Iniquity, he simply couldn’t fathom why another one had ended up on him.
Su Wenchuan pulled leisurely on the chain, producing a crisp, pleasant jade chiming sound.
“From now on, without my permission,” he enunciated word by word, extinguishing any lingering thoughts of escape the youth harbored, “you are not permitted to leave Mount Cangyi by even half a step.”