As the saying goes, when a person is out of luck, even drinking cold water gets stuck between their teeth.
Rong Xuanhe felt that his degree of bad luck probably surpassed this saying.
He did not kill Bo Ren, yet Bo Ren was chasing after him to kill him.
The youth stood in front of the bronze mirror, completely at a loss like a thief caught red-handed in the act, his mind already beginning to calculate where he should be buried after death.
The entire room was silent, without a single sound of a crow or a sparrow.
Su Wenchuan’s breathing hitched for a split second.
That bright crimson old robe was draped snugly over the youth’s slender frame. Having likely been startled by the sudden intrusion, he hadn’t had time to make any expression before turning around in a daze.
Red garments like blood, features and eyes like the past.
In a fraction of a second, time seemed to be violently yanked backward by a hundred years.
The youth under the corridor was toying with flower branches, turned his head upon hearing footsteps, and curved his eyes at him, asking what he thought would be a good name for this courtyard.
With another blink, the place was old and human-less, leaving behind an empty building.
Now, the same red robes, the same courtyard, and the same slightly tilted posture felt like a long-planned revenge.
Su Wenchuan’s throat tightened, his pupils left with only that shadow in red, unable to distinguish whether the churning emotion right now was hatred or something else, only feeling that a fire was burning in his chest, burning his viscera until they ached.
“You actually still dare to come back!” The third clan elder shouted sternly at Rong Xuanhe: “How do you still have the face to come back?”
He aggressively closed in by a few steps, and Rong Xuanhe only now saw clearly that this person bore a resemblance to Su Wenchuan, yet hadn’t been seen yesterday.
The youth’s silence was mistaken for a guilty conscience, causing the third clan elder to brim with even greater resentment: “Back then, for that Fu Han, you abandoned Wenchuan and left without a word! Now that Fu Han has a Dao companion, you come back to look for Wenchuan again? What do you take Wenchuan for? What do you take the White Divine Crow for? If not for Wenchuan’s soft heart, as a mere Golden Core, did you truly think you could step foot into our clan’s mountain gates?”
What is a White Divine Crow?
And which one is Fu Han?
Rong Xuanhe’s mind was a complete blank.
Yet looking at the agitated expression opposite him, it seemed these were all things he was supposed to know.
“Enough!”
Su Wenchuan suddenly spoke up.
He stepped into the room with not a trace of expression on his stern face, his frost-like gaze sweeping over the people before finally locking firmly onto Rong Xuanhe.
The room was so quiet that a falling needle could be heard.
The measured footsteps sounded like a grim reaper’s declaration, stepping on the tips of people’s hearts and causing them to tremble.
Rong Xuanhe pressed his lips tightly together, desperately resisting the urge to step back.
Strange to say, on the verge of death, an unprecedented calmness suddenly arose within his heart.
Since he couldn’t change the ending, he might as well relax a little, for instance, piecing together the stray words just heard.
Su Wenchuan came from a great clan, and his Dao companion was named Rong Lu.
Rong Lu not only didn’t match Su Wenchuan in social standing, but also ran off for someone named Fu Han, ultimately dying mostly outside and provoking the wrath of the clan behind Su Wenchuan.
And unlucky old him, because of a face extremely similar to Rong Lu, had been mistaken for Rong Lu himself.
If he guessed correctly, his fate next would mostly be enduring both physical and psychological torment, until at the very last breath Su Wenchuan suddenly woke up and realized he had fallen in love with him long ago. Or perhaps Rong Lu didn’t die, and the white moonlight made a gorgeous return, beating the clan and kicking the substitute aside, until finally he was slapped in the face and tossed away while the two lived happily ever after.
A very melodramatic routine, and also a field he was familiar with.
Acting in it every day before transmigrating, how could he not be familiar?
Unsure whether the adrenaline was beginning to take effect, Rong Xuanhe slowly let out a breath.
He thought to himself that if he didn’t act a little right now, he wouldn’t even have the chance later on.
According to the script he was used to performing, right now he should:
The youth suddenly raised his eyebrows.
Draped in that bright crimson old robe, his temperament abruptly shifted.
Lazy, peaceful, nonchalant, carrying an unhurried composure from the very bones, he was still the same person, yet somewhere he felt entirely different.
As though the master of this red robe had returned.
Everyone looked at his changes in astonishment. Su Wenchuan’s footsteps paused slightly, and even the third clan elder was stunned for a moment.
The youth unhurriedly greeted them, crossed his steps, turned to walk right up to the third clan elder, and gently pushed away the other’s fingers.
“You can’t really put it that way.”
A soft, warm smile sat on the corners of his lips as he drawled, “Why wouldn’t I dare to come back? Wenchuan is my Dao companion. This is a matter between the two of us, what does it have to do with the two of you? Could it be that you are also my Dao companion?”
He deliberately put heavy emphasis on the word Dao companion, and the blatant provocation undoubtedly infuriated the opposite party.
“Impudent brat, how utterly rude!”
The third clan elder was startled for a moment, then burst into fury: “A junior actually dares to speak insolently and talk back to elders. Is this the kind of upbringing Taixu Sect disciples have? Su Wenchuan is the next patriarch of the White Divine Crow clan. How can you say it has nothing to do with us?”
Yet unexpectedly, the youth wasn’t frightened by his bluster. Instead, a hint of mockery carried within his gaze.
“But hasn’t he already left the White Divine Crows? Right, Wenchuan?”
He turned his head smilingly toward Su Wenchuan and spread his hands: “Besides, Wenchuan found me himself and wanted to bring me back. I didn’t do a thing, so under what identity do you presume to call yourself my elder?”
As the party being mentioned, Su Wenchuan’s expression was exceptionally gloomy and terrifying, without answering a single word.
Yet the youth walked over with unconstrained steps as though he hadn’t noticed.
Reaching the front, he leaned right into the man’s embrace, naturally wrapping his arms around the other’s waist while softening his voice: “Wenchuan, these two elders of yours are so fierce. Shouldn’t I not have come back?”
At this, even the second clan elder couldn’t stand it any longer, speaking with grief-stricken indignation: “You siren, you still dare to whisper sweet nothings here to stir up trouble! Truly shameless to the extreme!”
“A siren?” Rong Xuanhe blinked his eyes innocently, looking as though he felt perplexed: “Am I considered a siren too?”
He stood on tiptoe to lean close to Su Wenchuan’s ear, warm breath brushing past the auricle as he murmured softly, “Speak up, Wenchuan.”
Before the words fully fell, the youth’s slender waist was instantly gripped fiercely by a large palm.
Su Wenchuan’s gaze shifted down inch by inch, as though peeling a layer of skin off him from head to toe.
“What did you call me?” His voice was frighteningly hoarse.
The interruption to his acting made it somewhat difficult for Rong Xuanhe to maintain his expression, forcing him to bite the bullet and meet the gaze. The force coming from his waist was terrifyingly large, practically on the verge of snapping that slender waist in two.
When the youth spoke, he stuttered uncontrollably: “W, Wenchuan.”
He forced down the conditioned tremor, and instead of running away, he pressed even closer against that tall physique.
The palm tightened further, and even without looking, one knew purple-blue bruises would surely be left behind.
The youth pinched his voice once more, poking his fingertip against Su Wenchuan’s chest and making a motion to break away: “Fine then, if your clansmen cannot tolerate me, I had best leave…”
Before he could finish his words, he was fiercely hauled into the man’s embrace, not permitted to back away by even half a step, as every word was ground out:
“Try walking away and see.”
Su Wenchuan raised his eyes, his bloodshot gaze sweeping over the other two people as he said coldly: “Today, you two trespassed into the inner courtyard of my Cangyi Mountain, and I won’t pursue the matter purely out of consideration for our same clan.”
“If you offend again next time, don’t blame me for turning hostile.”
The third clan elder darkened before his eyes, nearly fainting from anger.
“You’ve been bewitched by this siren and gone astray. Do you know what you are saying?”
Turning to Rong Xuanhe, he raised his voice another notch: “And Rong Lu, count it yourself, how much effort Wenchuan spent on you! Spirit stones, pills, magical treasures, which one wasn’t kept for your use? And your return is to instigate Wenchuan against the clan and smear us? Truly a heartless, unrighteous, and ungrateful wretch!”
Rong Xuanhe was muffled against Su Wenchuan’s chest, a large palm pressing against the back of his head, allowing him to only let out a few muffled hums without any way to answer.
Su Wenchuan clamped down tightly around him, his gaze falling upon the two figures opposite with a calmness that felt like the quiet before a storm: “Leave on your own, or do I carry you out?”
“You!”
The third clan elder’s complexion shifted between green and white: “I am speaking up for your injustice! Didn’t he hurt you miserably enough back then? After breaking things off with Fu Han he came back to look for you, and you’re going to let him trick you a second time? Su Wenchuan, do you have any self-respect left!”
The second clan elder also couldn’t help chiming in: “Wenchuan, you are still young…”
Su Wenchuan flicked his sleeve, and a violent gale rose instantly from the ground, howling with biting chill as it directly escorted the two right out of the courtyard gate.
“Scram.”
The man said coldly.
The room finally grew quiet.
The uninvited elders had departed, and the servants had also retreated.
Rong Xuanhe stood in place as his feverish brain gradually cooled down.
Su Wenchuan loosened his arm from around his waist, causing him to stagger backward a few steps while lowering his head, not daring to look at Su Wenchuan’s expression.
In his heart, he felt both terrified and thrilled.
Not only had he stolen and worn the white moonlight’s clothes, but he had even provoked the other’s elders right in front of him.
How thrilling.
The previous inexplicable stuffiness and restlessness had vented out completely. In short, his acting itch had been thoroughly satisfied.
Su Wenchuan was naturally the unsatisfied one.
The two stood extremely close, allowing Rong Xuanhe to clearly hear his breathing and any slight movement.
Su Wenchuan reached out a hand, causing the youth to instantly close his eyes tightly in fright and instinctively hug himself: “Don’t, don’t kill me.”
He still wanted to cling to life.
“Swish!”
Before he could react, that outer robe belonging to someone else was torn down by the man without a word of explanation.
The motion was so large that he was yanked forward in a stumble, nearly crashing right into him, leaving himself clad in only a pure white inner garment.
Rong Xuanhe froze, opening his eyes.
Su Wenchuan clutched that outer robe, staring expressionlessly at him with a violence bordering on brutality in his movements.
“Rip!”
The sound of fabric tearing was exceptionally harsh in the silence.
Stroke after stroke, the red garments were brutally ripped into individual strips of ragged cloth, looking like splattered fresh blood, skin and bone intertwined, a shocking sight.
Rong Xuanhe stayed rooted in place, not daring to move a single step, watching with stiff rigidity as the outer robe was utterly destroyed.
“Why?”
He didn’t understand. Wasn’t this Rong Lu’s clothing? Didn’t Su Wenchuan always miss him? Why, why tear it apart?