“The day is still early. We will set out once night falls.” Shen Zhiwei stood up and gave Mo Rubai’s lower leg a light kick. “This is my bed. How much longer are you planning to sit there?”
A faint flush instantly stained Mo Rubai’s cheeks. It was clearly Zhenren Lingzhi who had told him to sit, yet now the man was turning things around and blaming him instead.
Still, feeling the cool, soothing ointment on his kneecaps, Mo Rubai quickly reined in his emotions. He was only at the Foundation Establishment stage and still possessed a mortal, flesh-and-blood body; kneeling for three whole days and nights was more than any robust physique could handle, let alone ordinary flesh.
Not to mention that right after he finally finished his kneeling, Senior Sister Ming had just wanted to fetch some medicinal paste for him when she was summoned down the mountain by one of Zhenren Lingzhi’s subordinates.
He had not yet learned to fly on a sword, so naturally, he had sprinted all the way down the mountain on foot. His knees had long since reached their limit.
However, Zhenren Lingzhi’s medicated ointment was genuinely effective, and Mo Rubai could already feel a dramatic improvement.
“Junior Uncle, what do we need to do now?”
“Since you have nothing else to do, wash my hair for me,” Shen Zhiwei said casually, seeing nothing wrong with the request.
He still preferred the short hair of his past life, where a quick, casual rub with a towel was enough. But this long cascade of dark hair truly gave him endless headaches.
It was so long; how was he supposed to wash it by himself?
Hearing this, Mo Rubai’s expression stiffened slightly. What was Zhenren Lingzhi playing at?
Regardless of what Shen Zhiwei’s intentions were, Mo Rubai found himself trapped with no room to back out.
Because the other man had already stripped off the thin inner garment covering his upper body.
Shen Zhiwei thought nothing of it. They were both men—what was wrong with going shirtless around each other? Besides, he was Mo Rubai’s elder; asking him to wash his hair was no big deal.
“What are you dawdling for?” Shen Zhiwei raised a hand slightly, and a basin of prepared warm water alongside a stool slightly lower than the bed appeared directly in front of them.
Mo Rubai pressed his lips together. “Alright.”
No matter what Zhenren Lingzhi wanted to do to him, he surely wasn’t planning to murder him in a place like this.
This wasn’t the first time Mo Rubai had waited on someone. His adoptive mother’s family had been impoverished, and every day she could only do odd jobs for wealthy households to earn a few coppers for their meals. When he had free time, he would tag along to help out.
And the only role he could play back then was that of a minor servant, waiting on the young masters…
Mo Rubai gazed at the person lying on the bed with eyes half-closed, pressing two fingers gently against Shen Zhiwei’s temples. With just a tiny bit of force, this man’s physical body could be destroyed. If luck was on his side, he could even claim Shen Zhiwei’s life right here…
“Mm-hm~” Shen Zhiwei let out a soft murmur of pleasure as the massage eased his tension.
The sound yanked Mo Rubai back to reality. He let out a soft breath; he had almost lost control just then!
Truth be told, Zhenren Lingzhi’s attitude toward him felt bizarrely trusting. Mo Rubai couldn’t shake off the strange sensation.
This scene of “paternal kindness and filial devotion” actually playing out between him and Shen Zhiwei…
It was truly bizarre.
“I am going to sleep for a bit,” Shen Zhiwei sighed softly. “Wake me when it gets dark.”
The “third underground level” was not actually located on a third basement floor, but rather on the first underground level of the Lexian Pavilion. “The Third Level” was simply a moniker, yet gaining entry to this place was by no means an easy feat.
Mo Rubai’s entire body was tense. While Lingxiao Sect disciples weren’t particularly familiar with the Lexian Pavilion as a whole, practically everyone knew of “The Third Level.”
Ordinary sect disciples were not permitted to enter, and even inner disciples required specific qualifications. However, since Shen Zhiwei was an elder, he could do as he pleased.
By having him descend into this “Third Level,” was Zhenren Lingzhi trying to push him into breaking another taboo?
Meanwhile, Shen Zhiwei, walking just ahead of him, still had slightly disheveled hair from his nap, and his sash was tied in a complete mess—a sight that made Mo Rubai furrow his brows deeply.
“Junior Uncle.” Mo Rubai finally couldn’t help speaking up. “Could you… stop for a moment?”
Shen Zhiwei turned around, looking puzzled. “Hm?”
Mo Rubai took two steps forward until he stood right in front of Shen Zhiwei, and with a gesture that felt close to insubordination, pressed a hand onto the elder’s shoulder, a look of repressed forbearance flickering in his eyes.
Shen Zhiwei felt his scalp tingle under that stare, only to hear the young man say, “Junior Uncle, your belt is loose.”