By late afternoon, the boat docked, and the two walked into the bustling, noisy streets of the town.
The town was small, and after walking for only a few steps, they found an inn.
“Innkeeper, we need rooms!” Xiao Huai stepped inside first.
The innkeeper pulled aside a corner of the beaded curtain, the jade clinking as it moved. A gray-haired man stepped out to greet Xiao Huai with a beaming smile: “How many guests are staying, and how many rooms do you need?”
“There are two of us…”
Before Xiao Huai could finish, Su Ce interjected, “We need two rooms.”
Hearing Su Ce’s arrangement, Xiao Huai felt a hidden flash of displeasure, but he dared not show it openly, which caused the innkeeper to cast an extra glance at him.
He had expected the innkeeper to regretfully inform them that the inn was full and only one room remained which would have allowed him to share a bed and pillow with Su Ce.
But that was merely his delusion; the innkeeper simply nodded in agreement.
Even if his dream had come true, he didn’t know how he would have acted. Lately, the weather had been hot and dry, and even brief physical contact with Su Ce left him feeling agitated and stifled.
Su Ce noticed him standing there in a daze and walked to his side: “What are you standing there like a fool for? Hurry up and pay.”
Xiao Huai was jolted back to reality. He slowly took his purse from his chest, seeing the innkeeper’s greedy expression, he felt even more gloomy. Useless fool, can’t even help with this! he cursed silently.
In the blink of an eye, when they stood before their respective doors, they realized the two rooms were side-by-side.
Xiao Huai felt a slight flicker of joy.
When Su Ce saw Xiao Huai turn his head as if to say something, he ducked directly into his room and locked it, as if he were afraid of being pestered if he were even a second late.
Su Ce lay on the inn’s bed, hands behind his head, listlessly inspecting the furnishings. The air was filled with the aged, musty scent of wood soaked through by years of rain.
This damp, musty smell strangely made Su Ce feel a sense of nostalgia.
Before he knew it, he drifted off to sleep, and the dream he hadn’t finished last time resurfaced in his mind.
Though many years had passed, the memory still filled him with lingering fear.
The year he went north to the capital was a famine year. Refugees swarmed the roads, and they were robbed of everything by mountain bandits halfway there.
Back then, Su Ce had shed his rags for fine, expensive silk. The bandits had sharp eyes and recognized him as wealthy, kidnapping him and locking him in a ruined mountain temple.
He didn’t remember how long he had been blindfolded in that temple. He only remembered the bandits who chatted and laughed outside his door every night. Then, one day, they simply didn’t come back. He was left alone in the vast, ruined temple in the silent, pitch-black night, with the howling of wild beasts in the distance. He curled into a ball, tears soaking the black cloth, not daring to make a sound. He prayed silently that the beasts wouldn’t enter the temple, staying tense until the crowing of a rooster announced the dawn.
That night, exhausted and famished, Su Ce lay listening to the wind whistling through the rotted windows, his hope for survival extinguished.
Perhaps it wasn’t his time to die. Amidst the deafening thunder, he heard faint footsteps, and someone unfastened the cloth from his eyes.
The moment he opened them, lightning slashed through the darkness.
Su Ce didn’t see the vicious faces of the bandits or the green-glowing eyes of a beast. Instead, he saw a young child with dark, sun-kissed skin and eyes as bright as black gemstones, hair tied casually to one side, looking at him and asking softly, “Why are you here all alone?”
Su Ce didn’t find the voice strange at that moment. He answered in a weak, raspy voice: “So hungry.”
The child nimbly untied the ropes binding him, then pulled a small, palm-sized flatbread from his tunic and held it out to him: “This is all I have. Do you want it?”
Su Ce took the bread. He hated dry, choking bread, but he didn’t care about anything else now, devouring it greedily.
The child watched him eat quietly, then asked, “Whose child are you?”
Su Ce wiped his mouth, ignored the question, and asked: “Do you have water?”
The child nodded and took a water skin from his waist, handing it over.
Su Ce shook it, listening to the slosh of water, then drank it all in one go, feeling his strength slightly return.
But when he tried to stand, his legs numb from hours of bondage gave way, and he collapsed to the floor.
The child hesitated, seeming to realize his predicament, and immediately crouched down, turning his back to Su Ce.
Su Ce understood immediately. Staring at a frame even smaller than his own, he felt a mix of disdain and reluctance: “Can you even carry me?”
The child turned his head and nodded: “Don’t worry, I can carry you.”
Su Ce looked out the window at the lightning and listened to the howling of the mountain wolves.
He was already exhausted, and after a brief mental struggle, thinking he’d rather die with someone than alone, he climbed begrudgingly onto the child’s back.
That night, the rain poured, and the mountain path was a muddy mess. Even though they were soaked through, Su Ce always felt the back of the child before him was sturdy, reliable, and warm. Perhaps it was just the contact of their bodies, a faint warmth that kept the cold at bay.
Before he knew it, Su Ce rested his head against the child’s left shoulder, hearing the heartbeat become clearer and clearer.
Suddenly, that bony, rigid back that had been hurting him transformed into a flesh-filled, broad, and fair chest.
He looked up and saw A-Huai’s face appearing clearly before him.
A-Huai’s gaze became dark and profound. He gripped Su Ce’s wrists tightly and demanded: “Why did you abandon me? Why? Do you hate me that much? If that’s the case, let’s die together, so no one can ever separate us again.”
Su Ce saw A-Huai’s eyes were bloodshot, his face twisted and狰狞(hideous) with hatred.
The heavy rain turned into a tidal wave rushing toward them. The more he struggled, the less he could move, forced to watch as he and A-Huai were swallowed by the flood.
Just as he felt he was about to suffocate and die, he was jolted awake by a frantic knocking on his door.
Su Ce opened his eyes abruptly, sitting up with a violent movement.
Xiao Huai pushed the door open to find Su Ce with a dark face, glaring at him irritably: “Did I tell you to come in? It’s the middle of the night—what are you doing, not sleeping?”
Xiao Huai saw Su Ce’s poor complexion, a light sheen of sweat on his temples. He scanned the room suspiciously, confirming nothing was amiss, and said: “Young Master, I noticed you didn’t sleep well earlier and barely touched your dinner. I wondered if you wanted the innkeeper to prepare a few side dishes so you could have something to eat.”
“…” Su Ce was speechless for a moment, his hands gripping the edge of the bed as he enunciated each word: “Eat, eat, eat—will you die if you miss a single meal?”
Su Ce turned his back to Xiao Huai, but the sound of footsteps leaving didn’t follow. He turned to see Xiao Huai staring at him like a wild beast eyeing its prey. The overlap between his dream and reality made his skin crawl: “What are you looking at? Do you want me to strip naked so you can see better?”
Xiao Huai remained silent.
This long silence made Su Ce feel guilty. He couldn’t guess what Xiao Huai was thinking. If he answered “Yes,” would he really have to strip?
Eventually, Xiao Huai said nothing and turned to leave.
An unknown amount of time passed before Su Ce heard Xiao Huai lying down on his bed in the next room.
Su Ce suddenly felt parched. As he reached for water, the scene from that night flashed back into his head.
He shook his head, thinking he must be insane to miss that night’s intensity.
But the body is the most honest thing. He didn’t usually engage in self-pleasure, but now, surrendered to reality, he struggled, reached under the quilt, and sighed slightly as he lifted his head.
Imagining A-Huai’s eyes from that night, mimicking his movements, he plunged into the vast ocean of desire.
His body was hypersensitive, itching to be touched. His skin was burning with arousal, but his bones were still crying out, shouting that it wasn’t enough, as if a part of his body was infinitely empty and lonely.
At that moment, Xiao Huai, separated by only a wall, shifted, causing his bed to creak.
Su Ce’s hazy eyes cleared in a moment of panic. He bit down on his quilt, suppressing his stifled gasps for fear that Xiao Huai would hear him.
A moment later, as Su Ce finally found release, he tensed his body, lifted his chin, and let out a soft, shuddering sigh of satisfaction.
Then, he lay limply on the bed, strands of hair falling over his face.
A mocking smile bloomed on his lips.
When did he become this unable to resist his desires, this eager for release?
Perhaps, A-Huai had long since stopped being a substitute for Fu Huaizhi, but rather, like a spring rain that soaks the earth without a sound, had quietly walked into his heart on that spring night.
Only now, in the end, did he understand.
The next morning, just as the sky was beginning to brighten, Xiao Huai tiptoed out of his room.
Last night, he had realized the town was rich in seafood. He planned to go to the market to buy a fresh fish to make the fish porridge Su Ce loved.
On his way back, his gaze was drawn to a stall selling jewelry.
The proprietress noticed Xiao Huai lingering and called out warmly: “Young sir, why stand so far away? Come closer and look at the styles. Mine are beautiful and reasonably priced, guaranteed authentic.”
Xiao Huai met the woman’s eyes and turned to the stall, picking up a white magnolia hairpin: “How much for this?”
The woman smiled: “Young sir, you have great taste. This hair stick just arrived yesterday. It’s made of high-quality white jade, usually reserved for the palace. And the magnolia flower has a wonderful meaning—it represents sincere love. It’s the perfect gift for your beloved. If you’re serious, two hundred wen.”
Xiao Huai was moved by her words. He imagined Su Ce in a rain of falling flowers, wearing the jade hairpin he’d given him, reaching out to smile at him—what difference would that be from a heavenly immortal descending to earth?
The woman saw he was lost in thought but didn’t rush him, waiting expectantly.
Xiao Huai seemed to remember something and asked quietly: “Can a man wear this?”
The woman was surprised for a moment, then quickly replied: “Of course, young sir.”
This time, Xiao Huai didn’t hesitate. He paid the money, but as he was leaving, he asked: “Do you have something to wrap this in?”
The woman gave a knowing look and deftly placed the item into a wooden box, saying: “Young sir, the Lanruo Temple on the south side of town is very effective for granting romantic wishes. If you have time, you should go.”
She finished wrapping it and handed it back to Xiao Huai.
Back at the inn, Xiao Huai glanced at Su Ce’s closed door and breathed a sigh of relief, thinking Su Ce was still asleep.
The next second, as he entered, Su Ce swung his door open and called after Xiao Huai’s back: “Where were you at this hour, not staying in your room?”
Xiao Huai slipped the wooden box into his sleeve and turned: “Young Master, I was afraid you wouldn’t be used to the local cuisine, so I went to buy fish to boil some porridge for you.”
Su Ce glanced at him, snorted, and urged: “Then go ahead, I’m starving.”
When the steaming fish porridge was placed on the table, Su Ce stirred the bowl, feeling a bit uneasy as he asked: “Did you hear any strange sounds last night?”
Xiao Huai took a sip of cool tea, composed, and said: “No. I heard nothing at all.”
But in truth, last night, the moment Su Ce made his first sound, Xiao Huai’s eyes had been glued to the wall separating them. Listening to Su Ce’s soft gasps, he reached out and traced the rough wall, imagining he was touching Su Ce’s lips. He had moved closer to the wall, as if trying to press against Su Ce’s side and feel his chest rising and falling with hurried breaths.
He wanted to ask Su Ce: “When you do these things, who are you thinking of? Is it Fu Huaizhi, or me?”
But he did nothing, only letting out a sigh.
His sigh and his question were too light and too heavy—too light to pierce the thin wall, too heavy for the wind and moon to carry. He could only leave his questions in his heart.
Su Ce didn’t seem to believe him: “Really?”
“Was there something unusual last night? If so, does the Young Master need A-Huai to sleep in his room tonight?”
Su Ce lifted his eyes to look at Xiao Huai and replied casually: “We’ll see.”
That afternoon, while they were strolling down the street, Xiao Huai asked intentionally: “Young Master, I heard there is a Lanruo Temple in the south, said to be very effective. Should we go pray?”
Su Ce squinted at Xiao Huai: “Pray for what? Romantic luck?”
Xiao Huai nodded and whispered: “May I?”
Su Ce had just been making things up, wanting to put an end to Xiao Huai’s interest in the temple; he hadn’t expected such a reply.
He felt a strange sensation rise in his heart.
He wanted to mock him, but seeing the yearning in Xiao Huai’s eyes, curiosity got the better of him. He wanted to see who in this world could possibly be better than he was.
“Fine. Since you want to pray, I’ll accompany you today while I’m in a good mood.”
When they entered the temple, and Xiao Huai returned with three sticks of incense and a concentric lock, Su Ce was standing under a locust tree, using his hand as a fan to cool himself.
The sun wasn’t yet scorching, but sweat trickled down Su Ce’s fair skin, reflecting a dazzling light.
He looked at the object in Xiao Huai’s hands and complained: “Why so slow?”
“I met the abbot; he said I had a karmic connection with him and invited me to draw a fortune.”
Su Ce opened his mouth, then swallowed the words on the verge of escaping. He said nothing.
He didn’t care what the abbot had said; he feared that the “connection” Xiao Huai sought was not with him.
The human heart changes quickly; the person who said he liked him a second ago, after being rejected, could have someone else in his heart the next. He would surely leave him before long.
Su Ce grew angrier as he thought, and he quickened his pace.
Xiao Huai noticed and hurried to explain: “The abbot said my destined marriage will be rocky, but it will eventually be complete.”
Su Ce stopped and looked back, enunciating each word: “I! Have no interest in hearing about any of your affairs. Whether your romantic path is rocky or smooth, it has nothing to do with me!”
He marched off.
At the “Tree of Destiny,” Su Ce watched as Xiao Huai carefully hung the concentric lock at the very top of the branches, hiding it from view.
Su Ce was genuinely irritated, muttering to himself: “What’s so great about it? So secretive.”
He walked away, but when he returned, he held an identical lock. He mimicked Xiao Huai and hung it on the branch diagonal to Xiao Huai’s.
Once finished, Su Ce clapped his hands and smiled: “You tell me, if this thing really could lock two people together for a lifetime, why would there be so many suffering lovers in the world?”
Xiao Huai looked up at the lock Su Ce had just hung, dying to know whose name was written on it. A sudden breeze made the lock swing, preventing him from seeing the handwriting.
Xiao Huai felt a mix of discomfort, his face stiffening as he asked: “Young Master, whose name did you write?”
Su Ce rolled his eyes at him with a cocky, ruffian-like air: “What’s it to you? Did you tell me who you wrote?”
Xiao Huai gritted his teeth, thinking of how Su Ce had resisted him, and probed: “If I tell you, will you tell me?”
Su Ce was silent for a moment, then turned his head away: “I don’t want to know at all.”