After suffering this catastrophe, Zhang Nianxiang completely gave up on himself.
He stayed indoors all day, refusing to step out or see anyone. He declined his rank promotion and ceased his martial arts practice. The beloved long spear he had wielded since childhood was shoved under the bed, where it gathered a thick layer of dust.
When his close brothers came to visit, Nianxiang ignored them all, choosing instead to lie in bed and weep in silence. In just a few days, he became so thin he was unrecognizable.
His brothers watched with aching hearts. “Nianxiang, it wasn’t your fault. Why torture yourself like this?”
“A real man has grander ambitions. Just treat it as being bitten by a dog; it’s no big deal.”
“Look at Fang Yao on the next street,” Brother B added, sounding jaded. “He even slept in that disgusting fat pig E Ren’s bed, and he’s still living fine. Besides, that Ji Xing isn’t exactly bad-looking…”
He was halfway through his sentence when Brother A glared at him, forcing him to shut his mouth awkwardly.
“Nianxiang, you arrived late so you might not know, but things like this aren’t rare in the Eastern Wasteland,” Brother A sighed softly. “So, no one will look down on you.”
“Nianxiang, get up. Come practice with us. Shanshan is still waiting for you to return home in glory!”
The vacant eyes of the youth on the bed finally focused for a moment. He said in a trembling voice, “I am no longer worthy of Shanshan…” He felt he was too filthy to be called an upright, honorable man. He was even more ashamed to face his parents and elders at Hongguang Pavilion, fearing he would see nothing but disappointment in their eyes.
This was the education he had received since childhood: these “cut-sleeve” matters were the height of filth and could never be brought into the light. He feared the Pavilion would be dragged down by his reputation and become a laughingstock for other families.
How would the gossips and busybodies portray him?
“The young master of Hongguang Pavilion actually submitted to a man like a woman. How shameless!”
“I heard he learned no skills in the Eastern Wasteland, only the art of a vixen to seduce men~”
“Pah, how lowly.”
Perhaps the daily encouragement and companionship of his brothers finally paid off. A month before the third Hunt, Zhang Nianxiang finally managed to get out of bed, dress himself, and eat. His brothers gathered around him, happily raising their cups in celebration. Nianxiang seemed infected by the joy, rare smiles reaching his eyes as he drank with them.
Waking up from a hangover the next morning, the youth saw the man standing by his bed. His body tensed, and he looked as if he were facing a mortal enemy. Fortunately, Ji Xing only looked at him tenderly for a while before leaving silently.
The painful memories Nianxiang had struggled to suppress surged back. He immediately leaned over the bed and dry-heaved uncontrollably, not stopping even when he began vomiting bile.
So filthy. So filthy.
Nianxiang rushed into the courtyard, drawing bucket after bucket of cold water to pour over himself. The night was cold, and he froze in the wintry wind until his lips turned purple. He came down with a high fever the next day. It was his brothers who discovered him first, taking turns to care for him until the fever finally broke.
What Nianxiang didn’t know was that these few short days would be the final moments he would ever spend with his brothers.
Time passed in a flash. Amidst the mundane days, Zhang Nianxiang faced his third quarterly Hunt. This time, he again chose to go alone.
“Ji Xing won’t let me go,” Nianxiang said, wrapping himself in layer after layer of clothing, like a fragile pupa spinning a thick cocoon before attempting to turn into a butterfly.
“I don’t want to involve you,” he said. “It’s nothing more than that business. I’ll just close my eyes and it’ll be over.” He spoke with a cold indifference, as if discussing someone else’s problems.
However, upon reaching the hunting ground, Nianxiang encountered a different, unknown hunter. That bastard Ji Xing hadn’t come for him? An inexplicable sense of foreboding rose in his heart. He felt that the man was brewing some kind of evil scheme.
Nianxiang pushed aside his suspicions and focused on dealing with the hunter. Throughout the day, he managed to keep his life through several narrow escapes. He again chose to remain a Green Jade; he had lost the drive to move upward. The soaring ambitions he once held had been crushed the moment Ji Xing forced him down.
Even now, he remembered every detail of that first night in the Hunt. The stars were many and bright, and the moon was as round as a silver plate, hanging clearly against the deep blue night. It was just as bright and beautiful as the many nights he and Min Shanshan had shared before coming here.
What was he thinking about while he was being subdued? The image of a girl’s spirited, charming eyes appeared in his mind, along with the vows they had made to hold hands for a lifetime yet beneath him was a tearing pain that made him want to vomit…
This time, returning victorious from the Hunt, Nianxiang didn’t go to his own residence. Instead, he hurried to find his brothers. Door after door he knocked, but no one answered.
His face grew increasingly pale. He sat clutching his spear in front of Brother A’s door, shivering from the cold. The chill radiated from his very soul; no matter how he rubbed his hands or stomped his feet, he couldn’t feel a shred of warmth.
By the second half of the night, Nianxiang could no longer sit still. He ignored the rules and rushed to the hunting ground where his brothers had been assigned. At the foot of the mountain, he saw a row of stiff corpses lying on the ground.
“All dead.” “Not a single survivor.”
The disciple cleaning the battlefield shook his head and urged him, “Go back quickly. It won’t be good if you’re seen.”
Nianxiang grabbed the disciple, his bloodshot eyes looking as if they were about to drip blood. “Who was the hunter? Tell me who the hunter was!!” he roared, his grip so tight it caused the disciple pain.
“Are you crazy!” another disciple shouted, rushing over and shoving him away. “Get lost! If you don’t leave, I’ll report this to the higher-ups, and you’ll face the consequences!”
The disciple he had grabbed was soft-hearted; he pulled a list from his robes, checked it, and told him: “The hunter was Ji Xing.”
Hearing this, Nianxiang’s legs gave out, and he collapsed onto the ground. He opened his mouth and tilted his face back, clutching his hair and wailing in total despair. It was he who had killed them. It was he who had killed them all!!!
At that moment, a masked man appeared in the moonlight. All the cleaners fell silent and moved to the side in fear. The man Ji Xing walked toward Zhang Nianxiang with unhurried steps. His tall, dark silhouette swallowed the youth’s shadow like a giant beast.
Nianxiang was weeping so intensely he was oblivious to the approaching danger. Ji Xing smiled, leaned down, and scooped up his heartbroken beloved, throwing him over his shoulder.
“Ji Xing! Ji Xing, you animal! You’ll die a thousand deaths!!!” Nianxiang realized what was happening as the world spun around him. He struggled frantically, screaming curses like a madman. His upbringing and refinement were all thrown into the gutter in his state of extreme hatred and rage.
Ji Xing let him curse, using his movement techniques to reach their residence in a few leaps. That night, Nianxiang was tormented repeatedly until dawn.
The next morning, Ji Xing still wouldn’t let him go, acting as if he wanted to make up for three months of suppressed desire in a single go. As for Nianxiang, after a night in a hell a hundred times worse than the first, his voice was too raspy to make a sound and his eyes were swollen shut from crying. He lay there in a daze like a dead fish, letting the man do as he pleased.
When the storm finally passed, Ji Xing satisfiedly cleaned the youth up and left him alone in the room to rest. Once he was gone, Nianxiang closed his eyes, ripped the hair crown from his head, and bent it into a sharp blade. He slashed it ruthlessly across the artery of his wrist. Blood gushed out instantly. The youth curled his lip and closed his eyes, peacefully enjoying the feeling of life slowly draining from his body.
As it turned out, he didn’t die. Ji Xing dragged the most famous physician in Zhuifeng Town to the house, forcing the old man to stay awake until he pulled Nianxiang back from the brink of death.
Nianxiang didn’t open his eyes until ten days later. Ji Xing entered the room carrying a small box, still smelling of the morning dew, and climbed into bed with his clothes on. He sat against the headboard and pulled the weak, pale youth into his embrace. He stroked Nianxiang’s peeling lips with a hot finger and said casually, “Nianxiang, you’re willing to smile at them, but not at me. I’m jealous.”
Zhang Nianxiang stared vacantly at the gauze curtains above the bed, silent and unmoved. Ji Xing didn’t care; he leaned down to kiss the youth’s lips. Nianxiang remained motionless, his breath so light it was almost imperceptible, like a lifeless doll. After a moment of nuzzling with no reaction, Ji Xing bit down in a fit of irritation. Nianxiang’s body shuddered, but he still made no sound.
Satisfied, Ji Xing looked up and opened the small box, holding it at an angle before the youth’s eyes. “Nianxiang, you made me worry for many days. This is a small punishment for you.”
Nianxiang’s vacant eyes suddenly focused. He stared at the box, his eyelids peeling wider and wider until the edges tore and blood leaked into his eyes, dyeing the whites a terrifying scarlet. His breathing grew rapid and shallow, like an asthma patient gasping for air while clutching his chest.
Ji Xing smiled and took the object from the box, twirling it playfully in his hand. It was a complete pinky finger with its nail painted a soft rose color. It was slender and beautiful, yet its color was a stiff, pale blue from lack of blood. On the second knuckle was a tiny mole that Nianxiang knew all too well.
Shanshan…
“Every time you attempt suicide, I will cut off one of her fingers. If you try twice, I’ll take an arm. If you truly die, I’ll cut off her head and bury it with you so you won’t be lonely on the road to the Yellow Springs.”
As he spoke, Ji Xing playfully placed the severed finger in the youth’s hand. He smiled and continued to provoke Nianxiang as if it weren’t enough: “Nianxiang, tell me… am I good to you?”
“AAAAAAAGH!!!!” Nianxiang howled in rage, tears of blood streaming from his eyes as he wailed in agony. He gripped the severed finger, his entire body convulsing and shaking on the bed. He was utterly helpless. It felt as if an invisible hand had reached into his chest and squeezed his shattered heart until it was a solid lump of pain before cruelly shoving it back in.
He was being tormented by a pain worse than death. He wanted to go mad, yet he couldn’t. That single rational thread connected to Min Shanshan held him firmly, forcibly dragging him back from the brink of insanity.
Ji Xing watched his eyes become lively again. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he reached out and pulled the youth into his arms. “Nianxiang, if I can’t have your heart, having your body is a fine thing as well.” That soul-consuming taste was something he could never have enough of. He leaned close to the youth’s ear and coaxed him softly: “If you’re willing to smile for me, I’ll restrain myself for another three decades (30 days). How about it?”
What followed was another round of “overturning the dragon and phoenix”…
This time, Nianxiang had to recover in bed for many days before he could walk. Ji Xing brought a bowl of porridge to feed him, and Nianxiang obediently opened his mouth to swallow the stomach-soothing liquid. Looking at the youth’s pale face, Ji Xing used a finger to stroke his cheek tenderly. “Was I too rough?”
Nianxiang’s swallowing faltered. He raised his eyes to look at the man through a mouth full of rice porridge. Suddenly, his lips curled into a smile. He nodded and swallowed.
That fleeting smile made Ji Xing’s heart skip a beat; it felt as sweet as if he had been fed honey. Driven by impulse, the man reached out and scooped the youth up. Instead of struggling, Nianxiang raised his arms and gently hooked them around the man’s neck. His black hair slid silkily over the man’s arm as he leaned submissively into his embrace.
Ji Xing walked quickly to the bed and set him down, preparing to press himself upon him. Suddenly, he remembered the promise he had made in the heat of passion. He propped himself up with both hands on either side of the youth, staring at him intently.
Nianxiang smiled at him again and raised his hands, beginning to unbutton his own robes. Ji Xing quickly reached out to pull the youth’s clothes back together. Suppressing the heat throughout his body, he said raspily, “Nianxiang, I’m a man of my word.”
Nianxiang was sent back to his own residence. Once he was separated from Ji Xing, the life in his eyes vanished instantly. He stood expressionless in the courtyard for a full day, as motionless as a wooden stake.
That evening, he finally moved. He pushed open his door, walked to the next street, and knocked on E Ren’s door. The moment that disgusting fat pig began to drool, Nianxiang had already finished stripping off his clothes. Facing such a beauty delivered to his door, E Ren couldn’t hold back; he dragged the naked youth into the room for a session of “flipping red waves.”
Having started this path, there was no turning back. For three consecutive months, Nianxiang knocked on the doors of different people every day. They were all notorious, filthy wretches in Zhuifeng Town.
Over time, Nianxiang contracted a venereal disease from an unknown source. Walking down the street, people avoided him like the plague, pointing and whispering.
“That piece of trash is back again.” “How shameless.” “Get away quickly, watch out you don’t catch it from him!!”
Strangely, Ji Xing never appeared, acting as if he knew nothing of the matter.