With Zhou Fuxue by his side, Ming Zhu returned to a life of idle comfort. Even as they traveled toward Rizhao Mountain in Ximu, his days remained perfectly pleasant.
The only downside was that at every stopping point, Zhou Fuxue—who usually maintained the face of a refined gentleman—would turn predatory. Ignoring Ming Zhu’s protests, he would insist on booking only one room, clearly harboring designs on "devouring" his Senior Brother once more.
Ming Zhu couldn't bring himself to actually strike the boy, so he resorted to reasoning with him, lecturing him on everything from human decency to the ethics of the Heavenly Dao. Zhou Fuxue would agree on the surface, only to pull a soundly sleeping Ming Zhu into his arms in the middle of the night, being as bothersome as could be.
In a fit of pique, Ming Zhu hastened their pace, and within a month, they arrived at Rizhao Mountain.
After months of traveling back and forth, summer had arrived. The quiet mountain paths wound upward, shaded by lush, verdant trees that blotted out the sun.
Ming Zhu looked at the three thousand mountain steps and let out a soft sigh. "I need to go to Baijian Mountain."
Zhou Fuxue was startled. "Are you not going back with me?"
Ming Zhu didn't answer. Zhou Fuxue immediately added, "Then I will go to Baijian Mountain with you."
Ming Zhu did not refuse. The two walked in silence from the Withered Wood Forest toward Baijian Mountain. Fifty years ago, when Ming Zhu was still the most famous "good-for-nothing" of Rizhao, he had been so terrified of Baijian Mountain that he hid behind Ming Fuhua, not daring to come out. Now, with a casual wave of his hand, the sun-blocking Withered Bone Mist instantly dissipated, carving out a path that led straight to the mountain.
Their journey was unimpeded.
Ming Zhu remained silent the entire way, and Zhou Fuxue did not speak either.
They reached Baijian Mountain in silence. Instead of entering the Sword Tomb, they leaped from the mountain peak, descending directly into the Discarded Sword Tomb.
Zhou Fuxue intended to follow, but Ming Zhu stopped him, asking him to wait at the entrance of Baijian Mountain.
After about half an hour, Ming Zhu emerged. His hands were still empty, but the corners of his eyes were slightly flushed.
Zhou Fuxue whispered, "Senior Brother?"
Ming Zhu shook his head. "Let’s go."
Seeing his expression, it was clear he hadn't found Kuayu. Zhou Fuxue didn't want to trouble him further and followed him back to Rizhao Mountain with his head bowed.
Perhaps Ming Zhu had finally come to terms with things; as he reached Rizhao Mountain this time, the fear and panic from his previous visit were gone. He stepped onto the three thousand stairs without a change in expression.
When they reached the disciples' level of Rizhao Mountain, Ming Zhu was once again blocked by the barrier.
Zhou Fuxue spoke somewhat awkwardly, "I’ve already asked Fifth Senior Brother to open the Rizhao barrier. In a moment, we—"
Ming Zhu raised a hand to stop him. With an expressionless face, he stepped forward and pressed his hand lightly against the transparent barrier. Then, his fingernails suddenly extended by half a joint. With a forceful hook of his fingers, he actually tore a gap right through the Rizhao barrier.
Zhou Fuxue: "..."
Ming Zhu stepped inside as if entering an uninhabited land, then casually waved his hand to repair the torn barrier with spiritual energy.
Ming Zhu turned back to look at the bewildered Zhou Fuxue and urged, "What is it? Let’s go."
Zhou Fuxue was momentarily speechless and hurried to catch up.
The tearing of the Rizhao barrier had alerted almost the entire mountain. Disciples rushed to the mountain gate to see what was happening, only to freeze in their tracks when they saw the white-haired Ming Zhu.
The Senior Brother didn't treat himself like a stranger. He waved casually and said, "Good morning. Are you off to your morning lessons?"
For a moment, the crowd couldn't tell if this person was a man or a ghost. But seeing Zhou Fuxue beside him, they settled down and greeted Ming Zhu in a daze.
"Ye—yes."
Ming Zhu smiled. "Go on then."
The disciples scrambled away in a hurry.
Watching the group of junior brothers run off, Ming Zhu let out a soft sigh, perhaps thinking of his own youth.
A moment later, Shang Yanfeng came running in a rush. "Senior Brother, you’ve finally arrived."
Ming Zhu noticed a few ink stains on Shang Yanfeng’s hem and smiled. "Are you busy?"
Shang Yanfeng frowned. "Master and Little Martial Uncle went into secluded cultivation a few days ago. Third Senior Brother has also entered the Cold Pond to sleep. I’m currently handling all the trivial matters of Rizhao. Why did you two take so long on the road? Zhou Fuxue, did you do something insolent again?"
Zhou Fuxue lowered his eyes submissively. "Fuxue wouldn't dare."
Shang Yanfeng scolded, "I think it’s not that you wouldn't dare, but that you didn't succeed. You rascal, get yourself to secluded cultivation."
Now that Ming Zhu was here, there was no way Zhou Fuxue would obediently go into seclusion. Just as he was about to argue, Ming Zhu suddenly spoke: "What did you just say? Xueyu..."
Ming Zhu’s face was somewhat pale, his lips trembling slightly.
Shang Yanfeng asked in confusion, "After returning from the Moon-Plucking Tower, Third Senior Brother said he was going into seclusion, but the place he went was the bottom of the Cold Pond. Once he falls asleep there, who knows how long it will be before he wakes. What is it? Do you have business with him?"
Ming Zhu took a deep breath and slowly closed his eyes.
Na Lian...
Even if Yan Xueyu might sleep forever and never wake up, Na Lian had at least... left him a lingering hope, sparing him from the pain of watching his own junior brother leave him once again.
Ming Zhu’s lips curved into a smile, his voice slightly unsteady. "It’s... nothing."
He paused, then suddenly asked, "Where is Yi Fuju now? I want to see him."
Zhou Fuxue and Shang Yanfeng fell silent instantly.
A moment later, a fine drizzle began to fall. Ming Zhu walked alone, holding an umbrella, across the long suspension bridge between the two mountains, heading toward Rizhao’s West Mountain.
At this hour, all the West Mountain disciples were at Wujiu Hall for morning lessons; the entire mountain was deserted.
Ming Zhu navigated a familiar forest and stopped before a private courtyard.
This was Ming Fuhua’s residence.
He knocked gently on the door. Soon, it opened to reveal Ming Fuhua’s frost-cold face.
She clearly hadn't expected it to be him. Her expression stiffened, followed by a look of wariness.
Ming Zhu gave her a slight nod. "Miss Ming, I am looking for Yi Fuju. I trouble you to ask him to come out and catch up on old times."
Ming Fuhua’s hand tightened on the doorframe, leaving a fingernail mark in the wood.
Ming Zhu didn't rush her. He remained where he was, looking at her with a faint smile.
Ming Fuhua lowered her head slightly. After a moment of silence between them, she spoke in a raspy voice, "Are you truly my... brother?"
Ming Zhu said softly, "Naturally not. Didn't you say so yourself?"
Ming Fuhua was stunned.
After saying this, Ming Zhu seemed unaware of how hurtful his words were. His eyes crinkled. "May I see him?"
Ming Fuhua gritted her teeth hard. After a long while, she finally opened the door and let Ming Zhu in.
Ming Fuhua’s courtyard was as cold and desolate as she was. In the vast space, there was nothing but a small pavilion and a single white plum tree. Because her spiritual veins were of the cold attribute, the plum blossoms remained in full bloom even in early summer.
Upon entering, the first thing Ming Zhu saw wasn't the competing plum blossoms, but the person sitting in the pavilion.
Yi Fuju sat upright in the pavilion, dressed in white. A pot of tea sat before him, the white steam rising and nearly veiling his face.
Ming Zhu walked forward step by step. These few paces felt as though they took an eternity.
The person he could never reach, no matter how he stretched out his hand when he fell from the Sun-Obscuring Cliff, was now sitting there quietly. In fifty years, he hadn't changed a bit.
Hearing footsteps, the picturesque Yi Fuju turned his head toward him. When he saw Ming Zhu, a smile appeared on his handsome, gentle face, like a refreshing breeze.
"Ming Zhu, you’ve come."
Ming Zhu walked up and sat opposite Yi Fuju, his eyes fixed unblinkingly on him. "I’ve come."
Ming Zhu knew that Yi Fuju didn't recognize him at all.
Ever since he had woken up fifty years ago, severely injured and with decades of cultivation lost due to the Silence Curse, he had been in this state of mental confusion. Though he functioned normally in daily life, he could never recognize people.
It could be said that except for Ming Fuhua, he perceived everyone before him as Ming Zhu.
The two looked at each other in silence.
Yi Fuju raised his hand to pour a cup of tea for Ming Zhu. Ming Zhu took it and had a small sip, showing his first genuine smile. "The tea you brew still tastes the same as before."
Yi Fuju’s eyes curved into a smile, but he said nothing more.
They finished the pot of tea cup by cup, without a single word passing between them.
When the tea was gone, Ming Zhu set the cup down with a soft *clack*. He stood up and said, "I’m leaving."
Yi Fuju looked at him blankly. "Leaving...?"
"Yes."
Yi Fuju asked again, "Where are you going?"
Ming Zhu didn't speak and turned to leave.
In the next instant, his whole body stiffened, and he stopped in his tracks.
Yi Fuju had suddenly reached out and grabbed his left wrist, gripping it with great force.
Ming Zhu, who had been calm this entire time, suddenly felt his eyes grow red.
Yi Fuju looked at their hands in confusion. As if remembering something, he suddenly murmured, "I caught you."
Ming Zhu’s hand trembled slightly.
Yi Fuju held on tightly, looking up at him with a touch of hope. "I caught you, right?"
Ming Zhu raised his hand to lightly cover his eyes. After a moment, he took a deep breath, turned around, and gave Yi Fuju a smile through his reddened eyes.
"Right."
That single word "right" completely dissolved the fifty years of regret and resentment between them.
Yi Fuju stared at him blankly, then he too began to smile, as peaceful as ever.
Resentment is easily harbored in youth, but after tumbling through the red dust of the world and looking back, those hatreds and regrets no longer seem so heavy.
Ming Zhu did not stay long. Before he could leave the courtyard, Ming Fuhua, who had been avoiding him like a venomous snake, suddenly chased after him.
Ming Zhu still couldn't bring himself to treat this sister he had once cherished like a stranger, though he was no longer as attentive as before.
Ming Zhu stopped and turned back. "Is there something?"
Ming Fuhua looked at him, hesitating.
Ming Zhu waited for a moment, but when she still didn't say a word, he grew impatient. He frowned and turned to leave.
Ming Fuhua suddenly said, "I drove him mad..."
Ming Zhu paused and turned to look at her.
Ming Fuhua bit her lip and murmured, "It was because I kept questioning him back then that he became like this."
Ming Zhu didn't quite understand. "And?"
Ming Fuhua looked lost, her eyes shimmering with tears. "If my brother were still alive... then what does all my resentment toward him over these years amount to?"
Ming Zhu’s eyes flickered.
"He said my brother fell to the bottom of the Sun-Obscuring Cliff. I wanted to go look for him, but everyone stopped me," Ming Fuhua said, not even knowing what she was saying. She had suffered for so many years and had no one to tell. "He kept saying you were dead. Later, everyone said you were dead. I hated him so much, I said so many cruel things to him..."
She had driven Yi Fuju into his current state, and she had suffered in self-reproach for so many years, only for someone to tell her that Ming Zhu wasn't dead—that he was still alive.
How ridiculous.
Ming Fuhua finally couldn't hold it back. Tears fell in streams as she sobbed, "Then what have I been all these years?"
Ming Zhu watched her sob until she was breathless, standing quietly where he was.
Only when she covered her face and crouched on the ground, shaking with sobs, did Ming Zhu speak softly. "Do you love him?"
Ming Fuhua stiffened and looked at him blankly.
Ming Zhu asked again, "Do you hate him?"
Ming Fuhua couldn't speak.
Ming Zhu said, "If you hated him that much for Ming Zhu’s death, you wouldn't have taken care of him for all these years."
Ming Fuhua suddenly sank to her knees, her body going limp.
"If Ming Zhu is dead, you can still love him; if Ming Zhu is alive, you fall into such painful confusion..." Ming Zhu’s voice was light and soft, carrying a hint of cold finality. "...If it will make you less miserable, then just pretend I am not Ming Zhu."
Ming Fuhua stared at him in a daze.
Having said his piece, Ming Zhu didn't linger. He gave her a nod and slowly walked away, leaving Ming Fuhua slumped on the ground alone.
A long time later, a suppressed, agonizing sob escaped her throat.
Ming Zhu didn't look back. Since he had decided to live well, he would no longer live for others.
He retraced his steps. The rain grew heavier. He had forgotten his umbrella in Ming Fuhua’s courtyard, but he didn't care, slowly admiring the scenery along the way.
As he crossed the suspension bridge, the rain intensified. Ming Zhu didn't use spiritual energy to ward off the rain. Before long, he was soaked through, his damp hair clinging to his face.
In the distance, a bamboo-framed umbrella seemed to drift toward him. Then, a figure hurried through the mist. Seeing Ming Zhu drenched, the person immediately rushed forward.
For some reason, Ming Zhu suddenly felt a sense of relief.
Zhou Fuxue approached with a dark expression. He reached out to wipe the rain from Ming Zhu’s face and scolded, "Didn't you take an umbrella? How did you get soaked like this?"
Ming Zhu stood still, letting him wipe the water away. "I left it at Second Brother’s place."
Zhou Fuxue’s hand paused. Only then did he awkwardly pull Ming Zhu into his arms, shielding him as they walked toward Buzhiya.
"Ninth and Tenth Senior Brothers have already tidied up Buzhiya. We can move straight in," Zhou Fuxue said as they walked. "We’ll stay here for a while. If you don't like it, you can come with me to live in the Kingdom of Jianglou."
Ming Zhu was led along, leaning into him. He tilted his head to look at Zhou Fuxue. The more he looked, the more his heart itched. For some inexplicable reason, he suddenly stopped, reached up to hook his arms around Zhou Fuxue’s neck, and kissed him directly on the lips.
Zhou Fuxue: "..."
The bamboo umbrella slipped from Zhou Fuxue’s hand, and the rain pattered down on them both.
Ming Zhu gave him a fleeting kiss. Seeing Zhou Fuxue’s stunned expression, he laughed and said, "Hold the umbrella."
Only then did Zhou Fuxue clumsily pick up the umbrella and hold it over their heads again, his ears turning bright red.
Ming Zhu was truly at a loss with Zhou Fuxue. On the way to Rizhao, the boy had been thinking of nothing but how to sneak into his bed at night, yet now he acted so innocent just from being kissed?
Ming Zhu looked at Zhou Fuxue’s bashful face and found himself liking him more and more. He reached out to tug on Zhou Fuxue’s hand, hooking his pinky finger and tapping the Concentric Knot on their wrists. "Are we considered Dao companions now?"
Zhou Fuxue was stunned.
Ming Zhu urged him unhappily, "Are we?"
Zhou Fuxue immediately said, "Yes!"
Seeing his wide-eyed, earnest look, Ming Zhu couldn't help but laugh out loud, reaching out to hug him again.
The mountain mists swirled, veiling their figures.
The youthful pining and secret admirations, the delusions once held in the heart, had finally reached their conclusion.
Peace reigned across the five continents.
***
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Is Everyone Else's Eldest Disciple Like This? | Chapter 121 | Peace Across the Continents | Novela.app | Novela.app
