Zhou Fuxue did not sleep all night.
Shen Dian had repeatedly warned him not to go to the Rizhao Great Hall and cause trouble for Ming Zhu. Unable to sleep in his own courtyard, he eventually ran to Ming Zhu’s residence, intending to wait for his return.
By nature, Zhou Fuxue was somewhat insecure. Even though he knew someone as carefree as Ming Zhu wouldn't mind others entering his room, he felt too awkward to go inside. Instead, he sat on the long veranda, hugging his knees.
Zhou Fuxue tilted his head to look at the drooping flowers nearby, feeling that his current state was quite strange. He had only known Ming Zhu for less than a month, yet the sharp edges he had instinctively developed from a childhood of being bullied always seemed to soften whenever he faced that smiling face.
He could show a cold, distant indifference to others, but with Ming Zhu, he could never maintain a harsh tone for more than three sentences. As he watched the flowers, Zhou Fuxue pondered the reason. Bored, he dipped his finger into the rainwater on the railing and began tracing characters onto the wooden floorboards, methodically listing a string of Ming Zhu’s flaws.
—Speaks nonsense, lacks focus in everything he does, is dissolute and unrestrained, messy, and oh, never attends morning lessons.
Zhou Fuxue hadn't realized Ming Zhu had so many contemptible flaws. He fell silent for a moment, then immediately wiped away the water marks and racked his brain to think of Ming Zhu’s virtues.
Half a day later, the water on his hand had dried, yet he couldn't find a single merit in Ming Zhu.
Zhou Fuxue: "..."
After thinking for a long time, he finally attributed the root cause to the fact that Ming Zhu’s skin was thicker than a city wall's corner. In his ten years of life, Zhou Fuxue had never seen anyone with thicker skin than his Eldest Senior Brother.
Having rationalized this, Zhou Fuxue finally breathed a sigh of relief, feeling that he wasn't being special toward someone who lacked even a single virtue.
He thought to himself, *I’m not worried about him; I’m just trying to fulfill my duty as a junior brother.*
Zhou Fuxue thought a bit more, then muttered to himself as if trying to convince his own heart, "Consider it repayment for him helping me out during the morning lesson."
With that settled, he suddenly felt much better.
Congratulations were in order; the debt for the morning lesson incident was finally cleared in Zhou Fuxue's mind.
After saying that, he added, "But what about him carrying me back from the Hall of Longevity, or his protection charm saving my life in the Abandoned Sword Mound? What about those two things?"
...Fine, he would save those to be cleared later.
If Shen Dian were here, he would surely drag Ming Zhu over and roar at him, showing him what "calculating every little thing" truly looked like.
Zhou Fuxue dozed off for a while under the veranda, his knees pulled to his chest. At dawn, he was startled awake by the sudden sound of the courtyard gate being pushed open. Alarmed, he stood up and looked out.
The rain was still falling, the downpour like a sparse curtain of beads. The surroundings were misty and ethereal. Ming Zhu, dressed in red, approached through the haze holding an umbrella. Likely thinking no one was around, his bewitching face held no expression; his lashes drooped slightly, radiating an unusual coldness.
Zhou Fuxue stood on the veranda and stared at him, dazed. "Senior Brother?"
Ming Zhu, who was stepping up the stairs, seemed to snap awake. He lifted his eyes and looked at Zhou Fuxue in confusion. A smile instantly rippled across his expressionless face as he walked over quickly. "Good morning, Little Thirteen. Why are you up so early? Are you going to morning lessons?"
Zhou Fuxue didn't mention that he had waited there all night. He only asked, "How are your injuries? Has Master’s anger subsided?"
"It’s nothing. I went to your Tenth Senior Brother’s place for medicine before coming back. It’s no big deal." Ming Zhu ruffled his hair and pushed the door open to let him in. "Of course Master’s anger has cooled; otherwise, how could he let me come back?"
Zhou Fuxue nodded gloomily. Seeing Ming Zhu’s pale, cracked lips, he sensibly poured a cup of water for him.
Ming Zhu sat in a chair, squinting at Zhou Fuxue with a gaze as kind and gratified as if he were looking at his own son. He leaned back comfortably. "Little Thirteen is the best after all. Those other junior brothers are all ungrateful white-eyed wolves. Forget pouring water for me—it’s more like I’m the one serving them."
Zhou Fuxue said, "Don't lean against the chair. Doesn't the wound on your back hurt?"
Ming Zhu drank the water lazily. "Your Tenth Senior Brother might have his faults, but his medical skills are the one thing he can actually show off. After his treatment, it stopped hurting long ago."
Zhou Fuxue remained unconvinced.
Worried that Ming Zhu was just putting on a brave face, Zhou Fuxue uncharacteristically skipped his morning lessons and stayed by his side all day. This allowed Ming Zhu to truly experience the life of a pampered parasite, having everything handed to him.
In the afternoon, the "white-eyed wolf" Lu Qingkong finally heard from other disciples that the Eldest Senior Brother had been punished with a night of kneeling for trespassing in the Abandoned Sword Mound. After hesitating for a long time, he finally trudged to Buzhiya, clutching a small wooden box.
Ming Zhu had lost too much blood and had been exposed to the cold wind all night. No matter how good his constitution was, he inevitably developed a high fever. He was drifting in and out of consciousness. Zhou Fuxue had been busy feeding him medicine and placing wet cloths on his forehead to bring down the heat, only managing to stabilize him after a long while.
By the time Lu Qingkong arrived, Ming Zhu was already asleep. Zhou Fuxue was sitting on the threshold, reading a folk play script he had taken from Ming Zhu’s desk. Whatever was written inside made his face turn bright red; his fingers trembled as if he wanted to throw the scandalous book outside.
Lu Qingkong asked, "Where is Senior Brother?"
The moment Zhou Fuxue saw him, he remembered Ming Zhu’s undeserved misfortune. He had no intention of being polite and said coldly, "Go back. Senior Brother has already retired for the day."
Lu Qingkong frowned. "Why is he resting in broad daylight? Move aside and let me in. I have business with him."
Zhou Fuxue stood up abruptly, spreading his arms to block the door. He glared coldly at him. "Senior Brother caught a chill last night, and his fever hasn't broken yet... You—what are you doing?"
Lu Qingkong was naturally stubborn and rebellious. Being blocked repeatedly had already exhausted his patience. Relying on his height, he grabbed Zhou Fuxue by the collar and shoved him aside, forcing a path and bursting through the door.
Zhou Fuxue was originally thin. Though he had managed to put on some weight after half a month at Rizhao Mountain, he was still no match for the older Lu Qingkong. Caught off guard, he was yanked and thrown onto the veranda, nearly falling flat on his back.
By the time he stood up, teeth gritted, Lu Qingkong had already barged inside.
Lu Qingkong stormed in aggressively. "Ming Zhu, I heard that this time you—"
Lu Qingkong pushed aside the gaudy bead curtain made of various jade stones, creating a series of sharp, clattering sounds. It was quite noisy. However, before he could finish his sentence, he saw Ming Zhu lying on the couch, his face deathly pale.
Lu Qingkong sucked in a breath. The hand holding the bead curtain froze instantly, terrified of making any more noise.
Zhou Fuxue ran in from behind, fuming. Seeing the situation, his anger flared. He stepped forward without regard for anything else and shoved Lu Qingkong back, snapping, "You! Leave!"
Lu Qingkong was caught off guard and stumbled back two steps. The bead curtain slipped from his hand, letting out another sharp clatter.
Ming Zhu, who was sleeping fitfully, was woken up after all. He forced his eyes open only to see Zhou Fuxue and Lu Qingkong entangled in a scuffle—Lu Qingkong was pushing Zhou Fuxue’s shoulders outward, while Zhou Fuxue, face full of rage, was gripping Lu Qingkong’s waist sash and refusing to let go. For a moment, they were evenly matched, looking as though they had been fighting for quite some time.
Ming Zhu immediately struggled to sit up. "Hey, what’s going on? Heavens, why are you two fighting in my room? Are you trying to tear my house down?"
Zhou Fuxue was biting Lu Qingkong’s sleeve, his eyes red with anger. "He... woke you up!"
Lu Qingkong sneered and unceremoniously kicked Zhou Fuxue’s knee. Gritting his teeth, he said, "It’s not a brat's place to question what I do! Get lost!"
Zhou Fuxue bit down on his wrist.
Ming Zhu: "..."
His whole body felt weak and his head ached terribly. He scrambled out of bed to forcibly separate the two boys, getting a scratch on his arm from Zhou Fuxue in the process that stung like fire.
A while later, Zhou Fuxue sat outside on the veranda with a cold face, cradling the flower Ming Zhu had nearly drowned. His eyes kept darting through the carved window to peek inside.
Lu Qingkong’s wrist had a bloody bite mark that was slowly oozing. Ming Zhu, pressing a hand to his forehead, rummaged through a cabinet for a long time before finding some leftover medicine. Frowning, he applied it to the wound.
"This little brat... he actually knows how to bite," Ming Zhu muttered softly. "Does it hurt?"
Lu Qingkong was not one to admit defeat. Even if it hurt, he wouldn't say so. He shook his head expressionlessly.
As Ming Zhu bandaged the wound, he marveled inwardly. Usually, Zhou Fuxue seemed cold and mature, acting with a gravity beyond his years. Ming Zhu really hadn't expected him to have such a childish side—learning to bite when he couldn't win a fight, just like a little wolf cub.
Lu Qingkong felt Ming Zhu’s burning hot hands moving over his wrist. He seemed to want to say something but held it back.
Ming Zhu kept his lashes lowered as he wrapped the white gauze. Perhaps his fever was rising again; his eyelids were flushed red, his lips were pale, and even his breath carried a scorching heat.
After hastily treating the wound, Ming Zhu collapsed back onto the bed, dizzy and lightheaded. He raised a hand to press the back of it against his forehead, tilting his head slightly with a weary expression. "I know you wouldn't come here unless it was important. Speak, what is it this time?"
Lu Qingkong pursed his thin lips. A hint of bashfulness appeared on his habitually gloomy face. He picked up the small wooden box he had been holding and placed it on the bed. He gently opened the delicate side latch, revealing a pile of odds and ends—all of them looked like exquisite little trinkets.
Ming Zhu chuckled and reached out to poke through them. "Oh, I’ve seen this one. You used to treasure it like a baby by your bedside, even protected it with an array. And I’ve seen this one too—the mechanical lock you wouldn't even let me touch."
With every item he mentioned, the tips of Lu Qingkong’s ears turned redder. The hand holding the box trembled slightly.
As if performing a public execution, Ming Zhu counted through the items in the box one by one. With a half-smile, he said, "Aren't these all your favorite things? You’ve brought out your entire fortune. Junior Brother, are you giving these to me as a betrothal gift?"
Lu Qingkong stiffened his neck and refused to look at him, his ears so red they looked ready to drip blood. He feigned composure and stammered, "This... this time it was... my fault. I caused Master to punish you. I apologize. These are all my favorite treasures. You... you can pick whatever you want."
Ming Zhu: "Hoh!"
For someone as eccentric as Lu Qingkong, who usually only cared for ironwork and mechanical contraptions, to willingly offer these things—Ming Zhu began to wonder if he was hallucinating from the fever.
After speaking, Lu Qingkong closed his eyes and stopped looking at him. The hand hidden in his sleeve was trembling slightly. It was unclear whether he was worried Ming Zhu wouldn't want them, or terrified that Ming Zhu would pick his absolute favorites.
Seeing Lu Qingkong’s fearful and worried expression, Ming Zhu wanted to laugh until he went mad. But fearing that if he did, Lu Qingkong would punch him out of sheer embarrassment, he forced a dry cough and suppressed the urge.
Lu Qingkong asked, "Have you chosen yet?"
Ming Zhu reached into the box and pinched a delicate Changyuan skeleton, no larger than two finger joints. He squeezed it curiously and asked, "This is that Changyuan we caught in the Withered Wood Forest, right? I remember your eyes practically glowing when you saw it. you risked your life to catch it. What, you’re willing to give this to me too?"
Lu Qingkong’s expression was clearly one of extreme reluctance; he looked so pained he was almost in tears. Yet, he gritted his teeth and nodded. "These... these are all my favorites. Take whichever one you want."
Ming Zhu: "Hmm..."
He pretended to rummage through the box for a long time, appearing conflicted over which one to choose. Every time he let out a "Hmm," Lu Qingkong’s shoulders would twitch. It made Ming Zhu feel a sense of guilt, as if he were bullying the boy.
Lu Qingkong felt as if a blade were hanging over his neck, waiting in terror for it to fall—both fearful and anxious.
After a long while, his head was suddenly rubbed gently. His long hair, which usually hung smoothly, was rubbed into a mess. Lu Qingkong instinctively opened his eyes and glared at him.
Instead of being intimidated, Ming Zhu rubbed even harder. He laughed. "You... normally, if anyone even touches a dharma tool at your place, you roar and curse at them for half a day. If I actually took your most precious treasure, you’d probably hunt me down in my nightmares. Sigh, your Senior Brother doesn't blame you. Why act like you’re cutting off your own flesh to give me your favorite things?"
Lu Qingkong pursed his lips and remained still, letting him rub his hair. He whispered, "You... you brought back... brought back many things for me from the Abandoned Sword Mound..."
Ming Zhu said, "That was just in passing. I don't really understand what materials you need for your mechanical tools, so I just gathered some randomly. I haven't asked yet—can those be used?"
Lu Qingkong nodded. "Yes. Th-thank you, Senior Brother."
Lu Qingkong had been at Rizhao Mountain for five or six years, and this was the first time Ming Zhu had heard the boy say something so conciliatory. He suddenly felt that his injuries were worth it.
Ming Zhu said, "No need for thanks. Hurry up and put these away. Tsk tsk, is your Senior Brother the type of person who would take what others cherish?"
As Lu Qingkong quickly packed his things, he replied, "Yes."
Ming Zhu: "..."
Lu Qingkong looked up. Now that he didn't have to "cut his own flesh," he returned to his usual sharp-tongued self. He expertly mocked, "Wasn't the Kuayu Sword snatched by you from the Mountain of a Hundred Swords? When we encountered the Stone Tablet Face on that mountain, he wanted to crush us the moment he saw my Rizhao robes. That was probably thanks to you too, Eldest Senior Brother."
Ming Zhu: "...Uh, are you hungry? Shall I cook something for you?"
Lu Qingkong: "..."
Seeing Ming Zhu’s guilty expression, Lu Qingkong knew the face on the stone tablet had been telling the truth. However, he was always one to side with his own regardless of the facts, so he didn't care much. Just as he was about to put the Changyuan away, a sudden bolt of thunder crashed outside. Startled, his hand jerked, pressing directly onto the Changyuan’s wing.
In the next instant, the palm-sized Changyuan instantly transformed into its massive original form. It burst through Ming Zhu’s large house; wood chips and debris rained down, instantly burying everyone under the ruins.
The Changyuan let out a long cry toward the sky, its shrill voice echoing throughout the entirety of Rizhao Mountain.
***
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