The night had grown deep. Lamps and candles were lit, and the light from the courtyard torches was as brilliant as the Golden Crow.
"Lu Qingkong? Younü?"
Ye Weiyang handed a stack of dossiers to Zhou Fuxue, his brow furrowed. "If anyone from Rizhao entered the Shishen Kingdom, there should be a record of it. I’ll have someone look for them tomorrow and send the information to you. This here is a list of everyone who has lost their lives within Shishen's borders."
Zhou Fuxue took the documents, scanning them briefly. "My Ninth Shixiong has a restless nature. If he came to Shishen, he wouldn't stay quiet. I must trouble Villa Lord Ye to send men to search other, more lively areas as well."
"Naturally," Ye Weiyang replied.
Having finished their discussion regarding Lu Qingkong, Zhou Fuxue and Ye Weiyang had nothing left to say. Zhou Fuxue returned the dossiers, stood up, and prepared to take his leave.
Ye Weiyang suddenly called out to him, a hint of awkwardness in his expression. He asked in a low voice, "Do you truly believe that person is Ming Zhu?"
Zhou Fuxue’s expression turned cold, and the killing intent radiating from him was nearly uncontrollable. "Do not speak such nonsense. He is my Shixiong; I would not mistake him."
Ye Weiyang countered, "But your Second Shixiong said it himself—Ming Zhu fell from Biri Cliff right before his eyes. No one could have survived that, especially since his dantian had been destroyed before he fell. It was a certain death. Do you really believe he..."
Before he could finish, a cold flash of light shot toward him, grazing his cheek and carving a deep gouge into the wall behind him.
Zhou Fuxue spoke each word with chilling severity: "He. Is. Shixiong."
Seeing Zhou Fuxue’s fierce, murderous stance, Ye Weiyang shook his head helplessly. "Fine. If you say he is, then he is."
Zhou Fuxue turned and left.
Ming Zhu had been settled by Ye Weiyang in a detached courtyard of Changye Villa. One had to follow the covered walkways and cross a stone bridge to reach it.
Zhou Fuxue used this time to completely suppress the ferocity and killing intent he exuded. By the time he pushed open the door to the room, he had returned to his usual mask of cold indifference.
He had been talking with Ye Weiyang for over an hour and assumed Ming Zhu would have fallen asleep long ago. However, upon opening the door, he saw Ming Zhu dressed in white, standing barefoot by the window, gazing down at something.
Zhou Fuxue walked over slowly. When he saw what was in Ming Zhu’s hands, his pupils constricted violently.
Coiled in Ming Zhu’s hands was a green snake about the length of an arm. Its body had likely been crushed and injured by the window frame, making it difficult for the creature to even crawl. Ming Zhu was slowly stroking the injured area with his fingertip, his downcast eyes filled with a strange serenity.
Looking at Ming Zhu’s expression, Zhou Fuxue felt a sudden, inexplicable surge of terror.
"Shixiong?"
His voice was almost unrecognizable.
Ming Zhu seemed only then to realize he had arrived. He dazed for a moment before smiling. "You’re back. Is the business settled?"
Zhou Fuxue pressed his lips together and said nothing.
As he spoke, Ming Zhu gently placed the small snake back onto the windowsill. He tapped the green snake’s head with his fingertip and said softly, "Go on."
The green snake slithered slowly along the sill, actually nodding to Ming Zhu in a strangely human-like gesture before quickly slipping away.
Ming Zhu watched until the snake disappeared into the darkness, then turned back, looking at Zhou Fuxue with confusion. "Why aren't you saying anything?"
Zhou Fuxue opened his mouth, but not a single word came out. An inexplicable sense of dread and despair shrouded his heart as the details he had deliberately ignored since their reunion began to surface one by one.
Why was he no longer afraid of heights? Why was he no longer afraid of snakes?
Why could he smile so brightly while throwing a heavily injured man off a flying kite?
Why...
Ye Weiyang’s words suddenly echoed in his ears: *“Do you truly believe that person is Ming Zhu?”*
Seeing that he remained silent and his gaze was vacant, Ming Zhu reached out and waved a hand in front of his face, asking unclearly, "Fuxue, what’s wrong?"
Zhou Fuxue shuddered and snapped back to reality. He looked at Ming Zhu, and his racing heart slowly began to steady.
*He is Shixiong,* Zhou Fuxue told himself.
Ming Zhu patted Zhou Fuxue’s cheek, his voice full of concern. "Hey, what is it? Did something happen to Xiao Jiu or Younü?"
Zhou Fuxue pulled Ming Zhu’s hand down and shook his head gently. "It’s nothing. We will search Shishen together tomorrow."
"Oh, alright." Ming Zhu nodded, a smile blooming on his face again. "We’ll search, and while we're at it, we can buy some food. Ah, I remember there was a shop on the main street when I was little that made incredible Peach Blossom Pastries. I wonder if it’s still there?"
Zhou Fuxue said, "We’ll look for it tomorrow."
Ming Zhu’s eyes curved into a smile. "Good."
Two rooms had been prepared in the detached courtyard, but Zhou Fuxue was unwilling to let Ming Zhu out of his sight for too long. Ignoring Ming Zhu’s protests, he forced them to share a bed.
Ming Zhu turned his back to him huffily, curling his body into a ball. Despite the large size of the bed, he pressed himself almost entirely against the wall.
Looking at his back, Zhou Fuxue asked, "Shixiong, are you cold?"
Ming Zhu replied, "I’m not cold!"
Zhou Fuxue gave a soft "oh" and fell silent.
Ming Zhu waited for a long time. Only after he was certain Zhou Fuxue was finally fast asleep did he let out a soft sigh and gently turn over. In the next instant, a pair of arms wrapped around him. With a firm press against his waist, he was pulled unexpectedly into Zhou Fuxue’s embrace.
Ming Zhu gasped. He was still unaccustomed to such close physical contact and immediately tried to retreat. "Zhou Fuxue! Don't push your luck!"
Zhou Fuxue held him tightly, rubbing his face against the crown of Ming Zhu’s head. He let out a sigh and said, "Shixiong isn't cold, but Fuxue is a little cold."
Ming Zhu grabbed the quilt and threw it over Zhou Fuxue’s head, snapping, "If you're cold, use the blanket! What kind of sickness is this, having to hug me?"
The brocade quilt covered both their heads, and darkness descended. They could only see each other's expressions through the faint candlelight leaking through the gaps.
Only then did Ming Zhu realize how ambiguous their current posture was. He kicked out randomly, his previous momentum of anger shifting instantly. He whispered, "Let... let go of me."
In the cramped space, they could hear each other's breathing clearly.
Zhou Fuxue lowered his voice, his tone deep and resonant. "Shixiong, I finally understand now. I know what is a fleeting obsession, and what is a heart’s devotion."
Ming Zhu froze, looking at him in shock.
"I adore you, Shixiong. It has nothing to do with status, and nothing to do with appearance," Zhou Fuxue said expressionlessly, though his words were like a thunderclap. "Whether you are human or ghost, whether your face is ugly or beautiful, I do not care."
During those fifty years of wandering, Zhou Fuxue had often wondered: if he hadn't fled so pathetically after that kiss on Mount Rizhao, but had instead followed his heart and told Ming Zhu his true feelings, would everything have been different?
At the very least, he wouldn't have had to spend fifty years alone in regret and agony.
For someone like Ming Zhu, a passive approach would only push him further away. If Zhou Fuxue didn't tell him his true feelings, given Ming Zhu’s denseness, he might never realize it until the day he died.
Holding Ming Zhu’s slightly cold body, Zhou Fuxue thought with a sense of reckless abandon that perhaps Ming Zhu wouldn't be able to accept it at first. But now that he had laid his heart bare, even if he never truly won him over, he wouldn't be left with nothing but regret.
Caught off guard by Zhou Fuxue’s casual yet heavy words, Ming Zhu stared blankly into his eyes. His lips trembled, but he couldn't say a word.
Zhou Fuxue slowly loosened his grip, not daring to push too hard. "Shixiong, don't be angry with me. I won't do anything."
Ming Zhu dazed for a moment, then immediately rolled toward the inner side of the bed, wrapping himself and the quilt into a tight ball, refusing to utter a sound.
Knowing he couldn't accept it all at once, Zhou Fuxue didn't try to get closer. He simply said softly, "Shixiong, sleep."
Ming Zhu didn't respond. Zhou Fuxue said no more, lying half-propped on the bed, watching Ming Zhu’s back without blinking. He had no intention of sleeping, seemingly prepared to watch him all night.
More than an hour later, just as Zhou Fuxue thought Ming Zhu had fallen asleep, a muffled voice came from inside the quilt.
"Zhou Fuxue."
Ming Zhu usually only called him by his full name when he was angry. This was the first time Zhou Fuxue had heard him use such a gentle tone to say his name.
"Yes?"
"Don't..." Ming Zhu whispered. "Don't love me."
Zhou Fuxue paused, then replied softly, "You can't control me."
Ming Zhu said quietly, "I am a monster, so..."
His body curled even tighter, his voice carrying a slight tremor. "I beg of you, don't love me."
Zhou Fuxue pressed his lips together. He didn't ask further, only saying, "Sleep."
If Zhou Fuxue could have seen Ming Zhu’s expression at that moment, perhaps he wouldn't have spoken so lightly.
Ming Zhu’s hands were clutched to his chest, and he bit down hard on the corner of the quilt. His eyes were rimmed with red; his heart felt as though it were bursting with bitterness, yet not a single tear would fall.
He thought in a daze: *Who could love a monster? Even if Zhou Fuxue is open-minded, he could never accept a monster that returned from the dead. He won't be able to accept it, he...*
No one loves monsters.
Ming Zhu slept with extreme stillness, completely unlike the restless way he used to shift through a dozen positions in a single hour.
When dawn broke, Zhou Fuxue, who had been resting with his eyes closed, slowly opened them to see that Ming Zhu was still curled in the same position as the night before, having not moved an inch.
Fearing he might have smothered himself, Zhou Fuxue quickly nudged him. "Shixiong?"
Ming Zhu gently pulled back the quilt, revealing a mess of hair. He had likely stayed awake all night, as his eyes were bloodshot.
Zhou Fuxue’s expression turned cold. "You didn't sleep at all?"
Clutching the quilt, Ming Zhu shook his head listlessly. "It’s fine. I didn't want to sleep."
Zhou Fuxue’s face looked terrible.
Because of Zhou Fuxue’s sudden confession, Ming Zhu’s mind had been in a state of chaos all night. For the moment, he didn't want to speak to Zhou Fuxue. He tossed the quilt aside and got out of bed on his own.
Ye Weiai soon came running over, his voice ringing through the courtyard as he called for "Zhu-gege," full of energy.
Ming Zhu forced a smile and rubbed the boy's head. "Do you want to go out and play today?"
Ye Weiai nodded vigorously. "Mhm, mhm!"
As soon as he finished, someone tapped him on the head. Ye Weiyang appeared behind him, saying calmly, "I’m afraid not today. Wait until tomorrow."
Ye Weiai’s face fell instantly. "But I want to go out with Zhu-gege."
Ye Weiyang comforted him with a few more words before looking up to meet Ming Zhu’s gaze.
Ming Zhu’s face was pale, and even his thin lips were devoid of color. He said softly, "Weiyang."
Yesterday, they had only met briefly. The first look Ye Weiyang had given him upon recognizing him wasn't joy that he was still alive, but a strange, wary look. His attitude was extremely distant and guarded, as if the person before him wasn't the childhood friend he had grown up with, but a man-eating beast.
Ye Weiyang looked at that face—both strange and familiar—and hesitated for a moment before saying in a low voice, "Young Master... Young Master Ming..."
Ming Zhu froze. Then, he suddenly laughed, his voice gentle. "My apologies. I was the one being presumptuous, Villa Lord Ye."
He smiled with the air of a light breeze, but the hand hidden within his sleeve was trembling slightly.
***
