Chapter 19 - A Night of Tangled Intentions
After several more jars of spiritual wine had been emptied, Nie Shiyun felt a pleasant, lightheaded buzz. He secretly circulated his Qi through his Dantian, purging the alcohol's haze while absorbing the pure spiritual energy within the brew. Zhai Bairong, however, allowed the intoxication to take hold, seemingly eager to let the alcohol temporarily numb his frayed nerves.
In the eyes of the world, Zhai Bairong was the paragon of self-restraint—polite, composed, and always knowing when to advance or retreat. Perhaps it had been a very long time since he had found an outlet to vent his mounting frustrations.
"Fellow Daoist Zhai, do you wish to continue?" Nie Shiyun asked, his voice steady.
"It matters not..." Zhai Bairong waved a hand dismissively, his gaze slightly glazed and unfocused. "I... I will pay for it..."
Nie Shiyun fell silent for a moment. He realized that his persona as a man who loved money above all else had likely become deeply ingrained in Zhai Bairong’s mind.
As the night deepened, Nie Shiyun listened to a litany of grievances regarding Rong Lü and Xu Yehua. He nodded along sympathetically, delighting in the opportunity to pile more "black pots" of blame onto the two men. In the original novel, the various "gongs" of the harem never truly got along. Their interactions were a constant "scene of romantic carnage," and even though there were several instances of chaotic group encounters later in the plot, the air between them remained thick with hostility whenever Duan Mingyu wasn't present.
In the book, these conflicts were merely spice to add flavor to the harem dynamic. Duan Mingyu claimed to love them all equally, and no matter how much the suitors bickered, they ultimately coexisted and even aided one another when necessary.
*Perhaps... there is a chance to pull him over to my side?* Nie Shiyun looked at Zhai Bairong, his mind wavering. He used to think it was impossible to turn any of Duan Mingyu’s men, but now it seemed that the protagonist’s "unshakeable" bonds weren't as absolute as the narration suggested.
Rong Lü, with his stoic, "dead-man" face, was likely a lost cause—he would follow his path to the bitter end. Xu Yehua, on the other hand, was a dangerous variable that Nie Shiyun felt he had to eliminate; the man was arguably more perilous than Duan Mingyu himself. However, Nie Shiyun recalled that a fourth suitor would eventually appear: Du Zhi. He was a simple, honest youth and the missing piece of the protagonist's party—a metal-root cultivator skilled in artifact refining.
If Nie Shiyun’s actions could truly influence the thoughts of major characters, he could potentially arrange things at the upcoming Great Cultivation Assembly to ensure Du Zhi and Duan Mingyu never even started a romance. Much of Duan Mingyu’s "protagonist luck" stemmed from the talented individuals surrounding him. If Nie Shiyun could peel away two of them, the established plot would be severely crippled.
While Nie Shiyun was lost in these strategic musings, Zhai Bairong finished yet another jar. Finally reaching his limit, his eyelids drooped, and he drifted into a heavy, alcohol-induced slumber.
"And you just said you were going to pay..." Nie Shiyun sighed, signaling the waiter.
The food hadn't cost much, but the spiritual wine was exorbitantly expensive. The total came to a staggering ten thousand spirit stones. Had he not known Zhai Bairong’s character—knowing the man would surely repay him, perhaps even extra out of embarrassment—Nie Shiyun might have considered leaving him there as collateral.
"Fellow Daoist Zhai, where are you staying?"
"..."
"Zhai Bairong? It’s time to head back. Are you at an inn?" Nie Shiyun gave him a gentle shove. The other man finally seemed to startle awake.
"Oh... yes. But I haven't... checked in yet..." Zhai Bairong pushed himself up from the table, swaying precariously as he attempted to stand.
Nie Shiyun moved quickly, catching him and providing a steady shoulder. "I know where the inns are. I’ll take you."
Zhai Bairong was drunk, but not entirely unconscious. Fortunately, this meant Nie Shiyun didn't have to carry a grown man of his own height and weight through the streets. He supported Zhai Bairong, the scent of spiritual wine practically radiating off the man, as they stumbled onto the main thoroughfare of Fanhua City. Many demon cultivators preferred the night, and the city was even more vibrant and bustling under the moon than it was during the day. Here, no one recognized Nie Shiyun as the son of the Yunqing Pavilion’s Vice Master, nor did they know the esteemed Zhai Bairong of the Yingyue Sect. To the passing demons, they were merely two humans who had enjoyed themselves a bit too much.
As luck would have it, when they reached the inn, they were told all private rooms were occupied; only the common sleeping quarters remained. Nie Shiyun couldn't tell if the inn was truly full or if the demon at the counter was simply being difficult because he didn't want to deal with a drunkard. Given Zhai Bairong’s status, the idea of him sharing a floor with a crowd of rowdy demons was unthinkable. Without even asking for Zhai’s opinion, Nie Shiyun turned and led him away.
"This is..." Zhai Bairong murmured, sounding confused as they walked.
"The inn was full. You’ll have to make do at my place for the night. I live right behind my shop," Nie Shiyun explained.
Zhai Bairong let out a slow, hesitant "Oh." It was unclear if he was reluctant or if his brain was simply lagging due to the alcohol.
After a fair amount of effort, they finally reached Nie Shiyun’s shop, tucked away in a quiet side alley. There were no streetlamps here, but the midsummer fireflies drifted like tiny lanterns in the dark. Supporting Zhai Bairong, Nie Shiyun navigated the narrow storefront and pulled aside the curtain behind the counter. In the small, open-air courtyard, the moon hung bright amidst a scattering of stars.
Once inside his living quarters, Nie Shiyun finally exhaled in relief. He turned, intending to settle Zhai Bairong onto the bed, but he hadn't accounted for the man’s shifted center of gravity. Zhai Bairong tumbled forward, his weight pulling Nie Shiyun down with him. Caught off guard, both men collapsed onto the mattress together.
The jolt of the fall seemed to knock some clarity back into Zhai Bairong. He didn't fall asleep immediately; instead, his eyes fluttered open. Nie Shiyun found himself braced directly over Zhai Bairong, their faces so close that their noses nearly touched. Zhai Bairong was enveloped in the scent of wine, but beneath it, Nie Shiyun caught a familiar fragrance—something cool and soft, like snowy cedar. He had smelled it once before.
Nie Shiyun didn't scramble to get up. Instead, he remained there, looking down into Zhai Bairong’s eyes. Their gazes locked. Perhaps it was an illusion, but the air in the room seemed to grow thick and viscous.
Nie Shiyun could swear on his soul that when he had set out for the inn, his intentions had been purely honorable. But now that things had developed to this point... for two men who were both attracted to their own gender and who had already shared an accidental, intimate history, could this really be considered far-fetched?
"...Are you sober right now?" Nie Shiyun whispered.
"..."
Zhai Bairong said nothing, his chest rising and falling with shallow breaths.
There was perhaps no situation more complex, yet simultaneously more simple, than this. Nie Shiyun couldn't fathom what was going through Zhai Bairong’s mind. Was this a moment of drunken self-abandon? A form of quiet rebellion? Or perhaps a lingering sense of retaliation against the life he was forced to lead? He didn't know.
But then, Nie Shiyun hadn't quite figured out his own feelings either. To him, the man beneath him was once a paper-thin character from a novel, then a partner in a past accidental encounter, and now a person he felt a genuine spark for—even if he was still calculating how to win him over as a political ally.
In this situation, their judgment was truly "two of a kind"—equally compromised.
Seeing the look in Zhai Bairong’s eyes, Nie Shiyun decided there was no need for further questions. He leaned down and pressed his lips against the other man’s.
Unlike their previous encounter, which had been driven by the frantic, primal hunger of a medicinal aphrodisiac, this kiss was gentle. Nie Shiyun’s lips brushed against Zhai Bairong’s with the tenderness of a lover. When their tongues met and parted, Zhai Bairong closed his eyes again, shielding whatever emotions remained.
Soft kisses and light grazes trailed down Zhai Bairong’s neck. As Nie Shiyun unfastened the other man’s sash and felt the frantic thrumming of a heartbeat through his chest, he noticed Zhai Bairong’s fingers twitch. He realized that Zhai Bairong’s body was just as eager as his own. The man had likely not had any release since their encounter in the secret realm—Zhai Bairong was different from the other suitors; he wouldn't seek intimacy with Duan Mingyu while his heart was in such turmoil.
Contrary to his ethereal and composed exterior, Zhai Bairong was quite stubborn when it came to matters of the heart. Because of this, Nie Shiyun was all the more surprised by his current compliance.
Zhai Bairong’s body wasn't overly muscular, but it wasn't frail either; Nie Shiyun could feel the latent strength beneath his palms. As Nie Shiyun moved further, the man who had seemed half-asleep finally reacted. He instinctively raised an arm, his elbow bending to press against Nie Shiyun’s chest. It was a gesture of resistance, yet it lacked any real force or conviction. Nie Shiyun paused for a heartbeat, then slid his hand down to Zhai Bairong’s palm, interlacing their fingers and pinning his hand to the bed.
Zhai Bairong didn't respond, but he didn't pull away either. It was a silent acquiescence.
Held fast, Zhai Bairong was pressed back into the soft bedding once more. The skin of their forearms brushed against each other, slick with a thin layer of sweat, creating a friction that felt both sticky and electric. With a flick of his finger, Nie Shiyun extinguished the oil lamp on the side table, plunging the room into darkness.
Sensing Zhai Bairong’s belated hesitation, Nie Shiyun leaned in and whispered into his ear, "You drank too much today... didn't you?"
"..."
There was no verbal answer. Instead, Nie Shiyun felt a momentary tremor of doubt from the man, followed by a slow, heavy release of tension as he went limp. The surrender was communicated through their joined palms.
Zhai Bairong’s breathing finally grew ragged. As Nie Shiyun pressed forward, he felt the other man’s arches tense. Usually, Zhai Bairong was the one who took the initiative in bed—the attentive, gentle lover who would smile and caress his partner’s hair. But perhaps because of the alcohol he refused to purge, his body temperature was soaring, and his mind was a chaotic blur. He felt as though he were being pinned into the very foundations of the bed, unable to find his voice.
In that moment, Zhai Bairong finally tightened his grip, his fingers digging into Nie Shiyun’s hand with enough force to leave marks. Nie Shiyun drew in a sharp breath. His voice, mingled with the muffled, intermittent sounds escaping Zhai Bairong’s throat, dissolved into the silence of the summer night in that secluded courtyard, continuing long after the moon had reached its zenith.
