Chapter 43: A Nighttime Visit to Jiuhua Sect
“Zi Yue, Zi Yue!” A child waved and called his name from afar.
He ran towards the child with a smile. “Coming…”
The child was taller than him. The details of their face were blurry in his memory, but the sweet smile remained vivid.
The child took his hand, pointing at a bird’s nest in a tree. “Zi Yue, let’s climb the tree together!”
He hesitated. “But… if Father finds out, I’m afraid…”
“Don’t worry, I’ll cover for you!” The child puffed out their chest, promising faithfully.
He looked around, seeing no one, and nodded with a smile. “Okay.”
The child beamed. “You go first, I’ll follow and protect you.”
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Why couldn’t he remember it? His earliest memories were of him and the child, Long Mo, knocking over a rice container in the kitchen. Then this memory…
He touched his forehead, finding it covered in cold sweat. What happened after he fell? Why couldn’t he remember anything? Who saved him?
He shook his head, unable to recall.
“Qinghan,” a low voice called from beside him. He turned to see Feng Xuanyang glaring at him, his face dark.
Long Qinghan blinked, confused. “What’s wrong?”
Feng Xuanyang’s mouth turned down. He suddenly threw himself into Long Qinghan’s arms, hugging him tightly. “Qinghan, you kept calling for your brother in your sleep! Who is he? Who is he?!”
Long Qinghan stiffened. He had actually called out “brother” aloud, and Feng Xuanyang had heard. Knowing Feng Xuanyang’s temperament, this wouldn’t end well.
He quickly soothed Feng Xuanyang, stroking his back. “It’s nothing, just a childhood story. I’ve forgotten it now that I’m older.”
“Forgotten? Then why are you still calling his name in your dreams?!” Feng Xuanyang retorted, his voice thick with jealousy.
“I just dreamt of falling from the tree. Long Mo was the only one there, so I called out to him.”
“Falling from a tree?!” Feng Xuanyang’s eyes widened in alarm. He pulled away, examining Long Qinghan anxiously. “Let me see! Are you hurt?”
Long Qinghan sighed, brushing away the wandering hands. “If I was hurt, would you still be seeing me today?”
“Oh, right.” Feng Xuanyang’s worried expression vanished, replaced by annoyance. “Then tell me, why were you calling for this Long Mo ‘brother’ in your dream? What’s your relationship with him?”
“…” Long Qinghan looked at Feng Xuanyang, bewildered by his rapid mood swings. But the concern and jealousy seemed genuine. He relented and told him about his childhood incident.
Feng Xuanyang’s eyes lit up after hearing the story. “Is that the truth?”
“Of course.”
“Excellent. Then how will you compensate me for my distress?”
“…” Feng Xuanyang, could you be any more shameless?
Exasperated by Feng Xuanyang’s persistence, Long Qinghan finally gave him a kiss to appease him.
He looked outside, noticing it was late at night. He’d slept for a long time without realizing it.
He shook his head. The lingering fear from the dream prevented him from going back to sleep.
“Qinghan,” Feng Xuanyang leaned closer, pinching and rubbing his face. “The night is long, and I’m not sleepy. How about we do something productive?”
“Like what?” Long Qinghan asked, still slightly dazed.
“Like…” Feng Xuanyang pinched his buttocks, a wicked grin spreading across his lips. “Wrestling on the bed?”
“…The great Sect Leader Feng seems to have a lot of free time.”
“Mm-hmm,” Feng Xuanyang raised an eyebrow.
“Then…”
“Then…”
“Get off me and find me something to eat!”
“Ow! Qinghan, you dare kick your husband off the bed?!”
…
When Feng Xuanyang returned, Long Qinghan sat on the bed, lost in thought.
Feng Xuanyang glanced at him, then carried the bowl of noodles over, sitting beside him. “Here. There’s not much to eat in the middle of the night. I managed to find a few eggs and some noodles. Make do with this.”
The aroma of the noodles filled the air, tempting his empty stomach. Long Qinghan stared at the steaming bowl, feeling a strange sense of warmth. “You made this?”
Feng Xuanyang raised an eyebrow. “Of course. Who else would make you food in the middle of the night?”
A wave of happiness washed over Long Qinghan. He smiled, taking the bowl with both hands. “Thank you.”
“Hmm?” Feng Xuanyang leaned closer, brushing his hair aside. “Between us, husband and wife, there’s no need for thanks. If you’re truly grateful, call me ‘husband’ a few more times.”
Long Qinghan, surprisingly calm, softly said, “Husband.” He then started eating, ignoring Feng Xuanyang’s stunned expression.
The noodles were simple, but he tasted the love within them, each bite a comforting reminder of happiness. This was the most delicious meal he’d ever had. Even though Feng Xuanyang made him noodles many times after this, he never tasted the same flavor again.
Tenderness softened Feng Xuanyang’s face. He sat behind Long Qinghan, wrapping his arms around his waist, resting his head on his shoulder, playing with his hair, occasionally stealing a bite of noodles. The warmth of their intimacy filled the cold night.
After eating, Long Qinghan wiped his lips with the handkerchief Feng Xuanyang offered, teasing, “I didn’t expect the high and mighty Sect Leader Feng to know how to cook.”
Feng Xuanyang chuckled, putting the bowl aside and lifting Long Qinghan’s hair to tickle his nose. “And how would the pampered Young Master Long know what it’s like to go three days and nights without food, surviving only on water? You only learn these things through experience. If you want to live, you have to find your own food, cook your own food.”
Long Qinghan’s eyes widened. “You…”
Feng Xuanyang’s eyes darkened, then he shook his head dismissively. “Forget it. It’s all in the past. Now I have everything I need. I’m hardly lacking food.”
Long Qinghan’s heart ached, remembering Feng Xuanyang’s childhood, his disappearance after being fostered by the Heavenly Sword Sect. What had happened to him? How had he lived? He wanted to ask, but seeing Feng Xuanyang’s reluctance, he held back.
He looked at Feng Xuanyang, reaching out to caress his beloved face. A thought flashed through his mind, a surge of emotion, words of love welling up inside him.
He swallowed, gazing into Feng Xuanyang’s eyes, their depths reflecting his own image, drawing him in, intoxicating him with the emotions swirling within.
“Xuanyang,” he began, finally ready to express his long-held feelings. “Actually, I…”
A passionate kiss interrupted him, hot breath fanning his face, the scent of sandalwood filling his senses.
He wrapped his arms around Feng Xuanyang’s back, deepening the kiss, his tongue exploring Feng Xuanyang’s mouth. Their lips and teeth intertwined, a silent conversation of love, a deep kiss expressing the overflowing emotions within.
After the kiss, Long Qinghan tried to speak, to finally utter those words of love, but he couldn’t make a sound. He sighed in frustration.
Feng Xuanyang’s eyes lit up. He pinched Long Qinghan’s face. “Qinghan, seeing you so energetic, I presume you’re not sleepy either. Why don’t we go do something interesting?”
Long Qinghan paused. “Do what?”
He soon found out.
The night wind blew, carrying a chill, swirling fallen leaves across the ground.
Before them stood a grand structure, vast and complex, yet now deserted and desolate. The moonlight filtered through the bare branches of old trees, illuminating the plaque bearing the words “Jiuhua Sect.” The plaque, its gold paint faded, hung askew, a picture of decay and desolation.
The main gate stood wide open, unguarded, offering a glimpse into the sect’s former glory. A musty odor assaulted their noses even before they entered. Long Qinghan, accustomed to cleanliness, instinctively covered his nose.
He frowned, looking around. He hadn’t expected such a once-powerful sect to be reduced to this state, without even a single candle to light the darkness. He could vaguely see withered plants, scattered leaves, and neglected buildings.
Feng Xuanyang, seemingly unfazed, observed the sect with an impassive expression.
Long Qinghan opened his mouth to ask why Feng Xuanyang had brought him here in the middle of the night, but a raspy voice suddenly came from behind, startling him.
“Who… are you…” The aged voice drifted through the air, each word slow and chilling, like a spectral call from the depths of hell.
Long Qinghan shuddered involuntarily. Having survived two clan massacres, he’d developed a fear of death, especially after Xiang Zong’s dream visit, which had strengthened his belief in ghosts and spirits.
He clenched his fists, afraid to turn around.
Another, even colder voice echoed from closer by. “Who… are you…”
Long Qinghan trembled, his breath catching in his throat. Beside him, Feng Xuanyang, his eyes gleaming as if he’d discovered something amusing, tapped his chin, observing Long Qinghan’s reactions. Seeing the beads of sweat on his face, he chuckled.
“Qinghan, you’re so easily scared.” He turned Long Qinghan’s face, forcing him to look.
Long Qinghan froze, seeing the source of the voice.
Thank You for the new chapter (⋈◍＞◡＜◍)。✧♡