RAAHC 34

Chapter 34 

Perhaps the openness on that day completely dispelled the other party’s guard. In the subsequent interactions, there were no more incidents of bloodshed. The two previous wounds slowly healed, and now, scars were almost invisible.

The growth of the young man was swift. In just a few years, the little one at his chest had grown as tall as him, showing signs of continuing to grow taller—surpassing him was only a matter of time.

More importantly, the young man began to conceal his emotions, storing both the good and the bad deep within. Eventually, he became unreadable; those eyes held only a deep, emerald green, like the most precious gem.

No wonder the other party became a hot commodity in the hands of human traffickers. If only his temper were a bit less wild, the savings left by the master might not have been enough. He thought idly, reaching to lift a strand of the young man’s hair, twirling it between his fingers.

The other person raised his head due to this action, causing a slight tremor in the hand holding the needle, which pierced into the flesh.

“For a practitioner of medicine, acupoint recognition is fundamental,” he pointed with his finger, signaling the other to remove the needle. “Look, in that last jab, you missed all acupoints, and the force was a bit excessive.”

The young man glanced at him. “You’re distracting me,” his voice, in the midst of its voice-changing period, gained an inexplicable touch of maturity.

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As he stood up, a momentary blackout overwhelmed him. He steadied himself, feeling strangely unaffected—this had been happening frequently in the past month. Despite being a doctor himself, no diagnosis explained it; fatigue seemed the only plausible reason.

Then, there was a knock on the door.

“Dinner’s ready.”

“Mm.”

Initially clueless about cooking, the young man had transformed from someone who scattered vegetable leaves everywhere into a skilled cook. Sitting at the table, he felt a sudden warmth, accompanied by a persistent buzzing in his ears. He couldn’t catch a word the other said.

Strange… could he be that exhausted? Pressing his temples, he decided to rest early.

However, lying in bed, sleep eluded him. Turning around, his gaze fixed on the slightly worn-out wall. Suddenly, he remembered – he was turning twenty-six this year.

It had been seven years since he found Alang at the age of nineteen.

In the initial years after his master’s death, every day felt like torment. Routine tasks completed, he sat on this desolate mountain top, watching distant flickering lights below, gradually dimming into silence.

At first, he didn’t know what that feeling was. Now he understood—it was loneliness.

Alang was an accident. On a whim, he brought him back, and after some struggles, Alang appeared obedient. Despite occasional covert competition, he never wanted to return to the old days.

Though he had no plans to leave his birthplace, he realized he wasn’t good at enduring loneliness. He liked having company…

His heart twitched with pain, a shudder running through him. The buzzing in his ears persisted as he tried to sleep, thoughts muddled.

A few days later, descending the mountain, he encountered a caravan from the western regions. The leader, with deep-set eyes and a high nose, had a crucial feature—a pair of green eyes strikingly similar to the young man’s, albeit slightly lighter, almost grayish.

At the herbal shop for delivery, he saw the man dismounting a tall white horse, kneeling before the young man still carrying a basket of herbs, devoutly kissing his fingertips.

As if pricked by the scene, he lowered his face. “Young one, come here.”

He rarely used the other’s name, and this time, the response was delayed. After a while, the young man turned to him.

Taking a deep breath, he softened his tone. “Come here.”

The young man withdrew his fingers, obediently approaching.

“What’s going on?”

“He claims to be my kin, taking me away.”

The last three words echoed in his ears, causing a momentary blindness. Blinking, it took a while to see clearly.

Alang stood quietly opposite him, eerie darkness in his deep green pupils.

“Don’t go.” He heard his own dry voice, “We’re going home.”

“I want to see the outside world.” The young man, now almost as tall as him, said, “You say you treat me as a person, why guard me like livestock?”

“Because it’s what you owe me.” He clenched his hand hidden in his sleeve for a moment, then released it. “Let’s go.”

Before the words settled, he had already turned and walked away, ignoring the outsiders trying to catch up or the young man trying to stop him.

He just bought a jug of wine at the foot of the mountain.

Alang eventually followed him back. Since that day, the caravan settled in the town below, occasionally sending letters. He read one that claimed Alang was their lost prince and offered gold or silk for his release.

All of this, all because he said so, and Alang was just following his words.

He chuckled at this moment, crumpling the letter at hand, placing it on the candle flame until it turned to ashes.

Damn obedience, he thought. If he really followed orders, this letter wouldn’t have ended up in his hands. The other party must have schemed a lot in this.

But what does it matter? He didn’t want to let anyone go, for no particular reason, just didn’t want to…

The ringing in his ears returned. He closed his eyes, and when he opened them, his vision was blurry, as if he finally realized something. Stumbling, he bent down, pulling out the jar of liquor he had bought earlier from the corner, opened the lid, and took a big sip.

Not as spicy as expected, rather tasteless like plain water… His face turned pale. He continued to drink the whole jar until he felt a satisfying fullness in his stomach, finally stopping.

No taste, no smell of alcohol… but his dizzy brain clearly told him, you’re drunk.

He remembered his master—the strange man who had died over a decade ago, but at forty had a head full of white hair. At the time of his death, he left him a few books, some silver notes, and…

He suddenly remembered that night, the dying man holding his hand, something tearing through flesh, penetrating his fingertips.

Cold sweat almost instantly came down. He threw away the empty wine jar, stumbled out of the door, and, guided by the moonlight, arrived at the small house used to store medical books.

He hadn’t been there for a long time. When he opened the door, the rising dust choked his face. Placing the candlestick on the dusty table, he came to the hidden compartment his master had mentioned, searching back and forth. Finally, in the basic medical book, he found a letter.

It was an anonymous letter, the paper extremely thin. If he hadn’t searched page by page, he wouldn’t have noticed it. Due to his master’s prior teachings in the book, he hadn’t paid much attention.

Now sitting at the table, he unfolded the paper, the dark brown ink catching his eye.

As it turned out, his unremarkable master was a renowned physician in the martial world during his youth. However, he came from the Poison Valley, a sect filled with toxins. When Poison Valley was annihilated, he was the only surviving disciple who chose to retire from the martial world and live in seclusion in these deep mountains.

The reason Poison Valley was called a wicked and evil sect was due to its peculiar rules—those who studied poison could freely indulge in love without restrictions. On the other hand, medical practitioners had to sever emotional ties and lead a solitary life.

After choosing their paths, disciples were forcibly implanted with a poison insect. This insect allowed them to hold needles steadily, memorize acupuncture points effortlessly, and every month, practitioners of poison had to exchange bodily fluids to detoxify. However, if intimate relations occurred with the same person three times or more, that person would explode and die.

The one who learns medicine, a lifetime of abstinence awaits. If emotions stir for someone, the senses gradually fade, white hair multiplies, growing weaker until death.

And his master is the latter.

In the letter, it stated that passing on the poison to oneself is a rule of the Valley of Myriad Poisons. The master, being a man of the valley and the sole remaining disciple, adheres to this rule even if the sect no longer exists. It’s ingrained in him since childhood, becoming instinctual.

The master said this secluded place shields from worldly affairs. After his death, he can sever the last strand of emotion, living indifferently on the mountain. Before dying, find an apprentice, passing down a lifetime of knowledge…

He silently finished reading, scoffed, and tore the fragile letter into pieces.

He recalled that night, the old man’s heavy sigh… Was it guilt? Anxiety? Or joy?

Yet, he still reached out his hand, and that person decided to inflict the harmful poison on him, no matter the noble reasons – it couldn’t hide the malice within: “If I’m unfortunate, you won’t fare well either.”

The people of the Valley of Myriad Poisons are like that, explaining why they were besieged by the righteous sects, with only one survivor.

And he, the remaining calamity, encountered himself.

But upon reflection, if he hadn’t been picked up by his master, he might have starved to death in this desolate wilderness… So, it’s a mixed blessing, and for a moment, it’s hard to say.

One thing he is certain about – from now on, he owes no one.

After sorting out his chaotic emotions, it was already dawn. Alang, as usual, prepared breakfast early. While he ate porridge, the other was preparing to go up the mountain, carrying a basket of herbs on his back.

Over the years, they made a living by selling medicinal herbs. He got used to simple meals, but the young man, growing taller, appeared a bit lean in the morning light.

The familiar ringing in his ears returned. Amidst dizziness and swelling, he distinctly heard his heartbeat skip a beat, quickly returning to calm.

In truth, the master wasn’t entirely wrong; he is a relatively indifferent person – as if born with passion polished away. No grand ambitions, minimal emotions, and curiosity. He doesn’t even have an interest in leaving this forest; he just wants to live here, grow old here, and die here.

It seems this is his lifelong wish.

So, not to mention others, even he himself never thought he would be attracted to someone one day… Well, though he didn’t feel anything special about his treatment of that person, since the poison surfaced, it indicates there’s still some affection, right?

With this in mind, even his vision started to blur. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and said, “Alang, come over.”

The young man turned back and stood in front of him.

Drinking the warm porridge from his bowl, the tasteless liquid flowed into his stomach, dispersing the chill within.

“Do you want to leave?” he asked knowingly.

The young man nodded almost without hesitation, then looked skeptical, “You’ll let me go?”

He looked at him for a while before finally speaking, “Yes.”

“I’ll give you… two years,” he thought for a moment, slowly saying, “Don’t forget what you owe me.”

The other first hesitated, then revealed a set of white teeth, a somewhat ironic smile.

“I won’t be late,” the young man said. “Two years later, I’ll settle what I owe you at once.”

He responded with a smile, “I’ll wait for you.”

Since the poison had begun to take effect, it meant his life was not long. To live a few more years, he had to temporarily send the young man away for a breather.

But on the night before the other left, he lay in bed tossing and turning, unable to sleep. Flashes of light and buzzing sounds filled his mind, occasional chest pains, suppressing breathlessness.

Until dawn, he got up in confusion, watched the young man’s figure leaving the mountain, and still said nothing.

That young man was like a wild wolf he couldn’t fully tame, inherently carrying untamed wildness. No matter what he said, the others wouldn’t believe it.

This was something he understood from the beginning, so now, he held no resentment.

Just that waking up one night, with a head full of white hair, he staggered into the courtyard. The busy young man was nowhere to be seen, only a faint shadow under his feet.

He paused for a moment, then quickly regained composure, and proceeded with his routine.

As if time had gone back to the years just after his master left, he began to reacquaint himself with solitary living, eating alone, climbing up and down the mountain to gather herbs, sitting alone in the yard, holding a tasteless jar of wine, drinking it like water.

The girl from the pharmacy was startled by his sudden whitening hair, sending a bunch of health products and even a small sachet with embroidered mandarin ducks facing each other intimately.

Only then did he notice the girl’s eyes filled with a spring-like gleam. Any casual move would earn him the other’s infatuated smile, and occasionally saying a few words would make the girl’s cheeks turn red, fingers nervously tugging at her clothes, or unconsciously playing with her hair, as if only by doing so could she calm the excitement in her heart.

So, after some consideration, he returned the small sachet.

Seeing the shattered light in the girl’s eyes, she seemed quite disappointed and didn’t visit him on the next delivery.

He could understand this, just like how he didn’t want to see Alang now.

But even if he couldn’t see, he would still think.

Because he found the only fluctuation in his dull and uninteresting life was that person. Every time he recalled the past in the quiet of the night, the only thing that came to mind was that person.

The white hair on his head increased day by day, and sometimes he even thought of cutting off these three thousand strands of troubles with one stroke. But even so, it couldn’t cut off the troubles in his heart.

So, let it be.