Chapter 100: Soft-Eared Mama’s Boy 15 Part 2

All this time, it had been thanks to the bone marrow blood he had previously released that Jiang Rang could draw near without worry.

Even so, the young man had suffered many injuries and inexplicably stirred up no small amount of trouble.

Jiang Rang was a straightforward, kind-hearted soul. He would never burden his beloved with such vexing matters. Instead, he always handled those endless, insect-like calamities in silence.

A young man’s patience for the one he loved was like the boundless sea—without end.

No one could doubt Jiang Rang’s sincerity in this moment.

But Zhu Miaojie was no fool. He understood all too well that if he could never walk freely in the sunlight, the lively youth would one day grow weary of such a shadowed existence. He would end up like a splattered mosquito or a stray grain of rice—casually discarded.

And so, he would wear the chain.

He chose to become a prisoner.

In truth, it made little difference. Before, heaven and earth had imprisoned him. Now, it was merely a physical chain bound to his body. What was there he could not endure?

With these thoughts, the ashen pallor on Zhu Miaojie’s face eased somewhat. He parted his lips softly, his low and submissive voice resonating like a chant from an ancestral shrine. “A-Rang, no need to trouble yourself. Put it on me.”

Jiang Rang clearly ached for him and seemed about to protest, but Zhu Miaojie lifted his dull black eyes. He gazed quietly at the youth, as if beholding a beautiful, grand dream that belonged to him alone.

“A-Rang,” he said, “help me.”

Jiang Rang felt nearly dazed by that piercing paleness. The man resembled a living Plaster Beauty, awaiting his salvation.

And the youth was his long-awaited fated lover.

The chain clinked harshly, a cruel sound like the imposition of punishment.

Jiang Rang’s hands trembled. Gone was the playful, butterfly-like charm he once used to tease his fellow disciples. His eyes grew misty, his face burned red, and he scarcely dared to look at the man.

The chain had to be wrapped from the acupoint at his chest around to the small of his back.

After a long moment, the youth rasped, “Forgive my offense.”

Zhu Miaojie gave a soft hum in response.

Neither met the other’s gaze. In perfect accord, they turned away their flushed cheeks.

Jiang Rang drew a deep breath. He half-sat at the edge of the white jade bed and leaned in closer. His pink fingertips brushed the man’s loosely tied sash, tugging gently. The silken band slithered away like a swimming serpent, falling from the bed.

Zhu Miaojie’s snow-white lashes quivered sharply.

Yet he offered no resistance. He did not call a halt.

And so the youth pressed on with his stiff fingers, peeling away the man’s robes as tenderly as one might polish a priceless jade.

His snow-pale skin rose and fell in graceful contours, flawless in every inch—like a body sculpted from the peaks of snow-capped mountains.

The sole splash of color at his chest resembled the crimson tassel dangling from a young girl’s earring or a fresh peach blossom pastry artfully plated straight from the oven.

Exquisitely pretty. A delicate hue.

Jiang Rang tightened the chain ever so slightly. He drew nearer still, like an alchemist tenderly watering a rare and precious bloom.

His pale wrist wound the links around the man’s body, loop by unyielding loop.

The clash of excessive whiteness against pitch black only made that milky pallor all the more striking.

Jiang Rang’s thoughts reeled; his throat bobbed countless times.

Sweat beaded on the youth’s forehead. His face flushed deep crimson. He adopted the pose of one who dared not look—yet his eyes were compelled to linger—

At last, the lock snapped shut. Zhu Miaojie could not suppress a pained breath. Startled, Jiang Rang nearly tumbled from the bed.

Tumble he did, but not onto the floor. Instead, he fell into the man’s warm-cool embrace—a snare as inescapable as any trap.

Zhu Miaojie was plainly in agony. The instant the chain locked, it constricted. Scarlet runes, ominous and foreboding, ignited along its length.

Jiang Rang could not decipher those runes, but the man’s exhaustion—edged with the threat of retching blood—and his searing pain were plain as day.

Zhu Miaojie had always been white: white everywhere, beautiful everywhere. But now, scarlet blood seemed to drown him entirely—seeping into his eyeballs, his earlobes, his wrists, even his very bones.

He was like a dragon stripped of its skeleton. The exquisite torment made him long to smash his head against the bedpost and end it all.

Jiang Rang had no idea why it was happening this way. Terror seized him, leaving him utterly at a loss. In his panic, he thought of Shizun.

Yes—Shizun! Shizun would know what to do. He had to find Shizun!

But such hopes were doomed to go unrealized tonight.

Because Zhu Miaojie refused to let him go, the man resembled a silver snake bound in chains. His arms wrapped around the youth with unprecedented strength, as though the young man in his embrace were a female serpent he intended to entwine with unto death.

Jiang Rang was truly at a loss. He didn’t want to hurt the man, so in the end, the youth merely sighed and, with trembling hands, pulled him tightly into his own arms.

Unsure of what else to do, he simply kept channeling his spiritual power into the other man.

As he did so, Jiang Rang gently patted the man’s twitching back—trapped as it was by the chains—while softly murmuring reassurances. “It’s all right. It’ll be over soon.”

Miraculously, Zhu Miaojie truly began to calm down amid the gentle coaxing.

Yet he still refused to release the youth.

Exhausted, they drifted off to sleep amid a sheen of sweat.

In the silent night, the final drop of candle wax slid down.

A faint cold gleam flickered across the ankle of the sleeping man, whose skin was pale as translucent porcelain and whose hair was like fresh-fallen snow.

The pearl captured that fine, dense silver light.

For a fleeting instant, the hidden, intricate scales beneath it were laid bare.

Fortunately, it lasted only a moment before the silver light vanished completely.

On the bed lay only the loving couple, side by side.

~~~

Xie Lingfeng sat quietly at the bedside as the water in the bath began to roil and bubble, like a pot on the verge of boiling over.

In the past, the youth would have already returned to Cloudmarsh Hall by now. It was deep into the night, yet Xie Lingfeng had heard no sign of him—no light footsteps, no cheerful hums, no quiet grumblings.

Everything was too still, an unbearable quiet.

Xie Lingfeng slowly clenched his fingers. The face that was usually so gentle and kindly intentioned took on a mottled, indistinct cast in the dim light, appearing profoundly strange for a moment.

What was his child doing right now?

Pouring out his heart to some strange man?

Savoring the midnight pleasures of the flesh?

As an elder, Xie Lingfeng had always believed it was his duty to guide and protect the boy.

And that protection included instruction in the arts of the bedchamber.

For so many years, A-Rang had only been able to endure his periods of heightened sensitivity with Xie Lingfeng’s help. The youth was so dependent on him, unable to do without… Could this stranger truly satisfy the boy now?

Xie Lingfeng reflected that, as a proper father and mother and Shizun, he ought at least to see for himself.

Of course, the child was grown now, with a right to his privacy.

He would certainly respect that, watching only quietly for a short while—just long enough to ensure A-Rang came to no harm.

With this in mind, the white-robed man slowly twitched his fingertips. A water-colored mirror unfurled languidly in midair.

Outside the window, lightning flickered once more amid gusting winds, prompting uneasy thoughts of whether a storm might descend that night.

Xie Lingfeng clasped his hands together and gazed calmly at Jiang Rang and Zhu Miaojie locked in their embrace.

As he watched, a thread of dissatisfaction stirred in his heart.

This disgraceful former disciple of the Immaculate Pavilion was clutching too tightly. A-Rang disliked being held that way—it restricted his breathing and muddled his thoughts.

Moreover, Young Master Zhu’s physique left much to be desired. He was perpetually frail and sickly, which meant that if A-Rang ended up with him, the youth would have to tend to everything.

How could that possibly work?

A-Rang was still only a child himself. How was he supposed to look after anyone else?

The longer Xie Lingfeng observed, the less he approved.

He suspected A-Rang would eventually see these flaws for himself and part ways with the man. But for now, he would respect his child’s choices.

He wouldn’t stoop to meddling like some loathsome elder.

He would stand forever by the youth’s side, an eternal safe harbor for A-Rang.

With calm resolve, Xie Lingfeng prepared to dismiss the water mirror.

In the final instant, a peculiar silver gleam flashed across Zhu Miaojie’s ankle.

The man froze, his expression gradually darkening.

If his eyes hadn’t deceived him, that had been a repulsive cluster of snake scales—the mark of some demon entity.

It might also have been the baleful influence of the snake demon’s resentment from the Life-Sealing Appearance Lock. Either way, he would need to keep a closer eye on the fellow from now on.

With these thoughts, Xie Lingfeng slowly withdrew the water mirror.

He lowered his gaze and settled back onto the bed. Cultivators—and especially one like him, who had reached the Tribulation Crossing Realm—had no real need for sleep.

Yet A-Rang had always insisted on resting at night, as if it were some stubborn conviction etched into his very marrow. The boy adorably believed that skipping sleep would leave his body in ruins.

And so Xie Lingfeng had always kept him company.

He lay down slowly on his side of the bed, leaving the youth’s spot vacant as always. That way, should A-Rang return, he could slip straight into his arms.

Of course, the man knew full well that the boy wouldn’t be coming back tonight.