Chapter 98: Soft-Eared Mama’s Boy 13

The Hesong Secret Realm encompassed a vast domain, but it remained open for only a short time—less than a month.

Most of those undergoing training were young disciples. Even those with the finest aptitude found it exceedingly difficult to explore the entire secret realm in a single visit.

As a result, companions who became separated within the secret realm rarely crossed paths again.

Jiang Rang had not encountered any fellow disciples these past few days.

Fortunately, the youth had devoted all his attention to his sickly, pale beloved. Otherwise, with his usual penchant for excitement and crowds, he might well have grown bored and restless.

In just that brief month, Jiang Rang’s relationship with Zhu Miaojie had advanced by leaps and bounds. They ate and slept together, separated only by that final, fragile barrier. Thanks to the blood Zhu Miaojie had fed him earlier, which provided some suppression, they faced only minor mishaps along the way—nothing catastrophic.

Because of this, the youth had never truly grasped the terror of the Innate Disaster Body. Numbed by trivial troubles he could dispel with a casual wave of his hand, he had come to regard them as commonplace over time.

Considering Zhu Miaojie’s past injury at the hands of a crowd and the lingering shadow it cast on his heart, they generally stuck to sparsely populated areas, avoiding others whenever possible. When avoidance proved impossible, they kept their distance, spoke sparingly, and parted ways after traveling together for no more than a day or two.

Moreover, suffering a fatal wound in the Hesong Secret Realm merely resulted in early ejection, with only a loss of essence blood and no lasting marks.

Thus, Jiang Rang never witnessed the grim fates of those who had briefly traveled with them.

Some were devoured by wild beasts; others ensnared in illusions from which they could not escape; still others perished from tiny, imperceptible accidents that hurled them from the secret realm.

Even those who exited alive often found misfortune dogging their steps thereafter.

The youth remained blissfully ignorant of all this. That was why he could now squat contentedly by the campfire, patiently folding a Messenger Paper Crane to inform Kunyu Immortal Venerable of his impending departure from the secret realm.

His thoughts tumbled in a chaotic whirl, and the paper crane brimmed with rambling accounts of their recent experiences. Naturally, the youth—newly awakened to the throes of romance—could not resist confiding in his trusted Shizun about the object of his affections, filling half a page in the process.

Some of his phrasing was as childish as a toddler’s scribbles.

Having finished writing, Jiang Rang glanced at the white-robed youth beside him. Zhu Miaojie was innately quiet and gentle, profoundly shy around strangers. In crowds, he would anxiously hide behind the youth, clinging to him with timid dependence.

Who could resist their beloved relying on them so? Like a courting male bird in the wild, Zhu Miaojie’s delicacy, serenity, and beauty only deepened Jiang Rang’s sense of profound responsibility—and a subtle thrill at being needed.

He thought to himself, Ah Miao was so pitiful, so utterly dependent on him. No matter what, he had to protect him properly.

Zhu Miaojie lifted his head slightly. His lustrous long hair gleamed like drifting snow, his skin translucently pale. His large black pupils reflected the firelight and the youth’s silhouette like swaying stars and candle flames—harmless, yet brimming with tenderness.

Jiang Rang never hid his letters from him, so Zhu Miaojie caught sight of those bold declarations of love. A shy flush crept over his face, threads of healthy color seeping through his skin like vital blood.

The sight stirred the youth’s throat, his mouth watering unconsciously.

Suddenly, Jiang Rang ached to kiss him—just once. Perhaps in that fleeting moment of lips meeting, their true hearts would lay themselves bare.

Yet Kunyu Immortal Venerable had schooled him too well, especially in matters of the heart. He approached romance with utmost caution and sincerity.

Shizun had taught him that the world’s affections were a tangled web; one must cling to their true heart, preferring scarcity to excess.

Thus, even as primal urges surged through him, Jiang Rang forced himself to endure.

They sat so close that the firelight danced in each other’s eyes like furtively blooming desire. He could almost taste the faint, cool fragrance wafting from those lips.

With an exaggerated gulp, the youth jerked back a step.

He scratched his head awkwardly, staring at the sky or the ground—anywhere but at Zhu Miaojie.

A soft laugh rang out, like chimes struck by a spring or pebbles skipping over stones, softening the ears.

Jiang Rang ducked his head, feigning deep concentration. Crimson flooded his chiseled features. He cast a spell to launch the Messenger Paper Crane, only to slump in dejection as it refused to leave the secret realm.

In truth, he had suspected as much; this was hardly his first attempt to reach Shizun.

The Hesong Secret Realm bore some restriction that blocked messages to the outside world. Over these days, Jiang Rang had sent at least eight or nine notes to Shizun—not one had succeeded.

Even so, he couldn’t help himself.

After all, at heart, he was still just a child.

Even from the perspective of the Human Realm, a man in his twenties was already an adult—capable of shouldering his family’s burdens and establishing his own household. But the Cultivation World was different. Compared to the centuries-long lifespans of cultivators, the age of twenty seemed exceedingly young.

It was no exaggeration to say he had the mindset of an immature child.

This was Jiang Rang’s first time being separated from Shizun for such an extended period without contact. A trace of unease stirred in the young man’s heart. He was deeply attached to home. Besides missing Shizun, he constantly thought of the flowers and plants on Yunze Peak that had gone unwatered, the honey pastries Shizun made by hand, the bath in Cloudmarsh Hall…

Lost in a daze, he mulled over these little things until his thoughts drifted to Zhu Miaojie.

He decided that once he returned, he would beg Shizun to let Ah Miao stay on Yunze Peak. He had so many treasures he wanted to show Ah Miao—Yunze Peak was the place that had nurtured him from childhood, and Ah Miao was sure to love it.

The mere thought of living together with Shizun and Ah Miao in the days to come filled the youth with a floating, cloud-like bliss that knew no bounds.

~~~

He sensed it the moment they were expelled from the Hesong Secret Realm. Jiang Rang had only just noticed the faint dizziness when he recalled Shizun’s earlier warnings, realizing the secret realm was ejecting them.

The youth gripped the white-haired man’s icy wrist tightly. His eyes could scarcely stay open, yet he still murmured softly, “Ah Miao, don’t be scared. We’ll leave together—I’ll take you home.”

Zhu Miaojie nodded meekly, his snow-white lashes quivering. A delicate blush colored his gaunt cheeks. With the pallor of despair faded away, all that remained was a beauty that was soft, yielding, and serene.

Daylight burst upon them, the scene before their eyes shifting in an instant. Hand in hand, pressed intimately close, the pair reappeared at the misty edge of the jungle.

The Hesong Secret Realm expelled cultivators in waves. Xie Lingfeng had long calculated that his troublesome little disciple would return at dawn.

The man kept his gaze lowered, his warm, benevolent eyes catching the fierce sunlight in pupils flecked with shattered gold. Layers of hue, deep and shallow, carried a subtle longing, and framed by the vivid red cinnabar mole at his brow, he took on an almost divine air of compassionate grace.

The aloof immortal’s slender fingers idly stroked the black cotton velvet cloak draped at his side. The winds at the jungle’s edge howled without cease, and the early morning chill bit deep. After much deliberation, he had brought an outer garment, lest the boy catch cold.

Lost in such thoughts, he lifted his eyes—and beheld a pair of lovers approaching hand in hand.

The youth on the right wore a dark black robe, travel-stained and windswept, his golden coronet slightly askew. Stray locks fluttered at his forehead in the cold breeze, his handsome features radiating bold vigor and roguish charm. At that moment, he gazed at the unfamiliar white-haired man beside him, fingers gently brushing the stray hairs from the other’s ear as he murmured something with a smile.

That youth was none other than the disciple Xie Lingfeng had turned over in his mind, day and night, these past days.

Xie Lingfeng’s movements stilled for a heartbeat. In his narrow eyes, the flecks of gold vanished, swallowed by a thick, roiling darkness surging from the depths.

It grew worse when he spotted the glaring tassel silver hairpin nestled in the white-haired man’s hair—the man whose lips curved shyly. The back of Xie Lingfeng’s hand, clutching his robe, flushed faintly green-red, taut as if frostbitten by the biting wind.

That tassel silver hairpin had been forged by his own hands, a gift to soothe his little disciple’s sulk after a spell of confinement.

Jiang Rang had assumed it was some trinket bought from a street vendor, never suspecting that ordinary iron or silver could yield such exquisite perfection.

Xie Lingfeng had never bothered to explain. He was ever silent and gentle, giving the youth only the very best within his power.

The man had always flowed like a quiet spring, but now the waters swelled, sands churned in turmoil—like a flood on the verge of breaking free.

Fortunately, the oblivious youth in the distance seemed to sense something. He looked up, locking eyes on the man with unerring precision.

The finely reared young lord’s handsome face lit up, his eyes and brows curving like willow leaves in delight.

They were not far apart, so the white-clad immortal easily caught the boy’s excited, vibrant cry—like a sparrow frisking in spring, wings flapping as it dove into its mother’s embrace.

“Shizun! Shizun, I missed you so much—”

The sound was a sticky hum, cloyingly sweet—like honey lodged in the throat, too precious to swallow, letting the sweetness seep slowly from palate to belly.

Before others, he cut the figure of a dashing youth; before Shizun, he was merely a fledgling, wings aflutter.

Jiang Rang’s fluffy head burrowed relentlessly into the man’s chest, intimate beyond measure. His face flushed red, eyes shimmering with dependent trust as he gazed up at the divine figure who had raised him.

Xie Lingfeng’s heart eased in a rush, giving way to boundless indulgence laced with helplessness.

The man gently straightened the headpiece of the youth in his arms, sighing softly. “You’re such a grown man now, still acting so childish. Aren’t you embarrassed at all?”

Jiang Rang was long used to such words and paid them no mind. In the eyes and heart of this youth, there was only his revered Shizun. As though struck by a sudden thought, he eagerly displayed a collection of treasures like cherished prizes, sorting them meticulously. His eyes sparkled with childlike pride as he beamed, “Shizun, these—and these too—they’re all for you!”

“Oh, right…” He smacked his forehead and pulled out a translucent hairpin glowing with soft moonlight. Lifting it up, he said, “Shizun, lower your head a bit. This is an immortal-grade Nine-Curve White Jade Hairpin. Your disciple went to great lengths to find it. Let me put it in for you now.”

Xie Lingfeng glanced sideways, catching sight of the white-haired man with his brows slightly furrowed. In an instant, he offered a calm smile and obediently tilted his head down.

The immortal’s raven-black hair cascaded like a flowing waterfall from his shoulder. He let out a soft hum, his gentle voice evoking the image of a mother beast tenderly guarding her young.

“A-Rang, be good.”

Jiang Rang stood slightly on tiptoe to insert the hairpin. At first, the words felt perfectly natural, but then he remembered Zhu Miaojie was right there beside them. His ears flushed red in an instant.

Before he could say anything, his kind and doting Shizun spoke up again. Kunyu Immortal Venerable always seemed worried that he might catch a chill or tire himself out. Cultivators rarely feared the cold—especially sword cultivators who also practiced body refinement, boasting bodies as sturdy as iron. Even with his old injuries, Jiang Rang had been reborn after reaching the Golden Core Realm. How could a mere breeze bother him?

Yet there was one kind of cold: the kind Shizun imagined he felt.

Knowing it was best to play along, Jiang Rang reached out obediently to take the cloak.

But Xie Lingfeng didn’t hand it over as expected. Instead, he shook it out with a slight turn of his hand, moving to drape it over him personally.

Jiang Rang instinctively glanced at Zhu Miaojie beside them, whose expression had cooled somewhat, his brows furrowed in thought. Suddenly self-conscious, he snatched the cloak and pushed the man’s hand away. “Shizun, I’m not a little kid anymore. I can dress myself.”

After all, which young man didn’t want to appear independent and strong in front of the one he loved?

Xie Lingfeng’s fingers curled slightly, his face unchanging as he smiled and sighed softly. “In Shizun’s eyes, A-Rang will always be a child.”

Jiang Rang couldn’t help grinning, clearly agreeing deep down. But with Zhu Miaojie still there, the prideful youth held back from admitting it outright.

After fastening the cloak, Jiang Rang turned and took Zhu Miaojie’s hand. Feeling the chill in his wrist, he instinctively clasped both hands tightly together, then bowed his head slightly and breathed warm air onto them while rubbing gently.

Before he could voice his concern, a cool, faint voice sounded right by his ear.

“A-Rang, who is this?”

Only then did Jiang Rang remember he hadn’t introduced them yet.

The youth hurriedly explained, “Shizun, this is the companion I met in the Secret Realm. Um… his name is Zhu Miaojie.”

Even as he called him a companion, the youth’s handsome, boyish face betrayed him, flushing a deep red with shy awkwardness.

Then Jiang Rang leaned close to the white-clad man’s ear, whispering intimately, “Ah Miao, this is my Shizun, Kunyu Immortal Venerable.”

Zhu Miaojie’s gaze lingered for a moment, meeting the steady, ancient-pool depths of the other man’s eyes. After a long pause, he shyly averted his look, murmuring softly as if in fear, “I’ve long admired your renowned name, Immortal Venerable.”

Blunt as ever, Jiang Rang was solely focused on fretting over his beloved. He patted the man’s slender, exquisite shoulder reassuringly. “Ah Miao, my Shizun is great. Don’t be scared—I’ve got you.”

Kunyu Immortal Venerable fell silent for a beat, his lips pressing into a flat line. Then he suddenly said, “An Innate Ill-Omened Body. That’s a rare one.”

Jiang Rang nodded vigorously from the side with a sigh. “Shizun truly sees through everything. Ah Miao was cast out because of this constitution and has nowhere left to go. Shizun, is there any way to suppress his Disaster Body…? I want to bring him back to the Primordial Sect.”

As he spoke, deep ripples of pity welled up in the youth’s eyes.

Xie Lingfeng exhaled softly. His empty sleeve fluttered in the chill wind, which seemed to pierce straight through his skin into his very bones, bringing a faint, throbbing ache that made his head throb faintly.

After a long moment, he said gently, “A-Rang, do you know that an Innate Disaster Body is cursed by the Heavenly Dao from birth? Your Shizun can help you settle him and suppress the Disaster Body. But after that, you must not seek him out again.”

The words had barely fallen when Jiang Rang felt the shoulders of the man in his arms tremble lightly.

He couldn’t help lowering his head to check on him. Zhu Miaojie’s eyes had reddened, white strands of hair clinging messily to his pale face. In that moment, the man looked utterly pitiable and forlorn, like an abandoned spirit pet from home.

Newly tasting the throes of love, the youth was prone to impulse. Seeing his beloved on the verge of tears, he clenched his jaw with uncharacteristic stubbornness. “Shizun, I like him.”

Jiang Rang lifted his gaze to the man. He watched as the face of his usually affectionate Shizun slowly hardened into an icy mask. In that instant, his tone shifted from defiant to faltering, his explanations laced with uncertainty.

His voice grew softer and softer as he pleaded, “Shizun, dear Shizun, this is the first time in all these years that I’ve ever truly liked someone. Please, I-I really don’t want to be separated from him.”