Qixue was pulled into Sang Chi’s strong arms, momentarily stunned and unaccustomed to Sang Chi’s sudden enthusiasm.
Though he couldn’t see, Qixue could still sense that after more than half a year apart, Sang Chi had grown quite a bit taller, his chest becoming firmer and more solid, gradually shedding the look of a green boy to become a man.
But the scent on him was still the one Qixue knew so well—still just as irritating. Qixue pushed at him but couldn’t budge him. “How long are you going to hold me?”
Sang Chi released Qixue, but his hands didn’t leave Qixue’s body. Instead, they cupped Qixue’s face, fingers tracing his eye sockets. His voice was tight, as if suppressing some emotion. “You really can’t see anymore…”
“It’s only temporary. Not serious. I’ll recover in a few days.”
Qixue explained in a casual tone. In truth, he didn’t find it all that troubling—or rather, so much had happened that day that he had no mood to worry about his eyes. It wasn’t like he was completely blind; there was nothing to fuss over.
Sang Chi silently stroked Qixue’s face, then turned his body around to touch his shoulders and back, his voice low and dejected. “You’ve lost so much weight.”
Qixue said, “That’s just your imagination. I haven’t lost weight at all. If anything, I’ve gained a little.”
“But I know you’ve suffered a lot since leaving the mountain.”
Sang Chi gently caressed his face. “After I met up with Luxiangqiu, she told me so much. She said that to see your benefactor, you had no choice but to throw yourself at the human Great General. Even entering the palace, you had to start as a lowly inner servant doing menial labor. Do you know… do you know how heartbroken Luxiangqiu was for you?”
“If I’d known earlier that you were living such a hard life outside the mountain, I never would’ve let you leave, no matter what. You were doing perfectly fine up there—no hardships at all. Everyone liked you. Why did you have to come to the human world and make yourself suffer like this?”
Qixue said, “But that’s all in the past. And I didn’t suffer much. Following Wei Huai was my choice. I was only an inner servant for a few days before His Majesty took notice of me…”
Sang Chi grew angry. “And your idea of ‘not suffering’ is going missing for over a month and blinding yourself?”
Qixue: “It was just an accident…”
Sang Chi: “You lived over a hundred years on Dali Mountain without any accidents, but every time you run off to the human world, something happens. How long do you want me to keep worrying about you!”
“Why are you yelling at me? I didn’t want this either…”
Qixue muttered softly, his tone gentle and soft—different from before. This time, he didn’t resent Sang Chi’s outburst because he could hear the deep concern in it.
Still, he deliberately prodded Sang Chi. “I’m already a poor blind little thing. And you’re still scolding me?”
“I… that’s not what I meant. I didn’t want to scold you.”
Sang Chi stiffened, then immediately softened his voice. “I just wanted to ask when you’re going back to Dali Mountain.”
“Soon,” Qixue said. “Once His Majesty’s health recovers, I’ll return to Dali Mountain. Maybe I won’t leave again after that.”
“You mean it?” Sang Chi asked, overjoyed. “You’re really going back?”
“Mm…”
Qixue nodded. He did have that plan, though he wasn’t sure if it would work. His idea was to ask the Holy Monarch to fully cure His Majesty’s Witchcraft Backlash Ailment—otherwise, it might relapse later, and His Majesty still wouldn’t live long.
Though the Holy Monarch had deceived him and it hurt, the Holy Monarch was the god he’d worshipped since birth. He couldn’t blame him. So, he could only offer himself in exchange for Helan Ji’s health.
The Holy Monarch had feelings for him. If that was the case, he’d marry the Holy Monarch and become his divine wife. That way, the Holy Monarch should grant his final request.
Once he became the divine wife, he probably wouldn’t be able to leave the mountain easily. The Holy Monarch likely wouldn’t allow him to see His Majesty again either. So, despite his reluctance, for His Majesty’s sake, he had to prepare himself.
It was just a pity—he hadn’t been able to bear a child for His Majesty before they had to part so abruptly.
And Seventh Brother, Yun Qi, and… and Dao Qing—he hated to leave them too. But there was no choice. He’d trade himself for their safety.
Sang Chi asked, “When are you planning to go back? Why not now? I can prepare a convoy anytime to take you, and I’ll make sure to take good care of you.”
“In a little while,” Qixue said. “Don’t leave Shangjing for now. I might need you anytime.”
“Mm, I won’t leave you.”
Sang Chi gripped Qixue’s hand, his heart surging with excitement and sorrow, his voice choking up for a moment.
He’d known Qixue for so many years, and this was the first time Qixue had said he needed him. The old Qixue had been so unwilling to yield to him. He’d chased Qixue time and again, pinning him down to lick his fur, all just to hear a soft word from him. Once—just once—and he’d let him go. But Qixue had been stubborn, refusing to bow.
Now he’d gotten his wish—Qixue had softened to him. But he wasn’t happy at all. Instead, his heart ached. Now he wanted nothing more than to bring Qixue back to Dali Mountain, shield him from wind and rain, and let him be the innocent little rabbit he once was.
He helped Qixue sit in a chair. The weather had grown hotter lately, and the seat was covered with a soft ice cushion—silk-stitched with special ice flakes inside. It was cool and refreshing, perfect for beating the heat without harming the body.
Qixue asked, “How’s Xiangxiang doing?”
“She’s lost a lot of weight worrying about you.”
Sang Chi said, “After I got the news you’d gone missing, I rushed straight to Shangjing. Back then, Luxiangqiu was as fat as a cuju ball. But fretting over you, she barely ate or drank and slimmed back down to her old size.”
“It’s my fault for worrying Xiangxiang…” Qixue said, heartbroken.
Sang Chi: “It’s not all bad for her. She was so fat she could barely fly. If anyone with bad intentions came after her, she wouldn’t even be able to run—where’s the dignity in that for a bird?”
Qixue snapped angrily, “Don’t you dare call Xiangxiang fat!”
“You’re too spoiling of her!”
Sang Chi bickered habitually with Qixue. “It’s you indulging her, letting her eat all those melon seeds, turning her into a ball. It’s not good for her. No more of that from now on!”
“Hmph…”
Qixue made a dissatisfied noise but didn’t argue. Deep down, he knew Sang Chi was right, but he couldn’t stand hearing Luxiangqiu cry about hunger and always wanted to stuff her with a handful of seeds.
“Whatever,” he said to Sang Chi. “What about the demons I asked you to prepare? Did you bring them?”
“I did.”
Sang Chi called toward the door. “Bring them in.”
Soon, a group of demons filed in. Qixue felt a cloying sweet fragrance hit him, so overpowering it nearly made him gag.
The demons were mostly from pleasure houses like Qinlou or Chuguan—males and females alike. In human form, they were all quite attractive but retained some demonic features: tails, ears, and such, since plenty of patrons fancied that.
“Greetings to the two young masters.”
The demons posed flirtatiously in salute, winking at Qixue. Though Sang Chi had paid to hire them, Qixue was so beautiful they’d sleep with him even for free.
Unfortunately, they were truly casting pearls before swine this time—Qixue couldn’t see their come-hither looks at all. He turned his head to Sang Chi. “Which one’s the best-looking among them?”
“The cow one, I guess.”
Sang Chi sized up the group, his face darkening as he warned them. “Cut the flirting, or get out.”
Qixue blinked and said to the demons, “Cow demon, step forward. What’s your name?”
The seductive woman with a voluptuous figure cooed delicately, “In reply to the young master, this slave is called Hua Nu. Before you, this slave doesn’t deserve the word ‘beautiful.’ Compared to you, I’m just a vulgar, worthless thing. How dare I claim beauty in your presence.”
Hearing her response, Qixue figured her personality wasn’t bad—she’d probably be quite popular. “I’ll take all of you. I’ll bring Hua Nu inside first for now. The rest of you wait outside and come in when I call.”
The demons chorused, “As the young master commands.”
It was nearly the appointed time. Sang Chi personally escorted Qixue to the courtyard, still worried. “Are you sure you’ll be fine on your own?”
“No problem.” Qixue waved him off. “Someone else will come to help soon.” He meant Dao Qing.
Sang Chi pulled a small incense burner from his Sleeve Universe. “Put this in the room and light the incense inside. The scent will strengthen your divine sense, letting you make out the outlines of people and objects—at least you won’t trip.”
“You really have all sorts of handy things.”
Qixue took it without hesitation, planning to light it once inside. “Alright, go on. I’ll contact you later.”
“You have to contact me.”
Sang Chi fussed anxiously. “Don’t vanish for months again. Can you think of me a little more?”
“Depends on my mood.”
Once Sang Chi was no longer needed, Qixue’s attitude turned utterly perfunctory as he shooed him away. “Hurry up and go. Don’t hold up my business.”
Sang Chi left, looking back every few steps. Qixue told the demons to wait in another side room first, while he stood at the courtyard entrance.
At the appointed time, Dao Qing arrived as promised and handed him a medicine vial. “Your medicine.”
Qixue uncorked it and sniffed lightly—the sickly sweet aroma told him the drug was exceptionally pure.
“Good stuff.”
He had Dao Qing help him into the room. By now, the incense smoke filled the space, and Qixue could make out the outlines of things. He no longer needed support and went straight to the table. He lifted the teapot lid and dumped the entire vial of powder inside.
Dao Qing watched him pour half a pot’s worth of powder and asked calmly, “Do you want to die in bed?”
“What do you mean ‘I’? You should say Xie Shu.”
Qixue stirred the powder into the tea leaves, planning to add water once Xie Shu arrived. “He should enjoy it, right?”
“He will,” Xie Shu said.
