Chapter 33: White Colt Part 5

He knew Chaosheng was angry, so he didn’t leave. He closed the door and lay down behind him.

Chaosheng lay awake with reddened eyes, still carrying some drunkenness. In this Western Regions night, he finally thought of Kunlun, of Pi Changge, and of his home. An inexplicable loneliness enveloped him.

In the inn’s hall, the owner had bolted the doors and closed for the night. Xiang Xian, Xiao Kun, and Hulü Guang were still chatting idly, asking about the local customs and geography of the Western Regions—after all, they had a mission ahead in this unfamiliar land.

Hulü Guang remembered something and asked, “When Chaosheng saved me today, was that a spell too?”

“What he cultivates is Immortal Technique,” Xiao Kun replied. “It’s different from ours. The immortals of Kunlun are ageless and immortal, with lifespans matching heaven and earth.”

Hulü Guang nodded thoughtfully. Xiao Kun added, “That Big Brother Wu Yingzong is also a cultivator of the same kind—he can live for hundreds or even thousands of years.”

With this subtle hint, Xiao Kun reminded Hulü Guang that Chaosheng’s life was endless, comparable to Shenzhou itself. As a mortal, it was best to restrain himself and not entertain wild thoughts. Whether Hulü Guang understood was his own business.

“Xiang Xian?” Xiao Kun asked again.

“Mm.” Xiang Xian composed himself, deciding to inspect it later. “Brother Hulü, where is your home?”

“I was born in Gumo,” Hulü Guang replied, “but I haven’t been back in many years.”

“Aksu,” Xiao Kun said to Xiang Xian.

Xiang Xian nodded—it was their destination. Hulü Guang asked, “Where’s the monster you’re looking for? Any leads?”

Xiao Kun felt a bit of a headache. He admitted Hulü Guang was a kind-hearted young man, but recruiting him wasn’t appropriate. He could only say, “Not certain yet.”

Hulü Guang said, “Tomorrow I’ll go into the palace and ask around for you. What clues do you need?”

Xiao Kun: “You work in the Royal Palace?”

Hulü Guang: “I know His Majesty the King!”

“We’ll talk tomorrow,” Xiang Xian said, his mood complex. Hulü Guang saw they hadn’t settled things and nodded, leaving the table.

Xiao Kun thought: Finally going to sleep. The kid must be tired after dying and coming back to life—who knows what he’s feeling.

“I don’t want to drag him into this,” Xiao Kun said.

“Me neither,” Xiang Xian said. “We need to make it clear and bid him farewell. He’s a good man.”

They had just exchanged a sentence when Hulü Guang returned, apparently having washed his face. He sat down again and said, “Drink! Let’s keep drinking!”

Xiang Xian and Xiao Kun were speechless, but Hulü Guang was very talkative, chatting and laughing. Gradually, Xiang Xian sensed his genuine desire to make friends. In the latter half of the night, Hulü Guang untied his Five-Stringed Pipa and played softly, singing. Xiang Xian, less stern than Xiao Kun and tipsy, went over to teach him Song melodies and sang many ci poems for him.

Xiao Kun had drunk too much—the wine had a strong aftereffect. He lay on the floor fully clothed and fell asleep. By dawn, none of them had returned to their rooms. Hulü Guang sprawled on the table, Xiang Xian leaned against a stone pillar with his head lowered, and Xiao Kun pillowed on Xiang Xian’s thigh, dead to the world.

The innkeeper opened the doors to start business. Xiang Xian jolted awake and shook Xiao Kun. It was already dimly light.

Xiao Kun got up to wash. Today, they still needed to visit the Gaochang King. Though their goal was the Aksu region, nearly the entire Western Regions fell under Gaochang Uyghur rule nominally. Operating in their territory required notifying the king. Moreover, with Gaochang’s tangled ties to Western Xia and Great Liao—and Yelu Dashi now entering their land with apparent permission—Xiao Kun needed to meet him and gather intelligence.

The streets and alleys of Gaochang had shops and homes yet to open. Xiang Xian and Xiao Kun arrived at the Royal Palace and presented their documents.

Xiao Kun: “Too early?”

Xiang Xian: “Not for a king. A Huang, go in and see if the king is up.”

A Huang: “I don’t even know what the Gaochang King looks like.”

Xiang Xian poked A Huang’s belly. Reluctantly, A Huang flew off to scout for them.

By Song customs, ministers should be attending court at this hour. The Daojun Emperor ignored politics, rising late after spring nights, but Crown Prince Zhao Huan discussed matters with the ministers before dawn.

Sure enough, soon a guard came out and said, “His Majesty the King invites the two gentlemen inside to wait.”

Back at the inn, Chaosheng slept through the night and habitually turned over, hugging Wu Yingzong.

He had a strange dream—in it, a massive white ape took him into its embrace. The ape’s fur looked soft but felt coarse to the touch. When he fully contacted the white ape, he couldn’t help trembling all over.

The white ape wrapped him with its limbs, its massive body nearly covering Chaosheng completely. The fur rubbed against his skin, like being enveloped by the ape’s scorching hot beastly form. Trapped in the embrace, with nowhere to go, every stretch of his limbs brought constant envelopment and stimulation.

Intense pleasure surged like an avalanche from his soles to his chest. Chaosheng trembled endlessly, filled with infatuation. Only one word described it—blossoming.

Like a flower unfolding, some mysterious power bloomed within him, about to break through barriers and release.

Then, Chaosheng woke.

He was held in Wu Yingzong’s arms, who maintained his adult male form, sleeping while hugging him.

Chaosheng held his breath, bewildered. He moved his thigh from Wu Yingzong’s waist and subconsciously touched his own head.