Chapter 26: The Heavens and Earth Unite in Perfect Harmony, True Affection Seals an Eternal Bond (Part 4)
by GideonThe Star-Plucking Pavilion was a sanctuary of unparalleled opulence. Its interior boasted a bed of carved glass, tables of polished jade, and windows framed in gold and silver. Even the floor tiles were laid with warm Hetian jade, ensuring that one’s bare feet would never feel the chill.
A maid pushed open the doors. Lan Xiangru lightly lifted the hem of his robes and stepped inside. Though it was noon, several glass lamps suspended in the air were all lit, their shadows dancing in a brilliant, starlit glow that truly lived up to the pavilion’s name.
An indoor lotus pond was built into the pavilion, its sleeping lotuses just beginning to bloom amidst a swirling mist. Butterfly fish swam leisurely through the water, adding a unique, serene charm to the scene.
Beside the pond stood a crescent-shaped jade table, laden with fine wine and exquisite delicacies.
And seated within the curve of the crescent was the “Miss Jinjin” for whom Lan Xiangru had spent a fortune.
The maid discreetly closed the door behind him. Lan Xiangru remained still, his gaze fixed silently on the figure clad in water-green robes. Only when the other turned and offered him a gentle, graceful smile did he finally move, advancing slowly toward him.
He settled beside Wen Jin, his gaze sweeping past the two liuli cups—their stems bound with red silk ribbons—and the fragrant, sweet-scented wine before finally coming to rest on Wen Jin’s face.
With no one else around, Wen Jin abandoned his reserve. He pulled out the pair of heavy-weighted steamed buns from his chest and set them on the corner of the table. “Phew~ I can finally speak!”
He sat with a sprawling, unceremonious air, filling his cup to the brim with wine. “Madam Kou made such a grand affair out of a mere three bowls of wine. Anyone who didn’t know better would think we were getting married, hahaha!”
After his laughter, he offered a cup to Lan Xiangru with sincere earnestness. “Brother Lan, this cup is to your thousand taels of gold, which spares me from staying here to sell my skills to pay off my debt.”
Lan Xiangru took the liuli cup, his fingertips pressing against the red silk ribbon, stroking it gently.
The cups clinked softly as they each drained their wine.
Soon, Wen Jin refilled Lan Xiangru’s cup. “Brother Lan, this cup is to our meeting in the jianghu.”
Lan Xiangru silently clinked his cup against Wen Jin’s. The wine flowed over his tongue, leaving a lingering sweetness.
Wen Jin continued to refill his own cup, but did not offer another toast.
For a moment, the vast Star-Plucking Pavilion fell so silent a pin could be heard dropping. Even the fish in the pond ceased their swimming, leaving the water undisturbed and profoundly still.
Perhaps Lan Xiangru had grown so accustomed to Wen Jin’s constant chatter that the sudden silence now felt profoundly unsettling. “Ten thousand taels of gold for three cups of wine,” he remarked. “Why have you stopped?”
Wen Jin fell silent for a long time, then suddenly grasped Lan Xiangru’s hand. “Brother Lan, I have something to tell you.”
The air was thick with a sweet fragrance, the aroma of the wine misting in the youth’s pure, clear eyes as he gazed up, his expression infinitely captivating.
“Speak freely,” Lan Xiangru replied softly.
Wen Jin’s cheeks flushed a faint crimson. “I… I wish to swear an oath of brotherhood with you.”
Lan Xiangru’s expression froze. His brows furrowed sharply, as if a sudden gust of wind had swept past, disturbing his very senses. “What?”
“Let us become sworn brothers!” Wen Jin produced a statue of Guan Gong from an unknown place and set it down with a heavy thud on the jade table. He looked up with eyes full of hope. “On our journey together, we have shared our hearts and faced life and death side by side, already becoming as close as brothers. Now, Brother Lan, you have shown me unparalleled loyalty by spending ten thousand taels of gold for my sake. I dare to propose a Golden Orchid Covenant. What do you say, Brother Lan?”
A fish splashed in the pond, its leaps shattering the still water.
Lan Xiangru’s jaw tightened. His gaze remained fixed on Wen Jin, his deep eyes suddenly darkening.
After a long silence, seeing only a hint of anger on the other man’s face, Wen Jin let his hand drop in disappointment. “You don’t want to… Never mind, then.”
Lan Xiangru’s expression remained grim, but he forced out the words, “I do.”
“Truly?” Wen Jin’s eyes lit up. He immediately handed Lan Xiangru the third cup of wine, lifted the hem of his robe, and knelt before the jade-green table.
After a moment’s hesitation, Lan Xiangru grasped his cup, lifted his own robes, and knelt beside him.
Wen Jin opened his mouth to speak, his face alight with joy, but then looked at Lan Xiangru and chuckled. “Brother Lan, you are a scholar. You know far more than I do. You should be the one to recite the oath.”
Lan Xiangru’s face was ashen as he spoke in a low, heavy voice: “It is said that a room filled with zithers and books brings joy to kindred spirits; a bed shared through wind and rain allows for arm-in-arm confidences. Today, we two brothers, though we cannot match the bond of the Peach Garden, wish to forge a Golden Orchid Covenant. With Lord Guan as our witness, we shall flourish together in the bamboo grove, sharing all joys and sorrows.”
Wen Jin sighed inwardly. Scholars truly are a cut above, he thought. Every word he utters is a masterpiece. In contrast, Wen Jin, with his own lack of learning, could only keep turning the same cliché over and over in his mind: We may not have been born on the same day of the same month of the same year, but we swear to die on the same day of the same month of the same year.
The two men promptly drained their cups of fine wine and bowed three times to the statue of Lord Guan.
“Big Brother, I will call you that from now on!” Wen Jin grasped Lan Xiangru’s hand and rose to his feet. “Meeting you has been one of the greatest fortunes of my life. But as the saying goes, no banquet lasts forever. Now that your meridians have healed, it is time for us brothers to part ways.”
Lan Xiangru’s voice was cool. “You swore an oath of brotherhood with me just so you could say goodbye?”
“Of course not!” Wen Jin said, his tone earnest. “Two months ago, the Returning Cloud Villa—one of the Five Great Families—was annihilated without cause. Countless others across the Central Plains have been slaughtered by the Demonic Cult. The Heaven-Seizing Cult is an existential threat to the martial world that must be eradicated. To be honest with you, I have been entrusted by the Martial Arts Alliance with a grave mission: I must infiltrate the Heaven-Seizing Cult and assassinate that devil, Lan Yulang.”
Lan Xiangru’s heart went cold. So, the “urgent matter” Wen Jin had mentioned earlier was none other than infiltrating the Heaven-Seizing Cult to act as a spy and assassinate him.
After a brief pause, Lan Xiangru asked, “Why tell me this?”
“Since we have sworn an oath of brotherhood,” Wen Jin smiled, “we should keep no secrets from each other. After I emerge victorious, I will come visit you again, Elder Brother. We will drink to the martial world and roam the earth together.”
Lan Xiangru remained silent.
“Elder Brother?” Wen Jin asked, his confusion growing. “What’s wrong?”
Instead of answering, Lan Xiangru asked, “The Demonic Cult is teeming with experts. How do you plan to kill their Leader?”
Wen Jin lowered his gaze, his expression flushing with embarrassment. “I heard that Devil has a fondness for men. I…”
Lan Xiangru narrowed his eyes. “Oh.”
Completely ignorant of the arts of romance, yet he plans to seduce the enemy.
Wen Jin asked, “What is your opinion on the matter, Elder Brother?”
“I have no opinion,” Lan Xiangru replied with a faint smile. “I wish you a swift victory.”
Ye Zhaobai’s ten thousand taels of gold had bought the two men their freedom, and Kou Yiren would no longer pursue the matter of the Hidden Gold and Jade Fluff Ointment.
That night, Kou Yiren hosted a grand banquet. She ordered several jars of Nu’er Hong, aged for ten years, to be brought out to toast Wen Jin and Lan Xiangru’s farewell.
At the banquet, Ye Zhaobai beckoned Wen Jin with a wave of his hand. “Kid, come sit by me.”
Wen Jin immediately rose, clutching his wine cup, and took a seat beside him.
Ye Zhaobai smiled warmly. “Now that you’ve sworn brotherhood with my little puppy, you can call me Uncle from now on. If you ever need gold or silver, just ask. Your uncle will grant any request.”
“Thank you, Uncle,” Wen Jin replied. He then leaned in close and whispered, “Why did Big Brother get such a nickname?”
“His mother chose it,” Ye Zhaobai explained. “A humble name keeps a child safe.”
Lan Xiangru’s gaze darkened. “Uncle.”
“Shh—don’t say another word, he’s angry.” Ye Zhaobai clinked his cup against Wen Jin’s. “Come on, let’s drink.”
After a few more cups, Wen Jin’s curiosity was piqued. Seizing the moment while Lan Xiangru was distracted, he asked Ye Zhaobai in a low voice, “Uncle, was Big Brother always such a silent type when he was young?”
Ye Zhaobai murmured, “Precociously mature, more or less the same.”
So it’s in his nature, Wen Jin thought with a smile. He was about to ask more when he suddenly met Lan Xiangru’s gaze. He immediately shut his mouth and quickly changed the subject: “Uncle, I’ll drink another cup with you!”
Several jars of strong liquor were drained one after another. Wen Jin, completely drunk, collapsed onto the table and began to babble nonsense.
Ye Zhaobai circulated his internal energy to expel the alcohol from his system. “He’s completely drunk. Why haven’t you taken him back yet?”
Lan Xiangru rose and bowed with cupped hands. “The Lan Family’s blood feud has been avenged. It is time I return to the Holy Cult to purge our ranks. If we meet again in the future, I fear this nephew and his uncle will have to face each other with swords drawn.”
“Are you saying you wish to sever ties with me?” Ye Zhaobai asked.
Lan Xiangru froze, then explained, “This nephew has no such intention. After the incident at Returning Cloud Villa, I have become an enemy of the martial arts world. A war between the Orthodox and Demonic factions is inevitable. You are the Pavilion Master of Crescent Moon Pavilion, a paragon of the Orthodox Path. It is your duty to eliminate demons and defend the Way.”
Ye Zhaobai snorted coldly. “If I had known the Gusu Ye Family were the ones who murdered my sister, I would have exacted revenge for you long ago, without needing you to lift a finger.”
Lan Xiangru looked at him in astonishment. “Uncle…”
Ye Zhaobai let out a nearly imperceptible sigh, then raised his head and drank half a cup of cloudy wine. “Take Wen Jin back to his room to rest. Let me have some peace.”
Lan Xiangru fell silent for a moment, then bowed again. “This nephew takes his leave.” With that, he carried Wen Jin back to the guest room.
Though the Evil Moon was scorching, the night air in the Wuling Mountains was as cool as water.
Lan Xiangru used his internal energy to dispel the alcohol from Wen Jin’s stomach, then gently woke him. “Jinjin, you must bathe before you sleep.”
Wen Jin, half-drunk and half-awake, slumped weakly against Lan Xiangru’s shoulder. “So sleepy… don’t want to bathe.”
“You must,” Lan Xiangru insisted.
Wen Jin seethed with silent discontent. But remembering his Dage’s fastidiousness, he could only resign himself to the ordeal. He reluctantly stripped, walked into the bathing chamber, and sank into the hot spring pool.
Soon, Lan Xiangru joined him, moving closer until their bodies almost touched.
Wen Jin leaned against the pool’s edge, staring at the man now within arm’s reach. Suddenly, he let out a soft laugh.
Lan Xiangru frowned, puzzled. “What are you laughing at?”
Wen Jin reached out, his index finger lightly poking Lan Xiangru’s chest. “Puppy.”
Lan Xiangru’s face darkened with annoyance as he seized Wen Jin’s hand. “Wen Jin!”
The smile never left Wen Jin’s lips. His eyes, misted by the rising steam, grew hazy and languid. “Dage.”
The single word instantly dissolved Lan Xiangru’s anger. He released Wen Jin’s hand and slowly leaned back, his arms draping lazily over the pool’s edge.
“Dage,” Wen Jin called again, “let us practice Dual Cultivation.”
Lan Xiangru’s heart gave a violent thrum. He stared at Wen Jin in disbelief. “What did you say?”
Wen Jin paddled closer, his movements a playful splash in the water. “We part ways tomorrow, and I know not when we shall meet again. Your Cultivation Body has yet to fully recover, and Madam Kou has no more Hidden Gold and Jade Fluff Ointment. A final session of Dual Cultivation would benefit us both.”
Lan Xiangru clenched his fists, the veins on his arms bulging with a terrifying force.
Shaoqing, he pulled Wen Jin into his embrace, gripped his jaw, and asked in a low voice, “Are you sure you won’t regret this?”
Dual cultivation enhances my cultivation base, Wen Jin thought. Why would I regret it?
He shook his head resolutely. “I won’t.”
The words had barely left his lips before Lan Xiangru invaded him.
Calloused fingers scraped against the folds of his flesh, teasingly probing the hidden depths.
This was not the first time Wen Jin had let him do this. Though he still felt a surge of resistance, he quickly adapted.
He clung to the edge of the pool, his shoulder blades slightly raised, revealing a pair of beautiful butterfly bones. The young man’s distinct dimples at the small of his back appeared and disappeared in the pool water, his black hair cascading down like silk floating on the surface.
Wen Jin had long since sobered up, with little alcohol remaining in his system. He propped himself up on the edge of the hot spring, glanced back, and was caught off guard by Lan Xiangru’s deep, intense gaze. A sudden jolt of fear shot through his heart.
This look… It was one he had never seen before. Even when Lan Xiangru had first woken up, full of wariness and suspicion toward him, he had never looked like this.
An inexplicable dread seized Wen Jin. Just as he was about to speak, Lan Xiangru filled him without another word.
…filled.
The young man’s neck snapped taut, a low groan escaping his nose.
The Dragon Boat Festival night was a tapestry of brilliant stars. The summer cicadas gradually fell silent, replaced by the ceaseless chorus of insects and frogs.
The flames on the candelabra by the pond crackled as they were struck by the splashing mist. The lamp shadows swayed gently, and the figures of the two men overlapped, like an ink-wash painting—hazy yet exquisitely beautiful.
Wen Jin was being pounded.
Wen Jin was knocked down.
His bones felt as if they were about to scatter. He kept calling out “Big Brother,” “Brother,” and “Brother Lan,” trying to beg for mercy, but his pleas only brought harsher punishment.
Tears streamed from the corners of his eyes, disappearing into his hair.
He had finally realized the meaning of the question Lan Xiangru had asked earlier.
He regretted it—he regretted doing something to improve his cultivation—he regretted it to his very core!
But his regret came too late.
“Big Brother…” He tilted his head slightly, his voice breaking. “Don’t… don’t—”
Lan Xiangru leaned down and pressed a kiss to the side of his neck.
The cool lips against his skin made the young man shiver, and the words he had been about to speak were crushed beneath his tongue.
Wen Jin froze for a moment, then hurriedly tried to push him away. This gesture seemed to anger Lan Xiangru, who bit down hard on the spot, tearing the skin and drawing a trickle of blood.
“It hurts!” Wen Jin couldn’t help but struggle, but Lan Xiangru held him tightly in his arms, using the convenience of his position to lick away the blood from his neck with the tip of his tongue.
A bloodthirsty demon, perhaps this is how it feels.
Their dual cultivation moved from the hot spring pool to the window, and only after a long time did they return to the bed.
Wen Jin moaned and gasped for half the night, feeling the True Qi in his dantian swell to the point of nearly exploding. Yet Lan Xiangru refused to stop, continuing until his own desire was fully spent.
It was nearly the fourth watch, and though the world was silent, the Spring Flowers and Autumn Moon Pavilion remained ablaze with light.
Meng Duwei, drifting between sleep and wakefulness, was jolted awake by the sudden, ethereal chime of a bell—a sound so piercing it seemed to seize his very soul.
He swiftly dressed, leaped from his window, and used his Lightness Skill to glide away from the pavilion, following the sound to its source.
Deep in the night’s shadows, he saw a figure in white standing motionless. Meng Duwei approached slowly, bowing his head in greeting. “This subordinate, Meng Duwei, pays his respects to the Cult Leader.”
The figure in white spoke, “Raise your head.”
The voice sounded strangely familiar. Meng Duwei obeyed, lifting his gaze to meet a strikingly handsome face.
It was him?!
Lan Xiangru raised his left hand, his long sleeve sliding back to reveal the Skull Golden Bell on his wrist.
—This was the Flying Frost Pomegranate Fire, the artifact capable of controlling a hundred venomous insects, passed down to every Cult Leader of the Heaven-Seizing Cult.
The shock in Meng Duwei’s eyes was unconcealed. “So the Cult Leader… is Young Master Lan.”
“Now that you know my identity,” Lan Xiangru said, “you must also know that I have a request for you.”
“This subordinate would not dare refuse,” Meng Duwei replied.
Lan Xiangru asked, “Tell me, did you know of Mo Changling’s conspiracy with Duan Jiuyuan to harm me?”
“This subordinate did not,” Meng Duwei answered truthfully.
“Good. I believe you,” Lan Xiangru said. “I have a proposition. I wonder if the Cloud Dream Immortal is interested.”
Meng Duwei frowned in confusion. “May the Cult Leader speak plainly.”
Lan Xiangru said, “Wen Jin has been ordered by the Martial Arts Alliance to go undercover in the Heaven-Seizing Cult. You will escort him into the cult, and in return, I will kill Mo Changling for you.”
The offer to kill Mo Changling was indeed tempting. But Meng Duwei did not know why the Cult Leader would send a spy into the cult. He dared not ask, nor did he think it prudent to do so. He could only agree, “This subordinate obeys.”
After a moment’s pause, he added, “This subordinate has an impertinent request.”
Lan Xiangru’s voice was cool. “Speak.”
Meng Duwei said, “If the Cult Leader captures Mo Changling in the future, I beg you to spare his life.”
Lan Xiangru asked, “You do not wish for him to die?”
“Not so,” Meng Duwei gritted his teeth. “I wish to end his life with my own hands, to vent the hatred in my heart!”
[ Author’s Note ]
Xiao Jin: A single moment of taking the initiative leads to a lifetime of introversion.
PS: I’ve changed Uncle’s name to Ye Zhaobai. A friend told me there’s a horse in JX3 named Zhaoyebai, and after looking it up, I found that Emperor Xuanzong’s favorite horse was indeed named that. To prevent Uncle from becoming a mount, I changed it.
Actually, Uncle’s name and the name of Crescent Moon Pavilion were taken from the poem “Biting the mountains and swallowing the river’s moon, the pavilion hangs high to reflect the night’s white light.”
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