Chapter 69: A Heart Exchanged for Life, a Master’s Boundless Grace, Two Shadows Flying as One, Love Also…
by GideonThe autumn scenery of Jiangnan was the very essence of poetry. The blue bricks and green tiles, the crimson maples and golden apricots, and the azure waters meeting the horizon—all combined to refresh and invigorate the spirit.
Wen Jin returned to Yandang Mountain with his master’s belongings, erecting a cenotaph for Linghu Xuantong beneath a willow tree behind the Taoist temple. After staying on the mountain for a few days with Lan Yulang, he departed for Canglan Pavilion in Jinling to pay his respects to its new Pavilion Master, Murong Qishu.
Since ascending to the position of Pavilion Master, Murong Qishu had become far more composed and steady than before. Yet, the moment he saw Wen Jin, the youthful spirit he had suppressed for so long erupted. He threw himself into Wen Jin’s arms, laughing and jostling him, completely ignoring the strange looks from the assembled elders.
“I thought… I thought there was no longer any brotherly bond between us,” Murong Qishu said, a smile playing on his lips, though his eyes brimmed with mist. The heartache he felt was written plainly across his face.
Wen Jin spoke softly, “We are as close as brothers. How could there ever be distance between us?”
He knew that Murong Qishu was still consumed by guilt and self-reproach over his father’s transgressions. But Wen Jin drew a clear line between grudges and gratitude; he had never allowed the hatred of the older generation to affect his senior brother, and his affection for him remained unchanged.
Murong Qishu smiled and smoothly changed the subject. “Since you two have rarely visited Jinling, why not stay a few more days? Allow me, your senior brother, to act as your host.”
Wen Jin had been trying to drag Lan Yulang away to prevent him from returning to the Heaven-Seizing Cult to pay his respects to their master. With Murong Qishu already offering, he naturally seized the opportunity. “Your senior brother’s hospitality is too generous to refuse. Yulang, let’s stay in Jinling for a few more days. It’s been a long time since I’ve gone out for a night stroll.”
Lan Yulang replied, “I will do as you say.”
Murong Qishu felt a wave of nausea from the cloying sweetness of their exchange. He shuddered involuntarily, guiding them into the pavilion as he remarked, “Truly sickeningly sweet.”
Wen Jin chuckled softly. “Senior Brother, you’ve reached a marriageable age yourself. Why not find a fair lady to keep you company?”
Murong Qishu’s steps faltered. His expression froze for a moment, his mind clearly elsewhere.
Lan Yulang noticed the odd reaction and quickly intervened. “Your senior brother has just assumed the position of Pavilion Master. With such a heavy burden of duties, how could he have the leisure to entertain romantic matters? Besides, he is still observing the mourning period. He cannot marry for another year or two.”
“I was inconsiderate. I completely forgot,” Wen Jin murmured, lowering his head.
Lan Yulaung rubbed his head. “Worry about your own marriage first.”
Wen Jin puffed out his cheeks and remained silent, the tips of his ears visibly flushing red.
Canglan Pavilion was a whirlwind of administrative duties, and within the Martial Arts Alliance, countless trivial matters awaited Murong Qishu’s resolution. The time he could spend with his close friend was limited, leaving only their evening meals as an opportunity to chat about domestic trifles.
The late autumn night was bitterly cold. Lan Yulang, sensitive to the chill, held Wen Jin tightly in his arms as they slept, drawing the Pure Yang Qi from his body.
The candle flame on the stand flickered gently, casting warm yellow light and shadow across Wen Jin’s face. “When I was young and learning martial arts at Canglan Pavilion, I used to sneak out to the southern suburbs with my senior brother and Big Brother Feng. There’s a theater there where you can watch operas and buy sugar figurines. Let’s go there tomorrow.”
Lan Yulang said in a faint voice, “Childish.”
Wen Jin looked up and glared at him. “How is that childish? Did you not eat sugar figurines when you were little?”
“I did not,” Lan Yulang said. “After I joined the sect, I was confined to the Poison Cave, wracking my brains every day just to survive. For three years, I hardly saw the light of day.”
His childhood had been spent in slaughter, the complete opposite of Wen Jin, who had been raised cherished by everyone.
Wen Jin shuddered violently, his tone suddenly softening. “Your master was so harsh to you. Have you ever blamed him?”
“My master’s kindness to me is like that of a parent. How could I blame him?” Lan Yulang said with a smile. “I only hope to spend the rest of my life serving him with filial piety, to repay my master’s great kindness.”
Wen Jin suddenly fell silent, burying his face in Lan Yulang’s chest as a wave of bitterness washed over him.
Lan Yulang gently stroked his dark hair and continued, “My master is your mother’s sworn elder brother. By all rights, you should call him Uncle, not Martial Uncle. This way, both our maternal clans will have a close relative present, and our marriage will have a witness.”
Wen Jin wrapped his arms tightly around Lan Yulang’s waist, his voice slightly husky. “Yu Lang, I…”
The words were on the tip of his tongue, yet he couldn’t bring himself to say them.
The deaths of Jun Lan and Mu Fushuang had always been a thorn in Wen Jin’s heart. He had kept the matter a secret, living in constant agony, his countless deceits all for the sake of keeping a single promise.
Seeing him hesitate, Lan Yulang raised an eyebrow. “What? Do you intend to break our engagement?”
Wen Jin replied nonchalantly, “I have no such intention.”
Lan Yulang smiled faintly. “You wrote the marriage contract. If you break the engagement, you will be the one who has betrayed my heart.”
Wen Jin huffed softly. “And if I do betray your heart, what will you do?”
Lan Yulang pinched his chin, forcing him to lift his head and meet his gaze. “I will imprison you in the Glazed Palace, plant a Gu in your body, and make you bear my children until you can no longer produce any more.”
These words truly startled Wen Jin. Recalling that the Heaven-Seizing Cult did indeed possess a demonic Gu that could make men conceive, he felt a sudden chill run down his spine.
Seeing Wen Jin’s face turn pale with fright, Lan Yulang decided to push the joke all the way. “I was born with a wicked nature. To prevent you from betraying me, I have already planted the Kunshan Jade Shattering Gu within your body. I will give you the antidote only after you have borne me a child.”
Wen Jin shot out of his arms like a startled cat and sat up straight, his expression grave. “Yu Lang, you’d better be joking!”
Lan Yulang lay on his side, propping his head up with one hand. His gaze was heavy, his expression utterly sincere.
Wen Jin couldn’t help but shudder.
Seeing he had taken the joke far enough, Lan Yulang rose with a smile and pulled him into an embrace. “I was only teasing you. Did you actually believe me?”
Though Master Jun had already developed an antidote for the Kunshan Jade Shattering Gu, the Gu itself was too depraved and caused severe damage to its host, significantly shortening their lifespan. He would never use such a thing on Wen Jin.
Wen Jin pushed him away in anger and burrowed into the quilts, turning his back to ignore him.
Lan Yulang leaned in close, whispering against his ear, “Jinjin, I was wrong.”
“Wrong about what?” Wen Jin asked.
“I shouldn’t have frightened you with such a thing,” Lan Yulang replied.
Wen Jin gave a cold snort and fell silent.
Lan Yulang pressed closer, his voice soft and coaxing. “My dear wife, your husband truly knows he was wrong.”
Wen Jin glanced back with a glare. Lan Yulang immediately changed his words: “Husband, will you forgive me?”
The word husband sent a flutter through Wen Jin’s heart, instantly deflating his anger. “Then I’ll punish you by making you accompany me to see the sugar-blowers tomorrow.”
Lan Yulang smiled. “Very well.”
The next morning, after breakfast, they took a carriage from Canglan Pavilion to the Southern Suburbs. It was still early, and the theaters and teahouses had not yet opened. Wen Jin led Lan Yulang to the adjacent marketplace, where they stopped before a stall selling sugar sculptures.
The vendor was an old man with a full head of silver hair. Lan Yulang asked respectfully, “Old sir, how much for your sugar sculptures?”
The old man kept his head down, tidying his wares and ignoring him.
Wen Jin quickly said, “The old sir is hard of hearing. You have to shout for him to hear you.” With that, he leaned in closer and called out loudly, “Uncle Wu! I’ve come to get a sugar sculpture!”
Hearing the voice, the old man immediately looked up. When his eyes met the youth’s bright, cheerful face, he beamed with joy. “It’s you, Xiao Jin!”
Wen Jin’s heart warmed. “After all these years, you still remember me.”
The old man chuckled. “You little troublemaker, who on this street would dare forget you?”
Wen Jin stole a glance at Lan Yulang. Seeing the faint smile on the other man’s lips, he couldn’t help but blush. “Oh, Uncle Wu, I’d like a rabbit today. Could I trouble you to make one for me?”
Uncle Wu chuckled. “Just a moment. I’ve only just arrived and need to set up my stall first.”
“I’ll help you.” Wen Jin rolled up his sleeves and set to work. His hands were nimble, and in no time, he had helped Uncle Wu arrange all the supplies. Uncle Wu washed his hands, uncovered the cloth, and scooped a lump of brown malt sugar from the basin. After kneading it for a moment, he pulled out a thin strand of sugar and handed it to Wen Jin. “Blow it.”
Wen Jin turned back to Lan Yulang. “Yu Lang, you do it.”
Lan Yulang hesitated, his expression suggesting he was reluctant to do such a thing.
Wen Jin teased, “What’s the matter? Is the Great Cult Leader Lan too proud to lower himself to this?”
Lan Yulang took two steps forward, accepted the sugar strand from Uncle Wu, and placed it in his mouth. Wen Jin added, “Blow gently. Don’t use too much force.”
He slowly breathed into the sugar strand, and the malt sugar gradually expanded. Uncle Wu swiftly molded it into a plump rabbit. After snipping the sugar strand, he used a bamboo skewer dipped in hawthorn jam to dot two crimson eyes onto the rabbit’s face, then skewered it and handed it to Wen Jin. “Here you go.”
Wen Jin waved the sugar figure before Lan Yulang’s eyes, his smile revealing two canine teeth that made him look bright and endearing. Lan Yulang, his mood lifted, turned back to Uncle Wu and had him craft another sugar rabbit. He tucked the pair into Wen Jin’s hands. “Good things come in pairs.”
The two strolled through the market until the sun reached its zenith, when they went to the Drunken Immortal Tower for their midday meal.
This time, Wen Jin ordered the Squirrel-shaped Mandarin Fish. He placed a piece of the tender belly meat onto Lan Yulang’s plate and said, “Yu Lang, this fish is a famous dish of your Gusu. Now that we’ve come to Jinling, why don’t we return to Gusu for a visit?”
Lan Yulang’s parents had died in a vendetta-driven feud in the martial world, their remains eventually collected by the imperial court and buried on Tiger Hill Mountain. All these years, he had remained in the Heaven-Seizing Cult, bitterly honing his martial arts and rarely venturing into the Central Plains. It was only at the beginning of this year, after he returned to Gusu to bathe the Returning Cloud Villa in blood, that he finally visited Tiger Hill Mountain to pay his respects to his parents.
“If you wish to go, I will accompany you,” Lan Yulang said. “From now on, I will do whatever you say.”
Wen Jin’s mouth was stuffed full, his speech muffled as he asked, “You’ll really do whatever I say?”
Lan Yulang offered a faint smile. “A true man’s word is as solid as nine tripods. When have I ever deceived you?”
Wen Jin blurted out, “Hmph! You hid your identity as the Cult Leader for so long, yet you claim you’ve never deceived me!”
Lan Yulang said, “Circumstances forced my hand. It hardly counts as deception.”
Wen Jin buried his head in his bowl, eating fish and ignoring him completely.
“I thought you had already forgiven me,” Lan Yulang said. “I didn’t expect you to still be resentful.”
Wen Jin shot him a dissatisfied glance. “Cult Leader Lan’s words make it sound as if I am the one being petty and unreasonable.”
Lan Yulang quickly replied, “I was wrong. I should not have upset you.”
Wen Jin angrily stuffed several mouthfuls of rice into his mouth. Only after Lan Yulang coaxed him with soft, gentle words for a long while did the matter finally be put to rest. Afterward, the two went to a teahouse to listen to two operas. At dusk, they hired a painted pleasure boat for a night cruise on the Qinhuai River, returning to Canglan Pavilion only when the curfew began.
Two days later, Lan Yulang took Wen Jin to Tiger Hill Mountain outside Gusu City to pay respects to his parents. The Lan Clan’s ancestral home had long since fallen into ruin, left unattended for years and utterly decayed. They rested at an inn in the city for a few nights, then set out for Jiangling on the first day of the eleventh lunar month. After half a month of travel, they finally arrived at Fengyue City.
This happened to be the time of the first snow of winter, and the mountains and rivers were covered in a blanket of silver-white. Wen Jin dismounted, wearing a bamboo hat. Turning back, he saw Lan Yulang wrapped tightly from head to toe, even pulling his hood low over his head. He asked with concern, “Yulang, are you alright?”
Ever since he had mastered the Azure Nether Heart Scripture, Lan Yulang had become extremely sensitive to the cold, making winter especially difficult to endure. He shook his head and smiled faintly. “I am fine.”
Upon learning of his friend’s arrival, Feng Shulou arranged a grand feast to welcome them.
That night, the wind and snow continued to rage, and the weather was exceptionally frigid. The servants had already warmed the underfloor heating in the east wing’s guest rooms, and the copper brazier in the main hall was filled with silver-thread charcoal, making the several rooms as warm as spring.
Meng Duwei used a red clay stove to warm a pot of wine. He also filled a freshly peeled orange peel with tea leaves, mixed in a suitable amount of dried osmanthus, and then placed it on an iron rack to roast for a moment. After the aroma wafted out, he brewed it with boiling water and poured it for the honored guest to taste.
Wen Jin drank the fragrant tea and praised repeatedly, “Little Butterfly, I never thought you had such a skill!”
Meng Duwei looked at Feng Shulou with a smile. “My brother taught me.”
Wen Jin noticed that the Blood Butterfly tattoo on his face had faded considerably, and asked in surprise, “Huh, why has your tattoo faded?”
Before Meng Duwei could speak, Feng Shulou said to Lan Yulang, “Cult Leader Lan, A-Ze is my younger brother. Now that he has returned to Fengyue City, he should no longer bear the mark of the Heaven-Seizing Cult.”
Lan Yulang sipped half a cup of hot tea, then slowly lifted his eyelids to look at Meng Duwei. “Has your revenge been avenged?”
Feng Shulou cut in, “Mo Changling is a ruthless and cruel man who has brought calamity upon the martial world. Fengyue City will naturally not allow him to roam free.”
Seeing how Feng Shulou so fiercely defended Meng Duwei, Lan Yulang asked in a calm tone, “Banner Lord Meng, have you truly decided to leave this Cult?”
Meng Duwei lowered his gaze. “I know the rules of the Holy Cult. Those who betray the Cult must cripple their own martial arts and meridians.”
Hearing this, Wen Jin immediately grew anxious. “Yulang, Little Butterfly was always a person of Fengyue City. He is simply returning home; how can that be considered betraying the Cult?”
Lan Yulang smiled. “I never said I would do anything to him. If he truly wishes to leave the Cult, he only needs to hand over his Banner Lord’s Token. From then on, he will have no further ties to the Holy Cult.”
The others breathed a collective sigh of relief. Meng Duwei immediately removed the token from his waist and presented it with both hands. “I am grateful for the Cult Leader’s grace. If the Holy Cult ever has a need in the future, you may summon me at any time. This subordinate will not refuse even if it means death.”
Lan Yulang said, “Since you are no longer a member of this Cult, there is no need to refer to yourself as ‘this subordinate’ before me.”
Meng Duwei, momentarily unsure of how to respond, could only silently lower his head.
Feng Shulou was delighted. Just as a maidservant brought in the dishes, he said, “You two have traveled all day. Eat your fill first; we can discuss the rest after the meal.”
Wen Jin was so hungry his stomach was practically glued to his back. At this moment, he couldn’t be bothered with too much etiquette. He pulled out a stool and sat down immediately. “Let’s all eat!”
Lan Yulang took his seat beside him and ladled a bowl of lotus root and lily bulb soup for Wen Jin to line his stomach. Feng Shulou explained, “The bamboo grove at Flying Flower Terrace is filled with winter bamboo shoots. Du Wen went up the mountain this morning to dig up a few fresh ones, and the kitchen prepared a pot of bamboo shoot soup in the evening—perfect for hot pot.”
Outside the window, goose-feather snow drifted down. The steam from the hot pot rose like white smoke, enough to dispel the early winter chill.
Wen Jin picked up several slices of raw meat and placed them into the pot. He suddenly remembered Lan Yulang’s fastidiousness and was about to speak when Feng Shulou said, “I know Brother Lan does not eat boiled meat. I have already instructed the kitchen to prepare separate dishes for you.”
Just as he spoke, a maidservant knocked and entered, presenting a plate of stir-fried beef with black bean sauce and a plate of crispy fried pork ribs.
Meng Duwei added a plate of yellow-coated meat slices to the hot pot. “This is our Jiangling fish cake.”
Wen Jin said, “I have long heard that Jiangling fish cake is fresh and tender. I must have a taste!”
The four of them drank and talked freely over the bubbling winter bamboo shoot hot pot. Lan Yulang, unable to hold his liquor, stopped after only two cups. Feng Shulou, as the lord of a city, could not afford to be reckless; he also drank only two cups, keeping his sobriety. Wen Jin and Meng Duwei, however, were completely swept up in the joy of the occasion. They drank cup after cup without pause, gradually becoming utterly drunk. Eventually, they collapsed into a heap, clinging to each other as they wept.
Lan Yulang and Feng Shulou quickly pulled them apart. Lan Yulang carried Wen Jin into a guest room, while Meng Duwei remained sprawled in his brother’s arms, babbling incessantly as if trying to tell him something. Feng Shulou soothed him gently, “A-Ze, Xiao Jin and Cult Leader Lan have already gone to rest. Let’s go back too.”
Meng Duwei hooked his arms around his brother’s neck and let out a soft, whimpering “Brother…”
“Yes, your brother is here,” Feng Shulou said. “I’ll carry you on my back.”
Meng Duwei closed his eyes and climbed onto his back, his arms wrapped tightly around his brother’s neck. He pressed his face against his ear, calling “Brother” over and over again. Feng Shulou had a patient temperament; no matter how many times Meng Duwei called, he always answered.
The two returned to the main courtyard through the wind and snow. As they passed through the garden, they unexpectedly met Madam Ouyang in the stone pavilion. Feng Shulou paused in surprise, then continued toward the pavilion with his younger brother on his back. “Second Mother.”
Ever since Meng Duwei’s return, Ouyang Yue’s madness had also improved. She held a hand warmer in her hands and asked softly, “Is Ze’er drunk?”
Feng Shulou smiled. “A-Ze rarely gets to see his good friend, so he drank a few extra cups of hot wine. Second Mother need not worry; I will take good care of him.”
Ouyang Yue’s gaze flickered, her lips parting as if to speak, then closing.
Noticing her strange expression, Feng Shulou asked, “Second Mother, do you have something to say to me?”
“Follow me to the West Courtyard,” Ouyang Yue said.
Back in the West Courtyard, Ouyang Yue dismissed the servants. Feng Shulou took the opportunity to settle his younger brother on the guifei couch, carefully tucking the cashmere blanket around him.
“Brother…” Meng Duwei murmured, his eyes half-closed. Feng Shulou immediately grasped his hand, comforting him. “I am here.”
Ouyang Yue stared at their intertwined fingers, her face draining of color as she tightened her grip on her silk handkerchief.
After a moment, Feng Shulou released Meng Duwei’s hand and turned to Ouyang Yue. “Second Mother, please speak your mind.”
Ouyang Yue’s voice trembled as she spoke. “Do you know why your father hardened his heart and gave Ze’er to the Demonic Cult?”
“I do not,” Feng Shulou replied.
Ouyang Yue smiled bitterly. “Because Ze’er is not his flesh and blood.”
Feng Shulou froze, a flash of disbelief crossing his eyes. “Second Mother, you cannot say such things!”
“I am perfectly lucid,” Ouyang Yue said. “I know exactly what I am saying. Before I married into Fengyue City, I had a lover—a man I had already pledged my life to. But my father and brothers, desperate to curry favor with Fengyue City, sent assassins to kill Lin Lang and forced me into the Feng family’s bridal sedan.”
“Less than half a month after the wedding, your father discovered I was pregnant. He was so enraged he wished he could have struck me dead with a single blow. Yet, the Ouyang Family’s wealth rivaled that of nations, and your father needed their endless gold to maintain the prestige of Fengyue City. So, he swallowed his fury and endured it. Years later, when the Demonic Cult invaded, he finally found his opportunity. He gave the child—a bloodline that did not belong to the Feng Clan—to Mo Changling.”
“After Ze’er was sent away, Feng Qiya naturally would not have spared me. Fortunately, the Ouyang Family still recognized me as their daughter, and he dared not strike me down lightly. I simply feigned madness and folly to preserve my life.”
Feng Shulou was utterly stunned by her words. He turned numbly to look at the sleeping youth, a complex surge of emotion welling up in his heart.
Outside the window, the wind and snow grew more fierce. A spark from the charcoal fire in the brazier popped and landed on the back of Feng Shulou’s hand, but he remained oblivious, his gaze fixed unblinkingly on Meng Duwei.
Ouyang Yue’s heart was also a tangle of emotions. She looked at Meng Duwei, then at Feng Shulou. “Lou’er, it is late. Go back and rest.”
Feng Shulou cupped his fist in a respectful gesture. “Second Mother, please go to bed early. I will take A-Ze and leave now.”
Ouyang Yue did not speak, only nodding her head.
The first snow fell intermittently for three days before finally ceasing. Born in the depths of winter, Wen Jin had always cherished the snow. When Meng Duwei first arrived, he had been delighted to accompany Wen Jin to Xingluo Mountain to play in the snow and hunt. Occasionally, they would soak in the Spirit Spring Pool at Flying Flower Terrace, a truly pleasant experience.
Unfortunately, Wen Jin possessed a Pure Yang constitution and was immune to the bitter cold. Over time, Meng Duwei could no longer endure the freezing weather and slipped away from the mountain, hiding in his room and refusing to come out.
After staying in Fengyue City for nearly half a month, Lan Yulang and Wen Jin bid farewell to their friends and set off for their sect. Along the way, they detoured to Wuling to visit Madam Kou and Niu Shuang’er at the Spring Flowers and Autumn Moon Pavilion.
To their surprise, after several months’ separation, Niu Shuang’er had given birth to a baby girl. It turned out that shortly after being taken in by Kou Yiren, she had discovered she was pregnant. The child in her womb was undoubtedly the flesh and blood of Huiming, the Abbot of Huaguang Temple.
Though Niu Shuang’er harbored resentment toward Huiming, her heart softened for the unborn child. After weeping for two or three days, she ultimately decided to keep the baby.
Because this winter’s first snow had fallen with such unexpected ferocity, Niu Shuang’er had accidentally slipped in the snow yesterday morning, resulting in a premature birth. Fortunately, both mother and daughter were safe and sound, and only then did Kou Yiren’s heart finally settle.
Wen Jin carefully took the child from Kou Yiren’s arms. Gazing at the red, wrinkled little girl wrapped in swaddling clothes, he couldn’t help but marvel, “So, a newborn is only the size of a palm.”
Kou Yiren replied, “Children grow like the wind. Come back tomorrow, and you’ll see she’s grown much larger.”
Wen Jin asked in astonishment, “Truly?”
Kou Yiren raised an eyebrow with a smile. “When have I ever told a lie?”
Half-convinced, Wen Jin sat by the window, cradling the child and studying her closely. Lan Yulang looked down at him and asked, “Jinjin, do you like children very much?”
“Do you not?” Wen Jin replied without looking up.
Lan Yulang smiled softly. “I do.”
Perhaps recalling how he had previously teased Wen Jin about having children, Wen Jin felt a wave of embarrassment. He quickly turned to Kou Yiren, changing the subject. “Aunt Kou, is Sister Shuang’er well?”
Kou Yiren answered, “Shuang’er is weak after the birth and is resting inside. I have ordered the servants to attend to her carefully. You need not worry.”
Wen Jin asked again, “Has the child been named?”
Kou Yiren shook her head. “Not yet.”
Just then, Wanqing approached gracefully. She curtsied to the group and said with a soft smile, “Shuang’er was overjoyed to learn of Cult Leader Lan and Young Hero Wen’s arrival. Unfortunately, her condition prevents her from greeting you both in person. We hope you will not take offense.”
Lan Yulang replied warmly, “Childbirth is an arduous journey. She must rest and recover well. Young Hero Wen and I are deeply grateful for Miss Niu’s kind thoughts.”
Wanqing continued, “Shuang’er also mentioned that it was Young Hero Wen and Cult Leader Lan who rescued her from her past suffering. If you would not mind, she would be honored if you both would bestow a name upon her little girl.”
Wen Jin blinked and turned to Lan Yulang. “Yu Lang, since Sister Shuang’er has asked so earnestly, we shouldn’t refuse. But I’m afraid I lack the scholarly wit for such a task. I’ll leave the naming to you.”
Lan Yulang’s gaze fell upon the sleeping infant. After a moment, he said softly, “Jingci.”
Kou Yiren asked, “What is the meaning?”
Lan Yulang explained concisely, “To emerge from the sea of suffering and find purity and compassion, forever free from the hardships of her past.”
The child’s origin was rooted in a karmic debt from the Buddhist Sect, but fortunately, Niu Shuang’er had already escaped that sea of suffering. The name “Jingci” was indeed a fitting choice.
“Wonderful! Truly wonderful!” Wen Jin spoke in a low voice, afraid of waking the child. His eyes crinkled with a joyful smile. “How about ‘A-Ning’ for her childhood name?”
Wanqing clapped her hands. “A-Ning is a lovely name!”
Kou Yiren smiled. “Then her formal name shall be ‘Jingci,’ and her childhood name ‘A-Ning.'”
Niu Shuang’er’s recovery progressed steadily, and she grew more spirited by the day. After the evening meal, Wen Jin and Lan Yulang visited her. The next morning, they set out for Southwest Guizhou, arriving at the Holy Cult just before Wen Jin’s birthday.
The Eighth Day of the Twelfth Lunar Month was Wen Jin’s Coming-of-Age Day. With both his parents and his master long deceased, he had no close kin to arrange his capping ceremony. Lan Yulang suggested, “My master is your uncle. Why not have him come down from the mountain to perform the capping ceremony? I haven’t paid him a visit in days; this is the perfect occasion.”
“Yulang!” Wen Jin grabbed his arm. “We’ve endured a long and exhausting journey. Let’s not make things more complicated. We are wanderers of the martial world, content with whatever comes our way. There’s little difference between nineteen and twenty. Why hold such a grand ceremony? Besides, the weather is freezing, and your Master Jun is in poor health. Let’s not trouble him.”
Lan Yulang narrowed his eyes. “Jinjin, why do you always stop me from going to No Regrets Peak?”
“How dare you slander me! When… when did I ever stop you?” Wen Jin resorted to shamelessness, burying his face in Lan Yulang’s chest and cooing softly, “Yu Lang, I’m so tired and hungry. Won’t you go cook a bowl of longevity noodles for me?”
“Alright.” Lan Yulang stroked his head before turning to leave. The Spirit Knowledge Hall instantly became empty and silent, leaving Wen Jin alone to lean over the table in profound sorrow.
If his parents were still alive and his master still present, today’s capping ceremony would surely be a grand and lively affair.
His father would have bestowed a courtesy name upon him, his mother would have cooked longevity noodles, and his master would have gifted him a sword tassel—all hoping for his martial arts cultivation to reach completion and for him to live a long, carefree life.
But now, he had only Lan Yulang.
Unknowingly, tears overflowed from his eyes, trickling down the bridge of his nose and leaving a clear, wet stain on the table.
Only when the sound of footsteps approached from outside the hall did Wen Jin hurriedly stand up, wipe away his tears, and force a smile.
Lan Yulang brought in a steaming bowl of longevity noodles. A poached egg nestled in the broth, accompanied by several slices of savory, flavorful braised meat, creating an irresistible aroma.
Wen Jin took the bowl of noodles, eager to taste them, but Lan Yulang’s hand blocked his path.
“Don’t be in such a hurry,” he said. As he spoke, he drew a Longevity Lock forged from pure gold from his robes and fastened it around the young man’s neck. “May you live ten thousand years, and may every year bring you the eternal spring.”
Wen Jin cradled the Longevity Lock, his fingertips trembling slightly. Forcing back his tears, he choked out, “Yu Lang, I…”
Lan Yulang pushed the bowl of noodles a few inches closer, gently interrupting him. “Jinjin, happy birthday.”
Wen Jin said no more and lowered his head to eat the noodles in great gulps.
That night, a cold wind howled and a relentless rain fell. The temperature in the Holy Cult was bitterly cold.
Wen Jin tossed restlessly in his sleep. Instinctively, he reached out to hug Lan Yulang, only to find the space beside him empty. He bolted upright, a shiver running through him. “Yu Lang?”
Lan Yulang never woke up in the middle of the night. It was still raining outside—where could he have gone?
Could it be…
The thought struck, and Wen Jin’s drowsiness vanished instantly. He threw on his clothes and rushed out of the Spirit Knowledge Hall into the rain, using his Lightness Skill to race toward Mirror Flower Lake.
The night rain raged, and a thick fog had descended upon the lake’s surface. He glided across the water toward the cavern, then ascended the hanging stairs to reach the summit of No Regrets Peak.
Ever since Mu Fushuang and Jun Lan passed away, the peak had lost its vitality. A thick layer of dead leaves blanketed the stone path, and the air hung heavy with the faint, lingering scent of rotting wood. Even the maplewood cottage had fallen into disrepair, its structure crumbling and dilapidated.
Wen Jin stumbled forward in the darkness, reaching the cemetery on the southern slope.
In a sudden blur, a white figure came into view. The young man’s footsteps faltered, and he hesitated for a long moment before slowly drawing near.
Lan Yulang knelt before the graves, his entire body drenched by the rain, looking utterly wretched.
A wave of heartache washed over Wen Jin. He immediately knelt beside him, pulling him into a tight embrace, his voice choking with sobs. “Yu Lang, I’m sorry…”
Lan Yulang’s wet hair clung to his face, his tone desolate. “When did they leave?”
Wen Jin could hide the truth no longer. Through his tears, he sobbed, “Master Jun… he gave his heart to save your life. Cult Leader Mu—my uncle—he chose to die with him.”
Lan Yulang’s gaze went vacant. Rain mixed with tears streamed down his cheeks. The young man’s searingly hot body pressed against Wen Jin’s cold, wet chest, repeatedly whispering, “I’m sorry.”
“I don’t blame you,” Lan Yulang said, holding him close, his voice inexplicably hoarse. “Master must have made you keep this from me, didn’t he?”
Wen Jin didn’t answer, but his sobs only grew more violent.
Lan Yulang forced a smile. “Fool, stop crying.”
They held each other in a long, silent embrace. Only when the rain finally tapered off did they kowtow in farewell and descend the mountain.
The winter rain fell intermittently for three full days. After the skies cleared, Lan Yulang ordered the graves of Jun Lan and Mu Fushuang to be repaired. He also had the maplewood cottage at the peak swept and refurbished, keeping its interior furnishings exactly as they had been.
On New Year’s Eve, Lan Yulang sent Duan Congen down the mountain to purchase several jars of clear sake to bring back to the Holy Cult for everyone to drink.
At noon, he and Wen Jin went outside the cult to pay their respects to Linghu Xuantong. Afterward, they returned to the Holy Cult to pay homage to Mu Zhenzhen, Mu Fushuang, and Jun Lan. When the sun reached its zenith, the two were busy preparing the New Year’s Eve meal in the maplewood cottage on No Regrets Peak.
“Yulang, I want to eat squirrel-shaped mandarin fish. Will you make it for me?” Wen Jin crouched by the earthen stove, tending the fire as he poured half a ladle of silver-thread charcoal into it.
Lan Yulang’s voice drifted from the kitchen: “Alright.”
Wen Jin smiled. “I also want some sweet soup. Won’t you make me a bowl of lotus seed and lily bulb congee?”
Lan Yulang replied with patient indulgence, “Mm.”
“And sizzling oil eel chowder!”
“Fine.”
Wen Jin trotted happily into the kitchen. “Yu Lang, let me help you.”
Lan Yulang poured the sliced rabbit meat into the hot oil and instructed, “Perilla powder.”
Wen Jin fetched a ceramic jar labeled “Perilla Powder,” scooped out a spoonful, and sprinkled it into the wok. Lan Yulang added, “Add some firewood.” Wen Jin complied.
The two of them bustled about for a long time, only finishing the New Year’s Eve feast as the sun began to dip below the western mountains.
Wen Jin set out nine pairs of chopsticks and bowls on the Eight Immortals table, pouring nine cups of yellow wine. He and Lan Yulang sat together, leaving three long benches empty.
As if by unspoken agreement, they both raised their cups in a toast to their departed loved ones.
“This cup is for our parents,” Lan Yulang said, rising to his feet. He reverently poured the wine from his cup onto the ground.
Wen Jin followed his example. “And this cup is for our respective masters. May they drink their fill on the road to the Yellow Springs.”
After offering their respects to their late masters, Lan Yulang refilled their cups. “Jinjin, this cup is for you.”
Wen Jin asked in surprise, “Why are you toasting me?”
Lan Yulang smiled faintly. “To your saving my life.”
Wen Jin flushed with embarrassment. “Cult Leader Lan has already given me his heart and body. Why the need for such formalities?”
Lan Yulang’s smile deepened. “Then let us toast to our meeting in the jianghu, and to returning home together.”
Wen Jin’s heart swelled with joy. He clinked his cup against Lan Yulang’s with a hearty laugh. “Alright! To the road we’ve traveled, and to the one who returns with me!”
—END—
Translator’s Note: Hi! This is Gideon your fan translator. I did my best translating it hehe, I hope you like it, If you like my translations please leave a rating review in Novel Updates, I also appreciate it if you could donate or leave a tip, just click the Support Us button in our website, its for our site maintenance and buying raws in legal platform, we would also appreciate it if you could buy the raws directly in a legal site to support the authors. 🙂 Thankyou, I will do my best to provide quality translations, I would also love it it you can pinpoint errors in my translation, I will fixed it asap if ever. Thankyoou!
[ Author’s Note ]
“To the road we’ve traveled, and to the one who who returns with me” is from the sword-network’s 30th anniversary MV, Ninety Thousand Li.
With this, the story of Jinjin and Cult Leader Xiao Lan has come to an end.
Due to personal reasons, the final chapters were delayed again and again. I am truly, deeply sorry—I’m kneeling before you all! As before, I’ll be offering red envelopes in this chapter as compensation for the poor reading experience I’ve caused. Senmumu expresses his deepest apologies. Therefore, all the remaining extra chapters will be included in the [ Bonus Extras ] section. They will be updated after the settlement, so I won’t be charging you any more of your precious money~
P.S. The extra chapters will include a story about Little Butterfly and his older brother (it’s a short one, probably just a chapter or two). The rest will focus on the Cult Leader and Jinjin’s honeymoon and their journey into parenthood! Yes, the bonus extras will feature mpreg! I will specifically mark the mpreg chapters, so readers who dislike this trope can choose whether to read them. QAQ
Thank you all for helping me fulfill my wuxia dream. Although this story is super niche, I had a blast writing it. If I have the chance, I’d love to write another martial arts novel in the future (I’m determined!).
See you in the bonus extras~
Also, please check out my next project, a Republican-era melodramatic mpreg novel called The Adoptive Father’s Legacy. If you enjoy this kind of story, please add it to your collection. I’m begging you!!!
Blurb:
Shang Tingzhou first met Jiang Yuetang at the banquet celebrating his adoptive father’s fortieth birthday.
He had heard that Jiang Yuetang was a little bird bought by his adoptive father from the Ten-Mile Foreign Concession of the Shanghai Bund—not only beautiful, but also docile.
Most importantly, he knew how to serve a man, capable of making Old Master Shang bloom like a withered tree in spring.
One evening, Shang Tingzhou went to his adoptive father’s study with a ledger in hand. Before he could even knock, he heard a choked, tearful plea for mercy.
Peering through the gap in the door, he saw his adoptive father’s little bird trembling on the desk, his back covered in whip marks.
Shang Tingzhou watched from the shadows for a long moment. Just as he was about to slip away, his gaze met Jiang Yuetang’s.
The other man’s watery, peach-blossom eyes were brimming with affection.
It was no wonder he could make dead wood bloom again.
After his adoptive father’s death, Shang Tingzhou became the master of the Shang family.
He naturally inherited everything they owned.
Including that beautiful canary.
No one else knew that Old Master Shang had been infuriated to death.
As he lay on his deathbed, Jiang Yuetang—the ever-gentle and filial youth who had always been the picture of propriety—was pulled into his adopted son’s embrace. The two lovers brazenly revealed themselves before him.
“Father, Yuetang is pregnant,” Shang Tingzhou said, his voice calm as he gently placed a hand on Jiang Yuetang’s lower abdomen. “The child is mine.”
“All the things you once wanted to do but couldn’t, I have done for you.”
“I cherish him more than you ever did.”
Note: ● SC (Pure/Virgin). The uke and the old man never had a sexual relationship. If asked, the old man was impotent. ● Immoral/Taboo Literature. ● Republican Era setting, old-school taste, extreme melodrama. Please bring your own lightning rod.
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