Work Text:
Chu Wanning felt restless.
The tapir fragrance worked, at some point, but they were set to return to Sisheng Peak today and he had to go over the plans in his head because the faster they unravel the secrets behind the fake Guochen, the better. And then, there was Mo Ran who managed to spray his robes with bathwater and grace him with his fine physique.
Thinking about it just made his body heat up.
Shameless! he thought— the insult directed to himself rather than the tanned youth.
He knew Mo Ran had violent feelings towards him, he was truly unlikable after all. Yet the past few months that he spent alone with his disciple made him feel the consistent tug at the unspeakable desires that he had promised to keep within himself. He couldn’t help but think about how nice it would be to just stay as Xia Sini, their beloved shidi. Sure, there were times where his heart would crack silently, bit by bit, however Mo Ran— his disciple, his shixiong— would look out for him, buy him sweets and cook him meals, and even tell him bedtime stories. It made him feel warm.
Come to think of it, it was probably the first time Mo Ran had ever gifted him anything. The golden butterfly clasp adorned with orchids was definitely not to his liking, the design too vibrant and tacky. He truly didn’t want them.
Chu Wanning stared at the accessory in hand, running his fingers over the fine carvings. If only things were as simple as when he was Xia Sini...
He heard the rustling of the divider, then quickly hid the hair clasp in his pocket. Mo Ran had an awkward stance, his eyes not really meeting his teacher’s gaze. “What took you so long to get dressed?” he chided with a sigh.
“This disciple had a hard time drying his hair. Apologies to Shizun.”
The immortal raised his brow at the uncharacteristic mumbling of his disciple. After reminding the other to hurry up and pack, he quickly turned to leave the room, clutching on the hair clasp with an unknown emotion.
Later, Chu Wanning found himself crawling up the stairs of Sisheng Peak. The fear of witnessing his disciple’s heartbeat grow weaker until it ceased was the only thing that kept him going. One step, two steps, three thousand steps. He bit back the tears, resisting to succumb to death.
Mo Ran, you have to hang on… or else you are no disciple of mine.
A tug.
“Gege! Gege! Mama told me to come fetch you because you should have some refwe...refwish…” One of the village kids babbled, jutting out their bottom lip while trying to figure out how to pronounce the unfamiliar word.
“Refreshments?” The cultivator chuckled.
“Mhm! Refweshments! Mama says that gege has been working hard so he should come inside and rest for a bit.” The child said, presenting their toothy grin wide out in the open. The young man in white robes smiled back, ruffling the child’s hair.
“Thank you, little bun. Now why don’t you go back to your parents? I clearly remember giving them a stash of milk candies just for you.” The man’s grin grew wider as he watched the child flee in excitement.
Mo Ran dusted off the dirt and wood shavings off his robes. He did not remember how he started wearing them in that color, nor did he completely understand why. It gave him a sense of comfort though, along with the haunting feeling of someone else’s shadow. Four years have passed since his Shizun went into seclusion.
Four years of trying to scrub off the dirt and blood of his being.
The young man spent the years travelling around the world, offering his help and knowledge to the common people near the border of the lower cultivation realm. They called him zongshi. Swallowing the uncomfortable feeling down his throat, Mo Ran gave up on correcting people. He was no zongshi. How could someone as rotten as him be treated with such respect and admiration?
“Ah Mo-zongshi, perfect timing! Please help yourself to some rice cakes and tea while they are still warm.” The wife of the village head smiled at him. He graciously gave his thanks then sat beside the child who called for him earlier. “Aiya, I’m embarrassed to repay your kindness with only a few pastries and tea despite everything you’ve done to keep our village safe,” she uttered softly.
Mo Ran shook his head. “Auntie, you and your family don’t owe me anything. I never got to eat a lot of pastries when I was young so I’m very happy. Besides, the Holy Night Guardian I built cannot compare to those made by my shizun,” he explained with a small smile.
As the village was too remote, the spread of Chu Wanning’s Holy Night Guardians failed to reach them. His attempt at following his shizun’s diagrams led him to creating a somewhat rusty looking wooden golem that creaked with each movement. Although it wasn’t his best work, some part of Mo Ran thought that, perhaps, Chu Wanning would be proud of him.
The child, who everyone referred to as Fengfeng, scooted closer to him. “Gege, is your shizun really as amazing as you say he is? Is he more powerful than you are?” asked the wide eyed Fengfeng. Letting the child sit on his lap, Mo Ran gave out a hearty laugh.
“Of course! I learned everything I know from him after all. Well, my shizun may be fierce looking but he actually has a soft heart. He also likes sweets as much as you do.”
“For real?!” Fengfeng’s eyes sparkled before asking, “then where is gege’s shizun right now?”
Mo Ran’s smile froze. Blood stained steps, calloused fingers, and an alarmingly pale face. Mo Ran remembered every single detail. Clearing his throat, he ruffled the child’s hair before saying, “He’s... taking a long nap right now to grow stronger and taller! That’s why kids like you should sleep a lot, okay?”
“Mhm!” The boy nodded with newfound determination.
I just wish he would wake up sooner...
Night came not long after. The air was chilly as the trees swayed with how fierce the wind blew. The cultivator in white robes lit a candle, then took long strides to reach the bed. Mo Ran was never sensitive to changes in weather as he was forced to adapt since childhood, but he still felt... off . He felt alone— in the freezing cold, with no one to talk to and no one to keep him warm.
He so longed for Chu Wanning to wake up. He had so much to say, so much to apologize for. The youth wanted to go back home and kick down the doors of Red Lotus Pavillon just so he could at least catch a glance of his beloved shizun.
Yet, he knew it was impossible. Chu Wanning always said that he had to work on his patience. He needed to wait obediently and continue to do good before he could even consider going back to Sisheng Peak. He needed to become clean, scrub the filth off his skin even though he bled, because he could not possibly face the world’s most amazing shizun until then.
A knock brought him out of his shackling thoughts.
It was too late for someone to be standing outside of his home. Mo Ran could not help but be on edge, flexing his fingertips, ready to summon Jiangui anytime. The lit candle dimmed. Suddenly, a foreboding feeling enveloped him, as if the air’s temperature reached an all time low. He opened the door swiftly to reveal no one— except for the familiar hair clasp that made his breathing stutter.
A beat.
Mo Ran stared at the hair clasp in hand. It was adorned with golden orchids and butterflies, fitting for a child. He swallowed, the frantic beating of his heart suffocating him. He remembered running his fingers through the long, snowy white hair of his shidi, grinning at how he still wore it despite not fitting his taste. Dark eyes rimmed with red, the purple hues frantically looking around to find any sign of the person who left the ornament.
To the left, he caught sight of someone wearing the same robes as him . Mo Ran felt his chest constrict painfully, afterall how could he not recognize that physique after having their bodies connected again and again during the past lifetime?
“Shizun!” he called out desperately. The figure, like a ghost, paid no attention to him and moved faster. With each blink of an eye, he saw Chu Wanning turn into Xia Sini, then into the Chu Wanning who carried him up the stairs of Sisheng Peak, battered and bloody. Mo Ran’s lips trembled. Chu Wanning… he shouldn’t be out here— his Wanning gets cold easily.
In reality, Mo Ran knew. He knew that something had probably happened back at home. He knew that this would be the last time he’d get to see his Shizun. Shoving down a scream, Mo-zongshi could hear the mockery in Taxian-jun’s voice saying ‘ See! You killed him! ’.
“Shizun! Wanning, don’t go! Can’t you just stay a little longer?”
You said that you’ll stay with me!
You said that you wouldn’t throw me away so why…
So why are you leaving me alone in the dark?
Wanning, if you leave now, I really don’t know what to do...
As if he heard his thoughts, Chu Wanning turned around— his figure so translucent that he could barely be seen. His beloved shizun smiled; a tiny thing. “Silly disciple,” he chuckled. This disciple could hear him, he realized, yet it seemed like his ears were filled with water.
Mo Ran had never felt so terrified.
He watched as Chu Wanning parted his lips, mouthing the words that weighed on him like bricks.
“Don’t say it—” Mo Ran begged, “I still haven’t told you how much I...! Please !”
“The hair clasp you gave me back then… Actually, it made me really happy.”
And in that moment, Mo Ran realized that there would be no one to teach him how to write properly, or scold him when he did a terrible job, or cook him wantons when he was starving, or light a candle for him in the dark. His Wanning was leaving him.
The next second, he was alone.
He waited. As the sky roared, he waited. A minute, two minutes, three minutes.
Mo Ran waited.
Then he heard someone scream; the sound gut wrenching, louder than the ongoing storm. It was only when Mo Ran’s legs gave out did he notice that he was the one wailing, the edges of the hair clasp digging into his skin. Under the pouring rain, with no light to guide him, Mo Ran drowned in his own tears.
As for when he lost consciousness, he did not know.
-
Later, when the news of the Yuheng Elder’s passing started to spread, his beloved disciple was nowhere to be found.