Sect Master Wen's Junior Martial Brother Who Shared His Hardships Has Returned - Chapter 14

Xu Chaoqi walked to the dim courtyard, glancing back for a moment, his palm slightly weary.

As the sky turned pitch black, the little fish’s fish tank had also been refined and completed.

The little fish cheered and leaped for joy, swimming back and forth in the tank in delight, and a forced smile appeared on Xu Chaoqi’s face.

At this moment.

Inside the secret hall, the candlelight flickered on and off with the drifting wind, and the two figures’ shadows on the wall swayed as well.

“Once this round of the Grand Competition ends, we’ll let them enter the secret realm provided by the Western Region — that would be quite good indeed,” said Fu Xuandao, tapping his fingers on the table, laughing softly.

The smile on the face of the Western Region Lord also grew more genuine. “Then my thanks to Sect Senior Fu as well.”

A black shadow walked in from outside the door. He first bowed with cupped hands, and seeing the Sect Senior speaking with someone else, quietly stood in the darkness waiting for the Sect Senior.

The Western Region Lord was not one lacking in tact either; he glanced back, and rose with a smile, pushing back his chair. “I won’t disturb you any further, then.”

As he spoke, he cupped his hands in salute, and Fu Xuandao raised his hand to see him off as well.

The Western Region Lord glanced sideways at the man in black robes as he walked out of the secret hall.

The door was closed, the drifting wind no longer stirred within the secret hall, and the candle flame ceased its swaying.

Fu Xuandao turned and walked to the cabinet in the corner of the room, and the man in black robes stepped forward to bow to the Sect Senior’s back.

“Sect Senior, this disciple has already sent the spirit stones to that scholar.”

Fu Xuandao gave an “Mm” and waved his hand; the disciple nodded, turned, and withdrew from the secret hall.

Only Fu Xuandao remained in the secret hall now, the air silent, and somewhat cold.

He stared at a small drawer, bent down, and with fingers that paused and trembled almost imperceptibly, pulled the drawer open. Inside lay a sheet of spirit paper.

Fu Xuandao bent over, and with both hands respectfully lifted the spirit paper out. He looked down at it, taking a step and pausing, a step and pausing, and only after a long while did he reach the chair.

He set the spirit paper on the table, sat down and leaned back, gazing up at the pitch-black ceiling.

Several nights ago, a sheet of spirit paper had descended bearing that person’s decree upon it. He had frantically caught the spirit paper with both hands, at first thinking it must be some matter of great upheaval concerning the Twenty-Seven Regions — but when he looked, it left him utterly bewildered on the spot.

What it contained, in fact, was an instruction for him to add a pair of characters into a certain storybook, and this pair of characters was entirely unremarkable — aside from the fact that they were a pair of men, he could see nothing else different about them.

Fu Xuandao leaned against the back of the chair, watching the spirit paper in his hand turn into a wisp of spiritual energy and drift up into the air, as though it had never existed at all.

****

At dusk, Xu Chaoqi lay sprawled in front of the fish tank keeping the little fish company. The little fish excitedly nudged Xu Chaoqi’s finger with its tail, curiously tilting its head up and blinking its fish-eyes.

Why was its master spending so much time with it today?

Xu Chaoqi looked, on the surface, delighted and carefree, but deep within his curved eyes, his smile was somewhat forced.

He seemed to be deliberately dragging out the time, as if the moment he stopped, he would have to face something.

He had played longer today than usual by far, to the point that his waist had even begun to ache a little.

Xu Chaoqi could barely crouch any longer. He stopped playing with the little fish and, out of habit, turned his head to look toward Senior Brother’s room — in the past, whenever he felt unwell, he could go find Senior Brother.

A light appeared in Xu Chaoqi’s eyes, but the moment he realized the awkward state of their feelings now, that light gradually went out again.

He looked somewhat at a loss, but still turned and walked toward his own room.

He and Senior Brother had been this distant for several days now. At first, he could still stay up late at night holding his storybook.

But gradually, he began going to sleep earlier and earlier.

Until today, when he looked at the moonlight outside his window — this was the hour Senior Brother had told him he should be asleep.

He gazed at the moonlight, and after a while, he set the storybook outside, pulled the blanket over his head, and went to sleep.

The next day, he woke early, walked to the mirror, and hesitantly picked up the wooden comb, combing his hair for himself in halting, uncertain strokes.

Xu Chaoqi combed his own hair for several days in a row, and had grown quite skilled at it by now. The jade crown, too, went on easily, and looked quite proper. But no matter where he looked, nothing seemed right to his eye — it was never as good as when Senior Brother combed his hair for him.

At noon, after finishing his meal, he wandered alone across the entire immortal mountain. Scenery he had once found so lovely and beautiful now looked somehow desolate and forlorn to him.

Xu Chaoqi felt somewhat lost. He could have gone out to find others to play with, but everything in the outside world seemed to have lost its appeal to him. He even subconsciously felt that if he went seeking happiness out in the world, he might lose the thing most precious to him.

He wandered for a long time, until he grew weary and tired. This time, he ate his dinner much more slowly than usual.

He buried his head in his bowl, not lifting it for a long while, yet from the corner of his eye he kept staring at the white-clad figure across from him.

At night, he lay in bed, set aside his storybook, and curled up blankly with his head tucked in.

The weather had turned somewhat cold; he wrapped the blanket more tightly around himself. In the air there was only the scent of grass and trees carried in by the cool breeze. He sniffed at it, and his nose grew a little sore.

It had been a long time since he had smelled the rich scent of sandalwood incense.

He pressed against his pillow, his silk-like ink-black hair falling over his face, and as the night deepened, at some point his breathing evened out without his noticing.

The window, through which the cool breeze had been coming, was silently closed. A faint silhouette of white robes with ink-black trailing hem could be seen standing there for a long while, before slowly walking away.

Xu Chaoqi had a dream. In the dream, he had broken free of Senior Brother’s care and become independent. He was no longer as carefree as before; he began to think about his own future.

His talent had always been quite good. Having suffered a few setbacks without Senior Brother looking after him, he learned perseverance and hard work.

He began cultivating talisman-drawing and formation-array day after day, and finally, after several years, he became a mighty expert in his own right, just like Senior Brother, presiding over thousands upon thousands of disciples.

Only, by that time, he was no longer like his current self.

He had become deeply calculating and far-sighted, and had also learned hypocrisy and forbearance. Behind him he carried tens of thousands of disciples and an entire sect, and every step he took was taken with careful strategy, a wall separating him from everyone else in the world… including his Senior Brother.

He and Senior Brother stood as equals; though the bond of fellow disciples remained between them, what passed between them now was mostly matters of interest and benefit, mixed through with calculation and scheming.

In the end, he climbed higher and higher, and eventually even became the foremost among the Twenty-Seven Regions.

In the dream, he remained alone in the towering palace for several thousand years, the palace cold, damp, and lonely, always dim and without light.

He often walked alone along the stone paths, from dawn to dusk, passing through the empty, deserted palace, where even each step produced an echo.

There was one room in the immortal palace that he was fond of — it had a large window, beyond which flowed a stream of water. He often sat there on a meditation cushion watching the sunrise, as though seeing the morning sun made him think of someone.

The sunlight rose as high as the sky, memories came flooding back, and he thought of his Senior Brother.

All that had been beautiful in his childhood had become the past — no one would ever again give to him without reservation, no one would ever again accompany him to dispel his loneliness, no one would ever again let him lean against them, leaning for an entire afternoon, no one would ever again make him fragrant fish and shrimp…

“Senior Brother… Senior Brother…” Xu Chaoqi murmured in his sleep. By the time he opened his eyes, the sky had already grown bright.

He looked out the window as though a lifetime had passed. His fingers touched the pillow — it was damp.

His lips moved faintly.

Song Shuiqing had never seen Xu Chaoqi call for him so early before.

By the seaside, the sea breeze tousled both their sideburns and robes. Song Shuiqing looked at the distracted Xu Chaoqi with some concern.

“Brother Qi?” He waved a hand in front of Xu Chaoqi’s eyes.

“Hm?” Xu Chaoqi’s gaze was dazed.

Song Shuiqing pressed his lips together, about to say something, when he saw Xu Chaoqi turn his head and ask in a low voice, “Do you have an older brother?”

“An older brother?” Song Shuiqing frowned, puzzled. “I am my father’s only son; I have no siblings.”

Xu Chaoqi sighed faintly, lowering his head, the loose strands of hair at his forehead fluttering. “If one is close with one’s older brother as a child, will they grow distant once grown?”

Song Shuiqing had no older brother, and did not understand this either; he could only judge based on what he’d observed around him. “That would also be considered normal.”

“Hm?”

“Between brothers, they must eventually each start their own family and career. As children they are kin; once grown, they are relatives. Perhaps the two are only close as children — the older they grow, the more distant they become, and in the end there is no turning back. By middle age, the two might even meet only once in a long while. As children, there was no distinction between yours and mine; once grown, they must bring gifts when they meet each other…”

As Xu Chaoqi listened, his fingers curled inward, and the color drained from his lips.

By the time he returned, Senior Brother had already prepared lunch. The weather was cold today, so Senior Brother had made some food to warm the stomach.

Xu Chaoqi lay sprawled over his bowl. These past days, he had spoken less and less, but today, contrary to his usual manner, he suddenly asked, “Senior Brother, have I already come of age long ago?”

Senior Brother set down his chopsticks, lowered his eyes to look at the rice in his bowl, and smiled. “Mm, Xiao Yao became an adult long ago — old enough to start a family and establish a career.”

A sudden dryness caught in Xu Chaoqi’s throat, as though something were lodged there, making it hard to swallow.

He too set down the chopsticks in his bowl and looked at Senior Brother.

“Senior Brother, what if I really do want to start a family and establish my career?”

The wind in the courtyard stopped. Xu Chaoqi could not clearly see Senior Brother’s eyes. Senior Brother paused for a moment, the corner of his lips holding a faint smile.

“If Xiao Yao wants to start a family and establish his career, then Senior Brother… will give Xiao Yao a generous gift, one that will guarantee Xiao Yao lives carefree and unharmed from now on, free to do as he pleases, to found his own sect… and to marry.”

Senior Brother lifted his head, and for the first time, Xu Chaoqi saw clearly the look in Senior Brother’s eyes.

Senior Brother’s chopsticks picked up a piece of fish, paused, and placed it into Xu Chaoqi’s bowl.

“Senior Brother will always be Xiao Yao’s Senior Brother. No one, whoever they may be, will be allowed to let you suffer any grievance.”

Xu Chaoqi lowered his head and finally ate the fish Senior Brother had given him, his hand gripping the bowl tightening. He knew Senior Brother meant it sincerely.

And precisely because of this, he felt all the worse.

He ate the food mouthful by mouthful, then picked up a piece of pastry and stuffed it into his mouth.

“Senior Brother, this is delicious — can you make it again?” As he said this, his eyes had already grown blurred.

The thick scent of sandalwood incense enveloped him once more; his eyes were covered by a piece of fine silk cloth, and through the silk, he felt that familiar hand.

“I can make it.”

Afterward, he carried two large plates of freshly made pastries back to his room.

He lay sprawled at the window, eating the pastries while flipping through his storybook.

Outside, the wind picked up, the sky turned overcast, as if it were about to rain.

He chewed a bite of pastry, and kept turning the pages of the storybook.

Yet, he had only turned two pages before taking another bite of pastry. In the end, the storybook could no longer hold his attention, and he set it down, stuffing pastries into his mouth one after another instead.

Unsurprisingly, he ate until he was overfull, and could only lie down on the bed to let it settle.

Drowsiness overtook him; he yawned, and fell asleep the moment his head hit the pillow.

“Rumble——” 

Thunder crashed loudly. Xu Chaoqi opened his eyes to find torrential rain pouring down outside.

The sky had long since gone dark, making the room dark as well; there was only the sound of the rain.

The pitch-black long night came with loneliness, and he sat there, dazed.

After a while, he lifted his head and gazed up at the ornate ceiling.

Why had things become this way? He thought about the root of it all: that men and men were different from one another — that a bond between two men was not the same as an ordinary one.

Xu Chaoqi: …

His lips moved, he blinked, feeling somewhat dazed.

Was it truly just this — the difference between men and men — that had reduced him to this state?

How absurd.

He shifted his gaze forward, and fell into a daze once more.

He understood now. Senior Brother was the person most precious to him. As long as it meant he would never have to leave Senior Brother, no cost mattered at all.

Having thought it all through, he suddenly felt light, his eyes shining once more with vigor, the vitality of youth returning to him.

He threw off the blanket and hurried out of bed, rushing out the door without even putting on his shoes.

Rainwater pooled across the courtyard; he ran barefoot through the standing water, dashing toward Senior Brother’s direction.