Capítulo 137: Chapter 137: Shizun And I Get Put Up As Guests
>> noncon flashback
The tips of Mo Ran's fingers were a little shaky, and his heart felt like it was going to beat right out of his chest.
The worst thing about men was that the head between their legs never listened to the head on their shoulders. Regardless of how much he really, truly,
whole-heartedly did not want to, it still grew hot and hard, making him feel numb and prickly all over.
Cursing himself under his breath, he adjusted his sitting position so that no one would see before leaning over to ladle out another bowl of soup for Chu Wanning.
But then his fingertip brushed against Chu Wanning's as he reached over to hand him the bowl. The contact sent a jolt through his spine that made his hand quiver, spilling a bit of the soup.
Chu Wanning frowned a little but had rather more pressing concerns to care all that much. He took the soup and downed it to ease the spicy numbness in his mouth. Next to him, Mo Ran stared speechlessly at his lips, lips that were a vivid shade of red from the spice, like a ripe fruit hidden between leaves, or a vibrant blossom upon a branch.
Lips that, if kissed, would be soft, warm, moist…
Pa!
Mo Ran slapped himself none-too-gently.
Caught by surprise, everyone stared at him wordlessly.
Finally coming back down to earth, Mo Ran cleared his throat awkwardly and said in a hoarse voice, "There was a mosquito on my face." "Aiyo." A clear, female voice made itself known and began to raise a fuss.
"Autumn mosquitos are the worst, just looking to suck enough blood to get through the winter. Did xianjun bring any medicinal salve?" "Huh?" Mo Ran looked toward the source of the voice, a bit caught off guard.
The speaker was a fetching young woman, her comely figure dressed in a blue coat and her shiny black hair brushed into a braid. She had a pretty face and fair skin, but when they made eye contact, her gaze was anything but shy as she made eyes at him.
Mo Ran didn't even get the drift, only thinking, oh, it's the lady who was singing earlier.
He might be slow, but the auntie sitting next to the lass wasn't. As someone who'd already had seven kids, she could read these little missies like open books, and so she followed through without missing a beat, "They're only here for a little while to help with the harvest, of course they didn't bother to bring any medicinal salve. Ling-er, go bring him a jar of it later." The lass called Ling'er beamed happily. "Of course, I'll come by tonight with it." "..." Mo Ran hadn't even gotten a word in yet and this enthusiastic pair of women had already decided for him between themselves, leaving him a little speechless. He turned to look towards Chu Wanning, just in time to see him taking out a handkerchief and slowly wiping the spilled soup from his hand, a touch of distaste in his expression.
Mo Ran was no good at dealing with women, so he said to Chu Wanning in a small voice, "Some of the soup got on my hand too, let me borrow the handkerchief when you're done?" So Chu Wanning handed him the handkerchief, the same haitangembroidered one that he had before.
Mo Ran remembered him carrying it around back at the Peach Blossom Springs too. Chu Wanning looked cold and distant, but was actually a sentimental person, something that Mo Ran had already noticed in the past life in the way that the type of clothing he wore and the decor in his room stayed more or less the same throughout the years. He just hadn't expected it to extend to even this handkerchief.
The handkerchief was so old that the color of the embroidery had already gone dull, but this nostalgic person still hadn't tossed it.
Mo Ran wiped his hand, then took another look at the handkerchief. Upon closer inspection, he was surprised to find that although the flower was carefully embroidered, the needlework was rather poor, clearly the work of a beginner.
Thinking that Shizun must have done it himself when he was bored once,
and mentally visualizing the way he must have looked, all serious and deadpan while stitching the haitang flower with a tiny little needle, Mo Ran couldn't help wanting to laugh…
He wanted to look some more, but Chu Wanning took the handkerchief back.
Mo Ran said, "What are you taking it away for, I'll wash it." "I can wash it myself," Chu Wanning replied as he picked his bowl up once again. Mo Ran was not about to watch him tempt fate again, and so he hastily swapped their bowls, saying, "Here, eat this bowl instead, I haven't touched it." The village chief's wife hurriedly agreed, "It's alright if xianjun can't handle spicy foods, no worries, no worries." Chu Wanning pressed his lips into a line, then after a moment, lowered his eyes and said, "Sorry about that," before exchanging bowls with Mo Ran. With Chu Wanning's bowl and chopsticks in hand, Mo Ran was just about to dig in when it struck him that Chu Wanning had already eaten from it, and his heart,
suddenly all soft and warm, started pounding for some reason.
He picked up a piece of marbled meat and put it in his mouth, the chopsticks just barely scraping past his teeth, sliding past his lip…
What improper, preposterous thing hadn't he done with Chu Wanning in the past life? But in this life, just the touch of chopsticks he'd used against his own tongue, the bowl he'd eaten from held against his own lips.
Just this, and he could already hardly contain the flame within.
Regardless of how harshly he admonished himself, how many times he told himself not to think indecent thoughts about his pure, virtuous shizun, it was like his heart wasn't even his—he could make himself not touch him, but he couldn't make himself not think about him.
He had long since stopped hating Chu Wanning, but he had thought that,
after peeling away the hatred, what remained of his feelings toward Shizun would only be respect and the desire to cherish.
But it seemed he was wrong. What was revealed when the black feil of hatred fell had actually been tender affection and scalding desire… he drifted in the ocean of desire, wanted to cling to the driftwood called rationality until he could climb ashore, but just one glance from Chu Wanning, one lightly spoken word, was enough to pull him back into the abyss of yearning.
He felt like he had truly gone mad.
Chu Wanning wasn't into men, so Mo Ran would sooner die than he would touch him, bully him.
And so the desire in him burned until it was a blazing inferno, swelled until it was a vast ocean, and he, drowning and burning, had little care to spare for anything other than the person in front of him, this pure person who filled his impure thoughts.
The autumn breeze picked up, bringing with it the fragrance of the harvest and a chorus of frogsong, and in this moment, sitting next to him, Mo Ran suddenly thought—absurdly, ridiculously—that it wouldn't be bad to spend the rest of their lives like this. He used to feel like he had nothing, and so fought for everything like his life depended on it, but now he felt like he had everything, and dared not ask for more.
The busy season for farmers lasted a little over half a month, during which Chu Wanning and Mo Ran stayed at Yuliang Village.
The little village could spare two rooms for them, though it wasn't exactly well-off so the place was rather barren. The village chief's wife gritted her teeth and fished out two thick mattresses[17] for them, only to have her offer declined in unison.
Chu Wanning said, "We can just sleep on the straw, it's warm enough.
Please keep the mattresses for yourselves." Mo Ran agreed with a smile, "We're cultivators, after all, can't just take your bedding like that." The village chief was guilt-ridden as he said, over and over, "We're really sorry about this, we had more mattresses before, but the village caught on fire last year when we were beset by an evil spirit, and a lot of things…" Chu Wanning said, "It's alright." The village chief and his wife finally left tremulously after some more consoling. Mo Ran set about adjusting Chu Wanning's bed, packing more straw under the padding in hopes of making it softer, looking rather like a dog busily dragging cushions and pillows to its nest.
Chu Wanning looked on mildly from where he was leaning against the side of the table, and said, "That's good enough already, any more and I'll be sleeping in a haystack instead of a bed." A little embarrassed, Mo Ran scratched his head and said, "There wasn't any time today, but tomorrow I'll go to the nearby market and buy Shizun a proper mattress." "And am I supposed to do all the farmwork while you go to the market?" Chu Wanning shot him a glare. "Just leave it, it's fine." He walked over and took in the scent as he spoke. "It has that nice grain smell." Mo Ran protested, "No way, Shizun is no good with the cold, you can't just…" "It's not even winter yet." Chu Wanning frowned. "What is all this fuss. Go back to your room already, it's been a long day, I can't even feel my feet anymore, I'm going to bed." Mo Ran left obediently.
Chu Wanning took his shoes off, haphazardly rinsed his feet with water from the large clay jar, and was just about to climb into his straw bed when he heard knocking at the door. Mo Ran had come back, and was yelling from the outside, "Shizun, I'm coming in!' "..." Chu Wanning was furious. "Didn't I tell you not to say that to me anymore!" But Mo Ran only grinned and bumped the door open with his head as Chu Wanning fumed. He couldn't push the door open otherwise, because both his hands—with sleeves rolled up to the elbows to reveal firm, sexy arms the color of honey—were busy holding a bucket full of clear water with steam rising from it.
The young man's eyes seemed especially bright behind the steam, practically sparkling.
Chu Wanning's heart raced under his gaze, and he found himself at a sudden loss for words.
Mo Ran carried the heavy bucket of water over and set it down next to his bed, and then he said, face glowing and dimples warm, "Shizun, you worked too hard today, soak your feet first, then let me give you a foot rub before you go to sleep." "N…" "I know I know, Shizun's gonna say no need," Mo Ran said with a smile.
"There is a need. It's your first time doing farmwork, you're going to be achy all over. If you can't get a good night's rest because of that and then can't get up tomorrow, the little kids in the village are going to make fun of you again." The water in the wooden bucket was hot, just a little bit too hot, but not unbearably so.
Chu Wanning's bare feet sat in the water, the toes smooth and delicate, the lines of his ankles flowing and defined. His feet never saw the sun, and so the skin there was fair, pale, even.
Mo Ran mused about how nice Chu Wanning's skin was as he took it all in,
even fairer and smoother than that of delicate ladies.
Thinking about it now, even that woman Song Qiutong whom he'd married in the past life hadn't felt as nice as Chu Wanning did...bah, what was he thinking about.
So while Chu Wanning soaked his feet, Mo Ran sat down at the table across the room and took out a book to read.
He'd brought the book along himself, some dry tome about healing spells. It was so quiet in the room that they both subconsciously slowed down their breathing so that the other wouldn't hear. In the room lit by a single candle, the only sound was that of Chu Wanning's feet occasionally moving in the water.
"I'm done soaking, it doesn't ache anymore, you can go now." But Mo Ran was persistent—he knew better now than to take Chu Wanning at his word when he said things like "it doesn't hurt" and "I'm fine"—and had already put down his book and come over to Chu Wanning's bed to kneel down on one leg, grabbing the foot that Chu Wanning tried to pull back and looking up at him with eyes that were not going to take no for an answer.
"I'll go after I give Shizun a foot rub." "..." Chu Wanning really wanted to kick him, so that he would get the hell out and stop saying whatever the fuck he wanted in front of himself.[18] But the hand gripping him was so strong, the skin a little rough, and the calluses at the pads of the fingers and between the thumb and forefinger rubbed against his foot, where the skin was extra sensitive from soaking in the hot water, so much so that it felt a little ticklish, and he was so busy trying not to laugh that he missed his last opportunity to pick up his dignity and kick Mo Ran out.
Half-kneeling on the floor, Mo Ran had already put his foot on his knee and began to massage it, gently and carefully, his eyes lowered in concentration.
"Shizun, was it cold in the paddy field?" He asked while massaging.
"It was alright." "There's tons of dead branches and stuff in there, look, you got scratched on the side here."
"..." Chu Wanning looked over at the side of his right foot, and sure enough there was a small cut there. "It's just a scratch, doesn't even feel like anything." Mo Ran insisted, "I packed some herbal ointment for such things, wait here a moment, Shizun, I'll go grab it and put it on for you, Auntie made it so it's really good, it'll be all healed up by morning." He walked out the door as he talked,
toward his room that was right across from Chu Wanning's, separated by a small courtyard that was only a dozen or so steps wide, and came back in no time with a small jar of sweet smelling ointment.
"Isn't this a bit of an overreaction?" "Of course not, what if it gets infected? C'mere, Shizun, gimme your foot." Chu Wanning felt a little awkward about it; in all the years he'd lived, his feet had always been a private part, since he'd always been fully dressed and never gone anywhere barefoot as a matter of course. This was a part of him that barely anyone had ever seen, and no one had ever touched.
It is said that the unknowing are fearless; he'd let Mo Ran give him a foot rub earlier because he hadn't known what it would feel like, not having expected the tender, aching feeling, like getting gnawed at by ants, so now he was a little hesitant about giving him his foot again.
So Mo Ran stared at that pair of feet hiding hesitantly under the robes, pale white feet with a bloom of rosiness from their soak in the hot water. Chu Wanning's toes were fine and delicate, with nails that were translucent like the thin layer of ice upon the surface of a lake in the depth of winter, and a light pink blush of color at the tips of the toes from the soak.
Like budding haitang blossoms frozen beneath the ice.
Mo Ran knelt back down, his expression gentle and respectful as he took the warm haitang flower in hand.
He could feel the haitang trembling minutely in his hand, petals quivering,
and he was struck by the sudden urge to lower his head and press a kiss to it, so that it wouldn't hesitate or be afraid, so that it might blossom and unfold.
"Shizun…" "What is it?" There seemed to be a raw quality to Chu Wanning's voice, like the branches of a flowering tree laden with the weight of desire, the blossoms on the verge of giving way, droplets of dew just about to fall upon parched soil.
Mo Ran's head snapped up, the candle flame choosing that exact moment to crackle, setting free a burst of sparks as a small stream of candle wax dripped slowly down. His gaze met Chu Wanning's by chance, both their eyes bright in the light of the candle, with desire, with hunger.
"You…" Chu Wanning dropped his gaze and said, mildly, "Get on with it, my feet are ticklish." Mo Ran's entire face went red, but luckily it wasn't too visible through his tan.
He mumbled an acknowledgement and lowered his head back down to apply the ointment, the blush burning all the way to his ears.
But he couldn't help hearing "get on with it" repeated over and over in his head.
He swallowed, eyes fixed on the soft skin.
Images from the past surfaced in his mind, becoming clear, coming into focus. He remembered the disheveled bedding in Wushan Palace, and the way Chu Wanning had looked all the fairer against those scarlet sheets, the way they had entangled like caged beasts, neck against neck, heavy breaths and low groans filling the hall with a ferocious, savage kind of tension.
He thought about Chu Wanning's muted moans, that icy voice melted into softly flowing water by the flames of desire, heated into a boil.
"Stop this nonsense… ah…" He could almost hear Chu Wanning's voice by his ear.
Mo Ran squeezed his eyes shut, furrowed his brows deep.
In this moment, he finally realized something: it wasn't going to be easy for him to be good to Chu Wanning.
If he were to keep his distance, he wouldn't be able to take good care of him,
keep him warm.
But if he were to stay close, he might not be able to control the flame of desire within; he was afraid that his rationality might catch on fire in a moment of carelessness, that he might do something outrageous.
He wanted him, wanted to bed him. Even in this very moment, he suddenly thought that what he wanted to do wasn't to be kneeling here, giving Chu Wanning foot rubs and applying ointment to his cuts. This person was sitting right here in front of him, on the bed, and his own strength now was already no different from what it had been in the past. Chu Wanning wouldn't be able to push him off.
He wanted to take him, wanted to push him down onto the bed, wanted it so bad his throat felt parched, wanted it so bad it burned and ached, he wanted to kiss the breath out of Chu Wanning, he wanted…
"All done, Shizun!" He practically yelled out, startling Chu Wanning.
Only Mo Ran himself knew of the cold sweat drenching his back.
He suddenly felt so miserable——why couldn't he just be good to Shizun in a clean, genuine way? Why couldn't he just be rid of this burning desire?
Chu Wanning, Chu Wanning…
His Shizun was the loftiest person in the world, if he were to find out that his own disciple felt thus toward him, how disdainful would he be, how scornful?
It had been two lifetimes, already.
He didn't want to be looked at with scorn by him anymore.
Chu Wanning put his shoes back on. The whole time, Mo Ran sat to the side with his head lowered wordlessly, looking rather like an obedient, docile dog;
only he himself knew of the insatiable wolf locked up inside.
A long moment passed before Mo Ran managed to suppress the burning in his chest. He said, "Shizun, rest well. If you feel unwell at all tomorrow, then please just rest, I can do both our shares of work." Before Chu Wanning could reply, a delicate sounding voice rang out from the outside, "Mo-xianjun, Mo-xianjun, are you there?"
Author's Notes:
Mini-theatre: If the main cast transmigrated to the modern day, what occupations might they have based on their skills?
Shizun: First, he'll be valedictorian of Lanxiang Vocational School, then become a mechanic who operates excavators and operators. Oh, right, speaking of which, I swear if I write a modern BL in the future, I will write a CEO who drives a tractor. I've had enough of CEOs who drive Lamborghinis and Ferraris-if they don't drive a Lamborghini or Ferrari, is it not a BL about CEOs? I'm so angry, I want the CEO to drive a tractor! I want to write about him driving a tractor! Chu Wanning, you are the protagonist in a BL about CEOs! Drive your tractor! Bump into someone's Ferrari! Go!
Dog: Chef, valedictorian of New East Cuisine Education. A chef who drives a Porsche, happens to be a couple with the CEO who drives a tractor, not bad not bad.
Xue Meng: Doesn't know anything, will probably die.
Shi Mei: Selling counterfeit medication. It's easier to earn money, but he has a good conscience and might not bear to do so, he'll probably go bankrupt in the end.
Ye Wangxi: Cop.
Mei Hanxue:...Gigolo.
Nangong Si: Pet shop owner. If this really doesn't work out, the superintendent at a pig farm is fine too.
[17] Not the Western spring mattress, but cotton-padded mattresses like so
[18] Just to clarify, Chu Wanning really did curse here, this is not a translation embellishment
Estado de energía semanal
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