Chapter Text
For a while, after rising to the surface of his waking consciousness, Chu Wanning was unable to discern whether the light creeping into his barely-open eyes was the setting sun or a breaking dawn. He was floating somewhere outside of time, weightless and abstract. A silent dark river had swallowed him when he fell asleep; under the black water no dreams disturbed him. Now the air was warm, and carried the scent of plum blossoms rising on steam... The gentle noise of water rippling against the cedar sides of the bathtub brought him back to his body, caressing his skin like a warm tongue.
I love you.
The light shifted from red to pink to gold against the screens in the windows. The back of his head was resting against a firm, warm shoulder. Pleasantly hot water lapped at his clavicles. The person underneath him, supporting his limp body like a piece of humble furniture, was circulating qi through the water to heat it - slow, drowsy exhales of power, curling through the water like drops of dye. Black hair fanned out below the surface like seaweed. Chu Wanning thought: it must be morning.
"Shizun?"
I love you, I love you.
"Mn."
A very careful kiss was pressed to the side of his head.
On a normal morning he would have woken up alone and immediately begun to think about something - mental schematics for whatever machine he was building, research questions, lines of inquiry into a topic that had caught his attention, mind falling into the habit of years like a ball running down a gutter. Solitude, no matter how painful, was taken for granted, and constant activity distracted him from the ache of loneliness.
A sword was only a sword when it killed; Chu Wanning was only Yuheng of the night sky when he was busy making himself useful.
Today his consciousness was without form or shape, drifting here and there on a beam of light. Nothing demanded his attention. It was morning and he was with Mo Ran. That was the sum and limit of his knowledge. He didn't need to know anything else.
I love you, love you, love you.
Time was no longer a hostile force that dragged him further and further away from the dead body of his disciple - the former enemy had been defeated, had become a neutral party. Today time was kind to him, allowed him to linger in the pink mist that concealed them from the world, rosy clouds hiding a jagged mountain peak from the blazing sun... Today, and tomorrow, and the day after that... from now on, Chu Wanning would have Mo Ran at his side every morning when he woke up and every evening when he fell asleep.
A soft, constant refrain ran through his thoughts in a steady undercurrent: Mo Ran loved him, Mo Ran was alive, Mo Ran really wanted him, too, cherished him, thought highly of him... Like being wrapped in furs, or held suspended in amber, his disciple's earnest feelings surrounded Chu Wanning. The unrestrained and unrepentant hunger of the first, the overwhelming sweetness of the second; two lifetimes had paid for this happiness, but in each of them Mo Ran loved him.
It devastated and enraptured Wanning in equal measure. The guarded, reclusive immortal had become a crab without a shell, tender and defenseless all over. The armor of rigid self-discipline which had kept him upright, kept the world from hurting him, and made it impossible to bend, had been slowly peeled away; even if he collected the scattered pieces, he had outgrown them. The old barrier was replaced by something that glittered like a flashing blade yet weighed nothing. Clothed in this radiance, he felt weightless; he felt like he would never be alone again.
Intellectually, Chu Wanning was aware that the idea of safety was an illusion that made people complacent. But the foolish happy thing throbbing in his chest whispered that he was safe here, that these sturdy arms were the only shield he needed - that it was all right to let Mo Ran see the brittle ugliness of the heart behind the walls, that there was no shame in this defeat. Why continue to struggle? Chu Wanning had already lost the battle a long time ago... It made the choice to surrender to the glittering light easier on him, less damaging to his pride.
He had never been able to keep Mo Ran out.
I love you, I love you, I love you so much.
Languid and slow to react, he felt a broad hand settle around his wrist and raise it out of the water, watched steam rise from the pale flesh that he distantly recognized as his own. A gentle mouth began to press kisses to each of his fingernails, then to his wrinkled fingertips, then every knuckle; a hot tongue laved over his palm, then the lips trailed to his wrist, kissing every bit of skin along the way. Chu Wanning shivered, mouth falling open.
Too much. The attention was too intense to withstand, like being worshipped. Pure affection soaked into him until he felt saturated with it, as though it would overflow and start leaking from his pores in a rich golden syrup. It felt so good - he wished, in frustration, that he could make Mo Ran feel this good. But he was too tired to do anything more than turn his head, nuzzling against Mo Ran's neck, eyelashes wet with steam. Chu Wanning felt and heard a low sigh.
"Go back to sleep, Wanning," he heard a familiar coaxing voice say, the throat beneath his cheek vibrating. "It's all right. I'll bring you back to bed soon."
"Mo Ran," he murmured, body curling up against Mo Ran's chest. Drowsy and half alert, stubbornly clinging to consciousness, Chu Wanning allowed himself to be taken care of without a struggle. It was embarrassing to be coddled like a small child, even though it made him happy to have his disciple's attention. Mo Ran really spoiled him too much.
"That's not true, Wanning should be much more spoiled," he heard Mo Ran say, voice doting and tender, and realized he had been thinking out loud. He flushed, felt Mo Ran's hot gaze on his face as he was lifted out of the bathwater and gently dried off. Ah, Mo Ran was really handsome from every angle.
"Not true. I should take care of Mo Ran," he mumured, blinking the dizziness from his eyes as Mo Ran carried him back to bed. He was laid down on clean, sweet-smelling sheets and covered with a warm blanket; a hand rested on his shoulder, anchoring him. Why didn't Mo Ran lie down with him?
"Shizun is too benevolent. But this Mo Ran wants to take care of you. You'll have to wait for your turn."
Well. If they took turns, then maybe it was all right... Chu Wanning felt the familar pulse of his disciple's spiritual energy, broad fingers combing through his wet hair and leaving it warm and dry. Sighing with pleasure, he leaned into the touch and reached for Mo Ran with an unsteady hand, eyes shut. The questing fingertips were gathered gently into a rough palm, guiding him to lace their fingers together, a thumb rubbing over his knuckles. If he became any more spoiled, he really would become useless.
"Shizun doesn't have to be useful..." A faint trace of sadness in a voice that should always be happy. Chu Wanning wanted to soothe it, but felt himself drifting into the violet haze of sleep once more, struggling to hold on to the hand that grounded him. "Just stay by my side."
"Mo Ran, stay," he heard himself mumble, a pleading echo.
Mo Ran, I love you.
"I'll never leave you, Wanning," the voice promised him.
Those words made him so happy that a soft noise flew out of his suddenly-constricted throat, eyes growing wet. Still clutching the hand, he nuzzled against it, cradling it to his chest as though he wanted to protect it. The idea that a thing like himself could be loved, by someone as bright and warm and brilliant as Mo Ran, was once a bittersweet dream far beyond his imagination.
After all, a tool could not love or be loved. Its only value lay in the use to which it was put, the skill with which it was wielded. But now the fantasy was real, like the hand he was clinging to, like the scent and heat of the person sitting beside him. Love wrapped him in a thousand ribbons of golden light... Being loved by Mo Ran made him feel "human." As though he had always been waiting to become a person, lingering in cold shadows at the edge of the world, until Mo Ran had given him his heart and pulled him into the sunlight. (Perhaps it was the same for everyone - they became human because someone loved them.)
I love you, I've always loved you, I'll always love you.
A kiss lingered on his brow. Chu Wanning was asleep before he could figure out whether or not he had spoken the last few sentences out loud, squeezing Mo Ran's forearm with a grip too weak to break an eggshell. That force, too, gradually diminished into nothing as he fell unconscious. The dark water closed over his head once more and enveloped him in silence and safety, like the violet-black of Mo Ran's watching eyes.
Very gently, Mo Ran stroked his sleeping lover's hair. The memories of the past day, scenes and images his other self had left behind, were sharper and darker than his own. His flesh remembered the weight of Wanning's body in his arms, the hot clutching hole wet around his shaft, the soft nipples stiffening under his fingers - the noises Wanning had made, helpless and overwhelmed, losing language and begging with wordless cries as he was fucked senseless. Even when being aggressively plundered by a ruthless and greedy tyrant, his shizun had not resisted him. It frightened Mo Ran a little to think that Chu Wanning might genuinely never say "no" to him.
His darling, beautiful shizun, his baby kitten, his heart and lungs, the marrow in his bones. There was nothing more adorable in the world than Chu Wanning, there was nothing more erotic and arousing than making him climax until he genuinely couldn't anymore. The way he bit his lips pink, the way he shivered and blushed when he asked for more, the way he begged Mo Ran to cum inside him, scared that Mo Ran would say no - scared that just offering up his body wouldn't be enough to make Mo Ran feel good, trying so hard to reciprocate, crying when he was too exhausted to fuck himself on Mo Ran's cock, always worried he wasn't doing enough... A blend of worry and dark satisfaction wrestled in Mo Ran's mind.
In terms of lust, yesterday's activity had only whetted his bottomless appetite. To be blunt, his desire to physically possess Chu Wanning was something that only grew after being indulged. It was not an exaggeration to call himself an insatiable glutton, at least when it came to having sex with a person he liked. But that wasn't the only thing Mo Ran wanted, not in this lifetime. He loved Chu Wanning, wanted him to be happy, didn't want to take away his freedom or break his pride. With every touch he wanted to cherish Wanning, show him he was loved, show him how precious he was to Mo Ran.
It was like his other personality had picked up a precious glass flower and juggled with it to show off - in the end he hadn't dropped it, or tossed it around hard enough to break it, but the way he had pushed against the boundaries of what Wanning could endure still made Mo Ran anxious.
He knew he wasn't very smart, and wasn't very good at putting his feelings into words, but he didn't think Wanning understood how grateful he was to be allowed to touch Wanning at all.
The moment Mo Ran had returned to his own body, he had discovered that his alternate personality had fallen asleep still buried to the hilt. So he had carefully pulled out of Wanning, hands gripping the tender buttocks with his thumbs braced against the rim of the abused hole, and then he had watched - and heard - a truly obscene amount of viscous white fluid pour out, dripping over the swollen flesh and between the bruised inner thighs in a small fountain of spent seed. Kept plugged inside Wanning for an hour or two, it had remained as hot as freshly-spilt blood, warmed by Wanning's body heat.
Unable to think straight immediately after the switch-over and painfully aroused, Mo Ran's second action upon regaining control of his body had been to press a few desperate kisses to the back of Wanning's shoulder and masturbate with astonishing speed and force, holding the head of his cock against the swollen opening as he climaxed in an echo of their first night together, adding another identical load to the filthy mess. It had taken him several minutes to catch his breath and stop shaking after that, nuzzling the fall of black hair that had become damp with fragrant sweat at the nape of Wanning's neck.
Mo Ran, his shizun had slurred, twitching, blinking at him over his shoulder with glazed eyes.
Shizun, Wanning, are you all right? he'd asked, cradling his teacher's tired face, increasingly worried at the state he'd found Chu Wanning in and angry with himself for having enjoyed it. The pretty phoenix eyes had blinked at him, and then the tip of a sensitive pink tongue had lapped at his thumb, lips wrapping around the digit and sucking as the eyes once again fell closed. There had even been a tiny noise of complaint when Mo Ran had drawn his hand away...
This sweet, clingy shizun was clearly not awake, but he wasn't fully asleep, either, lingering in a half-conscious state on the border between realms. The Beidou immortal would never lick Mo Ran's fingers like an affectionate cat, at least not in his right frame of mind. Mo Ran recalled something similar happening when they had stayed in an inn together - Chu Wanning had told him it was I who wronged you and petted his face without waking up. It made him uneasy, of course, but this semi-verbal half-awake state was not a new phenomenon.
Somewhat reassured, Mo Ran had waited carefully for Chu Wanning to settle back into a less alert state before getting up. At that point, it had been a little over an hour before sunrise. When he'd gotten the lantern lit so he could fill the bathtub and start cleaning up the mess, he had discovered an arrogant message lying on the table. Taxian-jun had left him a few words on a spare sheet of drafting paper, scratched out with a stick of charcoal from the fireplace, penmanship almost totally illegible. If they were not literally the same person, Mo Ran doubted he would have been able to interpret the messy scrawl.
When were you castrated? Neglecting the duty of a husband outrages heaven, outside soymilk tofu pudding.
For some reason, reading a message he had technically left for himself was more horrifying than combing through a day of secondhand memories. It was real in a way the shadowy images and fragmented thoughts were not. Out of an instinctive feeling of revulsion, once he was sure he had read everything correctly he burned it.
Bathing Wanning, cleaning out the rest of the semen, reapplying medicinal cream while trying not to wake him up, and getting him settled down, warm and dry in a freshly-made bed, had given Mo Ran plenty of time to mull over the meaning of the three lines. The first two, Mo Ran thought, were self-explanatory. Taxian-jun had a very high opinion of his own talent in bed and appeared to think that pestering Wanning for sex like an insatiable demon fell under the category of "filial duty to one's spouse." The implication was that by not simply bending his shizun over the nearest flat surface and fucking him whenever the mood struck, Mo Ran was wronging Chu Wanning somehow. It was ridiculous -
"- love you," Chu Wanning mumbled against Mo Ran's wrist, burrowing his face a little closer to the hand he had captured, body curled around it like a sleeping cat. If his shizun had had a tail, right now it would be gently laid over his own nose to keep warm.
- truly ridiculous... Mo Ran's heart lurched, overwhelmed with the desire to protect and the desire to cherish, to smother with affection. He was sitting on the outside of the bed, between Wanning and the room. These past few nights, they had gone to sleep with their bodies wrapped around each other, but now that Mo Ran wasn't lying down next to him Chu Wanning had immediately reverted to the bad habit of sleeping curled up in a ball. It was pitiful to witness. There was no need to minimize the amount of space he took up... no one would fight him for it...
Careful not to squash the sleeping figure, he bent over and nuzzled against the exposed cheekbone, brushing his eyelashes across the crest of pale skin. He was rewarded with a small murmur of noise. "... Mo Ran."
"Shizun... you're so good to me," he whispered, voice soft and insubstantial, warm breath puffing against pale jade flesh. He paused, smiling, and turned his neck to rest his lips against the thin skin. "I love you," he added, feeling foolish and wondering how angry or unhappy Chu Wanning would be when he woke up for real.
"... love you," Wanning repeated in a tiny voice, curling up a little tighter around the hand he had captured, brow wrinkling and smoothing out again once he returned to a deeper state of unconsciousness.
Ah. Mo Ran wanted to give him the world.
It seemed he would have to settle for giving him sweet tofu pudding, for the time being. The final line that Taxian-jun had taken great pains to write finally made sense when Mo Ran checked outside the kitchen door and found that the leftover two-day-old jars of soy milk had been buried in the snow under a meaningfully crossed pair of sticks. The soymilk had frozen, but it hadn't gone bad. He left the jars on the kitchen counter to defrost before heading back to the curled-up figure on the bed.
He was aware, in a strange way, that his other personality had wanted to let the soymilk go bad out of spite - he could remember the angry buzz of the emotion like a fly hitting a paper window, energetic and constant - but ultimately making Wanning happy was more important to Taxian-jun than scoring points against him. His other self had been bitterly jealous of him for being the one to provide Wanning with things he liked, as though competing with a rival; he had used the raw ingredients in the pantry to cook and resented Mo Ran for being the one to stockpile them.
It was frightening to think that being good to Chu Wanning was no longer entirely up to his own judgement. There was a ghost living inside of him, a separate entity combing through his memories and using his brain, and Mo Ran didn't think there was any way to get rid of him. He could access his other self's memories, to an extent, but they were not coherent to him - it was like entering a building where someone was constantly screaming from behind a locked door. Sometimes it was an adult howling with fury, sometimes it was a child, but the perpetual scream never ended, and it overlapped everything else and made it difficult to sort through anything.
Dawn had passed once everything had been tidied up. Mo Ran settled down behind Chu Wanning, wrapping his body around the curled-up spine and slotting an arm across the narrow torso, careful to move the fine silken hair out of the way before resting his head on the same bolster pillow. He tucked his knees behind Wanning's knees and breathed deeply, trying to radiate calm and security through his skin where they touched.
Gradually, as the light grew brighter, beams of gold began to travel across the simple wooden walls and floors of the house. The man in his arms unfurled, straightening out against Mo Ran's body, leaning back into the warmth. Chu Wanning hummed a little with unconscious dislike when he was unsatisfied with their position and huffed in a pleased way when the man holding him obediently moved at a nudge; eventually, with an abrupt swivel, he rolled over within the circle of Mo Ran's arms, pressing his face against the warm and sturdy chest. The whole process was unbearably precious. Even if he was tortured to death, Mo Ran thought, he would never willingly share this side of Wanning with anyone. It was much too adorable for anyone to find out; he felt a twinge of brief unhappiness when he realized that he'd be sharing it with Taxian-jun.
Hands curled up like two little paws between their torsos, Chu Wanning nuzzled closer to avoid the daylight, making a low noise of protest when the movement made his lower body ache. Mo Ran eased him into a better pose and began to gently massage the overtaxed muscles of his shizun's lower back, pretty face cradled against his chest.
After a minute or so, Chu Wanning let out an appreciative sigh, so he continued gently rubbing in small circles, up and down the sides of Wanning's spine. An hour or so later the phoenix eyes opened to a narrow crack, wandering around until they found Mo Ran's face.
"... Good morning, Shizun," Mo Ran breathed, heart aching with the hundred pangs of love. No matter how anxious he was about dealing with the aftermath of the previous day, having Wanning wake up in his arms was an incomparable gift.
Chu Wanning blinked sleepily at him and then bit him directly over his collarbone, drawing the skin between his teeth.
"Ah. I was wrong. Begging Shizun's forgiveness," Mo Ran said, as tolerant as the Buddha.
The small mouth that was fastened around his skin responded by biting him harder, putting some force into it; the pretty phoenix eyes were squeezed shut. It was a firm statement of disapproval and chastisement, although it wasn't strong enough to cause Mo Ran any significant pain. In a few minutes Wanning had bitten away to his heart's content and finally relaxed his jaw, licking his lips and offering a drowsy glare. Throughout, Mo Ran never stopped the gentle massage, the weight of his hands firm and soothing. He felt the nagging certainty that they had to talk to each other about what had happened but had no idea how to begin. He cleared his throat. "Sorry... sorry about yesterday, Shizun."
"... Two days of abstinence, and you were that pent up?" Chu Wanning asked, letting his weary eyes flutter closed. He heard a quiet choking noise and felt vindicated. Even if he strained his recollection, he had no idea how many times they'd had sex yesterday - he had lost count while he was still conscious during the second round and then given up. Very dimly, he thought there had probably been a third round, but if he had been awake for it he had not been lucid. At the very least, from a disciplinary perspective, Mo Ran deserved a scolding. It would not be too extreme to add a through lashing with Tianwen.
But Chu Wanning had no intention of actually punishing his disciple. There were several reasons for that - it would be physically difficult, considering how tired and sore he was. And the two days they hadn't had any penetrative sex had made him feel somewhat... unsettled. It was easy for him to second-guess his own actions and become anxious, worry that he was being too demanding, grow depressed wondering if Mo Ran's desire for him had faded... Hah! They were a fine pair of idiots. At least there had been an unexpected benefit to the sudden appearance of Taxian-jun - he had exhausted Wanning so completely that he couldn't recall dreaming at all, so he had enjoyed a full night's sleep without a single nightmare.
"Um... I'm really sorry." There was a mixture of anxiety, regret and yearning in Mo Ran's voice. "He... I got carried away."
"If this is what happens when you try to hold back, then," Chu Wanning began, and then paused, unable to find a dignified way to complete the sentence. He felt his face grow hot. Beneath it, Mo Ran's throat buzzed as he hummed. The hands that were massaging the aches out of his sore muscles paused.
"Then what, Shizun?" a low voice whispered. Wanning considered biting him again. "Then don't try to hold back?" The hands traveled lower and lower down his back, until callused fingertips were rubbing at the base of his spine, tracing where the muscle fastened to bone beneath a layer of firm pale flesh. The silence stretched out between the two of them as the massage continued. "Wanning," a pair of lips murmured into the crown of his head, tone apologetic. "If I don't hold back at all, I'll keep you in bed all day and night."
Chu Wanning felt his face burn with embarrassment as his heartbeat picked up speed. All day and night? Like yesterday's performance, only every day? Was that supposed to be a threat or was Mo Ran bragging about his stamina? "It can't be that entertaining," he muttered, refusing to look up and meet the heavy gaze he could feel rolling across his body.
There was a short, incredulous laugh. "I wouldn't get bored." A pause. "It's just that my appetite is too much. Keeping you in bed for the rest of your life would make you unhappy, your world is bigger than me. So you have to tell me how much is too much."
Technically, Chu Wanning wanted to snap, he didn't have to do anything. He restrained the urge to lash out in self defense and settled for burying his face against the back of his own hands, unable to make himself look up, equally unable to put his tangled feelings into words. Mo Ran, it seemed, was content to wait for him to speak.
The panic gradually shifted into calmer analysis. How was he supposed to... they really were the same person, he thought, abruptly, with a small frown. It wasn't a threat, more of an idle promise that Mo Ran would be happy to carry out in reality if Wanning nodded his head or said the word. So he had to take it seriously, and give a serious answer. About their... harmonious night life. Fuck!
"... not during the day," he managed to say, eventually, after thinking about it for much too long.
Thankfully, Mo Ran didn't appear to be growing impatient with him. "So only at night, then."
"After going to bed." That was normal and proper, wasn't it?
Mo Ran paused. "... Every day?"
Despite the sharp stab of discomfort in the center of his pelvis, he aimed a successful kick at Mo Ran's ankles. "I'm not frail," he said, annoyed, and then grew more annoyed when he felt Mo Ran laugh silently, ribcage shaking. "What's so funny?"
"Baby, I already told you I want to do you every day, I'm sincerely asking you if you'll indulge me." Patient, gentle. Always going out of his way to save his shizun some face, even in a conversation about when and how his shizun would prefer to be fucked.
Chu Wanning felt dizzy, emotions surging beneath the surface of his mind and making the waters choppy. "... If you want," he mumbled. It was as close to a "yes" as he could manage.
A low hum. "I really do want." A thoughtful pause. "Wanning, can you tell me how often we would do it, if it was up to you?"
"I... I don't know," he heard himself stammer. He sounded awful, especially in contrast to the rich velvet and dragging satin of Mo Ran's voice. "I can't..."
"Can't initiate it?"
Maybe - yes, that was true, even if it was more complicated than that. He gave a small nod.
"But do you like it when I initiate?"
... was Mo Ran trying to kill him? Didn't he already know the answer to that question? Why was he... was this really necessary? Vibrating with a combination of irritation and raw nerves, Chu Wanning finally managed to lift his head and glare at his shameless, deviant, profoundly immoral disciple. The glare was unfortunately short-lived; the expression on Mo Ran's face was sincere and gentle, radiating a serene feeling of peace, and Chu Wanning could feel himself calming down as their gazes locked. After steeling himself against any possible reaction, he gave another, smaller nod. Mo Ran simply continued to smile at him, eyes growing softer.
"If you like it, that's fine. But if you ever want to, um, initiate, any time of day or night is all right with me. Just tell me. Or grab me, if you can't say it. Even if I'm asleep or in the middle of something important, please, just let me know?" The self-announced pervert appeared to be much too cheerful about this confession, and for a moment Chu Wanning thought that they had plumbed the depths of depravity. Sadly the culprit continued onward to an even worse follow-up topic. "Wanning is so good for me, I'm still worried I'll go too far. If you really dislike something, in the future will you tell me? Or do you think you would just put up with it?"
Fuck! What the hell was going on with this conversation? "... I don't know," Wanning mumbled, forced to awkwardly repeat himself. He felt painfully clumsy, as though he had been taken off guard and was struggling to catch up. He didn't know if there was a correct answer, or if the wrong answer would be disappointing, and it made a knot of anxiety twist in his gut. It was like being trapped in a corner, looking for a way out. "You've never..." Never done anything I really disliked.
"You don't have to hate it," Mo Ran said, interrupting him very gently. "Just not liking it is enough."
"... I - I really don't know." It was incredibly difficult to parse the tumult of feeling and instinct into language. He had never thought about it before. Setting aside Mo Ran, Wanning had expected to die someday without ever having had to "think about it". He wasn't sure he had enough experience to form any opinion about it, one way or another. He loved Mo Ran and he loved... everything else.
Mo Ran dragged a hand up his spine and began to caress his scalp at the base of his skull, relieving a knot of tension he hadn't been aware of. "Wanning, when I do something to you, it's because I think you'll like it." A pause. "But I must be wrong, sometimes, because I can't read your mind. So I want you to tell me when you don't like it. Please."
Vague distress wavered in the edges of his thoughts. "... And then what?" he heard himself ask, doubtful.
"Then we can do something else," Mo Ran said, still smiling at him when he looked up to check. It sounded sincere.
"But... I like... when you like it," he said, still trying to explain what he had failed to put into words. It was more complicated than that - how could he really state, as an undisputed fact, that he had hated it in their first lives because Taxian-jun had hated it? Because he had thought that his miserable imprisonment was a form of karmic justice, punishment for the sins of hubris and desire, for wanting to be loved - for having the audacity to want? Why else would the emperor have fucked him, if not to remind him that he was an object that had overstepped its means? (And after he'd realized the truth, it had been a different kind of misery - the misery of knowing and being unable to do anything.)
It was different now because it made Mo Ran happy, and what he liked was making Mo Ran feel good. It was like a kind of sensory echo chamber in which Mo Ran's pleasure fed into and became his own, in a perpetual relay. As long as Mo Ran was doing something he enjoyed, it was unfathomable to Chu Wanning that he might not be able to enjoy the secondhand pleasure, the delight of participating in Mo Ran's happiness. Happiness that was visceral and immediate and real.
If he thought hard about it, Wanning could say that there were things he enjoyed more than other things, out of the sum total of things that Mo Ran did with him, but it didn't seem important to him to narrow it down. It was important to Mo Ran, though, apparently. Mo Ran gave him a very patient look. "And I like it when you like it," he pointed out, tone of voice perfectly reasonable. "So tell me if you don't like something, all right?"
"All right," Chu Wanning said, voice flattened under the weight of an unkind private personal judgement. "I don't like talking about this. And I'm hungry."
Not at all deterred, the idiot who had promised to cook him breakfast every morning for the rest of their lives kissed him, thoroughly, and then rolled him up in the blanket and went to keep his word.
To the idiot's surprise, by the time that breakfast was laid out and Chu Wanning had had time to collect his thoughts, there was already a fresh "don't like it" topic waiting for him. This one was broached in earnest as soon as he had helped Wanning to his seat and sat down across from him at the table.
"Why do you," Wanning began, and then faltered, retracing his mental steps. Mo Ran gave him an encouraging look. "You always... when we... it's not fair," he mumbled, helplessly. "You make me... a lot, but you don't. As much."
The fact that Mo Ran was able to translate this into a coherent thought was thanks to his acute awareness of everything that made Chu Wanning embarrassed. "Are you asking me why I make you cum more than I do when we have sex?" he asked, returning the question, somewhat astonished. It had never occurred to Mo Ran, in any lifetime, that someone might object to such a practice. As far as he was concerned it was a matter of courtesy, as a gentleman, toward the partner who had to endure a greater physical strain during the act. There was also the fact that wringing orgasm after orgasm from the body of his lover gave him a profound sense of accomplishment, and in Chu Wanning's case, almost felt like he was atoning for the selfishness of his previous lifetime. To his continued amazement, the face opposite him at the breakfast table turned a fascinating shade of red.
"... Because. I'm bad at it?" his painfully shy lover asked, almost too quietly to be heard, staring at his own bowl of rice porridge, sleeves trembling in the faint manner that they did when he was using them to conceal a pair of clenched fists.
Mo Ran was unable to endure this sort of provocation and hopped over the table, scooping Chu Wanning up in his arms and into his lap despite the loud and immediate protest, hugging him tightly to his chest. "Baby, no," he said, helplessly. Largely due to the exhausted state of his body, Wanning did not physically fight him off, but still blocked his mouth with a well-placed forearm when Mo Ran attempted to comfort him with kisses. He was genuinely sulking about it! Some things under heaven really had to be seen to be believed!
"But I love making you cum," Mo Ran protested against the beautiful slender limb that was pressed firmly over his mouth, feeling somewhat wronged. He could vaguely remember his shizun saying something about this before, while they were in the throes of passion and lost to the world, but he hadn't taken it seriously at the time. "How are you bad at it? You're just letting me do what I want, and I want you to feel good. It's fine, isn't it?"
"How am I not?" Chu Wanning snapped, allowing Mo Ran to wrestle his arms to his sides, flushed a beautiful shade of angry pink, staring at anything else in the room. "Why is that different from - from you making me...? If I want to make you feel good?" There was a desperate gleam in his reddening phoenix eyes and Mo Ran abruptly realized that Chu Wanning was genuinely upset, playful mood vanishing like smoke in the wind. "How am I supposed to just - just let you do everything?" The question was almost as pitiful as the way Wanning couldn't look him in the face, keeping his line of sight fixed on the floor.
"Why not?" he asked, confused, resting their foreheads against each other. "Why can't I?"
The body in his arms trembled for a moment, and then the hot face buried itself in Mo Ran's shoulder. "It's not fair. You're supposed to... You'll get tired of it," he said at a barely audible volume. Mo Ran made a quiet noise to demonstrate understanding, if not acceptance.
"Wanning, are you tired of it?" Gentle and still, unthreatening, no price attached to the question. Hands that only delivered good feelings, never harm, gently stroking the freed wrists. A silent, physical request for trust.
"No, I -" He felt Wanning pause, tripping over his own convoluted thoughts, and waited for him to untangle himself. "... No. But I don't understand why you... shouldn't you... use me to feel good?"
Hearing Chu Wanning ask why Mo Ran didn't use him like an object when they had sex felt a little like being stabbed in the chest. He was very quiet for a moment. This was something Mo Ran wasn't sure he could explain very well, but he could try to put it into words for the sake of Chu Wanning's peace of mind.
"Wanning... being the person who's allowed to touch you, being the one who makes you feel good, it's the best thing that's ever happened to me," Mo Ran said, rubbing his temples against the graceful curve of Chu Wanning's skull. "I think I used up all of my luck just to be by your side in this life." He felt something damp against his skin and heard an ugly choking noise, and smiled sheepishly at the bare walls of their home before he continued.
"I love you. I'm sorry so many terrible things happened. I really wanted to prevent anything bad from happening to you, but I couldn't do it. You're the most important person in the world to me and I couldn't keep you safe. So now I don't want anything bad to happen to you ever again. Only good things can happen." He paused, switching to the other side of Chu Wanning's head and continuing to nuzzle against him. "As many good things as possible. Right now that's all I want to do, give you good things."
The tension had departed from the body he was holding. Mo Ran took this as a sign that his impromptu speech was having a good effect, and allowed himself to keep talking. "What worries me the most is thinking that someday I'll really screw up and push too far," he confessed. "Shizun, you really don't have to worry about finding a way to please me. I'm the one who's worried that I'm not good enough to you, that I'm taking too much, that you'll drive me away someday..."
Especially - it really went without saying - now that Taxian-jun had revealed himself like a second head growing out of his neck. He knew that Chu Wanning was being kind and generous when he insisted they were the same person, but Wanning and Mo Ran would both be troubled by the actions of the former emperor if he continued to behave outrageously.
If they made Wanning suffer, Mo Ran would not hesitate to cut off his own hands.
There was a faint murmur against the skin of his neck that was too quiet to hear. "What was that?" Mo Ran asked, turning to look at Chu Wanning directly. The brief flow of angry tears had stopped, though the eyes remained red at the edges. His shizun gave him a sharp, defiant stare.
"I said, there is no too far," he repeated, and swallowed around the lump in his throat. "With Mo Ran. There is no too much." His beautiful face was scrunched up with such conviction that Mo Ran couldn't summon the will to argue with him, a ferocious light in his eyes that nothing would extinguish. It was the gleaming face of Mo Ran's God in human form, impassive and unyielding. "I have already killed for you, and I would do it again. No regrets."
When?
Ah. Tianyin Pavilion. Mo Ran mostly remembered the way his shizun had screamed - other people were dying, but it had taken place so far beyond his diminishing circle of consciousness that it had not made much of an impact on him at the time. To be recalled to that scene of despair now made something twist in the pit of his stomach, sharp and painful. For the first time it occurred to him that they were both legitimate fugitives from the law of the cultivation world.
For Wanning, who was willing to strip the flesh from his own back in the name of "obeying the rules", it was perhaps the greatest sacrifice he could have made. Mo Ran wished, desperately, that he had never given Chu Wanning a reason to make that sacrifice - never let his dearest shizun get innocent blood on his pristine hands. That was the whole point of accepting the hatred flower in the first place - the guarantee that only Mo Ran would have to dirty his hands, hands that had been stained with innocent human blood long before he ever arrived at Sisheng peak.
And even before he had learned that they belonged to Chu Wanning, he had wanted to preserve the clean, gentle purity of the hands that had fed him porridge; his own had already reeked of charnel, of his own mother's corpse, even so early on. It was an acceptable cost if only Mo Ran became dirty, dragged his soul through the mud, as long as that clean and beautiful thing could continue to exist unblemished. But - to his despair and terror, it had blemished itself for him, refusing to stay put in heaven.
He couldn't accept the enormity of what Chu Wanning had sacrificed, and Chu Wanning could not accept the enormity of what Mo Ran had sacrificed. They were really both terribly foolish, he thought, a buzzing numbness creeping down his spine. To his shock, Mo Ran felt a pair of hot tears running down his own face. "Shizun," he mumbled, half-laughing and half-sobbing. "Don't look..."
A hand gently patted the back of his head. He was gathered up in familiar, haitang-scented arms and soothed, as though he was still a young disciple and nothing terrible had happened to either of them. "Didn't I ask you to forgive yourself?" a gentle, tired voice said in the vicinity of his ear.
He shuddered, gritting his teeth around the urge to weep. Yes, Wanning had asked for that, on his death bed. It was a tall order to begin with, but it would be very difficult to put into practice now. Now he would be giving up every fourth day with the love of his life to the rotten man he was being asked to forgive; it was a far more bitter task.
"... I will," he murmured. Not immediately, but eventually; not because he thought he deserved it, but because Wanning had asked him to.
For a while they simply sat together, nestled in each other's arms.
"You'll get better at it, too," Mo Ran said, quietly, after a long moment. Chu Wanning made a noise that resembled a snort when he realized that Mo Ran was referring to the issue he had brought up at the beginning of the conversation. "I'm just showing off for now. And we have the rest of our lives. So don't be mad at me for wanting to make you feel good. That's what I like the most."
"I'm not mad," Wanning assured him. There was a soft pause. "I'm sorry. I have been in a strange mood today. The last time I saw him, I thought we were going to die together. I will - in the future, I will not become so emotionally unstable."
"It's fine if you do," Mo Ran said, relieved. "Just talk to me about it like this and we'll fix things. And let me be good to you." He adjusted the position of his arms, carefully gathering Wanning's body closer, breathing in his scent. There was another, more comfortable pause; they breathed in unison, tension bleeding out of their bodies.
"... I thought... Mo Ran didn't want to, the days we didn't do it," Chu Wanning said, very quietly, as though there was even the slightest possibility of being overheard by a third party, the visible crescent of his ear bright pink.
Mo Ran couldn't help the spark of rekindled interest that swept through him, feeling the heat rise to his face. "I did want to," he answered, just as quietly. "But I thought that I shouldn't make you keep up with me."
"Am I that fragile?" Clear disdain.
"Begging Shizun's forgiveness, I was wrong."
"... Mo Ran. I want you, too," Chu Wanning whispered, directly against his ear. "Very much." His voice wobbled as he spoke. "And I don't know how to - if you don't let me do anything, I can't - " He trailed off in frustration, lowering his forehead to Mo Ran's shoulder. "From now on, don't decide things like that on your own."
The ambiguously worded 'things like that' - meaning things like whether or not Chu Wanning wanted to be held by him. Mo Ran nodded, pleased to resolve the issue. Chu Wanning's face was too thin to endure being rejected, and he was still too self-conscious to try to ask Mo Ran for physical affection, so he was dealing with that weakness by asking Mo Ran to approach him consistently instead. That way it was simply a matter of Chu Wanning accepting or declining. Mo Ran's ego was considerably more durable, and he didn't mind occasionally being disappointed as long as he was sure Chu Wanning wanted to be asked. "I won't try to guess what Shizun is thinking. I'll just let you show me."
The warm face that was hiding against his shoulder made a quiet noise of agreement.
Savoring how close they were, Mo Ran thought that a shizun who worried about whether or not it was all right to enjoy being fucked and got upset because his man didn't cum enough, who meekly asked to be done in the most roundabout way possible, was so powerfully adorable that it was a miracle of heaven that Chu Wanning even existed. It was said that it took thousands of cycles of reincarnation for two heads to lie on the same pillow; Mo Ran was sure it must have taken him several tens of millions of lives to have collected enough good fortune to be born in the same time and place as Chu Wanning. Gu Yue Ye sect leader Jiang Xi liked to state that love was an illness; Mo Ran was pretty sure that if the loveableness of his darling little kitten were a real disease, humanity would have been eradicated several times over without the emperor of the cultivation world having had to lift a finger. His feelings for Wanning, in that moment, were so intense his hands trembled and his scalp went numb. He loved him, really loved him so much.
"... Good," Mo Ran said, having already exhausted his eloquence, heart pounding in his chest like a drum. "Shall we have breakfast now?" he asked, gently sliding his fingers under Chu Wanning's chin and coaxing him into showing his pretty face.
It was as beautiful as ever, phoenix eyes glittering, still blushing that lovely shade of red. He couldn't bear to not kiss him, sweet and gentle and light, lost in the way those soft lips pressed against his, the way they parted in anticipation of the tongue that came to split them, for several long minutes.
Gasping for air when they parted, Chu Wanning placed a hand over Mo Ran's mouth, eyes shut, until he managed to catch his breath. He gave his disciple a firm look. "Tofu pudding," he said.
The dish in question was currently waiting under a spare plate next to the kitchen door to keep cool, because it was originally intended to be eaten after their meal as a dessert, but Mo Ran smiled and fetched it for him anyway. He would not insist on introducing healthy variety to his shizun's diet today; he had been through some acute emotional distress, so Chu Wanning could eat as much candy as he liked. Watching him spoon it into his mouth and swallow, clearly enjoying himself with every bite, could be counted as Mo Ran's dessert.
After they were done eating, Mo Ran carried him back to bed and set him down gently, leaving and returning with a pot of tea. Genuinely exhausted, Chu Wanning did not insist on hobbling around on his feet today. He accepted the cup Mo Ran poured for him and gave him a curious look. "What are you going to do for the rest of the day?"
"I think today I can finish carving the bedposts and the top, for the canopy," Mo Ran said, after peering through the cold barrier at the state of his carpentry project in the second room. "So I can put up the curtains tonight and it'll be warmer in bed. I want to lacquer everything, as well, but I don't want the house to smell bad while it dries." He had worked with carpenters before, and he'd been around various projects during the drying process, but it would be the first time he personally tried applying lacquer.
"You should wait until spring for that," his shizun told him, sipping delicately at the steaming cup he held. "It won't set properly unless the air is wet - winter is too dry." The sort of lacquer that Mo Ran had in mind was not particularly difficult to obtain, but it was a difficult substance to handle. It was essentially a kind of poisonous tree sap from a species of tree known as a varnish tree, which caused a very unpleasant rash if it came into contact with the skin while wet, but dried out into a beautiful, harmless waterproof gloss. Considering this for a moment, he frowned, and gave Mo Ran a decisive look. "... Actually, since there are forest spirits ready to assist us, I can ask that old pine tree to help you find a supply. Just wait for the right weather conditions."
Ah. The tyrannical Shenmu-xianjun, already demanding his subordinates offer up their lifeblood to decorate his fortress on a whim. His shizun was settling into the role of local boss quite well, Mo Ran thought, trying not to laugh. Soon he would gather a band of devoted handpicked lackeys, hanging on his every word... "Thanks, Shizun."
"No need for thanks," Wanning assured him, blissfully unaware of the mental images his irreverent disciple was smiling at, and gave him a tiny half-smile in return. "Could you work on the carving in here? It's fine if you make a mess." He planned to spend the remainder of the day focusing on his cultivation and circulating his spiritual energy to heal himself, but he would still be able to exchange a few words with his disciple and he would remain aware of the other man's presence; it would be nicer to spend that time in the same room. He also didn't want to be deprived of the sight of his disciple manipulating the carving tools with carefree ease and overwhelming strength, as he shaped the material according to his will with his broad, work-roughened hands, but Mo Ran didn't need to know these petty details.
Mo Ran's gaze softened. "Of course, Shizun."
A quiet, productive atmosphere enveloped the room as they both settled down for a few hours of work. The sounds of the veiner and the chisel, scraping away the extraneous wood a layer at a time, created a soothing atmosphere, and the scent of the tea mingled with the natural fragrance of the lumber as it was carved into the shapes of haitang blossoms and willow vines. Each of the posts was unique; Mo Ran worked around the natural flaws and variations in the grain of the wood, but kept the basic artistic concept. When a small heap of shavings had piled up to the extent that they began to get in the way, he swept them into the fireplace and brought Chu Wanning more tea, or a small plate of light food, and they shared a brief moment of idleness together.
It was like sinking underwater and occasionally coming up for air, for the Beidou immortal; the transition was easy, and the flow of energy through his meridians was like the gentle force of grass pushing up through the earth, a quiet cascade of tiny bursts of life. Gradually, the ache of his muscles faded into a manageable burn, and the depleted stores of qi began to replenish, with slightly greater capacity than they'd had before. Chu Wanning was not a healer, and was unable to simply banish a fever or slap himself back into fighting form, but he was well-attuned to his own body and its intricate network of nerves, blood vessels, and veins of energy. He was competent enough to be able to stop himself from going into shock, and could manage this relatively minor injury with graceful ease. On the periphery of his awareness, he could tell that Mo Ran was "watching" the way he threaded his qi through himself, observing the weft and weave of the delicate strands of power. His disciple was watching the material in his hands in a similar way, using his qi to assess it before cutting into it, listening to it and shaping it in accordance with its nature.
Outside the walls of their home, the natural world slept, ley lines beneath the earth whispering power at a low frequency, the sun and the wind dragging the water into an intricate, frozen dance at a high, sweet pitch that fluttered on the edge of perception. The barriers that concealed the small valley sipped, quietly, at the natural abundance, murmuring notice-me-not, already-always-here, look-elsewhere in an arcane language of form and intention long forgotten by the mortal world. The unity of all things, the gentle nothingness that embraced the substance, sang quietly to itself and folded around them like the petals of a massive lotus, or colors embracing one another in a spectrum of infinite light.
It was magnificent, Mo Ran thought; he didn't have to voice it to know that Chu Wanning felt the same way.
He finished carving the fourth bedpost as the sunlight began to wane, and was startled to notice that the fire was growing low; he got up and stretched, and then lit the lamps, thinking of what to make for dinner. The peerless immortal sitting upright in bed seemed to wake up from a trance when Mo Ran swept the last of the wood shavings into the glowing embers of the fireplace, blinking rapidly a few times before focusing on his own hands, then on his bustling disciple. Vaguely, Mo Ran thought that at some point he would have to get a brazier or two - it was an inefficient use of fuel to simply stoke a central fire until the whole house was warm, even if it was a small house - and then thought ah, Shizun, you're really too beautiful when Chu Wanning smiled at him.
He brought over a small plate of milk candy wrapped in wax paper and pressed a gentle kiss to Wanning's forehead, tucking a few errant strands of hair behind one delicately curved ear. "Do you want anything in particular for dinner?" he asked, touch lingering on the warm white column of his shizun's neck.
"Whatever Mo Ran wants to eat is fine," Wanning said, unwrapping one of the candy pieces and solemnly placing it in his mouth. He was feeling much better physically, and several calm hours of meditation had helped him rebalance his emotions. It had been nice, to watch Mo Ran work and pick up bits and pieces of knowledge through observation - he remembered the way his disciple had taught him how to harvest rice, hands firm but gentle, correcting him a little bit at a time until he'd mastered it. He was glad he could still teach Mo Ran things his disciple didn't know, and found that he didn't dislike the idea of continuing to learn new things in exchange. It was... unlike the way he'd been taught by Huai Zui, but he thought he might prefer it.
One day, when the earth had thawed, Chu Wanning thought he might as well go back to bury his former master's corpse. It simply hadn't occurred to him before, but he didn't resent the idea or feel as though it was an unreasonable obligation. It just seemed a little pathetic, to leave it to rot where it was. Mo Ran had actually had parents, so, naturally, setting up a memorial to Duan Yi Han was a greater priority, but he thought he could extend some courtesy to his former shizun. He no longer felt as though it would cost him anything.
The mouthwatering aromas of food being prepared enticed him back to reality. He shook his head as though to scatter his thoughts, like shaking dew from a bough, and got up to help set the table.
"I was thinking," Chu Wanning said, after they had both begun to eat. Mo Ran was instantly attentive. "There are memories you have lost which were preserved in the soul fragments."
"There are," Mo Ran said, adding meat and a few different steamed vegetables to Wanning's bowl.
"I could make a memory scroll," Wanning said, picking up a suspicious green thing with his chopsticks and moving it from his own bowl to Mo Ran's. "It isn't very complicated, it would just take time to prepare. Things like drinking peach blossom white with you, or when you gave me the handkerchief. There are memories of your mother, too, and... a lot of unhappiness. I don't know if you would want to have them all back." He finally looked up, checking Mo Ran's facial expression. It was totally unreadable; Mo Ran was simply staring at him. "What... what do you think? It's not a very good gift, just... returning what belongs to you. But I could do it."
Mo Ran was silent for a long time, staring into Chu Wanning's eyes without blinking. The hand holding his utensils twitched, once or twice.
Then, abruptly, for the second time that day he threw down what he was holding and jumped over the table. On this occasion, due to a lack of planning and foresight, Wanning was unable to prevent him from plastering their mouths together and kissing him senseless, for a duration of time which felt like both an eternity and an instant.
Eventually, after Chu Wanning repeatedly yanked on his hair, they separated a few inches. Mo Ran pressed their foreheads together, eyes squeezed shut. "Yes," he said, sounding as though his voicebox had been crushed. "I'd like that, Shizun. It would be a wonderful gift."
"Ah. ... The food is getting cold," Wanning told him, heartbeat racing. Somehow, the hand that had been tugging on the soft fall of hair was now gently wrapping it through its slender fingers, caressing the recently-abused scalp.
"Can I have Wanning for dinner instead?" Mo Ran asked, eyes snapping open, dark and brilliant. His voice was still very rough, but it was recovering; his invisible tail was once again wagging at top speed. The look on his face was unbearably intent, as though he wanted to memorize the exact number of Wanning's eyelashes, measure the size of his pupils, preserve every single facet by carving it into his heart. A pink flush, like a wine stain spreading across silk, began to cover Chu Wanning's face. He bit his lower lip and lowered his gaze, glancing at the meal on the table and at their entwined bodies, pressed together so closely that not one molecule of air could slip between them. Mo Ran waited patiently for him to speak.
He cleared his throat. "... Later," he mumbled, gazing at the food that Mo Ran seemed perfectly content to let go to waste. "I'm hungry."
"Shizun is too benevolent. I owe him my life," Mo Ran replied, cheerful to the point that it was obnoxious. He managed to drag Chu Wanning into his lap, back pressed to his chest, and immediately picked up Wanning's pair of chopsticks, scooping up a dumpling that was exactly the right size. Somewhat outraged, Chu Wanning flicked his palm and wordlessly summoned Tianwen, immediately halting the hand that was on a rapid trajectory toward his mouth.
Instead of silently reflecting on his atrocious lack of table manners, his rotten, unfilial, and entirely too attractive disciple had the audacity to giggle, and promptly summoned his own holy weapon in a burst of crimson light. There was a brief, energetic struggle; somehow they wound up kissing again.
"- enough," Chu Wanning snapped, free hand shoving Mo Ran's chin. "You were going to put together the canopy and hang up the bed curtains."
Clearly having forgotten that plan in the heat of the moment, an obedient and well-behaved Mo Ran immediately leapt to his feet. "Please, Shizun, enjoy your meal," he said, bowing deeply; Chu Wanning kicked at his ankles and recovered his eating utensils as his obnoxious, perfect, totally irreplaceable disciple skipped across the room and began slotting the bedposts into place. He couldn't sustain any genuine irritation; the food was made exactly to his taste, and the younger man's enthusiasm was infectious.
They hadn't clarified the matter out loud, but it was obvious that they were both racing to finish first. Chewing and swallowing at a pace that, if questioned, he would have had to admit was a little too fast for decorum, Chu Wanning thought - ah.
He wouldn't mind eating this kind of meal for the rest of his life.