Chapter 5#

Chapter 5: Playmate#

“—What?”

Zhuoyu abruptly halted, his gaze falling on Feng Xianyu’s fingers, which had suddenly clenched tightly.

Feng Xianyu, of course, couldn’t answer him. This abruptly severed memory was like a blade, brutally slicing into his brain, coldly churning back and forth. The pain made him gasp for breath, darkness swimming before his eyes, cold sweat beading on his forehead. His feet stumbled; he could no longer stand, his whole body tilting against Zhuoyu.

Xiang Wan moved quickly to support him, but Zhuoyu’s faint “No need” stopped her, and she had to let it go.

Zhuoyu’s arm pressed firmly around Feng Xianyu’s waist, pulling him close. Xiang Wan could vaguely see Feng Xianyu’s tightly furrowed brow, which was immediately smoothed by icy fingertips. Zhuoyu wiped away the crease between Feng Xianyu’s brows without argument, his handsome features betraying no emotion as he simply asked, “How much farther?”

The group snapped back to reality and hurriedly pushed Ayue forward.

Ayue looked at the two of them with an unreadable expression, her tone laced with a smile. “Even if we walked all night, we wouldn’t make it by sunrise.”

They had already been walking for nearly an entire day. The sun was slowly sinking, and the already faint daylight was about to fade completely, but the forest before them still stretched endlessly. When night mist rolled in and the temperature plummeted, who knew how many more dangers awaited them.

Xiang Wan thought quickly and spoke up. “Senior Brother, why don’t we rest here for the night?”

If Senior Brother Feng were awake, it might be easier to talk, but dealing directly with Zhuoyu… well, Xiang Wan felt the pressure immensely.

Zhuoyu gave no response. Xiang Wan could already imagine his gaze, cold as ice and snow. After a moment, Zhuoyu bent down and lifted Feng Xianyu horizontally in his arms. Without a word, he walked alone to a large tree in the distance. His steps were steady, his arms strong—there was no sign of blindness at all.

“Is that a yes or a no?” a nearby disciple asked blankly.

“No objection means yes,” Xiang Wan said, relaxing her tense back. She quickly arranged for everyone to rest on the spot and take turns keeping watch. Before long, the cold became unbearable. After some discussion, they gritted their teeth and lit a campfire.

The warm firelight fell on them, finally driving away the bone-chilling cold of the night.

Xiang Wan pulled a clean blanket from her Qiankun pouch and handed it to Ayue.

“Thank you,” Ayue said softly, wrapping the blanket around herself. “Those two senior brothers seem to have a really good relationship.”

If she hadn’t said anything, Xiang Wan might not have remembered what happened earlier. But now she did, and she shuddered.

Ayue stared into the campfire for a while, then said, “Do immortals also get married?”

“They do,” Xiang Wan replied. “But we call it forming a bond, not husband and wife—Dao partners.”

“Dao partners?” Ayue seemed thoughtful, resting her chin on her knees. “Do immortals’ Dao partners also die?”

Xiang Wan hesitated. “Probably.”

Ayue turned her head, her tone cold. “Then what’s the point of cultivating the Dao?”

With that, she suddenly looked up and smiled at a certain spot. Xiang Wan followed her gaze and saw the silhouettes of Feng Xianyu and Zhuoyu. They were a bit blurry, but Xiang Wan could tell it was almost an intimate posture, like an embrace.

Curled up in a dream smelling of stone calamus, Feng Xianyu remembered that he had once thought about becoming friends with Zhuoyu.

At age ten, he had managed to offend everyone in Qingdu Mountain—the elders and the older senior brothers and sisters alike. Everyone found Feng Xianyu restless and troublesome, but he was born with such a pretty, likable face that people couldn’t help playing with him—only to end up miserably tormented.

If you can’t handle him, you can at least avoid him, right?

So they all made a point of steering clear of Feng Xianyu. The younger ones especially ran fast, lest they end up being bossed around by him.

The little tyrant Feng Xianyu suddenly lost his playmates and grew very irritable. But it wasn’t long before he set his sights on the wild beasts in the back mountain.

Those back mountain beasts faced the greatest “calamity” of their lives.

By then, Feng Xianyu already had some skill in martial arts, so ordinary beasts couldn’t do much to him. He chased them all over the mountain every day, shooting harmless spirit arrows from the small bow his father had made for him. The arrows didn’t hurt, but they were incredibly annoying. If the beasts’ resentment could have taken physical form, the back mountain would have been billowing with smoke, enough to blast the whole place to pieces ten thousand times over.

It was around this time that Zhuoyu was brought up the mountain by Feng Qianqiu.

At that moment, Feng Xianyu was in the river catching fish for fun. When he heard that his father had found him a senior brother, it felt like a thunderbolt from a clear sky. He dumped the bucket of fish back into the water, not even stopping to untie his tied-up clothes. Slipping on his shoes, he rushed toward the main hall in a whirlwind.

The disciple guarding the gate saw it was the notoriously troublesome Feng Xianyu, wiped his sweat, and kept his eyes on his nose and nose on his heart, pretending not to see.

Feng Xianyu made a funny face, giggled, and slipped inside. The hall was empty except for a boy in plain white clothes standing as straight as a sword. He seemed to have heard the noise but couldn’t be bothered to turn around.

That must be him.

Feng Xianyu hid behind a pillar and made a few “pssh pssh” sounds to lure him, but the boy still didn’t turn his head. Never catching a glimpse of his face, Feng Xianyu grew frustrated. He had hoped for a fun playmate, but instead got someone so cold. Annoyed, another thought struck him:

Why should he be the senior brother? I was here first.

The mere thought of this icy person trailing behind him calling him “Senior Brother” made Feng Xianyu grin with delight.

He was lost in his daydream when suddenly the back of his neck tightened, and he was lifted up like a baby chick.

Feng Xianyu yelled, kicking his feet in the air and thrashing, but he was still dragged out from behind the pillar and set down in the middle of the hall.

The person who had grabbed him released him, then pressed two fingers to Feng Xianyu’s temple. A flash of spiritual light followed.

Feng Xianyu couldn’t resist. His eyes wide, the thought that had been circling in his mind uncontrollably burst out, loudly expressing his wish to be the senior brother. The sound echoed through the hall, and his ears burned with embarrassment. “Dad!!!”

The one who had grabbed him was indeed his father, Sect Leader Feng Qianqiu, with two elders behind him. They all laughed, making Feng Xianyu stomp his foot angrily. “What did I say wrong? I was obviously here first.”

“You were born in Qingdu Mountain. Does that mean everyone who comes after you is your junior?” Feng Qianqiu said wryly. “He’s older than you.”

Feng Xianyu: “…”

“Older by…” Feng Qianqiu held up three fingers, waving them in front of Feng Xianyu’s eyes. He spoke slowly, his tone teasing and infuriating, “Three years.”

In that instant, Feng Xianyu hated the number “three” with a passion.

Seeing Feng Xianyu’s clothes in disarray and his hair uncombed, Feng Qianqiu tidied him up and casually flicked him on the forehead—light as a feather. “He’s three years older than you. What’s wrong with calling him senior brother?”

Feng Xianyu saw his chance to be called senior brother slip away. He puffed out his cheeks, covering his flicked forehead, sulking.

After teasing his son, Feng Qianqiu turned to the boy in the hall and said with a smile, “This is my son. His name is Xianyu—‘yu’ as in jade. He’s been spoiled terribly. From now on, he’ll be your junior brother.”

Feng Xianyu turned his head and finally got a clear look at the boy. He froze, and his eyes lit up again—he was really good-looking. So he asked, “What about you? What’s your name?”

“Zhuoyu,” the boy said, standing straight, already exuding an air of aloofness. His handsome features were cold and sharp, with strong lines and pale lips. His dark eyes met Feng Xianyu’s squarely, and his tone was stiff. “Jade.”

But then again, even if he was cold, Zhuoyu was good-looking.

Feng Xianyu thought it over and decided, for the sake of Zhuoyu’s face, to graciously forgive his rudeness. He tried several times afterward to get Zhuoyu to come out and play.

But Zhuoyu, young as he was, was already old and solemn, only interested in practicing swordsmanship. Feng Xianyu failed again and again, growing so frustrated that he wanted to throw all of Zhuoyu’s practice swords—unsharpened as they were—off the cliff. Huffing, he glared at the young sword cultivator who stood with his sword held upright behind his back, then turned and ran away.

His crimson robe flapped up and down like wings, making him look like a little red sparrow.

Soon, however, Feng Qianqiu, who was on good terms with Kong Ji, the leader of the Green Sparrow Sect, brought Kong Ji’s son Kong Yan to Qingdu Mountain for a visit.

Kong Yan was also a restless sort, already notorious in the Green Sparrow Sect. He was quite handsome too, and Feng Xianyu was overjoyed—it was like finding a pillow just when he needed one to sleep on. The two hit it off immediately. On the very first day, they played until the sky went dark, not wanting to sleep, filling Qingdu Mountain with their laughter and noise.

With a partner in crime, Feng Xianyu completely forgot about the cold shoulder Zhuoyu had given him.

In the back mountain, the beasts felt as if a great enemy had arrived. They growled and discussed their strategy all night.

One morning, Feng Qianqiu and Kong Ji were drinking tea and playing chess when a disciple knocked on the door, looking embarrassed. “Sect Leader, there are… complainants.”

Feng Qianqiu: “???”

What does that mean?

Puzzled, Feng Qianqiu went outside. There, lined up neatly in front of the hall, were dozens of beasts: wolves, rabbits, foxes, deer, eagles, sparrows, woodpeckers, squirrels… They stood in perfect order. As soon as he appeared, these speechless animals let out a chorus of mournful cries—high and low, thin and thick—in a grand and shocking spectacle that seemed to shake Qingdu Mountain itself.

Feng Qianqiu: “…”

The disciple: “Heh heh heh, it probably has nothing to do with Little Junior Brother…”

Feng Qianqiu’s teacup shattered on the ground. In that moment, he felt that it wasn’t just his cup that had broken, but also his old face. His expression twisted violently, and Kong Ji was equally furious.

Just then, someone announced that Zhuoyu had arrived.

The young sword cultivator walked in, dressed immaculately in plain white, his hair neatly tied. His brows already carried a mature air. Seeing the chaos in the hall, he showed no surprise. He simply bowed to Feng Qianqiu and said politely, “Master.”

As soon as he appeared, the noisy scene somehow quieted down.

Feng Qianqiu looked at this exceptionally steady sword cultivator, then thought of his own undisciplined son. His heart flared with anger.

“I plan to go into seclusion for a few days,” Zhuoyu said, not looking sideways. “I came to inform you, Master. I won’t be coming to pay my respects during this time.”

—Oh, how obedient and dedicated he is.

In contrast, thinking of his son, Feng Qianqiu’s Dao heart was already shattered beyond repair. He waved a hand weakly. “Go ahead.”

Zhuoyu nodded, also bowed to the equally frustrated Kong Ji, then turned and left.

Feng Qianqiu exchanged a glance with Kong Ji. They both saw the disappointment in each other’s eyes.

“I have something to attend to,” Feng Qianqiu said with a fake smile.

Kong Ji returned a fake smile. “What a coincidence. Me too.”

The moment they turned away, before Feng Qianqiu could even roar, Kong Ji’s powerful voice rang out: “Kong Yan! Get your ass out here!”

But the next day, Feng Xianyu, unscathed and full of swagger, knocked on the door of Kong Yan’s temporary residence. Seeing Kong Yan barely alive, he boasted proudly, “My dad wouldn’t go hard on me. I’m his only son!”

Kong Yan: “…”

That’s not the point!

As for the real culprit…

Feng Xianyu chewed on a blade of grass under the eaves, thought for a long time, decided he couldn’t blame himself or his father, and finally declared firmly, “It’s all Zhuoyu’s fault!”