Ch. 119 – “Does it hurt?”
At a market town near Longqiu.
Due to its remote location, this market town was naturally not as prosperous as those of the Central Plains. Most people here were locals, with outside visitors being a rare occurrence.
For this reason, the market town only boasted a single inn.
Even with a lack of competitors, the business at this inn remained so poor that it was barely hanging on to solvency.
Longqiu was just too remote. Although its soil was fertile, the yield of grain was only slightly higher than in other areas. And with the lack of distinctive local specialties or famous sightseeing locations, very few merchants or travelers bothered to pass through.
The people currently bustling around the market were all locals, each with their own nearby homes, so the inn offering food and lodging naturally lost their business.
The innkeeper often regretted his foolish decision to enter this business, but he had indeed invested a substantial amount into the establishment. This inn had a total of three floors, which basically made it the tallest building in town. Shutting it down would mean throwing away all of his hard work and money, so he stubbornly kept it running.
To cut costs, the innkeeper simply stopped hiring any employees. Since customers were rare anyway, he just took on the roles of head chef and waiter himself.
Like this, the days passed one after another. If there were no customers, he didn’t lose money, and if there were, it was pure profit.
If he happened to encounter a particularly big-spending customer, he stood to make a fortune.
It was another break-even day. The shopkeeper yawned where he sat behind the counter, and a glance at the sky told him that the sun was about to set. The street vendors were starting to pack up their stalls and head home, so he stood up and went to close the door of the inn.
Inns typically didn’t close this early, because travelers were often delayed by unforeseen circumstances, but a lack of business was normal here. The shopkeeper had become accustomed to it, and since there was no point in staying open late, he would close early so that he could go home and get to sleep early.
But just as he was about to bolt the wooden door, something unexpected occurred.
This inn, long-devoid of guests, suddenly had some. And they arrived in a group of four. Judging by the clothing that set them aside from commoners, they should be from the jianghu.
The innkeeper eyed the sword at one man’s waist, and his nose picked up the faint scent of blood. These people had likely just returned from a battle.
Despite this knowledge, he didn’t ask any questions. He was just an innkeeper, and if they had the money, he would let them stay. It was best not to meddle in the conflicts of the jianghu.
Thus, the innkeeper warmly welcomed them into his establishment. The members of the group varied in age. The two older ones couldn’t be much over twenty years old, and the two younger ones were not yet fully grown, perhaps around fourteen or fifteen.
The innkeeper’s gaze lingered on the two older men as he tried to figure out who was in charge. Was it the man with the stern and unnaturally pale face, or the charming, handsome young master who looked like a character from a storybook?
“Innkeeper, four rooms.”
To the innkeeper’s surprise, the first of the four to speak was one of the youths, who took a gold ingot from his sleeve as he spoke.
Doesn’t it feel lumpy and uncomfortable to stuff gold ingots up there? The innkeeper thought, eyeing Cao Zirui’s sleeve.
But his attention shifted very quickly. His eyes gleamed at the sight of the gold ingot, and he excitedly accepted it with both hands, not sparing a glance at these four people. Without even looking, he pointed the way: “The rooms upstairs are all vacant. The four of you can make yourselves at home.”
The four of them then made their way upstairs. They looked travel-worn and weary, and didn’t exchange a single word between them on the way up.
But the innkeeper had no attention to spare for the heavy atmosphere between the group. His thoughts were singularly focused on the gold ingot.
He first bit it between his teeth, then polished it with his sleeve until it had a brilliant sheen, reflecting the light even on such a dim evening.
The innkeeper thought for a moment, then suddenly stuck the gold ingot into his sleeve. After noting the weight and shape for a moment, he pulled it out again and thought that he understood Cao Zirui.
How could gold against your skin ever feel uncomfortable?!
Far from being lumpy and uncomfortable, it felt lovely enough to compose poems about. The shopkeep held the gold with joy in his heart, completely unaware that it had come not from Cao Zirui’s sleeve, but from the storage bag concealed in his cuff.
But that was unimportant. Gazing at the gold ingot, he rummaged around in his limited literary knowledge and had a sudden surge of poetic inspiration. Just as he was about to start the first line, the wooden staircase creaked under someone’s feet.
Someone was coming down.
The innkeeper immediately dropped his money-obsessed look and gave his friendliest smile to the person approaching him.
It was the charming young master. His clothes were not particularly ostentatious, but there seemed to be an air about him that an ordinary person couldn’t hope to imitate. He held a paper fan in his hand, and tapped it against the countertop as he asked: “Do you have any bandages?”
Would an inn carry such a thing? The innkeeper shook his head.
“What about hot water?” Hao Chen asked.
Inns did tend to have hot water available…..but those were inns that actually had customers. Why would an inn with no business have hot water prepared? Just to heat it up and pour it out?
The innkeeper shook his head again.
These two negative answers caused the young master to frown, which did nothing to detract from his good looks. Although the innkeeper was a man, he couldn’t deny that good looks came with advantages. Even with a furrowed brow, this man had a certain charm.
Hao Chen tapped his fan, then suddenly reached into his sleeve and drew out…..a single pearl.
The innkeeper’s eyes widened. Although it wasn’t the gold he had expected, the value of this pearl was certainly not low. It was the size of a pigeon’s egg.
Longqiu was not located by the sea, so pearls were far more expensive here than they might be elsewhere. Not to mention a large pearl like this one, bigger than any he had ever seen. It might be even more valuable than an equivalent amount of gold.
Hao Chen handed the pearl to the innkeeper, then instructed him: “This town should have an apothecary. Troubling the innkeeper to go and buy some bandages, and heat up some water as well.”
There was indeed an apothecary in town, but it was located at the farthest diagonal point from his inn. The innkeeper had never been an industrious person, and generally wouldn’t volunteer to run this sort of errand.
However…..the innkeeper fondled the plump, round pearl in his hand, and the smile that spread across his face held more affection than he would show to his own wife: “Wait just a moment, esteemed guest. I’ll go at once!”
After delivering his instructions, Hao Chen went back upstairs.
Holding the gold ingot in his left hand and the enormous pearl in his right, the innkeeper carefully stowed them away. Then he walked out of the shop, thinking, I wonder if it’s fashionable in other places to carry valuables in your sleeves?
Hao Chen climbed to the second floor. Although the inn had a total of three floors, the actual size of those floors was fairly small, with only four rooms each.
While there was enough room for the four of them on one floor, the inn had long been unoccupied, and the two rooms facing away from the sun had developed a bad mold problem.
For this reason, the room assignments for the four of them were: Hao Chen and Feng Ye in the two rooms on the third floor facing the balcony, and Fang Yang and Cao Zirui in the balcony rooms on the second floor.
Other than Feng Ye, who had shut himself in his own room and hadn’t come out, Hao Chen and the other two had not retired to their rooms.
Fang Yang and Cao Zirui were waiting for Hao Chen at the top of the second floor staircase, and crowded around him as soon as they saw him coming up.
“Hao-dage…..Shixiong, he…..” Fang Yang started to ask a question, but when the words were on the tip of his tongue, he didn’t quite know what to say.
After the mysterious peng bird appeared the night before, the misty black barrier had shattered and revealed the hidden figures behind it.
Fang Yang had watched as Feng Ye defeated Ling Yun, and heard the words he spoke, the details of which were so vivid that he must have experienced those things firsthand.
He had wanted to ask about it right then and there, but Feng Ye kept silent after defeating Ling Yun and seemed unwilling to speak to anyone. Fang Yang didn’t go out of his way to pester him.
Now that the Living Soil was in their hands, there was no reason to remain in Longqiu any longer. The four of them subsequently made their way in the direction Old Uncle Sun had indicated, toward the nearest market town. Feng Ye walked alongside them, but he seemed as distant as if a whole world lay between them and didn’t speak a word the whole way.
After walking for a full day, they barely managed to reach the market town before night descended. Fang Yang had been holding himself back for so long, and now he finally had the chance to ask his questions.
There were so many questions he wanted to ask, but the sheer quantity left him not knowing how to ask any of them.
But Hao Chen didn’t need him to speak in order to know what was on his mind, and simply cut him off: “Don’t ask random questions, kid. Go get some sleep.”
Fang Yang: “……” That was way too perfunctory.
But Hao Chen gave him no time for further questions, and pushed Fang Yang into his room with a single shove.
Hao Chen clapped his hands and turned toward Cao Zirui next, preparing to give him the same treatment.
But before Hao Chen could make a move, Cao Zirui hastily spoke up: “Wait!”
Hao Chen held off, signaling Cao Zirui with his eyes to speak up and not waste his time.
“Is Ling Yun…..dead?” Cao Zirui could see the impatience in Hao Chen’s eyes, but still found it difficult to articulate these few words.
No matter how hateful Ling Yun might be now, he was still Ji Chengyue’s shixiong. Cao Zirui had never met Ling Yun, and naturally had no feelings for his shishu, but his shifu certainly did. He cared enough to erect a spirit tablet for him regardless of what the world said was right or wrong.
If his shifu were to learn that Ling Yun still lived, he would no doubt be overjoyed…..except Ling Yun had fallen to this state. This was why Cao Zirui hadn’t sent word to Ji Chengyue right away.
He didn’t know if giving his shifu this news would be a good thing or a bad thing. That although his shixiong was still alive, he was no longer the man he once was, and had even turned against his own sect in his quest for vengeance.
But since last night, there didn’t seem to be any use for hesitation. Feng Ye had swung his sword without pause and sliced through Ling Yun’s neck, killing him once more.
Yet Cao Zirui couldn’t be sure that he was actually dead, because no severed head rolled to the ground in the wake of that strike. There was only a mass of black mist that dissipated in place.
Hao Chen was the one he asked, because he felt that he should know a bit more.
And indeed he did. Hao Chen looked at Cao Zirui for a moment, then said: “He’s not dead. He just ran away.”
They had clearly agreed that the duel would be fought without spiritual power, and the outcome of such a duel was a matter of life or death. It was only natural for the loser to lose their life.
But Ling Yun had escaped, using the power of that demonic creature. Sure enough, that black snake can’t be trusted at all, Hao Chen cursed.
That black snake’s attack had left a small tear in the fan he was carrying, the new one he’d had for less than a month! Damn it!
Cao Zirui breathed a reflexive sigh of relief when he heard this answer, but then he felt that he wasn’t reacting the right way. Why be relieved that the enemy wasn’t dead? Clearly, he should be anxious instead.
Cao Zirui thanked Hao Chen, then conscientiously returned to his room.
Now that the two young ones were dealt with, Hao Chen glanced upward and stepped onto the staircase, heading up to the third floor.
Feng Ye’s wounds, both new and old, had been dealt with on the way here. But conditions in the wilderness were not the best, with neither hot water nor real bandages available. Hao Chen had instructed the innkeeper to fetch some so that he would have an excuse to knock on Feng Ye’s door.
But the innkeeper had not returned yet, and Hao Chen didn’t want to wait any longer.
He stood at the door of Feng Ye’s room and knocked.
There was no response.
Hao Chen tilted his head to listen, but there were no sounds inside the room. It was so quiet that one might think the person inside had already fallen asleep.
In order to conserve wood in the making of this door, there were open spaces between the boards that were covered with paper.
Hao Chen stuck out his index finger and poked a small hole in the paper, then peered through it into the room.
No lights were on, and there was nobody lying on the bed.
Moonlight streamed into the room through the open window. Feng Ye was sitting against the windowsill with his left leg bent, as still as a statue as he gazed outside.
Since the dragon wasn’t asleep, Hao Chen lifted his eyes away from the hole in the paper, knocked once more and counted to three, then pushed the door open.
He moved very silently, trying not to make a sound as he closed the door behind him and paced over to Feng Ye’s side. The third-floor window was huge, leaving Feng Ye enough room to sit on it with his knees bent and still have room to lean back.
Feng Ye didn’t seem to notice Hao Chen’s arrival. His posture didn’t shift in the slightest, and his eyes didn’t move.
There was no beautiful scenery to be seen outside the window, only the quiet market town in the middle of the night and the boundless expanse of mountains beyond it.
This night was particularly quiet. People were resting indoors after a busy day, and the animals had returned to their dens. Only a small number were still out and about.
A mountain breeze rose from the forest, making it sway like an ocean of leaves. The wind continued forth, carrying a faint chill that only added to the cool atmosphere between the two people at the window.
“Cough, cough.” Hao Chen deliberately cleared his throat, searching for anything at all to break the silence.
But before he could say anything, the statue-like man said: “I don’t want to talk tonight.”
These were the first words he had spoken all day, but they were a cold rejection.
He continued to look out the window as he spoke, but there was nothing out there to draw his attention. He was simply staring into space, his eyes unfocused.
Staring into space alone, unwilling to be disturbed by anyone.
But despite this clear rejection, Hao Chen stubbornly stayed where he was.
And proceeded to be unreasonable.
“If you don’t want to talk, I can keep my mouth shut. Just pretend like I don’t exist,” Hao Chen said.
No matter how Feng Ye tried to ignore him, it was impossible to pretend like a living, breathing person right next to him didn’t exist.
Feng Ye’s lips thinned, but he didn’t speak. It was no use. This fish was always so thick-skinned.
So he simply paid no attention to him and let Hao Chen stand in the wind at his side.
After only a short while, the innkeeper returned with the hot water and bandages and knocked on the door.
Hao Chen opened the door and took the supplies, then closed it again. Carrying the basin over to the window, he asked tentatively: “Shall I change your bandages?”
“No.”
Hao Chen had expected the refusal.
He didn’t force it, and set the hot water down before standing by the window once more, staring out into the night with Feng Ye.
Steam rose continuously above the basin of hot water, yet even when the steam disappeared and the water grew cold, the silence between the two remained completely unbroken.
Hao Chen appeared to be in a daze, but in reality, he was wracking his brains for a way to break the silence. He gazed at the mountains, the water, the moon, but his usually clever tongue simply couldn’t figure out a topic that might interest Feng Ye.
He didn’t press him for information about the previous night, nor about the words Feng Ye had spoken to Ling Yun. Because he knew that if he asked, Feng Ye wouldn’t answer.
This dragon was too wary of others, and far too strong-willed. Unlike Hao Chen, he never seemed to slack off or allow himself to be the one in need of protection. It was always him protecting other people.
For this reason, he would never reveal his weakness to others, and he certainly wouldn’t share anything about his painful, bloody past.
What he showed to outsiders was that hard scale armor and a strength that seemed capable of overcoming anything.
As for the painful wounds underneath, he kept them hidden in the deepest parts of himself, refusing to expose them to the light of day even as they festered.
Perhaps Hao Chen wouldn’t ask about the words Feng Ye spoke last night, but he couldn’t help dwelling on them. He stared at the side of Feng Ye’s face, the man’s hoarse shouts echoing in his mind.
“Wasn’t a chain pierced through your shoulder blades? Shifting inside your body with every breath, the pain so excruciating, so unbearable, that only the fuel of hatred allowed you to cling to your wretched life?!”
He remembered each word with perfect clarity, and each one caused a tremor in his heart.
He was a god by birth, and although he had weathered perilous battles, he had never endured the almost unimaginable kind of suffering Feng Ye spoke of.
Yet this person’s expression was still so mild, as if he wasn’t the one who had gone through all of that.
Feng Ye’s current appearance was unremarkable, but as Hao Chen gazed at his furrowed brow, he could still faintly make out the shadow of that cold, eternally powerful God of War.
But Hao Chen knew that the true Yinglong wasn’t like that.
No one was eternally powerful, and no one was immune to being hurt.
All at once, he felt the strong urge to reach out and touch Feng Ye, to smooth away the furrow in his brow and remove that cold, hard facade.
But just as his hand was halfway there, Feng Ye reached out and grabbed it mid-air.
He kept Hao Chen’s hand in his grasp, preventing it from moving closer.
Then he finally turned to look at him. There was nothing but coldness in his expression, a callousness that kept everyone at arm’s length.
It was a coldness so deep that one couldn’t help but want to turn away and flee.
But as Hao Chen looked into those eyes, he had no intention of backing down. He saw a layer of ice in those eyes that was even colder than the waters of the North Sea, and below that ice, a scarred heart that was still tender.
“The bone-piercing chains…..they hurt?” Hao Chen asked in a soft voice, as if afraid to startle him.
Feng Ye was taken aback.
His first instinct was to deny it, and to also deny that any of the words he spoke to Ling Yun the previous day referred to things that he had personally endured.
There were so many excuses, so many explanations. He didn’t even have to think that hard about it. An answer was on the tip of his tongue almost as soon as the thought crossed his mind.
But before he could voice one of these ready-made excuses, something he couldn’t quite perceive held them back. Like a surging tide, the scars he had thought were completely healed awakened in the depths of his heart.
But not everything could be healed by time. This pain had only been sealed away. And when he saw Ling Yun, who seemed so much like Feng Ye’s former self, only then did he realize that the suffering that had torn his flesh and pierced into the very marrow of his bones had never diminished in the slightest.
“Hurt.”
After a long stalemate, he spoke only one word.
He didn’t specify what hurt, didn’t acknowledge those unbearable events that had happened in his past, the fact that he had cried out in pain. He just gave an answer that would allow him to come up with an excuse later on.
He left no openings even now, exposing no weakness or vulnerability.
This single word was the limit of what he could bring himself to reveal.
And speaking this word seemed to have drained all his strength. He closed his eyes, and the hand that should have been as strong as cast iron went weak. Hao Chen freed his hand from Feng Ye’s grip with just a slight tug.
But rather than retreating, he continued to move closer, to bridge the distance as vast as a chasm between them that he had previously been unable to cross.
He embraced Feng Ye.
He wrapped his arms around Feng Ye’s back and held him tight, using the warmth of his body to help drive away the chill and the pain.
Feng Ye didn’t respond. He seemed somewhat at a loss, and just sat there in a daze within Hao Chen’s embrace.
Perhaps it was the warmth that tempted him. Animals were naturally drawn to light, and dragons were no exception. Feeling the warmth of the arms around him, he reached out tentatively after an unknown amount of time and hugged Hao Chen back.
The embrace was light, his arms draped loosely around Hao Chen. As if he would flinch back at the slightest wrong move.
As time went on, his grip slowly tightened to the point that it was almost constricting, but Hao Chen simply let him do as he liked.
Feng Ye buried his face against the side of Hao Chen’s neck, keeping his expression hidden from view.
They held each other under the cover of night. It was only a simple embrace, devoid of lust.
The bright moon hung high outside the window, and although the long night stretched on and the wind howled, they no longer felt the cold.
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Chapter 118 << Table of Contents >> Chapter 120
