Chapter 71: Azure Cloud (49)

Xiangli Lingze had his nose pinched by Zhang Duixue, who proceeded to pour three cups of water down his throat. He twitched, slumped onto the ground, and vomited it all out with a blegh. Then, he fell back stiffly, looking as if he were breathing out more than he was breathing in.

He indeed had many injuries on his body, but they weren’t fatal. He Tingtong carried him into his own room, and the four of them surrounded the bed, frantically beginning to treat him.

Eating a proper meal was out of the question; they could only chew on a Fasting Pill to make do. However, everyone except Fu Fengyan breathed a sigh of relief.

For a moment, treating Xiangli Lingze’s wounds actually seemed quite harmonious. Fortunately, his injuries were indeed not severe. After feeding him a few pills, fetching hot water to give him a rough wipe-down, and applying medicine to his wounds, they rolled him up in a quilt, pushed him to the inner side of the bed, and let him sleep.

Zhang Duixue hadn’t left his room for several days, and Yue Qianxun had been staying indoors studying array formations. Naturally, neither of them knew what had just transpired at Azure Cloud Academy.

While applying medicine to Xiangli Lingze, Yue Qianxun looked him up and down, clicking his tongue continuously. Taking pleasure in his misfortune, he leaned into He Tingtong’s ear and mocked in a cheeky tone, “Isn’t fighting forbidden in the Academy? Who beat him up like this? I remember his older brother is very protective of him. Who did he offend that even Xiangli Xuan couldn’t protect him?”

“He offended Xiangli Xuan, and got beaten by his mother,” He Tingtong calmly added. Pressing a hand against Yue Qianxun’s head, he pushed him away a bit. “Stop watching the drama and go out to wash the dishes.”

Yue Qianxun: “…Oh.”

Yue Qianxun went out to wash the dishes. Zhang Duixue stood to the side, his arms crossed over his chest. His gaze paused on He Tingtong’s back for a moment before he lowered his voice and asked, “What happened to him?”

“Xiangli Xuan dropped out,” He Tingtong let down the bed curtains, raised his head, and went outside with Zhang Duixue to talk. “Xiangli Lingze had a bit of a conflict with his family. For now, he’s staying at Azure Cloud Academy. In a few days, he will accompany Lord Jingming to the Immortal Alliance.”

Zhang Duixue froze. He turned his head and glanced at the youth in the bed again. The other boy’s eyes were tightly shut, seemingly fast asleep. The three of them exchanged a look. He Tingtong pulled Fu Fengyan outside and tiptoed to close the main door.

As the last sliver of light was shut out and the footsteps faded away, Xiangli Lingze’s fingertips trembled. After a long while, he curled up into a ball on the bed like a shrimp, burying his head in his arms. His shoulders shook as he bit down on the back of his hand to stop himself from making even the slightest sound. But the tears flowed freely, completely soaking his pillow.

Grievance, unwillingness, resentment, jealousy, and a youth’s budding affection—the embarrassment of having those subtle, unspeakable feelings exposed turned into a sharp dagger, stabbing a massive, empty hole in his chest.

How could he not hate?

He hated Xiangli Xuan. He hated him for stealing his identity, family background, status, name, the love of his parents and older brother, and the respect of the disciples and relatives.

When he was running errands and serving tea in the Moss Flower Courtyard, being groped by customers, beaten and scolded by brothel keepers, and having his fingers stomped and broken just for touching a musician’s zither strings… Xiangli Xuan was wearing the most luxurious clothes, surrounded by maids and attendants as he visited renowned masters and learned immortal arts. As for Xuan-grade or higher spiritual zithers, Xiangli Xuan had an entire room full of them.

The greatest hardship Xiangli Xuan had probably ever suffered in his entire life was the slight medicinal bitterness of a Marrow Cleansing Pill.

At the age of thirteen, when he was found and brought back to the Xiangli clan, he was wearing coarse linen clothes. His big toes pushed against the tips of his ill-fitting shoes, poking a hole through the fabric. He saw so many immortals—tall, slender, their silks fluttering in the air, resembling the flying goddesses in murals.

His family sat in high positions. His father never showed up from beginning to end. His mother gave him a single glance, as if looking at a cheap speck of mud. The attendant behind him pointed at the people and introduced them: this is the First Madam, that is the Eldest Young Master, this is the Second Young Master. He was shoved forward from behind. His tongue tied up in embarrassment, unable to speak, he could only carefully call out, “Mother, Eldest Brother, Second Brother.” Unfortunately, his rustic accent was heavy. The moment he spoke, snickers rang out all around him, as if his voice had polluted their ears.

He was the clown of the manor.

He wasn’t fair enough, not pretty enough, not elegant enough, not smart enough. Even his name sounded unpleasant—Chen Xiaoyu, rustic and tacky. When entering his name into the genealogy book, his mother asked his father about it, and his father casually brushed a stroke: Rain signifies Lingze (spiritual blessing). Thus, the Third Young Master of the Xiangli clan was named Xiangli Lingze.

The teacher said he entered the Dao too late, making it difficult to open his spiritual orifices. He was destined to have no affinity with the Great Dao in this life, so it would be better for him to be a rich idler, raised in the manor for the rest of his life.

The teacher said Xiangli Xuan was exceptionally gifted, having entered the Dao at five, able to play the Fengling Score at seven, and having reached the Third Realm by thirteen. His future was limitless.

He knew there was a world of difference between him and Xiangli Xuan. He couldn’t compare. Yet, everyone constantly compared him to Xiangli Xuan. They purposely arranged the same clothes for them, deliberately sent the same ancient zithers, and then coaxed him to play a tune at banquets.

His trembling hands touched the strings, and the very first note was out of tune. Surrounded by undisguised malice and mockery that threatened to swallow him alive, he watched Xiangli Xuan play the zither on the high platform, looking like a beautiful immortal child seated beside a deity.

The Third Young Master was stupid, while the Second Young Master was intelligent. The Third Young Master was crude, while the Second Young Master was elegant. The Third Young Master was ugly, while the Second Young Master was exquisite… Even when he asked for an extra bowl of rice at meals, people would whisper that he was a glutton.

Xiangli Xuan was a cloud in the sky; Xiangli Lingze was the mud on the ground.

And so, he gave up and let things rot.

If they all found him disgusting, he would disgust them right back.

Since everyone bullied him because of Xiangli Xuan, he would bully Xiangli Xuan. He hated him, tormented him, and disgusted him. Time and again, the family discipline was brought out. He would always plead guilty on the spot, but turn around and continue his antics a few days later. Xiangli Xuan rarely fought back. He seemed to never have any emotions, just coldly looking at people. He spoke little and bore it all passively, making Lingze feel like his punches were landing on cotton.

Boring.

This continued until his mother packed him up and sent him to Azure Cloud Academy.

During a year completely free from disturbances, they lived in rooms facing each other. After their relationship eased, he realized that Xiangli Xuan was actually quite a decent person. A bit boring, a bit dull, but he did things properly, worked hard without complaint, and unconditionally indulged him, almost like a willing form of atonement.

It was ridiculous. After wandering displaced for so many years, the only person who accommodated him was the one he had self-righteously considered his mortal enemy.

When the demonic aura in the Yinyuan Mirror rioted, he went to find the heavily injured Xiangli Xuan. His luck was actually quite bad; Xiangli Xuan had landed right in the center. Amidst the vast black fog, he couldn’t distinguish the path and ended up carrying him in circles.

Xiangli Xuan, having exhausted his spiritual energy, told him to leave. He didn’t move. In the end, he exhausted his own spiritual energy to push Xiangli Xuan out, leaving himself trapped in the siege.

Nobody cared anyway. If he died, no one’s heart would ache for him.

He never expected that Xiangli Xuan would drag his damaged spiritual body back in to save him.

On the brink of life and death, he thought: after causing trouble for so many years, he was quite tired too. He might as well let it go and reconcile in the future. They didn’t have to be loving brothers, but staying out of each other’s way wouldn’t be bad either.

Xiangli Xuan’s response to this was: “Not good.”

When he woke up, Xiangli Xuan was sitting by the bed in a daze. The first thing he asked was whether Lingze liked him. Then, while Xiangli Lingze was panicked and trying to change the subject, Xiangli Xuan gripped a short knife and stabbed it straight through his own palm.

Under severe pain, Xiangli Xuan’s expression didn’t waver in the slightest, save for his lips becoming exceedingly pale. He said, “Why didn’t you just die out there?”

“It would have been better if you didn’t exist.”

“Chen Xiaoyu, the way you look at me is truly disgusting.”

The door to the room was busted open. Holding that bloodstained knife, he saw his mother rushing in. Her panicked expression, her heartbroken face, the overwhelming voices of condemnation all around… He looked on calmly and saw Xiangli Xuan lower his head and say in an extremely light voice, “Mother, it hurts.”

He knew then that any defense would be useless.

From beginning to end, he was the only one. Arriving all alone, leaving all alone.

He Tingtong had given up his room, so naturally, he had to squeeze into the same bed with Fu Fengyan that night.

Mainly because Yue Qianxun and Zhang Duixue couldn’t fight him for it anyway.

He Tingtong had spent the day fighting and tangling with people, plus running all over the place, so he was truly exhausted and fell asleep very early that night.

He lay on his side on the inner half of the bed like a long strip, hogging a large portion of the blanket. Fu Fengyan wasn’t afraid of the cold. With his hands folded, he listened until the other’s breathing grew shallow. Then, he silently got up, went to the washroom, and gathered He Tingtong’s torn robe to mend it.

He had an excellent memory, and his threading of the needle was very sharp and neat. Very soon, a sprawling, fierce “centipede” was laid across He Tingtong’s clothes.

When Xiangli Lingze came out at night, what he saw was Fu Fengyan with a cold face, mending clothes by the moonlight. He rubbed his eyes, somewhat in disbelief.

Looking back three times with every step he took, he went over and washed his face. Then he hesitantly walked back, looking at the messy stitches, and said uncertainly, “The way you’re mending it is too obvious.”

Fu Fengyan raised his head. His expressionless eyes stared at him. The meaning was simple: You want to do it?

Xiangli Lingze had a bitter childhood, facing beatings and scoldings all day long. Where would he have gotten good clothes? They tore and he sewed them, sewed them and they tore. Although his craftsmanship couldn’t compare to an embroiderer’s, closing a seam was still very easy for him.

Fu Fengyan examined the restored clothes, where the blade cut was almost invisible. He was very satisfied and said cheerfully, “You desire too much in your heart. It will become a delusional obsession and damage your state of mind.”

Xiangli Lingze was confused. Before he could react, Fu Fengyan suddenly raised his hand and pressed a finger against his glabella. With a boom, a speck of white light struck his face. He seemed to see billowing white fire rushing recklessly into his Sea of Consciousness and Spiritual Palace. In a mere instant, all the resentment and unwillingness accumulated in his heart seemed to be dispersed, leaving his mind clear and thoroughly enlightened.

“Done.” Fu Fengyan retracted his hand. He rubbed He Tingtong’s outer robe, gave it a shake, and shook out a snow-white inner garment, which also had a tear on it. He continued to mend it, imitating Xiangli Lingze’s technique.

Xiangli Lingze stood dazedly in place. The moonlight was serene. He looked at his shadow on the ground. A ball of pent-up frustration churned endlessly in his heart, nearly bursting his chest. Suddenly, he slapped the table with a loud bang, furiously cursing out loud, “Xiangli Xuan, you really aren’t human! You two-faced green tea, white lotus hypocrite, snob who despises the poor and loves the rich! If you like staying so much, then just stay! Do you really think this young master has any special attachment to the Xiangli clan? Measuring the heart of a gentleman with the yardstick of a petty man—I f*cking saved his life in the Yinyuan Mirror, and this bastard bites the hand that feeds him! So shameless! I might as well have fed my sincerity to the dogs!”

Fu Fengyan clapped. “Not bad.”

Xiangli Lingze sat by the table panting, but then he started to laugh. He stretched his arms—the young man’s figure was slender, his joints popping with a crackle. Looking at the moonlight scattered on the ground, having no possessions on him, he reached out, plucked a leaf, placed it against his lips, and blew a little tune.

The tune was light and slow. It slipped into the long night with the spring breeze, drifting into the youths’ dreams. It was plaintive and melancholic, making one’s heart soften.

Fu Fengyan praised, “Sounds nice.”

“On and on, going on and on; from you I am parted alive,” Xiangli Lingze murmured.

Fu Fengyan tilted his head, not understanding why Xiangli Lingze had suddenly shed tears, only to see the other boy shaking his head and turning to go back to his room to rest.

However, the tune really was quite nice.

In the quiet, long night, noise was exceptionally piercing. Someone in the courtyard next door cursed loudly, “Are you done yet or what? Are you done yet?!”

Fu Fengyan: “…”