Chapter 54: Azure Cloud (32)

Fu Fengyan carried the person in his arms. His hands were extremely steady, his steps light and brisk, almost as if he were “serving” He Tingtong back to the courtyard on a platter.

Turning sideways to nudge the door open, he didn’t see the grapevines he had planted in the courtyard, only Zhang Duixue sitting cross-legged in meditation.

Over the past year, he had grown taller and darker. His hair was still a messy tuft, each strand sticking up wildly on top of his head, displaying a unique kind of unrestraint.

Seeing He Tingtong being carried back by Fu Fengyan, Zhang Duixue opened one eye and asked with concern, “Fainted from exhaustion again?”

“He fell asleep.” Fu Fengyan carried him into the room, laid him down properly, lit a calming incense stick, lowered the heavy curtains, then walked out lightly and closed the door.

He Tingtong had been carried back several times this past year. At first, Zhang Duixue had “measured the heart of a gentleman with the yardstick of a petty man,” thinking their intimate posture meant there was definitely something going on between them—if they weren’t together now, they would be eventually.

But a month passed, then half a year, then a year. Not only did they not take a step further, but the atmosphere between them grew increasingly innocent and proper.

Only then did Zhang Duixue realize that although he himself was a cutsleeve, there weren’t actually that many cutsleeves in the world. He Tingtong looked righteous and awe-inspiring, seemingly destined to cut off love and desire to focus solely on cultivation in this life. As for Fu Fengyan… he was a single-minded blockhead.

How could a career-driven person and a blockhead be together?

That’s right, long live friendship!

So now, seeing them in this state, Zhang Duixue was no longer surprised. Even if He Tingtong and Fu Fengyan came out of the same room the next morning, he would only think someone’s bed must have broken, or they had been discussing cultivation matters together at night.

Getting up, he tossed his meditation cushion back into his room and moved the potted grapevine back to its original spot, which he had occupied. As compensation, he scooped a ladle of water for the grapevine. Looking at Fu Fengyan, who had come back out, he asked softly, “Little Yue was kept after class again and won’t be back today. Do you want to come eat with me? We’re going to Zefang House.”

“Thanks, but no need.” Fu Fengyan didn’t even look up as he refused firmly. “He Tingtong isn’t feeling well, I need to look after him. Next time.”

Zhang Duixue had expected this answer and scratched his head. “Then let’s make a date for next time. I’m off tomorrow, so I’m going to Langhuan Pavilion tonight and won’t be back to rest. I’ll bring you guys some dim sum later.”

Fu Fengyan nodded politely. “Can I order dishes?”

Zhang Duixue: “Of course.” The Young Palace Master was paying anyway; it didn’t matter how much takeout he got.

So Fu Fengyan turned around and pulled out his menu, writing down a row of dish names, mostly nourishing and easy to digest. Zhang Duixue tucked the small note safely into his robe. “Speaking of which, with the new students enrolling recently, the trials are about to start. The Dean should be back soon, right?”

Seeing Fu Fengyan nod, Zhang Duixue glanced worriedly at He Tingtong’s room. “Once the Dean returns, he definitely can’t be allowed to run around wildly anymore. Continuing like this for a long time will exhaust him completely.”

Fu Fengyan affirmed this good idea. “The Dean returns in eight days. I will watch him closely then!”

He would definitely guard the door and not let anyone out. At the very least, he would make Dean Xu handle all the affairs for this year, next year—no, the year after that too—so He Tingtong wouldn’t be tired like this.

“Just ask if you need my help with anything.” Zhang Duixue lowered his voice further. “I’m leaving first then.”

Fu Fengyan nodded. He had already taken off his outer robe, rolled up his sleeves, and run off to heat water.

A year had passed, and many things had been added to the small courtyard. There were several drying poles with crisp, dry clothes hanging on them. A large water vat sat by the pool; Yue Qianxun often washed his brushes in it, turning the whole vat of water ink-black. Yet, a bowl lotus somehow managed to live in it—probably from eating ink for too long, the white lotus had turned into a black lotus.

Beneath the water vat was a pile of whetstones. As sword cultivators, they had a heavy hand, and fighting wore down their swords. In their leisure time, they would sit together, grinding their swords while chatting.

There were many more bowls in the kitchen now. Most were ordinary, but there was a pair of white jade bowls with gold tracing. Xie Xuanxiao had brought them himself last time he came to mooch a meal, disdaining the ceramic bowls as vulgar.

However, Zhang Duixue didn’t use them normally, so they had been set aside. Xie Xuanxiao was used to drinking dew and was a picky eater; that day’s hotpot gathering nearly spurned him to death with spiciness, making him suspect someone was deliberately trying to murder him. Since then, he had respectfully declined all their food. These bowls had sat here unused for a long time and were shoved into the farthest corner to gather dust.

Fu Fengyan took the items, performed a hand seal to draw water into a wooden bucket, heated it with spiritual energy, and then tiptoed into the room carrying the steaming bucket.

The scent of the calming incense was light, carrying a faint sweetness. Fu Fengyan gently removed He Tingtong’s outer garment and turned him over. He undid the hair ribbon, gathered the long, ink-black hair to one side, revealing a slender, fair nape that could be grasped in one hand. Below were thin shoulder blades and a narrowing waist with two small dimples. Fu Fengyan’s fingers hooked slightly, then he raised the cloth and wiped the person down from top to bottom.

He had cared for He Tingtong like this several times over the past year. Now, he was well-practiced, his movements gentle yet firm enough to clean him without waking him up.

After propping up the soft pillows, he used a towel soaked in hot water to apply a warm compress and massage the person on the bed. His body temperature was naturally much higher than ordinary people’s. Kneading He Tingtong’s joints carefully, he soon turned the person into a puddle of soft dough.

He Tingtong remained unaware in his sleep, his breathing only lightening or deepening with the movements, occasionally emitting one or two fragmented, helpless gasps from his nose.

Fu Fengyan’s heart itched listening to it. Looking at the defenseless youth in deep sleep on the bed, he leaned his head closer and closer, until he was almost pressing against the other’s face, their breaths intermingling. He stared at a strand of hair caught in He Tingtong’s lips, extended two fingers, and pulled it out.

After cleaning everything up, he sat by the bed, propping up his head, staring intently at He Tingtong’s face in the dim skylight. He looked earnestly, as if just sitting there watching someone sleep was already a very interesting thing.

The not-so-spacious room was filled with books, spread open everywhere, all containing He Tingtong’s notes. The wind turned the pages one by one, and time flowed away bit by bit just like that. Fu Fengyan lay on the edge of the bed and slowly closed his eyes.

White mist scattered like clouds in the sky or water vapor drifting over a lake in winter. From a high vantage point, he saw countless people kneeling in prayer. The one closest to him was asking if he could pass this month’s exam.

It was Fu Baiyu. He remembered this person feasting daily recently, passing out drunk in taverns day and night. The subjects of the Pavilion of Heavenlycraft were indeed difficult to learn. Since he hadn’t studied properly… Fu Fengyan very wickedly gave him a “Great Misfortune.”

The farthest place was also bustling with noise. The most distinct and clear voice was an overly cold inquiry: “Young Lord, when will you return?”

Fu Fengyan knew he had stayed outside far too long this time. He counted the rules he had memorized since childhood and realized that in just one short year, he had violated almost every code of conduct.

But no one here could lecture him, and no one could stop him. This place was good; he liked it very much. There were many people, it was lively. He Tingtong was living, warm, and touchable. Standing here, his feet firmly on the ground, his heart had also sunk roots and sprouted leaves here.

He didn’t want to go back.

So Fu Fengyan swept a careless glance, shattering the jade slip, expressing his refusal with the utmost firmness.

“Not returning.”

---

Zhang Duixue tidied his appearance slightly, used water to press down the wildly sticking-up hair a bit, changed into clean and simple clothes, and went to find Xie Xuanxiao with brisk steps.

They hadn’t seen each other for half a month.

Of course, the main reason was that both of them were very busy.

Initially, it was him practicing the sword. The Gui Li Sword Master’s swordsmanship was truly formidable; every move and stance was enough for him to benefit from for a long time. He swung his sword daily, from dawn to midnight, never ceasing. Just comprehending a single sword intent was enough to keep him practicing sleeplessly for over a month.

The Young Palace Master had come to find him many times, but there were rarely chances to be alone. Later, at some point, the Young Palace Master also became busy. By the time he realized it, they could only barely meet once a month or so, and even then, only to sit together and chat.

The Young Palace Master no longer forced him to do things he didn’t like. He no longer wore those wide-sleeved robes or braided his hair like before. But he also went to Langhuan Pavilion very rarely now, and knew less about the people and matters around the Young Palace Master.

Unlike at Yuanchen Palace, many people at the academy didn’t know him. Added to the fact that Langhuan Pavilion and the Sword Pavilion had always been at odds, their meetings were usually arranged outside the academy. So this time, Zhang Duixue’s visit was blocked directly at the door.

“Senior Brother Xie is busy. Fellow Daoist, please stop.” A beautiful, unfamiliar youth reached out to block him, pointing to a small side hall. “Please wait over here for a moment.”

Zhang Duixue wanted to explain. He looked down at his communication spiritual tool; he had sent a message two quarters of an hour ago: “Young Palace Master, I’m here to find you.”

There was still no response, so he must indeed be very busy.

Not wanting to delay important matters, he nodded and sat in the small hall. Drinking fresh tea, he sent another message to Xie Xuanxiao: “I’ll wait for you at the entrance.”

Still no response.

Dressed in the black and white fitted attire of the Sword Pavilion, Zhang Duixue sat in the busy small hall, drawing many sideways glances. Those looks were hardly friendly; most were whispers and a few sneers revealed behind covered mouths.

But he had seen enough of this kind of supercilious treatment growing up, so he didn’t take these people’s actions to heart.

They had agreed yesterday to eat at Zefang House today, then walk by the lake together. There were pleasure boats on the lake that could be rented for the night to row to the center. That way, they wouldn’t have to fear disturbance from others and could be alone for a long, long time… He had recently comprehended a sword intent, and the Gui Li Sword Master praised him for having talent, even giving him a handful of candy.

He tasted one; it was sweet and milky. He kept the rest in his pocket, planning to share them with Xie Xuanxiao.

Clenching his fist, Zhang Duixue glanced at the youth guarding the door who seemed to be dozing off, suppressing that uncomfortable feeling. He had no intention of making things difficult for the other party. Rising slowly, he left the side hall silently, climbed over the courtyard wall, and searched around various courtyards like a thief, finally going to the study.

Then he came up empty; Xie Xuanxiao wasn’t inside.

He didn’t know when Xie Xuanxiao had left, or perhaps, he might not have been here at all. Since he had matters to attend to, why make an appointment with him?

An indescribable sourness and disappointment surged in his heart. Zhang Duixue turned and left, going to Zefang House alone. Just before closing time, he ordered one of every dish Fu Fengyan had requested.

Carrying the heavy food box, he walked back. He glanced at the communication spiritual tool again; there was still no reply on it.

His mind was full of bits and pieces of his recent interactions with Xie Xuanxiao. Ever since he disobeyed orders during the Azure Cloud Trial, the Young Palace Master really seemed to have given him the cold shoulder a lot.

Was he angry? But he had clearly said he didn’t mind.

Could it be the “seven-year itch” Fu Fengyan often talked about? But counting fully, he and the Young Palace Master had only been officially together for two years… Could the period of weariness come so quickly?

Walking alone on the street, the roadside was noisy. He wanted to sigh. Just as he planned to carry his things back to the Sword Pavilion’s small courtyard, he suddenly heard a burst of laughter and chatter. Accompanied by the hearty laughter of youths, a “Young Palace Master Xie” rushed into his ears. Zhang Duixue looked up and saw bright lights. A chaotic group of people poured out of the tavern ahead, and who else could be surrounded in the very center but Xie Xuanxiao?

He was still that elegant, not a hair out of place, a smile hanging on the corner of his mouth. He was walking with someone; although they weren’t hooked shoulder to shoulder, he was leaning very close. This attitude could already be considered intimate.

He didn’t know that person; it must be a new friend of the Young Palace Master.

Although Xie Xuanxiao’s expression remained unchanged, Zhang Duixue could tell at a glance that he was drunk. Those eyes were not quite sober.

Probably chatting about something interesting, the group burst into laughter. Zhang Duixue pursed his lips and approached amidst the laughter. The Young Palace Master’s alcohol tolerance wasn’t very good; in fact, it could be said to be poor. his taste was light, and his stomach would hurt for a long time after drinking. Being blown by the wind all night like this, he would definitely have a headache tomorrow. Formation masters tabood chaotic thinking the most; he would be suffering again tomorrow.

Xie Xuanxiao walked unsteadily, then, lost in thought about something, his mind wandered. Suddenly he stumbled, pitching forward. Seeing that he was about to face-plant, Zhang Duixue subconsciously dropped the food box and rushed forward. But before he could get close, a tall black shadow appeared beside Xie Xuanxiao like a ghost and steadied him firmly.

That person was dressed in gray robes, covered tightly, looking overly pale as if haven’t seen the sun for a long time. Even his skin tone revealed an abnormal greenish hue. The muscles under his clothes were taut. He held Xie Xuanxiao steadily in a position that was neither too close nor too distant.

Xie Xuanxiao slowly turned his head to look at the person supporting him. Not knowing what he was thinking, he backhandedly grabbed the other’s forearm and, with a somewhat forceful posture, pulled the person into his arms. That person stiffened for a moment, then naturally moved closer to Xie Xuanxiao, serving as a walking cane to support him.

The food box hit the ground, its contents spilling all over in a mess. The clattering sound drew everyone’s gaze.

Zhang Duixue stood on the street corner empty-handed. The broken hair on his forehead was blown messy by the wind, blocking his eyes. Facing the crowd’s gazes—some mocking, some watching a show—he took a slight step back and said indifferently, “Sorry. Just passing by, hand slipped. You guys continue, don’t mind me.”