Ye Baiyi frowned slightly. His face looked even more fake than that of Zhou Zishu, in that it seemed like it had been staying stiff for so long and every minuscule movement looked strange. He asked. “It’s you? Who are you?”
Wen Kexing smiled cruelly and asked him back. “Why don’t you introduce yourself first before inquiring me? Is this how Monk Gu teaches his disciple to behave?”
Zhou Zishu, still leaning on Wen Kexing for support, was having a hard time to stand upright. He coughed drily a few times, feeling like his throat was burning. He turned his face to one side and threw up a mouthful of blood.
Seeing that, Wen Kexing’s face darkened as he scolded him, “Are you stupid as well, Zhou Xu, why did you let him feel you up like that when you don’t even know who he is?”
I haven’t even got the chance to touch you yet! was what he didn’t say out loud as he glanced at Ye Baiyi.
Zhou Zishu, busy trying to stabilise his breathing after his body being thrown into disarray by Ye Baiyi, heard nothing of Wen Kexing’s nonsense. During the process, he glared at the man miserably.
Ye Baiyi asked further. “Your kungfu is not bad, whose disciple are you? And what is your relationship with this child?”
Wen Kexing finally saw the strangeness in the way the other man talked. He enunciated words very slowly like an old man, and completed with his facial expressions, he gave both an irritable and uncanny feeling.
Wen Kexing was not the thoughtless type. Now that the initial emotional impulse had worn off, doubt started to bloom in his chest.
Before he could answer, Zhou Zishu raised his sleeves to wipe the blood at the corner of his mouth, voice gentle, “What is your intention, Monk Gu?”
Ye Baiyi replied, undisturbed, “I want to see if your injuries are still salvageable.” After pausing a little, he continued. “And I have never said that I’m Monk Gu, don’t get ahead of yourself.”
Wen Kexing was not surprised as he already knew Zhou Zishu suffered from internal injuries, but the second sentence did catch him off guard. Zhou Zishu assumed him to be Monk Gu, and while Ye Baiyi denied this, the way he referred to that name did not at all carry a sense of respect; he talked was as if Monk Gu was his peer.
Wen Kexing couldn’t help but look over Ye Baiyi’s completely-not-wrinkled face once again and thought, What kind of abomination is this old man?
Ye Baiyi spoke to Zhou Zishu, “The juniors will always follow their seniors’ footsteps; I know Qin Huaizhang did a totally botched job of teaching his disciples, but I advise you to stay away from this man who you don’t even know well. He was even more bad news than you.”
Wen Kexing felt like this man with an endless stomach was born to be his archnemesis. His chest was tight as he blurted out, “Don’t even know well? Old man, have you ever heard about the concept of soulmate? You have stick your ancient nose into every single problem there is, and now you even want to dictate what we do?”
Ye Baiyi, already not an agreeable person to begin with, snarled “Are you trying to die, brat?” under his breath and charged at him.
Zhou Zishu with his unstable breathing was not at all suitable to be in the middle of this fight between these two all-around insolent men, so he cleverly retreated and sat on the top of a wall nearby to spectate and recuperate.
During this time when people were currently too worried about the Lapis Armor and the Ghost Valley to be able to sleep well, no one had any idea that in this small alley, a rarely seen clash between two martial arts masters was happening. Ye Baiyi had denied to be Monk Gu and Zhou Zishu was now unsure who he actually was; but upon seeing this unprecedented level of martial arts skills, him being Monk Gu didn’t seem like a stretch at all.
On the other hand, Wen Kexing showed no sign that he was in the disadvantage. When Zhou Zishu took a closer look, his martial arts approach was entirely different to his father, the “Divine” Wen Ruyu—no, even the legendary Wen Ruyu couldn’t hold a candle to his son’s level.
The few moves Wen Kexing taught Zhang Chengling back then was pulled from his father’s method, and they gave a very neutral, balanced feel.
As of right now, Zhou Zishu saw that every single move from him showed an incredible level of ruthlessness, and he was unable to discern which sect he could be from with this kind of style; this to him was entirely uncharted territory. It looked similar to how Gu Xiang engaged in battle, but he seemed even more experienced than the girl. All in all, it wasn’t what he inherited from his parents… Zhou Zishu narrowed his eyes, his theory slowly taking form.
At the same time, he didn’t know how to feel about this: All the figures in the martial arts world that he couldn’t identify were gathering here in front of him tonight.
Suddenly, he felt droplets of rainwater fell from the sky as the wind seemed to turn colder. After a few drops, a drizzle quietly arrived.
Zhou Zishu tightened his outer robes around himself, stretching his legs and swinging them. He raised his voice to talk to the currently fighting men, “Hey, Sir Ye, Brother Wen, it’s raining right now and I feel very cold, so how about we call this off?”
His voice sounded like that of a circus audience, and not someone watching two martial arts masters go at it.
Ye Baiyi made a noise of contempt and retreated several feet. When he landed on the ground, he fixed his disheveled clothes, those ethereally fluttering sleeves torn by Wen Kexing. Zhou Zishu felt like this was Wen Kexing’s bad habit; since his orientation was not something often discussed out loud, he couldn’t help but imposing it onto everyone else.
Wen Kexing was struggling a little. He held his chest and took steps backwards, feeling like his organs were turned upside down. He coughed up blood, his ribs aching after the other man’s attack; he had no idea if they were still intact or not.
Ye Baiyi stared at Wen Kexing silently. “You’ve gone past your limit. If we hadn’t stop, I could have taken your life in the next ten moves.”
Wen Kexing’s shoulders curved forward as he stood there, glaring at Ye Baiyi coldly.
Zhou Zishu sighed. “Senior Ye, as our predecessor, why must death be the only treatment you have for us?” Please go back to your mountain and live your old man life, why dwell on your worries and run to Dong Ting to mess with others’ business?
Unexpectedly, those words seemed to act as a reminder for Wen Kexing. With no fear in his bones, he spoke up, “You’re past your prime. If you are still alive ten years later, I will be the one to take your life.”
Ye Baiyi looked stunned, like he just heard the biggest joke in the world. He immediately laughed, his Buddha stone face shifted disturbingly. Zhou Zishu was worried that those stiff lines on his face might crack if he kept going.
Ye Baiyi replied, “Take my life? Good, good—no one has dared say that to me in the past fifty years, I’ll surely be waiting for you.”
He was about to leave, but seemed to remember something. He turned to look at Zhou Zishu contemplatively, and spoke after the silence, “I don’t know of a way to treat your injuries.”
Zhou Zishu’s expression remained unchanged while amusement sparked inside him; Ye Baiyi sounded like he held him in high regards or something. He replied, “You are not all-knowing, sir, no one expects you to have a solution in the first place.”
Ye Baiyi shook his head. “Your meridians have almost withered completely, like an ancient tree without roots. Even removing the poison inside you won’t help; in fact, channeling more energy into you will break your dying meridians, and you can only perish.”
Wen Kexing staggered in shock as he turned and gave Zhou Zishu a look of disbelief. The other man was still perching on the top of the wall, completely leisurely and uncaring; rain fell on him and left his hair soaking wet. He looked like a dim ray of light, and had Wen Kexing not witnessed what he did in the cave that one time, he would never have realized he was someone carrying injuries.
Zhou Zishu’s laughed resounded in the air, “So my fate is sealed, then?”
Ye Baiyi nodded bluntly.
Looking at him, Zhou Zishu came to the realization that since Ye Baiyi had holed up in the mountain for too long, aside from his endless appetite he had lost all tactfulness. He sighed, “Sir, why must you indirectly mock me like that? I have never wronged you before, so please don’t repeat that matter, it’s not a nice thing to talk about.”
Ye Baiyi stared at him silently before leaving without saying another word.
Zhou Zishu had a suspicion that the man called him out here for a different matter but he had forgotten it after the fight. He didn’t remind him about it however, and jumped down from the wall.
Wen Kexing was still looking at him with an unreadable expression, so he called out. “Why are you still standing there? Are you injured or…”
He couldn’t continue, as Wen Kexing suddenly came closer and held his face between his cold hands.
Water ran down Wen Kexing’s face, and the world surrounding them was filled with the sound of rain. He was expressionless, wild hair sticking to his pale face, eyes dark. Those eyes reminded Zhou Zishu of the unconcerned look he received from Wen Kexing from the tavern the first time they met.
Wen Kexing started to talk. “When I was little, mother forced me to read and father forced me to learn how to fight. In our village, other children were allowed to play around and only I wasn’t, I had to stay inside to read and practice with my sword and could only go outside when the sky was dark. When I was excited to join others, those kids were already called home by their parents to have dinner.”
Zhou Zishu felt like the current position was a bit weird, so he tilted his head in an attempt to break out of the grip. But then he saw Wen Kexing’s dazed look; the rain clung to his eyelashes and as he blinked, it ran down his cheeks, giving the illusion that he was crying.
“I really hated my parents back then, so I always sulked. Father told me that if I waited until I grew up to practice my skills, it would be too late. I thought, if I waited until I grew up to be able to play like a child, it would be too late too.”
He paused, the word “late” held inside his mouth and repeated, as if he was tasting its bitterness carefully. Then he wound his arms around Zhou Zishu’s neck, hugging him like an aggrieved manchild.
Zhou Zishu sighed. Wen Kexing wasn’t the only one to have tasted the bitterness of that word.
Then Wen Kexing let go and asked, “Your injuries can’t be treated?”
Zhou Zishu shook his head and smiled self-mockingly.
Wen Kexing, after falling into silence, asked again. “How many… how many years do you have left?”
Zhou Zishu calculated. “Around two to three years.”
Wen Kexing suddenly burst out laughing. Zhou Zishu felt like something was amiss with his attitude, “Are you alright?”
Wen Kexing shook his head, retreating step by step. “Throughout my entire life, I can’t ever have fun when I want to; when I grew up a little, I wanted to study under my parents but they were no longer there. Say, do you think… I was born in the wrong time? How fortunate…”
He stopped smiling, turned away and left, leaving a confused Zhou Zishu behind.
How fortunate, that I haven’t truly fallen for you.
One only knew autumn when the cold rain came; parasol trees dying of old age; the suffering of the cold under a thin blanket; wasting your lifetimes away… all belated regrets in the end, regrets that we hadn’t met sooner.
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