Chapter 140: Turning over, Master

On this night, thanks to Mo Ran's good advice, Chu Wanning had another dream, but it was not a good one.

In his dream, he returns to the year when Butterfly Town's sky split, only the person with whom he mends the split is Shi Mei.

As the snow fell from the leaden grey sky, Shi Mei, unable to support herself, was pierced through the heart by a ghost and fell from the dragon pillar into the endless snow. Mo Ran ran over and picked up Shi Mei, who was bleeding profusely, and knelt at his feet, begging him to help him save his pupil.

He wanted to help too, but he was as badly wounded as Shi Mei by the effect of the twin boundaries, and he was so pale that he didn't say a word.

"Master please please please please."

Mo Ran was crying and bowing to him uncontrollably.

Chu Wanning closes his eyes and finally escapes

Shi Mei is dead.

Mo Ran never forgave him again.

He dreamed of Naihe Bridge on the summit of death and life, when it was cold and raining, when the spring trees were moistened by the rain, and when the stone path under his feet was long and endless, and he was walking alone with his umbrella.

Suddenly, he saw another man walking across the bridge, dressed in black, without an umbrella, clutching a stack of books wrapped in oilskins, coming in his direction. Chu Wanning could not help but slow his pace.

The man apparently saw him too, but the man's pace did not slow, he merely raised the eyelashes of his eyes, drenched in rain, and glanced at him without warmth.

Chu Wanning wanted to call out to him, to say: Mo

Mo Ran didn't give him a chance to say anything as he clutched his book and walked on the far left side of Naihe Bridge, one more inch before he should have tumbled into the river just to get further and further away from his master who was walking on the right.

They came to the middle of the bridge.

A man who used to walk in the rain with an umbrella, and a man who used to walk in the rain without an umbrella.

They later crossed paths with each other.

The man in the rain walks away without looking back, while the man with the umbrella stops and stands in the same place.

The rain pattered on the umbrellas, and Chu Wanning stood for a long time, so long that his legs went numb, as if the damp chill of the Middle Shu Area had penetrated into his bones.

He suddenly felt very tired and could not walk any more.

The dream world goes black and sunken.

It's heavy and cold.

Cold as rain, heavy as legs that can no longer move.

In his sleep Chu Wanning rolled over, shrinking himself into a small position as something dripped from the corners of his eyes, wetting his pillow. He knew in a trance that it was only a dream, but why was it so real, so real that he could feel Mo Ran's hatred, Mo Ran's disappointment, Mo Ran's determination so clearly?

But is that all?

Does it end here?

He was resigned to the fact that it seemed to be his resignation that made the light around him brighten up again.

It is still in my dreams and many months have passed since Shi Mei passed away.

Mo Ran's temperament became more and more gloomy and he spoke less and less, but he still came to all the practice sessions, just to listen and not to talk much to Chu Wanning.

Chu Wanning didn't try to explain why he hadn't saved Shi Mingjing in the first place. He saw Mo Ran's attitude in his eyes and knew it was useless to say anything now.

On this day of practice, Mo Ran stood at the very top of a pine tree, as instructed, to work on the pooling of spiritual energy.

But for some reason he suddenly lost his strength and fell straight down. Chu Wanning didn't have time to think and swept over to hold him, but in his haste he couldn't cast any spells and they fell heavily from the treetops to the ground.

Fortunately the mud was soft and a thick layer of pine needles had fallen, and neither of them was hurt in the fall, except for Chu Wanning, whose wrist was cut by a sharp branch, a hideous gash with blood dripping out.

Mo Ran looked at his wounds, then for the first time in months raised his eyes and, without hiding them, looked back and forth at Chu Wanning's face.

Finally he said, "Master, you are bleeding."

There was a somewhat numbing tone, but what was said was, at last, a palliative sentence.

"I have ointment and bandages in my dry pouch, treat them."

As they sat in the thick coniferous forest, the scent of pine and cypress in the air, Chu Wanning didn't say a word as he watched Mo Ran bow his head and silently wrap himself in bandages, one after another.

The young man's eyelashes were rustling and Chu Wanning could not see the look on his face, and for a moment he was suddenly tempted to gather enough courage to ask.

Mo Ran, do you really hate me that much?

But the wind was too gentle, the sun too warm, the birds chirping among the leaves, his injured hand held quietly by Mo Ran, tending to the bandages, and all was peaceful and still.

He didn't ask in the end, didn't bother to break the cenotaph.

Suddenly he felt that the answer was not so important as the fact that in this dream, after Shi Mei's death, his blood, his wounds, had somehow managed to return a little bit of consciousness to Mo Ran, a half inch of reprieve.

The next day, Chu Wanning woke up in a momentary trance.

As he lay on the bed, he could even feel the vague pain in his arm, and the seemingly residual warmth. It was some time before he rubbed his face wearily and could not help but feel amused.

What kind of nonsense do you dream about?

It is said that people have dreams every day and every night, so it is not possible that Shi Mei's handsome appearance has made him feel depressed and he has come to his dreams to vent his frustration, and he has dreamt of Shi Mei's death.

It's so ridiculous.

He dressed and got up, washed and tied his hair, and soon forgot about this fragmentary dream of last night.

Today the village headman and his men are going to make rice cakes.

Rice cakes are eaten at Lower Fairy World on New Year's Eve to bring good luck. The japonica rice flour and glutinous rice flour are ground the first night, then the women and old men have to heat the stove and steam the flour in a pot, a process that takes a lot of work but does not involve the young and strong men.

When he arrived there, he saw a large pot set up on the large sunbed, a wooden barrel half a man's height steaming in water and steaming out, and the village chief's wife standing on a low stool, replenishing the rice flour from time to time. A few children were running and jumping around the stove, and every now and then a bunch of roasted peanuts and a corn on the cob were plucked from the fire with an iron pike.

To Chu Wanning's surprise, Mo Ran was still up early, helping the village headman's wife watch the fire, when a child stumbled and fell to the ground, choking several times and crying out.

"How did you fall?" Mo Ran said as he picked her up and patted the mud and dust from her body, "Are you worn anywhere?"

"Hands," the little girl howled as she held up her little black hands for Mo Ran to see.

Mo Ran picked her up and took her to the well, where he fetched a bucket of water to wash her hands. Chu Wanning didn't hear what he said to the little one, but after a while she stopped crying, with tears in her eyes, and after a while she looked up at Mo Ran with a snotty little face and started to talk to him.

""

Chu Wanning stood quietly on the corner watching him, watching him coax, watching him carry the baby back to the fire, watching him pluck a sweet potato from the roaring fire, peel it delicately and hand it to the little girl.

He just watched.

It's like seeing the five years that Mo Weiyu passed through.

"Ah, the Master is here."

"Hmm." It was a long time before Chu Wanning came over to Mo Ran and sat down. He looked for a moment at the blazing fire leaping from under the boiler and said, "What's cooking in there?"

"Peanuts, sweet potatoes, corn." Mo Ran says, "Here you go, bake you a candy."

"Sweets can still be baked"

"Master can't roast it, it'll burn when it's done." Mo Ran laughed, "It would be better if I did it."

With that he fished another buttermilk malt candy out of his pocket, removed the outer straw paper, took a poker to it and tipped it into the oven, then immediately withdrew it and removed the candy, "Hiss, it's a bit hot." He blew on it before bringing it to Chu Wanning's lips.

"Taste it."

"" Chu Wanning wasn't used to being fed anything, so he reached for the candy, which was baked a little soft and chewed creamy, and Chu Wanning said, "That's good. You bake another one."

Mo Ran then baked another one and Chu Wanning took it in his hand and ate it himself.

"One more."

""

Mo Ran baked eight in a row, and when the ninth one came, a child came up to Mo Ran and asked for a sweet potato, so Mo Ran had to ask Chu Wanning to get it.

Chu Wanning picked up another poker and picked out the biggest one. Mo Ran took one look at it and said, "Put this one back and take the smaller one next to it."

"The big ones are delicious."

"The big ones aren't cooked." Mo Ran laughed.

Chu Wanning was a little unconvinced: "How do you know it's not cooked?"

"You believe me, I often roast them in the field and eat them. Take that little one and give it to him, the little one is sweet."

Chu Wanning had to replace him with a younger one. The child didn't know what a leading figure Chu Wanning was in Xianxia, but seeing that he was willing to pick out sweet potatoes for himself, he leaned over and whispered to Chu Wanning, "Big brother, I want to eat the big one."

"Tell that to the other big brother." Chu Wanning said, "He's the one who won't let you eat it, saying it's not cooked."

The child literally ran to Mo Ran: "Brother Mo Ran, I want to eat the big one."

Mo Ran said, "Wait a bit longer for the big one."

"How long is a while?"

"Count from one to one hundred."

"But I can only count from one to ten," said the child, aggrieved.

Mo Ran just laughed, "Then you'll be punished by having to eat the small ones."

The little one had no choice but to accept the injustice of his fate, and said with a sigh, "All right, I'll be a little one."

Chu Wanning peeled the sweet potatoes for him, and by the time they were done, Mo Ran's candy had reached its softest point and if he didn't eat it, it would have melted completely. So he twisted it off and handed it to Chu Wanning: "Here, Master, open your mouth."

It was only when Mo Ran fed him the soft, warm buttermilk candy between his lips and teeth, rubbing his coarse fingers over the corners of his mouth, that Chu Wanning suddenly realised that he had eaten the candy from his pupil's hand, and the tips of his ears instantly turned red.

"Want some more?"

Chu Wanning coughed softly, but fortunately the fire was warm enough that his face was not visible in the light, and he said, "No more."

Mo Ran laughed, "Just enough to feed you, there's one last buttermilk candy left and there won't be any more."

He was lazy with his words because he was relaxed and did not weigh them.

So naturally, the word "feed" was used. But naturally, a disciple would never dare to speak to his master in such a way, for these two words smack too heavily of pampering and power, such as a master feeding his favourite child, or an emperor feeding his concubine, or even, by extension, a conqueror on top, using his strong and sturdy strength to feed someone who is under his control, between the red tents.

Chu Wanning dipped his head in two such rough words, half-heartedly.

The village chief gave Mo Ran a wooden hammer wrapped in gauze and tried to hand one to Chu Wanning, but Mo Ran stopped him.

Mo Ran laughed, "Village head, my master has never done this job, he can't fight well."

"" Chu Wanning was beside himself in silence.

He was resigned, even a little angry, because he was a man who, from the time he came out, had never been able to associate the word "bad" with him.

In the mouths of others, all he can hear is always a request, a plea, a " Your Mightiness, how about a favour".

It was the first time anyone had ever stopped him and said, "He can't do it, he can't do it right."

Chu Wanning was so annoyed that he wanted to throw his sleeves up and shout, "You're the one who can't do it right!

But he held back and endured.

Because Mo Ran is telling the truth, he really can't do it right.

Finally they were placed in front of a stone mortar where steamed rice noodles were already resting and steaming.

Mo Ran said, "Master, when I beat the cakes later, remember to turn the rice cakes over for me every three strokes. Be careful not to burn your hands, and don't be too hasty, don't let me smash you."

"If you can hit me with a hammer, you can stop cultivating your immortality and go home to farm."

Mo Ran just laughed, "I'm just saying, I'm not afraid of what might happen."

Chu Wanning didn't bother to talk to him, he was already swinging in pairs next to him and didn't want to be too backward, so he stood next to the stone mortar and said, "Come on."

With that Mo Ran dropped the wooden hammer, and the first blow was heavy, hitting solidly into the soft, hot rice surface, which sank in and wrapped around the mallet, and he struck it three times in turn, lifting his bright eyes and saying to Chu Wanning, "Master, turn over."

Chu Wanning then flipped the rice ball over and Mo Ran dropped the hammer again.

The rhythm of the two men has become so good that as soon as Mo Ran raises his hand for the third time, Chu Wanning flips the dumplings over, and as soon as he withdraws his hand, Mo Ran delivers a new blow. It looks simple, but the force has to be mastered, and the person doing it has to be very strong and energetic, turning it over and over countless times, and only when the rice is completely glued and stuck is it finished.

But the farmers next to him got a little tired and started shouting at the top of their lungs, "One, two, three, one, two, three". Mo Ran didn't feel anything and said to Chu Wanning with a smile, "Come again."

Chu Wanning glanced at him; the young man's forehead was already covered in sweat, crystalline and honey-coloured in the sunlight. His lips were also slightly parted, not with the usual ragged sigh of exhaustion, but his breathing was more or less heavy and his chest heaving.

Seeing Chu Wanning looking at him, he froze for a moment, lifting his sleeve to wipe his face, his eyes shining like stars, he smiled, "What's wrong? Did you get rice flour on your face?"

"No."

"That's..."

Chu Wanning looked at him, hot and sweaty, but honestly folded his lapel up to his throat, and suddenly felt a little uncomfortable. He asked, "Are you hot?"

Yesterday he asked Mo Ran "Is it cold?" and today he asked Mo Ran "Is it hot?", which really confused Mo Ran, obviously the temperature was not too different between the two days, and he froze for a while before saying, "I'm fine ."

"Take it off if you're hot."

"If the Master doesn't like it, I won't take it off."

"" Chu Wanning said, "It's even more annoying to be bored and sweaty."

As he said so, Mo Ran, already clammy and uncomfortable, removed his outer robe and upper garment and threw them onto the graphite nearby. Mo Ran was sweating, a wet, oily sheen dripping from the sun. Like a mermaid out of the water, he turned and smiled at Chu Wanning, dazzlingly handsome.

"Two Your Mightiness, would you like some water," asked the village headman's wife, carrying a tea and asking over to them one by one.

Mo Ran went back to the stone mortar, picked up the wooden hammer again and laughed, "No, I'm not thirsty yet."

A hand reached over and took one of the tealights on the tray.

Chu Wanning, to the astonished looks of the two men, gurgled and drank a full cup of tea before handing it to the village headman's wife, "Another cup, please."

"Master, are you thirsty?"

The words stung him somehow and Chu Wanning looked up suddenly, his eyes burning with wariness: "Thirsty no, I'm not thirsty."

Gulped down another full glass of water.

Mo Ran looked at him and wondered when his self-esteem had gotten so bad that he was ashamed to say he was thirsty