Chapter 188: Master, I Really Love You

Chu Wanning's heart tightened up unexpectedly.

The rain was too heavy and it was too hot and cold to go back, but they used this lame excuse to take him to the inn.

Chu Wanning, even if he was stupid, would have understood the meaning of this.

Mo Ran is taking his pulse, searching his heart.

If he shakes his head, Mo Ran will not force him, but if he agrees, he will be agreeing to be with him.

What to do with him

Chu Wanning doesn't know, and even if he did, he doesn't want to think about it.

All he could feel was his face burning with a heat that could not be quenched by heavy rain.

He was so nervous that he didn't know what to say, so he took the jug by its narrow neck and tried to take another sip, but it was nearly empty, the last of the cool, thick pearly white in his throat.

He doesn't say anything, so the atmosphere is a little awkward.

Mo Ran, who was not a big drinker, looked at him with his head tilted back and asked him suddenly, "Any more?"

"Nope."

"You're so quick to drink." Mo Ran said, lowering her head, and kissing him gently on the lips, "Then I'll just, have to taste it."

The pear blossom white is mellow and sweet, with a hint of cinnamon.

But when Chu Wanning passed away at the age of 30, Mo Ran spent the whole night drinking alone on the roof, feeling nothing but bitterness at the end of the drink.

Later, and after his rebirth, Mo Ran didn't really want to touch alcohol anymore.

It's too bitter.

He kisses Chu Wanning's cool lips, at first in a light peck, carefully touching and then parting, then carefully kissing again.

The rain rumbles and the sky and earth are slim.

There was no one under the porch, the curtain of rain was a natural mantle, and at some point they embraced, kissing and entwining, their lips and tongues moistly rubbing together, the blushing sound of their kisses drowned out by the pounding of the rain on the beams, and Chu Wanning could hear no more than the deafening sound of the rainstorm beating on his heart like a drum and horns.

His kisses moved from his lips to the bridge of his nose, his eyes, his brow and then to his temples, his rough, wet tongue licking his ear, and Chu Wanning couldn't stand the stimulation, his body tensed, his fingers balled into fists, but he wouldn't make a sound.

He rubbed his neck against his, Mo Ran kissed his earring, rubbing his fingers over the tiny mole mark behind his ear

Chu Wanning trembled slightly in his arms.

Mo Ran held him, hugged him tighter, wanting to crush him all over, crush him inside himself, rub him into his flesh and blood.

His voice was low and husky as he murmured in Chu Wanning's ear, "Master"

The young man was smothered in a pot with a tightly folded lid to suppress the eagerness that was finally overflowing, the boiling water frothing and foaming, the water about to burn out, about to boil dry, while the firewood grew hotter and hotter, tormenting him.

Tormenting them.

"Come with me."

Probably haunted, he actually let Mo Ran hold his hand tightly as he ran eagerly through the rain, so absurdly.

The rain was extremely cold, but poured over their bodies as if it were hot. None of them opened the boundary or went to buy an umbrella, as if their magic powers were nearly lost, as if they were the most ordinary ordinary people, letting the wind blow and the rain beat them, and hurriedly following the red lanterns swaying in the heavy rain, running into an inn.

The waiter at the inn was yawning, probably thinking that no more travellers would come to stay at such a late hour in such a heavy rain, and was therefore startled to see the two men barging in wet.

Mo Ran holds Chu Wanning's wrist so tightly, his palm so hot it seems to steam up.

He wiped a handful of water that was dripping straight down his handsome face and said with some anxiety, "Stay in."

"Ah, well, well, here are the keys to the two upper rooms, altogether"

"What," Mo Ran, who had heard of the two upper rooms, became even more agitated, his throat gathering and his long, well-defined fingers curling as he tapped the counter top, "No, we just want one."

The waiter brother froze for a moment, looked at Mo Ran and then at Chu Wanning.

Chu Wanning jerked his face away, burning so badly that he didn't move to wrench his hand from Mo Ran's palm before saying, "It'll be two."

The waiter brother hesitated slightly and said, "If you don't have enough money, you can have one room."

"Two rooms." Chu Wanning's decisive, piercing gaze made the waiter take a step backwards, not knowing what had upset the white-clad Your Mightiness behind him.

Chu Wanning slowed his breathing and did his best to look as calm as ever, only to have water dripping wetly all the time, and even more rain beads seeping down his dark brow and falling into his eyes, he blinked, his eyelashes wet.

"I'm going to bed, you get some ginger tea and dry towels and come back up later."

Chu Wanning spoke with dignity and solemnity, and even made a point of taking just one brass key from Mo Ran's hand before going upstairs alone in front of the waiter brother.

He looks clean.

He knew that Chu Wanning was thin-skinned after all, and that he had to look the part for others to see.

Chu Wanning came into the house, a single room with a narrow bed.

He took one look at the couch and felt his throat dry and his face burning, so he didn't dare to take a second look.

His mind was even still foggy, thinking it was all so absurd, abrupt and unexpected.

How did this happen?

How did one come to stand here, how did one come tripping through the rain to fool around, how did one

Before he could finish his thought, the door to the room behind him opened and Mo Ran walked in.

Chu Wanning's body straightened and tensed, his fingers balled up into fists under his wide sleeves, and he did his best to know the slightest tremor in his bones, but he didn't.

It was the first time in his life that he had been so bewildered and overwhelmed, handing over the lead of his kite to another person.

His palm was moist with rain, or sweat, I don't know if it was.

"The click of the bolt being dropped, the clear smell of the door, the chill of the hair standing on end, the smell of iron as if the executioner's knife was at the neck. The smell of blood, like the sharp teeth of a cheetah or a wolf about to bite into its prey.

Chu Wanning Suddenly, abruptly, and surprisingly, a sense of dread arose that he wanted to run away from the battle.

Fortunately, it doesn't show on his face.

Mo Ran speaks up, his voice fairly soft, not too sabre-rattling, restrained but more or less husky: "Why don't you light a candle"

"Forget it."

Mo Ran sets the wooden tray down on the table and hands Chu Wanning a small bowl of scalding hot doilies, "Ginger tea, you asked for it, drink it while it's hot."

He went to the window and lit the candelabra by the west window.

Outside, the wind is blowing and the rain is slanting, and it is dark inside, but the window with the vine pattern is open, and the lights of the other houses are dimly lit outside, with a faint glow.

Mo Ran stands in front of the open window, by the beautiful, slender bronze candelabra of the crane and bird, the white curtain of rain lining his tall figure, a silhouette that looks tall, handsome and well-defined, with slender, curling eyelashes that stand out like two black butterflies as he flicks the flint.

He was a monk, so it was not that troublesome to light a fire, but he was willing to be like the most ordinary person, in the most ordinary way, to light that ray of light in a practical and quiet manner, so that the heart pistil would light up brightly and the wax torch would be soft for red tears.

The flint was polished and was about to go to the stamens when Chu Wanning suddenly said.

"Don't light the lamp."

Mo Ran's hand hung in the air as she looked back at him, "What?"

Chu Wanning didn't know what to say, so he had to repeat, "Don't light the lamp."

Mo Ran was a little sleepy for a moment, and then he looked at the wooden stiffness of the man standing in the darkness, and understanding slowly dawned on him.

Even at night Yu Heng, there will be times when he is afraid, when he will be daunted by something, when there will be areas that he does not know.

In his previous life, all of those who had been in his bed, men and women alike, wished that the Fairy Tramper could look at their faces more often.

Mo Ran is not attached.

Whether it was Rong Jiu at the beginning or Song Qiutong later on, it is strange to say that back then, I spoiled them because I stubbornly thought they looked like Shi Mei, so I kept them around, almost as if I was doing a play obsession.

But never loved looking at their faces in bed.

Never just let them turn their backs, no kisses or loving touches, the mind is even clear in the dull repetition of the action.

It may even suddenly feel, well, pointless.

It's really no fun.

He couldn't remember the smiling, welcoming, fawning, flushed faces by candlelight.

In retrospect, those love affairs had nothing to do with "joy" and nothing to do with "love", but rather they were like he was caught in a mire of chaos, falling into it, making himself look even dirtier and deeper, abandoning himself to his own fate, unable to stain his bones black.

If you are so dark that you no longer long for light and hope for salvation, you will no longer dare to hold the last fire in the world.

Excellent.

But how can it not die.

No matter how much I tell myself that I do not want to stay, that I do not want to be attached, that life is hopeless and the world is dark, still, in the stormy Wushan Palace, in the midst of torment and anguish, I reach out with trembling fingers and claws and violently strangle Chu Wanning's neck, pressing it against the cold gold stone tiles, against the bleak stone platform in the courtyard, among the messy bedding, in the snow, in the hot springs, and even in the high seats of the court, in the temples and shrines, in the most solemn and respectful places. In the high seats of the court, in the temples and shrines, in the most solemn and dignified places where respect is due.

Dye him.

Looking at his face, kissing his brow, his cheek, his lips, calling his name.

Tear him apart.

In fact, at those times, Chu Wanning wanted the darkness and the lights to go out, too.

A little light is not wanted there.

But at that time Chu Wanning wouldn't say anything, wouldn't say anything, wouldn't ask for anything.

I think Chu Wanning only asked him for two things, initially and finally, during his eight years of house arrest.

The first was to ask him to spare Xue Meng when he stepped into the Wushan Palace.

The second, before leaving this world forever, is to ask him, before he leaves it, to spare himself.

How could it be so, if it were not cold and discouraged

Mo Ran put down the fire knife and flint and did not speak for a long time.

Long enough for Chu Wanning to relax slightly from his tense body, long enough for Chu Wanning to ask him softly, "What's wrong?"

Mo Ran said, "It's nothing."

The voice is warm, damp and salty.

He went over and hugged the man standing in the darkness, still a little damp from the rain, Mo Ran hugged him and said, "Wangning."

""

For a moment he suddenly wanted to tell him all those things from the past, but his throat choked and stung like a fish spike, and he couldn't say it.

Really, really can't say it.

This hard-earned warmth is too hard to come by, not only for him but also for Chu Wanning. Even though I am guilty of a thousand things, I cannot and will not say anything.

Don't want to wake up.

Just want to be good and dream on.

Until Dawn sticks her throat through it.

There was no light, no fire, and in the darkness, Mo Ran embraced him and kissed him in a concentrated, gradually lingering kiss.

The room was quiet, a silence that the rain could not disturb, and they could hear each other's breathing, their heartbeats, the touch of lips, the subtle wet sounds as they shifted angles.

Chu Wanning tried desperately to breathe as he always did, but to no avail, as the rise and fall of his chest grew turbulent under Mo Ran's kisses and strokes. He was already a tall, well-built man, but Mo Ran could easily cage him and cover him, mountainously tall, as the man held him in his hot arms, pecking and kissing him at first, then demanding more.

He kissed Chu Wanning deeply, as if he were exploring the sweetest dew in the world, entwining tenderly with each other, like a thirsty man drinking from a sweet spring, or like a man on fire trying to draw water to quench the fire, but Chu Wanning's breath was not cool water to him, but pine oil, poured over the fire, burning endlessly, a beacon of fire.

When you read this line, I hope you understand that Fleshy Daemon

Increasingly blurred

Until you can't see

It's an illusion, an illusion, like it's fake, it just isn't.

It is a superimposition of dreams, a nightmare that does not dissipate.

But the feeling of being up against the odds and invading and forcing your way in is so clear again.

Is that the way to go?

Chu Wanning Hazily, almost laxly, he half closed his phoenix eyes and whispered, "Enter."

Mo Ran is in shock

Chu Wanning knows what to do

How would he know

This man who had never even seen an erotic picture, a clean, white sheet of paper, how would he know

"Is that how it should be?"

He blushed like he was dripping blood and murmured, asking this of the man pressed against him.

"Where did you learn that from?"

""

Chu Wanning, of course, was embarrassed to say that he had dreamt it, which would have made him look as if he was a slut and unashamed, and said vaguely, "The Cangshu Library was accidentally rummaged through."

And hastily added another, "Someone has misplaced the book."

Mo Ran, naturally, did not doubt him, and his heart was slightly sent, but also slightly moved.

He kissed the corners of Chu Wanning's lips, the tip of his nose, before saying, "It's too soon."

""

Urgent.

Who's in a hurry?

Immediately, his blood rushed to the surface, irritated and humiliated. But Mo Ran leaned down and embraced him, chest to chest.

He stroked Chu Wanning's sideburns and said gently, "It's going to hurt."

"Then don't." Chu Wanning, in an attempt to save face, said firmly.

Mo Ran laughed softly, a low, slightly muffled voice that was mellow and melodious.

You don't have to worry about me tonight," he said, his voice trailing off.

Chu Wanning winked.

How about tonight?

But Mo Ran's strong, sturdy arms were seen propped up, gazing at him from above, before slowly sitting up and moving down.

That's not something you'd dream of, what's he going to do

"Tonight, just to make you comfortable."

When you read this line, I hope you understand that Fleshy Daemon

Finally it was Mo Ran who came over and stroked his face, the man's eyes a little red, a little beastly, but still sunken and blazing, gazing softly at him.

"I love you."

Really, really, really love you.

It is the wolf's son and the prodigal son, carrying guilt and sin but refusing to give up, selfish, desperate, passionate and eager.

Love you.