Chapter 247: [Dragon Blood Mountain] The Wild Goose

Chu Wanning lies on his couch, his mind foggy, his consciousness sometimes awake, sometimes fuzzy.

In a trance he seems to hear two people arguing, Shi Mei and Mo Ran, and then the argument dies down and the only sound in his ears is the whistling wind.

Later, he seemed to be lying between warm bedding, someone was talking to him, broken voices came as if across the ocean, he could not hear them, only three or two words drifted in occasionally, something about a past life, something about a master He vaguely felt that it seemed to be Shi Mei's voice, but he did not have much strength to digest, these statements soon dispersed like an early morning fog.

Little by little his memories are becoming complete, little by little they are becoming clear, memories of his previous life are like rainwater merging into a river and eventually running into the sea.

The first thing he dreamed of was the deep cloister, built on the red lotus at the top of death and life, covered with vine flowers, the wind blowing and the snow falling, filling the paper with fragrance.

He is sitting on the veranda, writing a letter at a stone table.

The letters could not be delivered, the Fairy Tramper was not allowed to have contact with outsiders, nor was he allowed to keep pigeons or any other animals, and even the red lotus water pavilion was covered with numerous whistling spells.

But Chu Wanning writes anyway.

It's so lonely, one person, one world, probably for the rest of your life.

It would be a lie to say that it is not annoying.

The letter is addressed to Xue Meng and is not much more than an enquiry about the state of affairs, whether he is well, how the sun and moon are outside, and how his old friends are doing.

However, there are not really any old friends.

So a letter was written slowly over the course of an afternoon, and without much content. At the end of writing, I was a little lost in thought, and I was reminded of the days when all three young apprentices were at peace with themselves, and I had taught them to write poetry and paint with their pens.

Xue Meng and Shi Mei were both quick learners, but Mo Ran was the only one who could not write a word correctly more than three or four times and had to be taught by hand.

What was written then

Chu Wanning is in a daze as the brush and ink are slowly spread out on rice paper.

He first wrote, "The body is a bodhi tree, the heart is like a clear mirror", and later, "Life has no roots, it floats like dust on the stranger", with a neat and tidy stroke.

Whether writing a book or a letter, his writing was always clear and correct, for fear that those who read would not be able to read it, or that his disciples would follow him and learn it wrongly.

The words are as proud as the man's backbone.

He writes of 'where are the old people' and 'the sea is wide and the mountains are far away'.

Later, the wind blew the wisteria blossoms down and rested on the raffia paper, but he could not bear to brush them away.

Flat and uneven.

May I be like the stars and you like the moon, and the light will shine brightly at night.

As I write, my gaze softens, as if I have returned to the quiet days of the past.

The wind picked up and blew the paper around, some of the paperweights were not pressed properly and were blown up, cluttering the floor in the dappled, fragrant afternoon sunlight.

Chu Wanning put down his brush, sighed and went to pick up the letters and poems on the ground.

One after another, falling on the grass, on the stone steps, on the flowers, among the dead leaves. He was about to pick up a piece of paper that had drifted in the fragrance of the fallen English.

Suddenly a long, well-proportioned, bony hand came into view and picked up the page before he could.

"What are you writing?"

Chu Wanning was stunned and straightened up to see a tall, handsome man standing in front of him, the Fairy Tramper Emperor Mo Weiyu, who had arrived in the water pavilion at some point.

Chu Wanning said, "Nothing."

Mo Ran, dressed in a black and gold robe, wearing a crown of nine tassels and a dragon's scale trigger finger on his narrow, pale fingers, had obviously just returned from the court. He first glanced coldly at Chu Wanning, then shook the raffia paper flat in his hand and read two paragraphs before his eyes narrowed: "Seeing the letter as a meeting, spreading the letter and soothing the face"

There was a moment's silence and he raised his eyes, "What does that mean"

"It doesn't mean much."

Chu Wanning said, trying to take the letter back, but Mo Ran simply raised her hand to block it.

"Don't." He said, "What are you nervous about?" and with that he looked down carefully, his eyes skimming several lines, motionless, "Oh. It's addressed to Xue Meng."

"It was written off the cuff." Chu Wanning, unwilling to involve others, said, "It wasn't intended to be sent."

Mo Ran sneered, "You don't have the Tongtian skills to send it out either."

Chu Wanning had nothing more to say to him and turned back to the table to clear the table of ink, paper and ink. He was followed by Fairy Tramper, whose black-and-gold sleeve was spread to hold down the piece of paper he was trying to put away.

The phoenix eyes lifted to meet the narrow, frowning face of Fairy Tramper.

""

Just give it to him if he wants it.

So he withdrew his hand and went to get another one, only to be held down again by Mo Ran.

So he took one, Mo Ran stopped one, and at the end of the day, Chu Wanning finally got a little impatient, wondering what the man was so mad about, lifting his eyes and saying grimly, "What do you want?"

"What does it mean to see a letter as a meeting, to show a letter and a comfortable face?" Mo Ran looked at him with deep eyes, his thin lips parted, "Say it."

As the flowering branches and vine leaves rustled and the light and shadows dappled, Chu Wanning could not help but think of Mo Ran, who had just joined him, with a gentle smile and soft words, and asked him with a respectful smile, "Master, what does it mean to be a bodhi tree and have a heart like a mirror?" Can you teach me?

In contrast, the aggressive manner in which Fairy Tramper was acting at the moment caused Chu Wanning to feel a pain in his heart.

He doesn't say anything, and Mo Ran begins to grow sombre, and in this silence he picks up the letterheads on the table and reads them over, one by one, his eyes narrowing dangerously the further he goes. He murmured thoughtfully, a man who could have named the year "halberd", searching the stone table for words and phrases, racking his brains.

At the end, with a shadowy face, he suddenly brushed the stack of letters to the ground.

He lifted his eyes coldly.

" Chu Wanning, you miss him."

"No."

He did not want to entangle himself with him, and turned to go, but before he had taken two steps, the sleeve of his robe was tugged, followed by a violent and fierce force that strangled his chin, and as the sky spun, he was violently pushed against the stone table.

Mo Ran's hand was so strong, so hard, that in the blink of an eye he had bruises and red marks on his cheeks.

The sunlight pours through the vine flowers and shines in Chu Wanning's eyes, which reflect the almost madly distorted face of the Fairy Tramper emperor.

Handsome, pale.

Blazing.

Fairy Tramper, unaware of the word shame, began ripping Chu Wanning's clothes off. If there was any possibility of pushing on the stone table, there was clearly no return to the tearing of clothes. Chu Wanning shouted, almost in anger, "Mo Weiyu".

The angry and disappointed tone of voice did not quench Mo Ran's evil fire, but rather poured down like hot oil, spilling the flames majestically.

Chu Wanning felt nothing but excruciating pain as he slammed in.

He would not touch Mo Ran's back, only gripping the edge of the stone table spasmodically with his backhand and gasping lowly, "Sinful beast"

Mo Ran's eyes were bloodshot, and instead of judging the word "sinful", he said sorrowfully: "If you don't explain, you shouldn't explain. Indeed, you should not be asked again. You can no longer be considered my master at all."

His movements are fierce and vicious, seeking only his own pleasure and comfort, but not Chu Wanning's feelings.

" What is Wangning now," he said, almost gritting his teeth, "but a side concubine, a forbidden leg to spread further apart."

In the midst of the tangle, Mo Ran rolled him over, sending the table full of paper and ink into a tizzy and the brush tumbling to the floor. Chu Wanning was pinned to the edge of the table, endless pain beneath him, an infinite pale before him.

He looked at the words, at the strokes.

The body is a bodhi tree, the mind is like a clear mirror

Where are the old people?

The sea is wide and the mountains are far away.

The words are heartbreaking.

There was Mo Ran smiling at him as a teenager, the dark curtain of her eyelashes fluttering gently like a black butterfly perched on the ground.

And at his ears Fairy Tramper's low gasp, insulting him, trampling him, saying hoarsely, "Chu Wanning, my Queen Chu has someone else in mind."

"What? May I be like the stars and the moon, and the light flowing brightly from night to night." There was actually murderous intent in his voice, "Do you think I really don't understand anything at all"

Chu Wanning gritted her teeth and crouched on the stone table, her body bitten and pinched, all with wet red marks, but her phoenix eyes were stubborn: "You don't understand."

You don't understand," he says, knowing that a backhanded remark will be met with more vicious treatment.

You don't understand who the deceased is, and you don't know exactly why the sea is wide and the mountains are far away.

You will not know who the king is, and to whom the moon refers.

You won't understand.

After a good deal of absurdity, Mo Ran finally let him go.

Chu Wanning, in dishevelled clothes, lies among the wisteria flowers, among the poetry and ink, and his eyes are tinged with red, as if the blossoms had been pinched off and coloured on the ends of his fingers.

The lips have been bitten through and are all bloody.

He got up and slowly got dressed after being under house arrest for so long, from the initial gut wrenching to the present day mourning.

With his spiritual core destroyed, he can now do what he calls dignified, but only afterwards, always stubbornly dressing himself, unwilling to pretend to be a man.

While he was doing this, Mo Ran sat at the stone table with the letters he had written, reading them again, one by one.

His hand seemed to freeze slightly when he saw the one on Dream Awake looking at Weeping Rain, but soon he turned the paper over and then with a sneer, "The bones are soft, but the writing is still quite beautiful."

He tucked the stack of letters into the lapels of his robe before standing up.

The wind blew through the hem of his coat, and the gold threads of the embroidery on his basalt crown flowed with flamboyance.

"Gone."

Chu Wanning did not speak.

Mo Ran looked askance across his eyes, the shadows of the wisteria flowers lining his dark eyes, "No see me off"

The shade flowed and Chu Wanning's voice was low as he slowly said, "I taught you that once."

Mo Ran was stunned: "What?"

"See the letter as a meeting, and show it to Shu Yan." He finished the sentence and finally lifted his eyelashes to look at the man who was the Denman Pole, "I taught you to write, it is you who have forgotten."

"You taught me how to write." Mo Ran frowned, not that it was a deliberate prank on Chu Wanning, who, by the looks of him, really didn't remember anything.

Those who wanted to leave stopped again.

Mo Ran asks, "When was this."

Chu Wanning looked at him and said, "A long time ago."

With these words he turned and headed for the red lotus watering hole of the house.

Mo Ran stayed where he was, not leaving or entering for a while. Later Chu Wanning caught a glimpse of him through the window and saw him back at the stone table, flicking through the rest of the stack of letters pressed under the paperweight.

Chu Wanning closed the window as well.

That night, he caught a wind chill because he was tortured and didn't know how to clean himself properly.

It was not a big deal and he didn't think Mo Ran would know about it. But that day, for some reason, it seems that Liu said that Song Qiutong had cooked a bowl of dumplings, and for some reason the Fairy Tramper had become so angry that he had not stayed at the Empress's residence, and had left without even eating dinner.

It was late at night and it started to rain heavily. At this time, the red lotus came to the waterfront.

"His Majesty has an edict to ask Master Chu to move to his bedchamber."

These followers, who were well aware of the relationship between Mo Ran and Chu Wanning, were asked by Mo Ran to call him Sifu.

If there is not a trace of goodness left in the heart, then it is mean and vicious.

Chu Wanning, who was physically uncomfortable and looked pale and gloomy, said, "No."

"Your Majesty has."

"There's nothing going on."

""

Sleeping with a patient is no fun, and Mo Ran has been known to stop pushing for things when he's been unusually unwell.

But it was not long before the dismissed court official returned, entered the red lotus water pavilion, bowed before Chu Wanning, who was coughing heavily, and then said indifferently, "His Majesty has commanded that, as he is not ill, the Patriarch should go to the Wushan Palace to serve his bed."