Chapter 279: [The Top of Death and Life] The Rest of Life Pays for the Snowy Night

Nanping valley.

It is late at night, and fresh snow is falling outside the cottage.

In the past few days, Mo Ran's injuries have been getting worse and worse, even though Chu Wanning has been healing him with the Flower Soul Sacrifice, but to little avail.

He woke up once in the afternoon, but he was still unconscious, squinting, and when he saw Chu Wanning, he just cried, saying he was sorry, saying he didn't want to go, tossing and turning, and finally sobbing.

He had been dreaming, travelling through his own troubled years.

One moment he thinks he has just been picked up by Xue Zhengyong, the next he thinks he is in the five years since he lost Chu Wanning.

The only thing he could not dream of was the memory that had been taken away from him by the eight bitter long-hating flowers. He could not dream of all his devotion, all his protection, all his innocence.

" Mo Ran" brought a bowl of freshly cooked porridge and Chu Wanning came to his bedside.

The porridge is barely palatable, a craft that belongs to a previous life.

He sat down on the edge of the couch, lifted his hand and touched Mo Ran's forehead.

It's hot as hell.

Chu Wanning waited until the porridge was warm and cold, and when he felt he could no longer do so, he warmed it again under water.

He didn't know when Mo Ran would wake up, but if he did, he could always get something to eat right away.

"It's made with chicken soup, your favourite." Chu Wanning whispered to him, and the psychic spells that kept Mo Ran's heart beating continued unabated, but Mo Ran would not wake up.

Not being able to wake up means that once the spiritual power is broken, perhaps he will never open his eyes again.

There is no way it can be saved.

But it's not good enough, how can it be good enough.

Mo Ran is alive, his breath is still there, albeit faint. These days, day and night, Chu Wanning was by his side, watching his chest rise and fall, feeling that there was still hope, that everything could be turned back.

It's not even too late.

Chu Wanning remembers Mo Ran waking up in a daze one night when there was no light in the house and Mo Ran was staring straight into the candlestick, his dry lips opening and closing ever so slightly.

He was so excited that he was busy shaking Mo Ran's hand and asking him, "What do you want to say?"

"Lights"

"What."

"The lamp wants the lamp" Mo Ran looked at the candelabra she was destined never to light, tears were weeping down her cheeks, "wanting the lamp to light"

In that moment, time overlapped.

It was as if we were back in the day, when Mo Ran was sick and the skinny young man was curled up on his bed, drowsy all the time.

When Chu Wanning went to visit him, he whimpered and called out for his mother.

Not knowing what to do, Chu Wanning sat down on the edge of the boy's bed, hesitantly raised his hand and touched the boy's forehead.

And the skinny little child cried and said, "All that is black is black Mother and I want to go home."

Finally, it was Chu Wanning who lit the candlestick, and the bright light of the fire illuminated the walls and Chu Wanning's face. As if feeling the warmth of the light, the feverish child opened his eyes, which were bright and watery.

"Master."

Chu Wanning answered, twisting the covers for him, his voice low and gentle-sounding, " Mo Ran, don't be afraid when the lights come on."

After many years, a lone lamp once again looms large, its warm yellow glow filling the cottage and dispelling the endless darkness and coldness.

Chu Wanning stroked his sideburns and called out to him hoarsely, " Mo Ran, the light is on."

He wanted to go on and say, "Don't you be afraid.

Chu Wanning held back the tears, but finally he pressed his forehead against Mo Ran's and sobbed, "The lights are on, wake up, okay?"

"Just pay attention to me, okay?"

A pool of dark dreams, this lamp keeps burning, from the brightness of the light to the exhaustion of the oil.

Later, when it was light and the windows were white with fish bellies, Mo Ran still did not open his eyes. The years when a single lamp could wake a sleeping boy have passed.

Never look back again.

Three more nights passed.

These days Chu Wanning was at his bedside every day, caring for him, keeping him company, giving him spiritual energy and telling him things he had forgotten.

This day at dusk, the snow has stopped, outside the window a round of red sun, the remaining sun spread coloring the earth. A squirrel leapt over the snow-covered branches, causing the white pears to rustle and dance down.

The man lying on the couch was illuminated by the broad, benevolent twilight, the evening sun adding blood to his pale, haggard features. Beneath his thin eyelids, his pupils turned slightly and then, as the twilight was about to close, he slowly opened his eyes.

After several days of serious illness, Mo Ran finally woke up.

He opened his eyes, his gaze still blank and vacant, until he saw Chu Wanning lounging wearily on the edge of his couch, sleeping lightly.

Mo Ran murmured hoarsely and in a daze, "Master"

As he lay deeper in the bedding, his consciousness slowly returned, and slowly he vaguely recalled the words Chu Wanning had repeatedly spoken to him between waking and sleeping.

A glass of wine at mid-autumn, a begonia handkerchief and the eight bitter long-hated flowers he gave up his life to plant for him at the red lotus waterfront that year.

Is it a dream?

Was he so desperate for redemption that he dreamed that Chu Wanning told him these stories, was he so hopeful of turning back that he dreamed that Chu Wanning was willing to forgive him and to forgive him.

He turned his face sideways and reached out to touch the sleeping man on the edge of the couch, but before his fingertips touched it, they retracted.

He was afraid that if he touched it, his dream would be shattered.

He was still in the Tianyin Pavilion, still kneeling at the penitentiary, with a mountain of spectators calling out to him. He kneels alone in front of thousands of people who eventually become in his eyes one blurred face after another, one ghost after another of those who have died at his hands, screaming and laughing and demanding his life.

No one wanted him, no one saved him.

It is he who is brazen, it is he who is wolfish, it is he who is mad as hell, it is he who imagines that Chu Wanning will come is he who, in the excruciating pain of his gutting, imagines the last fire on earth.

False.

No one ever cut the iron locks, no one ever embraced him, no one ever came on the wind, no one ever brought him home.

His eyelashes fluttered as he gazed, with tears in his eyes, at Chu Wanning's sleeping face, not daring to blink until his eyes were finally hazy, until the tears finally fell.

Chu Wanning's reflection shattered into a million points of light, and he hastily went back to his good dream.

The dream is still there.

Mo Ran lay helplessly on the bed, his eyelashes moist, his throat choked, tears trickling down from the corners of his eyes, his heart aching, blood seeping out, biting his lip in silent sobs for fear of waking Chu Wanning, who had managed to get some light sleep.

He was awake, but he knew his body well. He knew it was only temporary, a return to the light.

It is also the last mercy of God on himself.

He, Mo Weiyu, had been anxious and mad for most of his life. His hands were full of blood and his notoriety was hard to escape until he was finally pronounced unjustly convicted. So he felt bewildered, even a little apprehensive.

He didn't know whether this was luck or misfortune.

Unfortunately the two lives are absurdly ignorant.

Fortunately, the rest of his life will be peaceful.

But how long did he have left to live? A day or two.

Those were the good old days he had paid for with his life.

It is a time of peace that has never been granted.

Later, when he heard Chu Wanning wake up, he scrambled to wipe away his tears, not wanting his master to see him crying.

Mo Ran turned her head and looked at the person on the couch with her eyelashes fluttering, at the person on the couch with her eyes unfurled, at the person on the couch with her eyes shining in them.

Outside the window the golden crow sinks, the star of Beidou turns.

He heard Chu Wanning call softly and raspingly, " Mo Ran "

The voice was low and gentle, like a spring bud breaking through the earth, a river of ice first unravelling, or like the wine on the clay stove of Little Hong warming to its third course, the wisps of vapour steaming and filling the air, warming the heart. It was a heavenly music that he would never forget. Mo Ran was then quiet for a moment, and then smiled.

"Master, I'm awake."

A clear night without snow and wind, and a long life ahead.

That night, in the deep valley of Nanping Mountain, Mo Ran finally waited for the easiest and softest moment of his two lives. He was awake, and he could see the surprise and sadness in the corners of Chu Wanning's eyes. He woke up and leaned back on the couch, letting Chu Wanning say and do anything to him, letting Chu Wanning talk to him about this and that experience and misunderstanding.

None of it mattered to him.

He just wanted to last longer, and longer.

"I'll have another look at the wound."

"Don't look." Mo Ran smiled and took Chu Wanning's hand in hers, leading it over to kiss it gently, "I'm fine."

After a few refusals, Chu Wanning looked at him as if he had suddenly understood something, and the colour of his face faded a little.

Mo Ran said gently, forcing herself to settle down, "It's really all right."

Chu Wanning didn't answer, but after a while he got up and walked over to the hearth. The wood in it was dying out, and he left Mo Ran's back as he slowly fiddled with it in front of the fire.

The fire was built and lit, and the whole house was later warmed, but Chu Wanning did not look back, still fiddling with his poker with the firewood that did not need fiddling any more.

"Porridge"

Finally, he spoke hoarsely.

"Keep the porridge warm until you wake up and drink it."

Mo Ran was silent for a moment and smiled down, "It's been a long time since I've had porridge cooked by Wangning, and I haven't had it since you left in my last life."

"It's not cooked properly." Chu Wanning says, "I still don't know how to do it, it's probably just barely edible," he trails off with a little shake, as if he can't go on.

Chu Wanning paused for a long time before slowly saying, "I'll give you a bowl."

Mo Ran said, "Good."

The house was warm, and as the night turned darker, the snow began to drift off and on outside again.

Mo Ran holds the bowl of porridge and sips it carefully, taking a few sips, then looking at Chu Wanning for a moment, then looking down for a few more sips, then looking at Chu Wanning again.

Chu Wanning asked, "What's wrong? Is there something wrong?"

"No." Mo Ran whispered, "I just wanted to see more of you."

"" Chu Wanning didn't say a word, taking his silver dagger and picking the flesh of the roasted fish on the fire, a stream fish that melted in your mouth but still had its thorns, which he picked out and the snowy white flesh was finely divided.

Mo Ran used to look after him when he ate.

Now it's the same in reverse.

He handed Mo Ran the chopped fish and said, "Eat it while it's hot."

Mo Ran is a good eater.

The man looked less tall as he leaned back on the couch wrapped in a quilt. The orange firelight reflected on his face, which was very young looking.

It was then that Chu Wanning suddenly realised that both Fairy Tramper and the Ink Master were ten years younger than him.

And yet they have gone through so much hardship.

Mo Ran finished his porridge but poked up the fattest piece of fish and tried to pass it to Chu Wanning to eat, but froze: "Master, what's wrong with you"

Chu Wanning bowed his head, his eyes slightly red, and he calmed down before saying, "It's nothing, just a cold.

He was afraid that if he sat there any longer, he would lose more and more control over himself, so he got up abruptly, "I'll go around and do some checking, so you can rest early when you've finished eating. When your wounds have healed, I will take you back to the Peak of Death and Life."

Both of them knew that the so-called improvement was just a return to the light and that all the warmth was already gone.

But they were all talking about tomorrow, about the future. It was as if they were trying to cram all the decades to come into this one night in a hurry, to spend all the future starry nights in this one snowy night.

After Chu Wanning left, Mo Ran sat in front of the fire for a while longer, then he undid his shirt and looked down at the hideous sores on his chest.

Then he fumed for a while, feeling empty.

Nanping Night Snow.

The drifts outside were getting louder and louder, and Mo Ran didn't know when he would deteriorate sharply or when his life would end. He lies on the edge of his bed, looking out at the drifting snow, the sound of the wind whistling in his ears, and suddenly he feels that his life is like the wind that is blowing so fast at the moment, and that everything that happened yesterday is passing away.

In fact, in the last life and in this life, there are always such and such clever people scheming and playing games.

One of them wanted to protect him and the other wanted to harm him, but they both had their own plans, even if in the end they failed to succeed by mistake, but they both had far-sighted plans.

Mo Ran is not like them, he is one of those canines who is so stupid that he doesn't have a mind of any kind and doesn't know how to move in a beautiful way. He would just stand honestly by the one he loved, even if he was beaten and bruised, he would stand obstinately in front of that person and not leave.

Such people are brave, to put it nicely.

To put it bluntly, it's stupid.

This very dumb person crouched by the window pane, eyelashes fluttering, suddenly saw a familiar shadow standing under the plum tree where she had been.

Chu Wanning did not make the rounds, it was just an excuse for him to do so.

He was standing under a flowering tree, so far away and so windy that Mo Ran naturally could not see a single glimpse of his face, only his blurred silhouette. He stood motionless in the snow that covered the sky.

What he's thinking

Is he cold?

He

"Master."

Chu Wanning, lost in the snow, looked back and saw the young man in black, on top of his bedding, in the dark, frosty night, coming up behind him at some point.

Chu Wanning was startled and immediately said, "Why did you come out like that? What are you doing out here?

Before the word "go" could be uttered, a warmth wrapped around him.

Topped with the quilt, Mo Ran lifted it up, paving the way for darkness and warmth, and he caged Chu Wanning inside the quilt as well.

The two men stood under Mr. Mei's tree, under a thick quilt that had not been used for so long that it smelled musty in the sun. The snow and wind outside were irrelevant to them.

Mo Ran embraced him in this warmth and darkness: "Don't you think about it, I don't remember any of the things the Master said, though"

He paused and kissed Chu Wanning on the forehead before whispering, "But if I had to go back and experience it all over again right now, I'd still do it."

""

"And." He rubbed against the quilt and caught Chu Wanning's frozen hand, "There's no need to feel bad, Master. In fact, I think Shi Mei is right, the Eight Bitter Long Hate Flowers just inspired all those thoughts in my heart, those unseen thoughts to come true."

Interlocking fingers.

Mo Ran pressed his forehead: "I had a lot of hatred in my heart, but I didn't let it out when I was a kid. Slaughter, Confucianism School, I thought about it. I wanted to dominate the world, too. It's funny to say that when I was five or six years old, hiding in a ramshackle house, I imagined that I would one day be able to call the shots and scatter beans. These were my own thoughts, no one imposed them on me."

He stroked Chu Wanning's face, "So if it had been you, Master, who had been infected with the compulsion, it is not possible that you would not have become the unforgivable tyrant that I am. You wouldn't have been used, and you wouldn't have been put to death by Tianyin Pavilion." He laughed deeply in a nasal voice, his forehead rubbing in comfort, "You weren't replaced by me, don't think too much about it, go back to bed."

The bed is narrow and Mo Ran is holding him.

The moment that is due always comes closer and closer, there is always no escape.

Mo Ran's consciousness began to blur and lapse again, the cramps in his heart were even more intense than any before, the flashbacks wouldn't last long, as they had when Mother died, and he knew his time was running out.

His thick eyelashes were drooping and the fire in the hearth was by now somewhat dimmed, that dim light reflecting gently on his handsome young face.

The foolish man, most likely, saw the pain in Chu Wanning's eyes and so held back his own pain and joked, "Is it good?"

Chu Wanning froze for a moment, "What?"

"Scars." Mo Ran said, "A man's got to have a few scars to have a taste."

Chu Wanning was silent for a moment, lifted his hand and slapped him, not too lightly, but rather like a caress.

After a few moments he seemed unable to resist any longer, and he buried himself in Mo Ran's warm bosom without uttering a word, but his shoulders were trembling slightly.

He knows it well.

Chu Wanning knows all about it.

Mo Ran is stunned for a moment, wraps her arms around him and kisses the corners of his forehead and hair.

"So ugly." He was warmer than ever as he sighed softly, "Did it all make Wangning all ugly and cry?"

It would have been better if he had called him Master.

A Wangning, two lives alternate.

Chu Wanning embraced the man's hot, vibrant body in the depths of the bedding he had always abhorred and been ashamed to express any of the intense emotions he felt inside him, but he felt so ridiculously tense and ashamed at the moment, so absurd.

And so in this embrace of intertwined bodies, on this narrow couch wrapped in bedding, in a cottage with empty walls, in a long night of snow and wind.

Chu Wanning said softly, "It's not ugly, you have a scar or you don't have a scar. It's all pretty."

Mo Ran was stunned.

He had never heard Chu Wanning so bluntly expressed.

Not even on the day of the Imperial Sword Confession.

The house is quiet and gentle with only the last bit of glow from the fire.

A late arrival of peace and tenderness.

"In my last life, in this life, I loved you and was willing to be with you. And I will be willing in the future."

He could not see Chu Wanning's face, but he could imagine what Chu Wanning looked like at the moment.

I am afraid that my eyes are red and even the tips of my ears are red.

"Once I knew you were compelled, but couldn't show it, only hate you now I can finally make it all up to you." Chu Wanning's cheeks burned and the ends of her eyes tingled, "I love you, I would marry you, I would cut my soul for you, I would submit to you."

When she heard that she was willing to submit to you, Mo Ran's heart burned like a fire and her whole body trembled.

He is at once moved and saddened, pained and loving.

He almost trembled: "Master"

Chu Wanning raised his hand to stop him, "Just hear me out."

But after waiting for some time, Chu Wanning, a man of few words, thought of many things, but nothing was right, nothing was enough.

For a moment, Chu Wanning actually wanted to say, "I'm sorry for making you suffer and carry so much."

Again, I want to say, "In my previous life until I left, I could not tell you the truth plainly, and it was I who misled you."

He would also like to say, "That year red lotus Waterside, thank you for being willing to protect me."

He even wanted to lose all dignity at the moment, he wanted to cry with Mo Ran, to hold this body, which was still warm at the moment, and say, "Please don't go, please don't leave."

But there was a lump in my throat and a bitterness in my heart.

Finally, Chu Wanning bends his head and kisses the scar on Mo Ran's heart, his eyelashes rustling as he speaks in a low, muffled voice.

" Mo Ran, I will always be with you, no matter what was or what will be."

Shame burned through the blood of his body.

But the words are so solemn.

"A lifelong Fairy Tramper and an Ink Zoner."

It's too hot.

Mo Ran just felt the fire of the other world in her arms light up once more, and before her eyes were fireworks, and all the pain and sorrow were far away at that moment.

"Two lifetimes, all yours."

"No regrets."

Mo Ran's eyes closed abruptly, as moist as they could be.

He finally kissed Chu Wanning on the lips as he sighed, "Master thank you."

Outside the snow was falling heavier and the night was getting deeper and thicker.

They cuddled up together and they both thought, so, this is the rest of their lives.

Mo Ran knows his lapels are soaked with tears, but he doesn't say anything. He had grown up with the luxury of having many joys for the rest of his life, and times like these should always be happy.

He embraced Chu Wanning and he said, "Sleep, Wangning. Sleep, I'll hold you. You're afraid of the cold, I'll keep you warm."

"When I'm well, we'll go back to the top of death and life together, I want to go and apologise to my aunts and uncles, I want to argue with Xue Meng again we have so much to do"

Mo Ran stroked Chu Wanning's hair, his voice soft.

The sweetness of blood was in my throat, and my breathing was getting stifled.

But he smiled anyway, his look serene at the moment: "Master, I will hold your umbrella for the rest of my life."

Chu Wanning was in his arms, already choking back sobs.

"Master Xia," he teased him again, clearly unable to speak, but still teasing him, "Master tells you a story... every night from now on, I will tell you a story... don't mind that Master is dumb... he only talks about cows eating grass."

At the end of the day, Mo Ran raised her eyes to the glistening layer of snow that covered the window pane.

The sky and earth are vast and white.

" Wangning ." He embraced him, his heartbeat echoing in Chu Wanning's ears, and he whispered, "I've always loved you."

He slowly closed his eyes, the pear swirls shallow, dipped in two pools of pearly white.

Little by little the heartbeat slows, little by little it breaks.

Suddenly, a branch of a plum tree outside the window was covered in snow, so heavy that the branch snapped with an abrupt movement. The snowball fell with the branch, crackling and crunching.

After this hubbub, Chu Wanning, the sound of his heart beating in his ears could no longer be heard.

He waited for a moment, he waited for a moment, he waited for a while, he waited for a long time.

No more sound.

No sound nothing

It was a ghastly silence that chilled the bones.

It is the ghastly silence of a lifetime of despair.

Ultimate.

Stop.

Break.

The house was deadly silent, terribly still.

After a long, long time Chu Wanning did not move either. Chu Wanning remained in Mo Ran's arms, lying on the couch, he did not even get up, did not look up, and did not speak again.

His young apprentice, his Ink Master, his Fairy Tramper wants him to sleep in peace.

Said he would hold his umbrella for the rest of his life, tell stories for the rest of his life, and love him for the rest of his life.

Mo Ran said it was cold and snowy outside.

I warm you up.

Chu Wanning was curled up in his arms and wrists, in the heat of his bosom, and did not move.

They are departing for home tomorrow.

He wants to rest well with Mo Ran.

Chu Wanning reached out and wrapped his arms around Mo Ran's waist.

In the darkness, he said, "Okay, I'll do as you say and I'll sleep. But tomorrow, when I call you, you must remember to wake up."

Tears soaked Mo Ran's lapels as he pressed himself against the chest that no longer rose and fell.

"Don't stay in bed."

Good night, Mo Ran.

It's a long night, but I'll be with you, may you have good dreams, a fire and a light.

And home.