Mount Furi was a primeval forest, its dense canopy blocking out the light all day long. The air was thick with mist even in midsummer, making it a gloomy and eerie place.
Lu Heng was in this very mountain.
He hadn’t returned to the Jing’an Courtyard to see Song Xiaozhou these past few days. That night, he went on a rampage, killing Steward Zheng and his men. Even Steward Zheng, despite his severed hand, had been dragged away by the specters in Jing’an Courtyard. After the killing, the vicious energy within Lu Heng grew stronger by the day, surging like a tide, almost drowning him and robbing him of his sanity. From the moment he awakened in the coffin, Lu Heng had hovered between clarity and madness, like a man teetering on the brink of a cliff. One wrong step, and he would fall into the abyss, becoming a mindless, malevolent spirit capable only of killing.
Even though he was dead, Lu Heng did not want to and could not allow himself to sink to that level.
Besides, Song Xiaozhou couldn’t die.
Lu Heng lowered his eyes and looked at his right hand. The wrist was pale, with a faint black energy coiling around it like an iron chain. His gaze turned cold as the solid, scarlet, vicious energy slammed into the black energy. The two forces clashed fiercely, neither giving way, and his smooth skin tore and cracked little by little, revealing the bone beneath.
Lu Heng seemed to feel no pain. His face was expressionless as the ghostly energy around him surged, making the leaves rustle, unable to bear the disturbance as they fell into the mud. Suddenly, Lu Heng let out a painful groan, his face becoming contorted. Black fissures, like searing marks, suddenly spread across his face, while his limbs were bound tightly by the dark energy, rendering him immobile. It felt as though his very soul was being ripped apart. Lu Heng writhed in agony, his breaths harsh and uneven. He felt as if he was back in his final moments, his life flashing before his eyes.
Before she passed, his mother had looked at him with reluctance, saying, “My son, from now on, it’s just you alone.”
Nanny Lin had, with tears streaming down her face, personally fed him the poisonous mixture with her rough yet warm hands, murmuring, “Young Master, please recover soon.”
Lu Xuan had lifted his face with a soft smile and said—”Ge, would you please die? I’m begging you.”
The last person he saw was Song Xiaozhou. Song Xiaozhou had been holding his hand, his bright, clear eyes full of admiration, saying, “Jinzhi, you’re so good.”
Lu Heng’s mind was suddenly jolted, as if struck by lightning. He snapped his bloodshot eyes open and drew in several deep, ragged breaths. After a long while, the color of his pupils slowly returned to normal. Lu Heng closed his eyes, his body still trembling slightly.
A withered yellow leaf fell and landed on a small mound of dirt in front of him. It was a humble mound, like a simple grave, and dark stains had seeped into the yellow earth at its base.
Lu Heng frowned in distaste. He stared blankly at the dirt mound for a moment before slowly standing up.
Suddenly, he looked up at a spot not far away, his expression subtly shifting.
Song Xiaozhou’s foot was caught in a tangled thicket. The sun was hot, and his face was flushed with a healthy red, drenched in sweat.
If he had a choice, Song Xiaozhou wouldn’t have come to the mountain behind Jing’an Courtyard. It was gloomy and strange here. The first time he’d come, he had run into a ghost that led him astray, and he almost couldn’t find his way back. If it hadn’t been for Lu Heng, he would probably have gotten lost in this vast, deep mountain already.
This time he ventured into the mountain again, it was also because of Lu Heng.
Song Xiaozhou had searched all over the Jing’an Courtyard and couldn’t find him. In desperation, he even seized one of the ghosts in the courtyard, clutching the animal tooth hanging around his neck for courage, and, forcing a calm facade, asked, “Where did Lu Heng go?”
As soon as the ghost heard the name “Lu Heng,” it scattered in terror. Song Xiaozhou called out a few times, but it didn’t return.
One ghost, however, didn’t flee. Its neck was twisted, and it stared at Song Xiaozhou with a sinister, weeping-and-laughing expression, saying viciously, “Lu Heng will kill you. He’ll kill you, and you’ll be just like us…”
Song Xiaozhou’s heart jumped. He stared intently at the ghost for a moment, then said with an expressionless face, “I’m only asking where he is.”
The ghost said nothing.
Song Xiaozhou flashed a grin of white teeth. “Do you know what happens to slaves in the west who speak ill of their master?”
He stuck out a bright red tongue, made a slicing motion with his hand, and said crisply, “They get their tongues pulled out.”
The ghost’s eyes went wide as it glared intently at Song Xiaozhou, only to find that he had already disappeared from its view like a fleeting gust of wind.
He was worried about Lu Heng, but others were telling him that Lu Heng would kill him sooner or later. Song Xiaozhou grew even more unhappy. Lu Heng hadn’t appeared to see him for several days and no longer showed up when Song Xiaozhou called for him. He felt a sense of loss, tossing and turning in bed at night, unable to sleep. Song Xiaozhou even thought to himself that he was a coward for being so scared that he cried when Lu Heng had only been saving his life… His reaction must have hurt Lu Heng’s feelings.
Song Xiaozhou was young, at the dawn of his first love, and was blinded by a gentle deception. Lu Heng’s distant and yet close manner only made Song Xiaozhou more fascinated. He thought about Lu Heng in his dreams and when he woke up. Even the fear he felt had taken on a dangerous, seductive quality that made the boy unable to forget.
Song Xiaozhou genuinely missed Lu Heng.
The mountain was shrouded in deep mist, and the weather was unpredictable. After a quarter-hour of light rain that morning, Song Xiaozhou looked at the water-soaked flowers in the courtyard and couldn’t help but wonder, where did Lu Heng go? Song Xiaozhou suddenly recalled the first place he had encountered Lu Heng, clenched his teeth, and once again ventured into the mountain behind Jing’an Courtyard.
The back mountain was immense, gloomy, and shrouded in thick white fog. The occasional bird call was particularly shrill, making his heart race.
Song Xiaozhou had seen ghosts before, and in this Mount Furi, it seemed that flesh-eating evil spirits could crawl out anywhere, at any time, which was terrifying. Song Xiaozhou walked cautiously, stepping into the dense fog. Eventually, he couldn’t tell which way was which, but he had a fire burning in his heart and refused to turn back.
Unexpectedly, as he reached a valley, the surroundings suddenly became even darker and frigid.
For some reason, thoughts of Lu Heng surged into Song Xiaozhou’s mind, making his heart race violently. He scanned his surroundings with wide, alert eyes.
Lu Heng spotted Song Xiaozhou right away.
The young man was standing alone in the ghostly woods, his large eyes darting back and forth, urgently searching for something.
Lu Heng recalled that it had been the same the first time—Song Xiaozhou had been lost. He had watched him roam the mountain like a frightened little creature, his gaze cold and unyielding, before finally approaching him.
He had originally wanted to see what kind of trick Lu Xuan was trying to play by sending such a person.
Lu Heng didn’t make a sound. Song Xiaozhou had already entered the inner reaches of Mount Furi. The scent of a living person was too fresh and sweet, tempting the restless ghosts and vengeful spirits in the forest to stir. The wind began to roll the fog.
“Song Xiaozhou.” Lu Heng suddenly called out. Song Xiaozhou looked over at the sound and sighed with relief when he saw him.
Lu Heng said, “Didn’t I tell you not to come here?”
Song Xiaozhou had been searching for him for most of the day. Upon hearing this, his brows furrowed, and he grumbled, “This is the back mountain of the Jing’an Courtyard, and I’m half its owner. So I can’t come here?”
Lu Heng was momentarily at a loss, confronted by his own reasoning. After a brief pause, he murmured softly, “You came to find me?”
Song Xiaozhou looked at Lu Heng for a moment. Lu Heng’s face was pale, with a hint of gloom between his brows, and his long eyelashes made him look more gaunt than he had a few days ago. Song Xiaozhou forgot his anger, twisted his fingers together, and said, “It rained a little this morning and messed up the flowers in the courtyard…”
He stammered, a blush of embarrassment creeping up his face. “I saw one that was exceptionally beautiful. Even after the rain stopped, it was still graceful and lovely, and I thought you should see it.”
Lu Heng’s eyelashes fluttered as he watched Song Xiaozhou pull a flower from his robes. Its petals were white, delicate, and elegant, the very qualities that had reminded Song Xiaozhou of Lu Heng. Perhaps from brushing against his clothes, the tips of the petals had curled inward, beginning to wilt.
Song Xiaozhou noticed this too and became even more flustered. He quickly used his finger to smooth them out, his movements clumsy and naive.
Lu Heng’s voice was slightly hoarse. “Is that for me?”
Song Xiaozhou’s eyes darted away, his tone a little stiff. “Is there anyone else here?” He looked away, awkwardly clutching the flower. It was a shabby yet endearingly childish gesture, but his earnestness made it impossible to ignore.
Song Xiaozhou vaguely remembered his parents’ loving relationship when he was a child. His mother was a girl from Lingnan with a bold personality, while his father was a third-place scholar of his time from a poor family. Every spring, his father would pick the most vibrant flowers from the fields to give to his mother.
It felt like a long time, and yet only an instant had passed. Song Xiaozhou’s hand holding the flower began to tremble. He suddenly remembered that the person in front of him was the Lu family’s eldest young master, someone who had seen every good thing life had to offer. He surely wouldn’t want it. He immediately tried to pull his hand back. “…Never mind, I’ll just go back.”
Lu Heng, however, quickly gripped his wrist tightly. He smiled slowly. “I haven’t said anything yet. Why are you giving up?”
Song Xiaozhou was too shy to look at Lu Heng, so he just stared at the hand that was holding his. He mumbled, “Well, what do you have to say?”
Lu Heng replied, “The flower. I like it very much.”
Song Xiaozhou’s head snapped up. Lu Heng looked down at him, a hint of life seemingly returning to his eyes, and his smile was gentle. Song Xiaozhou’s face turned scarlet, and he didn’t know where to look.
Song Xiaozhou’s heart was pounding. He remembered something, gathered his courage, and whispered, “Then you can’t just disappear without a word anymore…”
“I couldn’t find you.”
Lu Heng felt as if a soft spot had been chipped away in his already cold and hard heart. The gentle touch felt like an illusion, yet it ignited a long-forgotten warmth that flowed through his limbs. He drew in a shallow breath, his eyes deep and dark, but his voice became even more gentle. “Xiaozhou, why were you looking for me?”
Song Xiaozhou said, “I wanted to see you…”
Before he could finish, his lips were met with a cold and soft touch. Lu Heng had leaned down and blocked his fervent, earnest words with a kiss.
Lu Heng said, “As long as you want to see me, I will come to you, even from the underworld.”
