AVL Chapter 40.2

Sheng Jiao forcibly pressed him down, brushing away his hands and turning to leave.

 

Not only was the stone bed hard, even the pillow was rock-hard. Xi Jianlan frowned and turned over, his earring clashing with the jade pillow, nearly scattering the tassel clasp.

 

Xi Jianlan was shaken dizzy, painfully covering his head as he woke up.

 

His neck tingled, and “Endless Period” emerged as black mist.

 

The black cat lay listlessly on the cold stone bed, weakly cursing: “Our lives are connected—aren’t you afraid that person will really kill me?”

 

“If you could be killed so easily, what kind of ‘Endless Period’ would you be?” Xi Jianlan removed the tassel clasp, sitting cross-legged on the bed to adjust it, saying casually: “But your good days are numbered. Lady Wan has found the antidote. In a few days, I’ll really kill you, hehe.”

 

The black cat’s fur instantly stood on end: “I’ve saved you countless times over the years! You can’t be ungrateful!”

 

Xi Jianlan, probably finding him noisy, rummaged around in his robes and somehow pulled out a half-eaten Yutan flower.

 

The Yutan flower’s scent immediately filled the air, and the black cat was so overwhelmed it retched, nearly coughing up its lungs.

 

“Ugh…” The black cat said weakly, “No wonder I feel weak for so long every time you eat Yutan flowers.”

 

So Yutan flowers were actually one of the antidotes to “Endless Period.”

 

Xi Jianlan methodically plucked another petal. Just as he was about to put it in his mouth, the black cat suddenly pounced and knocked the petal away with its paw.

 

“Don’t eat it!” The black cat was almost crying, looking at him like a heartless betrayer. “Do you really want me dead? How cruel!”

 

Xi Jianlan wasn’t angry, saying methodically: “Your toxicity is getting stronger, and your spirit form is already visible. Lezheng Jiu was in a good mood and only grabbed your neck without killing you, but if Sheng Jiao sees you, he’ll probably strike you down with thunder and turn you to dust. Then I’d die with you.”

 

The black cat: “……”

 

Lezheng Jiu’s dog temper was considered good?!

 

This was Sheng Jiao’s territory, and the black cat was inexplicably afraid of him. It could only tearfully watch Xi Jianlan pick up the petal and put it in his mouth, not daring to stop him again.

 

As the Yutan flower went down his throat, the black cat’s solid body gradually faded, silently becoming a spirit form that only Xi Jianlan could see.

 

Xi Jianlan adjusted the tassel clasp and put it back on his ear, then lazily flopped onto the bed.

 

“Thud—”

 

He’d almost forgotten that this ascetic Sheng Jiao slept on a stone bed, and was immediately knocked nearly senseless.

 

Xi Jianlan got a huge bump on the back of his head, his eyes unfocused for a moment, gasping for air before recovering.

 

Normally, the black cat would have been delighted and meowing with joy, but now it had no interest, lying there listlessly and silently crying, utterly miserable.

 

Xi Jianlan wiped his tears and touched the black cat’s fat neck: “Look up. Tsk, how did you get even fatter?”

 

The black cat kicked him with its paw.

 

Xi Jianlan skillfully found the silent bell on the black cat’s neck and took something from it.

 

Sheng Jiao had always been swift and decisive, finishing Xiezhi Sect’s miscellaneous affairs within an hour. When passing by Qingche Zhu’s entrance, he hesitated for a while before picking a branch of newly bloomed osmanthus.

 

His quarters were simple and cold, with no furnishings at all, looking no different from a Xiezhi Sect prison cell.

 

Xi Jianlan definitely wouldn’t be comfortable living here.

 

Sheng Jiao specifically found a beautiful porcelain vase, filled it with clear water, and placed the osmanthus branch in it, trying to make the crude room less shabby.

 

But when he entered Qingche Zhu holding the vase, his expressionless face went blank for a moment.

 

An hour ago, Qingche Zhu was “bare-walled,” with only a stone bed, desk, and screen—so empty and crude it could be used as a punishment cell.

 

But now, an ivory and glass screen divided the outer room, carved tables and a beauty couch were by the window, with writing materials arranged on the carved desk—there was even a full bookshelf with scrolls piled high.

 

Everything was exquisitely and elegantly arranged.

 

Sheng Jiao: “……”

 

Sheng Jiao almost thought he’d entered the wrong place.

 

The originally crude desk and screen without even patterns had been thrown somewhere. Sheng Jiao expressionlessly lifted the pearl curtain and entered the inner room, nearly blinded by what he saw.

 

The inner room was completely transformed—luxurious and magnificent. Even the heavy stone bed had been replaced with an exquisite carved canopy bed.

 

The bed curtains were half-drawn, and the evening sunset slanted through the window, wind lifting the gauze curtains to reveal the person curled up in brocade quilts on the large bed.

 

Sheng Jiao: “……”

 

Xi Jianlan had made this place completely his own. Being small to begin with, curled up in a ball on the huge bed, he looked even more slender.

 

His breathing was even, and probably because he didn’t have to sleep on a hard bed, his cheeks showed some color—he slept contentedly and comfortably.

 

Sheng Jiao watched him silently for a long time, then quietly placed the vase on the small table beside the bed.

 

The osmanthus fragrance clung to the fluttering bed curtains. Xi Jianlan mumbled and turned over, sleeping even more soundly.

 

He had a beautiful dream from his youth.

 

Sheng Jiao and Lezheng Jiu had gotten into a fight for no reason.

 

Without using spiritual power, they still beat each other black and blue. Several young students couldn’t pull them apart. The culprit Xi Jue ran forward to hug Lezheng Jiu’s waist to stop him from hitting Sheng Jiao, but got caught in the crossfire and elbowed in the face, nearly disfigured.

 

Finally, the headmaster heard the commotion and came to forcibly separate them.

 

Tianyan Academy’s headmaster Wen Gubai was gentle and warm, with soft, handsome features that made his gender ambiguous. He spoke in a soft voice: “You’ve only been here two days—how did things get this bad?”

 

Sheng Jiao and Lezheng Jiu knelt on the ground, one with a bruised cheek, the other with blood at the corner of his mouth, both silent.

 

Xi Jue had been hit and his eye was slightly swollen. Heng Yudu was gently massaging it with ice.

 

Seeing this, Xi Jue quickly knelt obediently: “Headmaster, please don’t be angry. It’s not their fault—I was being playful and caused trouble. Please punish only me.”

 

For once he had some conscience, but Lezheng Jiu didn’t appreciate it, angrily saying: “Shut up! Who asked you to play the good person and plead for us! Punish me if you want—if I make a sound, I won’t be surnamed Lezheng!”

 

Xi Jue turned to glare at him.

 

Wen Gubai’s gentle gaze focused on the injury at the corner of Xi Jue’s eye, sighing: “The headmaster knows you’re a good child. When you make mistakes, you must accept punishment. Don’t plead for them—treat your injury first.”

 

Xi Jue’s eyes widened.

 

This was the first time anyone had called him a “good child.”

 

Xi Jue was shocked. Had the standards for good children really become this low?

 

Though Wen Gubai seemed gentle, he was strictly stern, punishing both Lezheng Jiu and Sheng Jiao by making them copy “Rites: Occasions” one hundred times each.

 

Xi Jue wanted to plead again, but Heng Yudu quickly pulled him back to prevent the headmaster from punishing him too.

 

The headmaster told everyone to continue class and took Sheng Jiao and the other to the library—they couldn’t leave until they finished copying.

 

Xi Jue had never caused trouble without being punished while implicating others. He was dejected all day, and after school in the afternoon, he declined Feng Yu’s invitation to play and ran off to the library.

 

Tianyan Academy’s library contained roughly ten thousand volumes, with towering bookshelves arranged in rows. As soon as you entered, you were hit with the ancient, scholarly scent of aged books.

 

Xi Jue ran around all four floors of the library before finding the two on the top floor.

 

Lezheng Jiu knelt on a prayer mat with withered branches wrapped around his wrist, preventing him from slacking off. If he got distracted, the branches would turn into whips and strike his hand.

 

After half a day, Lezheng Jiu’s hands were covered with crisscrossing thin red marks.

 

He frowned, cursing as he copied while rubbing his wrist.

 

Sheng Jiao sat ten paces away, expressionlessly copying with his back straight—remarkably, there wasn’t a single red mark on his hands.

 

Xi Jue peeked around the bookshelf. This was his first time causing trouble, and seeing the two victims who’d been implicated because of him made him inexplicably guilty. He crouched in the corner, gathering courage before carefully approaching.

 

“Ge… gege…”

 

As soon as Lezheng Jiu saw him, he immediately raged: “Xi Jue, you little bastard, how dare you come here?! I’ll kill…”

 

Before he could finish his outburst, the withered branch on his wrist instantly sprouted a thin vine that whipped his hand like a snake.

 

Lezheng Jiu immediately trembled as he gripped his brush to continue copying, his peripheral vision practically boring holes through Xi Jue.

 

Xi Jue wilted, carefully crawling forward and lying on the table to apologize quietly: “I was wrong, gege, don’t be angry.”

 

Lezheng Jiu was almost laughing with anger.

 

When he was playing dead earlier, he wasn’t this cowardly—what was he pretending now?!

 

“Get lost,” Lezheng Jiu said. “I get annoyed just looking at you.”

 

Xi Jue was about to explode, but remembering this person had been dragged down by him, he swallowed his anger and said “oh” obediently.

 

He switched targets, crawling to the table in front of Sheng Jiao and saying quietly: “Gege, are you angry too?”

 

Sheng Jiao ignored him completely, acting as if he didn’t exist, steadily copying while the withered branch on his wrist remained perfectly still.

 

Xi Jue obediently lay on the table watching him write for a while, then his eyes turned as if thinking of something. “Ah,” he said, “So gege isn’t angry after all. I knew it—you’re so magnanimous and broad-minded, you definitely wouldn’t be angry at me over this.”

 

Sheng Jiao didn’t even look at him.

 

Naturally, Xi Jue wasn’t saying this for his benefit.

 

Sure enough, Lezheng Jiu started roaring again: “Little bastard! Who are you calling narrow-minded in such a roundabout way?!”

 

Xi Jue said innocently: “But Sheng Jiao gege really did forgive me.”

 

Lezheng Jiu laughed in anger: “Come over here and I’ll forgive you too.”

 

Xi Jue beamed at him: “Lezheng Jiu, you’re also magnanimous and broad-minded.”

 

Lezheng Jiu: “……”

 

When there was trouble, he called him gege; when there wasn’t, it was Lezheng Jiu.

 

As night fell and the two still had half their copying left, Xi Jue didn’t leave, just lay lazily beside Sheng Jiao watching them copy.

 

He’d originally wanted to help them copy a few times, but Wen Gubai’s vines were too clever—if he forcibly tried to grab the brush, he’d probably get whipped and howl too.

 

With no other choice, Xi Jue could only wait there to keep them company.

 

“Sheng Jiao.” Xi Jue, bored, poked Sheng Jiao’s arm and mumbled: “Did you speak today? I thought you were really mute or had taken a vow of silence.”

 

No matter how much Xi Jue poked him, Sheng Jiao seemed immersed in his own world, not moving his eyes even once.

 

“Did you fight for me today?” The more Xi Jue thought about it, the happier he became, grinning as he leaned closer. “Was that osmanthus branch on my windowsill from you?”

 

Sheng Jiao’s hand paused.

 

Suddenly, the withered branch on his wrist, probably sensing Sheng Jiao’s distraction, shot out a thin vine whip toward his hand.

 

Xi Jue was stunned and quickly reached out to block it.

 

“Crack!”

 

Unlike Lezheng Jiu who had trained his body, Xi Jue had been pampered since childhood and never injured. His snow-white hand was immediately marked with a vicious bloody welt, making him hiss in pain as he covered his hand and pressed his forehead to the desk, nearly crying from the pain.

 

Sheng Jiao’s brow furrowed slightly.

 

Seeing the vine whip about to strike again, Xi Jue frantically patted the table, gritting his teeth: “Focus, focus!”

 

Sheng Jiao had to continue focusing.

 

Xi Jue had brought this on himself—who knew that Sheng Jiao, who seemed like such a blockhead, would actually get distracted by his few words?

 

He didn’t dare talk to Sheng Jiao anymore, sitting there gloomily waiting.

 

After waiting who knows how long, Xi Jue grew drowsy. He tried to stay alert to keep them company, but the “Endless Period” in his body seemed to constantly devour his meager spiritual power. He couldn’t hold on long before softly collapsing against Sheng Jiao, curling up and falling asleep.

 

Another “crack.”

 

Sheng Jiao stared blankly at the red mark whipped across his hand, then after a while ignored the warm presence against him and continued copying with lowered eyes.

 

Xi Jue slept deeply with his head pillowed on Sheng Jiao’s thigh.

 

Half-asleep, the scholarly library seemed to bloom with osmanthus.

 

He groggily opened his eyes to see Sheng Jiao had stopped writing, the withered branch on his wrist like dead wood meeting spring, slowly sprouting tender buds and quietly blooming several clusters of golden osmanthus flowers.

 

Xi Jue watched for a while, then dazedly closed his eyes and continued sleeping.

 

In his haze, a gentle osmanthus fragrance slowly approached, seeming to lift him up lightly.

 

Xi Jue slept even more deeply.

 

***

 

“Mm…”

 

Xi Jianlan mumbled groggily, opening his eyes in confusion and staring at the osmanthus branch in the small vase, unable to tell if he was still dreaming.

 

It wasn’t until the craving for Tianyan spiritual veins in his meridians hit him like surging waves that his whole body went limp as he curled up, finally understanding this was reality.

 

It was past midnight.

 

The aftereffects of “Abandoned Immortal Bone” were still continuing, though much better than the previous times when he’d lost his mind and tried to bite people’s hands.

 

In the overwhelming craving, Xi Jianlan remained conscious, his eyes clear and cold, like an outsider feeling the constant, minute pain in his meridians from being denied “Abandoned Immortal Bone” or Tianyan.

 

In what seemed like endless torment, Xi Jianlan even had the leisure to think:

 

“How did I get back that night? Did Sheng Jiao carry me back?

 

“Tomorrow on the riverboat, he won’t buy just a tiny cabin again, will he? This time there are five people—wouldn’t that little cabin be packed like sardines?

 

“It’s just treating an injury, and when Lezheng Jiu asked for three hundred thousand spirit stones, he actually agreed? Has he been living frugally all these years just to pay back the debt?”

 

At this thought, Xi Jianlan punched his pillow, thinking expressionlessly: “Damn, that’s kind of cute.”

 

How could someone be poor in such an endearing way?

 

Just then, someone suddenly said: “What?”

 

Xi Jianlan nearly jumped out of his skin, turning to look.

 

He saw Sheng Jiao sitting cross-legged on the bed with his eyes closed, apparently meditating. It looked like he’d been there for a while.

 

Xi Jianlan let out a soft breath, skillfully putting on a smile as he stretched out his foot to kick him, grinning: “How’s this arrangement? Much more comfortable than your hard bed, right? Tsk, your quarters at school were at least passable—how have you become more and more like an ascetic over the years?”

 

Sheng Jiao suddenly opened his eyes, his large hand gripping Xi Jianlan’s wayward ankle.

 

Whether it was because his palm was too large or Xi Jianlan too delicate, his thumb and middle finger could completely encircle the slender ankle.

 

Xi Jianlan struggled but couldn’t pull free.

 

Night had fallen deep, the bed curtains drawn on all sides. Dim candlelight filtered in from outside, casting ambiguous shadows through the white gauze onto the narrow bed.

 

Xi Jianlan struggled to suppress the painful craving for “Abandoned Immortal Bone,” asking with a teasing smile: “What?”

 

Sheng Jiao watched him for a while before finally confirming it.

 

Xi Jianlan’s whole body was trembling.

 

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 (advanced chapters available on kofi)