There was a client.
In an instant, Mo Xi was furious beyond reason—sick with disgust.
A surge of hot rage churned in his chest. His hands trembled with hatred.
But what exactly should he hate?
Hate those who paid to turn over Gu Mang’s plaque? They were only spending money for pleasure.
Hate Wangshu-jun? He was only humiliating a convicted traitor under imperial orders.
So in the end, the only person he could hate was Gu Mang.
Gu Mang had brought this upon himself, ending up like this. It wasn’t enough for him to rot alone—he had to drag Mo Xi into this suffering too.
Mo Xi stared at the bright red characters on the plaque. That color looked like some incurable disease, staining even the depths of his eyes.
Suddenly, all of this felt horribly familiar, like a nightmare repeating itself.
How many years ago had it been? Another brothel. Gu Mang inside a room. And him standing outside, consumed by agony.
Back then, he had just returned from an assignment when he heard that after the new ruler stripped Gu Mang of power, Gu Mang had collapsed into despair and spent his days drowning himself in brothels and drinking away his sorrow.
He hadn’t believed it.
But when he stood there like a fool, breathing hard in the dim light, passing through the flirtatious laughter and songs of courtesans, pushing open the heavy sandalwood doors—
He saw him.
The face was still the same face.
But the man no longer seemed to be the same man.
Gu Mang reclined deep within soft curtains, surrounded by jeweled women. Fragrant smoke curled from the golden incense burner, pale blue wisps rising lazily and blurring everything into obscurity.
Hearing movement, Gu Mang opened his unfocused eyes. His dark gaze swept over Mo Xi once.
As if he couldn’t see the fury and heartbreak on his old friend’s face at all.
He only laughed.
A light, careless laugh.
Something inside Mo Xi shattered with that reckless smile.
“It’s just sex. It doesn’t matter who it’s with. Why take it so seriously?”
That was what Gu Mang had said to him then.
Gu Mang had never cared about such things.
That was why, back then, he could pant beneath Mo Xi, holding his anxious face, comforting him—
It’s okay. Brother Gu Mang’s thick-skinned. However you want to do it, I can take it. If Junior Brother likes it… if Junior Brother wants it… then you can… you can go harder…
In those chaotic years of tangled passion, Gu Mang had even whispered Mo Xi’s name while being fucked so hard he cried, murmuring through tears—
I love you.
But perhaps he had never meant it.
That was why later, he could lie smiling in another man’s arms, unconcerned with the past.
It was Mo Xi who had been foolish.
Like a naïve boy, he had actually believed every sweet word spoken in bed.
What was so special about it?
After being cast aside by the new ruler, Gu Mang had chosen not to pull himself together.
Perhaps what the emperor had done, and the deaths of certain people, had shattered his soul beyond repair.
So he buried himself in filth.
Drugs. Liquor. Women.
Whatever offered the strongest illusion, he drowned himself in it.
Only in those fleeting fantasies could he still be Marshal Gu.
Only there were his comrades and his blood-soaked glory days still with him.
Now, in the private room of Luo Mei Bieyuan, faint voices drifted from inside.
Mo Xi suddenly couldn’t breathe.
He spun around and strode to the end of the corridor, gasping for air by the window. His long fingers gripped the frame so hard they crushed cracks into the wood.
Whore.
The word surfaced in his mind without warning.
Cruel. Vicious.
The cruelest word he had ever used for another person.
Gu Mang, you whore.
He had once thought he knew Gu Mang better than anyone.
He had once believed he understood him completely.
He had once been stupid enough to hold Gu Mang in his heart as the most precious person in his life.
He had been so stubborn.
Gu Mang had taught him long ago that sleeping together meant nothing. Sleeping together many times only meant mutual attraction.
But Mo Xi had never been able to think that way.
He was old-fashioned and obstinate in matters of love.
Once his heart was set, no one could change it.
That was why he had trusted Gu Mang so completely.
Even after Gu Mang was condemned by all, Mo Xi had stood in the great hall of Chonghua Palace and declared before everyone—
I, Mo Xi, swear on my life: Gu Mang would never betray his country.
But Gu Mang lied to him.
Gu Mang betrayed him.
Again and again, he shattered Mo Xi’s trust.
Again and again, he crushed Mo Xi’s hopes.
In the end, he had even driven a blade through Mo Xi’s chest and told him there was no turning back.
Mo Xi had thought things could not get worse.
Yet now, Gu Mang had somehow found a way to grind what remained of his broken heart into dust.
Before coming to Luo Mei Bieyuan, a tiny sliver of hope had still remained in him.
He had hoped Gu Mang was still the same proud, unyielding Gu Mang.
The Gu Mang who would rather die than bow to the powerful.
If that had been true, perhaps his scarred and broken heart might still have found a shred of comfort.
But Gu Mang gave him none.
Mo Xi felt as if even the bones buried within his flesh trembled with hatred.
Gu Mang had truly stooped this low just to survive…
Actually reduced himself to this…
Bang!
The door opened.
Mo Xi’s back tensed instantly, like a hunting hawk.
He didn’t turn around, but he knew the sound came from Gu Mang’s room.
Someone staggered out cursing, spat thickly onto the floor, and stumbled downstairs.
The corridor filled with the sharp reek of alcohol.
The departing client was a drunk.
Mo Xi felt even sicker.
He stood there, forcing down the raging fire in his chest.
Only after a long while, when even the smell of liquor had faded, did he lift his head and close his eyes.
Then he opened them again.
His expression was eerily calm.
Without a word, he returned to Gu Mang’s room.
He stopped.
Lifted his black military boot.
And pushed open the carved lacquer door.
At last, he entered.
The room was dim.
Only one oil lamp burned.
The air still reeked of liquor so strongly it churned his stomach.
Mo Xi entered stiffly and swept his gaze across the room.
No one.
He looked again.
Halfway through, he noticed the soft sound of water behind the screen.
Gu Mang was bathing.
The realization hit like a blunt strike.
His vision swam.
He nearly snapped.
Blood rushed upward, reddening his eyes.
He bit his lip and turned away, nails digging deep into his palms as he barely restrained the monstrous rage boiling inside him.
But what was Gu Mang to him now?
Whether Gu Mang was humiliated, tortured, or even—
What did any of it have to do with him?
He hadn’t known his anger could still burn this fiercely.
Time had only made it worse.
To avoid losing control, Mo Xi sat at the round table and closed his eyes.
Silent.
Waiting for Gu Mang to come out.
Thinking—
What expression would Gu Mang wear when he saw him?
And what should he say when he finally saw Gu Mang?
He sat there grinding his teeth for so long that he didn’t even notice when the water stopped.
Not until another lamp was lit.
He suddenly opened his eyes and turned.
Beside the lamp stood a young man in white robes, quietly watching him.
Who knew how long he had been standing there?
That face was still the same.
Just thinner.
For a moment, neither spoke.
The young man stood silently.
His robe hung loosely open.
A cursed collar rested around his neck.
Barefoot.
His dark hair hung loose over his shoulders, making his face look even paler and more gaunt.
His eyes seemed startlingly clear.
He had just washed.
Drops of water still fell from his hair, trailing from his neck to his collarbone, then lower to his chest—
Until they disappeared beneath the folds of his robe, leaving only faint wet marks.
Gu Mang.
Gu Mang…
The silence in the room was suffocating.
It only made the sounds of passion from the neighboring room more unbearable.
Mo Xi’s eyes were still red.
His clenched fingers still trembled.
He stared at the man before him.
His throat tightened.
He wanted to speak.
But no words came.
At last.
He had finally seen him again.
And yet all the questions he had carried in his chest vanished.
The only thing that surfaced in his blurred vision was that scene from years ago aboard the warship—
Gu Mang with a stolen blue-and-gold headband crooked across his forehead.
Blood dripping from his blade as he lifted Mo Xi’s chin.
His gaze complicated.
His voice low.
I really will kill you.
Back then, Mo Xi had thought that was the end.
Yet now Gu Mang stood before him again.
His gaze calm and still.
Strangely enough, despite the hatred between them, Mo Xi found himself regretting only one thing—
That he had failed to notice Gu Mang’s arrival.
That he had missed Gu Mang’s first reaction upon seeing him.
And now Gu Mang stood there completely composed.
Not a ripple in his expression.
Exactly as he looked at every other customer who entered this room.
None of the emotions Mo Xi remembered.
Their reunion was absurdly calm.
Calm to the point of feeling unnatural.
They stared at each other a while longer.
Then Gu Mang walked over and sat beside him.
Perhaps because the gesture was so unexpectedly calm, Mo Xi—despite his expression remaining icy—instinctively leaned back.
“You…”
Gu Mang suddenly picked up a small bundle of bamboo slips from the table and silently handed them over.
Mo Xi frowned, confused, but still took them.
By the dim candlelight, he opened the slips and skimmed through them.
Heat surged through his blood.
Then cold.
Finally, he shut his eyes and slammed the slips onto the table.
Crack!
The silence shattered.
“…Gu Mang.”
Mo Xi stared at him.
Still restraining himself.
But the fury in his eyes burned hotter and hotter.
His knuckles cracked audibly.
“You fucking insane?”
“You need to choose.”
Gu Mang spoke.
After so long apart, that was his first sentence.
Three words.
Spoken with unbearable indifference.
He picked up the bamboo slips again and handed them back.
“Choose one.”
“What the hell do you think I came here for?!”
Gu Mang seemed capable of saying only one word.
“Choose.”
Mo Xi was so angry he felt ready to explode.
His chest heaved.
His black eyes blazed with hostility.
Red deepened in his gaze—
Anger. Disappointment. Hatred. Grief.
All melted into blood-red fury.
He held the slips.
After a long moment, he threw them down again.
The slips scattered open.
Written neatly across them were Luo Mei Bieyuan’s prices—
Conversation.
Drinking companionship.
Violence.
Humiliation.
And…
And…
Mo Xi abruptly turned his eyes away.
“If you don’t choose, what am I supposed to do?”
Gu Mang’s words nearly drove him mad.
And still, Mo Xi restrained himself.
He was furious beyond measure.
Yet he endured.
His words ground out between clenched teeth.
“What do you mean, what do you do?”
Gu Mang looked at him calmly.
His eyes like an ancient well without ripples.
“Aren’t you here to buy me?”
“………………”
Mo Xi’s face froze.
He could not believe he would one day hear those words directed at him.
His stomach spasmed.
“Gu Mang, you…”
“Everyone comes here for these things,” Gu Mang said.
“If you’re not, then why are you here?”
For the third time, he pulled the bamboo slips over, raised them, and spread them open before Mo Xi.
“Choose.”
“Or leave.”
“…”