After a long silence, Mo Xi suddenly sat up. “Go to sleep. I’ll go first—”
Before he could finish, Gu Mang lazily pulled him back down.
Gu Mang’s hair was loosely tied, soft black strands falling beside his fair face. He propped himself up, half-lying against Mo Xi’s solid chest, gripping Mo Xi’s wrist as he gazed at him with his clear blue eyes, half-awake and half-asleep.
Perhaps because he had finally returned to a battlefield he was familiar with, and could fight a battle he genuinely wanted to fight under an entirely new identity, Gu Mang’s mood was much better than usual.
He was even teasing Mo Xi a little. He grinned, showing two small canine teeth.
“Hmm? How are you supposed to go out looking like this?”
Mo Xi said, “…Let go.”
“Can you cover it up?”
Mo Xi turned his face away against the pillow, unwilling to look at him. His handsome, refined face was slightly flushed as he said quietly, “Be quiet.”
Gu Mang laughed, still lying against his chest. Mo Xi’s eyelashes were far too long; whenever they trembled, they looked almost like soft reeds, making Gu Mang want to blow on them.
Gu Mang laughed. “Baby, didn’t you say you wouldn’t be fierce with me anymore? Look at you. You’re being fierce with me again.”
Mo Xi’s eyes widened abruptly.
He had truly missed his shige’s shamelessness. Clearly Gu Mang had been the one to provoke him first, yet somehow he had turned around and accused Mo Xi of being too fierce. It was utterly unreasonable.
The moment Mo Xi opened his phoenix eyes wide, those long lashes made Gu Mang’s heart itch again. Gu Mang really did lean closer and blow lightly at them.
Mo Xi instinctively closed his eyes and turned his head helplessly.
“Gu Mang, can you not—”
Before he could finish, his words became a muffled sound.
Gu Mang had taken advantage of his closed eyes to lean down over him and kiss his cheek.
Mo Xi immediately opened his eyes. His gaze was deep, carrying both surprise and unease as he looked at him.
His Adam’s apple moved as he swallowed.
“Don’t fool around,” Mo Xi said quietly. “Think about all the injuries on your body.”
“They’re almost all healed,” Gu Mang replied. “The demon wolf’s blood wasn’t tempered into me for nothing.”
“Almost healed still isn’t enough. If you fall ill again, there’s no Jiang Fuli here.”
Gu Mang leaned down until their foreheads touched.
“If you keep holding yourself back until you develop some kind of emotional disorder, there’s no Jiang Fuli here either.”
“…”
“Gu Mang!”
Naturally, Gu Mang ignored him. Mo Xi could not exactly forcefully throw him off the bed, either. Yet the look in Mo Xi’s eyes was scattered and anxious. Beyond desire, there was an even greater concern in them, vast as the sea.
Gu Mang sighed. He straightened and gathered his hair into a soft bun.
“Really. Don’t believe me? I can show you.”
As he spoke, he loosened his white robe.
After Gu Mang had returned to the kingdom, this was not the first time Mo Xi had seen him bare-chested. But those occasions had usually been accompanied by emotions far too intense—anger, shock, grief—or the light had been too dim. He had never before examined Gu Mang’s body so closely.
Most of the scars on Gu Mang’s body were indeed old injuries. Although there were traces of newer wounds, they were clearly fading little by little.
“Although I can’t remember too many details, the demon wolf that the Liao Kingdom used to temper my blood should have been raised by imitating the Blood Demon Beast,” Gu Mang said. “Isn’t it said that the Blood Demon Beast is actually an immortal monster? As long as it isn’t sealed, after it dies, its spiritual essence and flesh can naturally reform after several hundred years, allowing it to be reborn like a phoenix rising from the ashes?”
Mo Xi said, “That’s only a legend.”
“Yeah. No one knows whether it’s true or not. After all, no one has actually lived for several hundred years, right?”
As he spoke, Gu Mang took Mo Xi’s hand and placed it against his skin.
“But the Blood Demon Beast’s ability to heal itself is real. The demon wolves that the Liao Kingdom later replicated from it had the same ability. They tempered its blood into me, so…”
The scars left by the Sishu Platform could still be seen, but when touched, there was already almost no trace of them.
Gu Mang said quietly, “I’m the same.”
Beneath Mo Xi’s fingertips was the faint firmness of muscle. Gu Mang held his hand and slowly moved it across himself.
For a moment, Mo Xi could not tell whether he felt more comfort or more heartache.
The comfort came from seeing Gu Mang’s injuries rapidly disappear.
The heartache came from knowing that this body could not retain many traces of the pain it had suffered, while the suffering Gu Mang had endured ran far deeper than anything visible to the naked eye.
“But these old scars have always remained,” Gu Mang said. “Like the ones I got fighting Murong Lian when I was little, and some other marks… I’ve always thought these scars were rather ugly. It would be nice if they could all fade away.”
He touched his shoulder, then the scars across his chest.
“Unfortunately, the demon wolf’s blood can only heal injuries sustained after the tempering. It can’t do anything about the injuries from before that.”
He looked down at himself.
“Really ugly…”
Mo Xi’s response was to pull him down into his arms and kiss his soft lips.
Within that gentle yet heated kiss, Mo Xi whispered, “What are you thinking?”
“No matter how many injuries you have, no matter how many scars you carry, you’re still beautiful.”
Gu Mang was kissed until his body gradually softened.
But Mo Xi was no longer the young man he had been at twenty years old. He could still retain his reason.
He knew his Gu Mang-ge had always indulged him. Gu Mang liked telling him, “It’s fine.” He liked telling him, “It’s good.” He liked telling him, “Don’t worry.”
When they had first gotten together, Gu Mang had been like this. Even now, he had not changed much.
The difference was that ten years ago, Mo Xi would believe him completely. That reckless young man, knowing nothing of restraint, had poured all his strength and passion into his shige.
Ten years later, Mo Xi was finally no longer that foolish.
That reckless young man had eventually become Chonghua’s pillar and hero, and had also become the man whom Gu Mang-ge could no longer so easily fool.
Mo Xi turned him over and whispered, “Keep your legs together.”
Gu Mang was dazed from his kisses and obediently did as he was told.
The two of them remained entwined on the bed, their breathing gradually growing heavier.
Gu Mang asked between breaths, “Where did you learn all these tricks?”
“…”
Mo Xi was silent for a while.
Just when Gu Mang thought he might say something like “I figured it out myself” or “I taught myself,” Mo Xi finally said:
“The gift you gave me.”
Gu Mang froze. Then realization flashed through his mind.
“Damn. Don’t tell me it was that illustrated book?”
Mo Xi did not answer.
The memory of that old gift brought an amused look to Gu Mang’s face.
“Wasn’t that the one I gave you when you came of age?”
“You said you were going to take it back and burn it.”
“You even said you were going to shut down that bookstall.”
Mo Xi remained silent, but the atmosphere between them grew increasingly heated.
Their years of affection and familiarity meant that they understood one another’s every reaction. Yet beneath all the passion, Mo Xi remained conscious of Gu Mang’s injuries and repeatedly restrained himself.
The desire between them nevertheless became increasingly difficult to suppress.
Gu Mang’s blue eyes were filled with moisture, and his voice gradually became hoarse as he called Mo Xi’s name.
“Mo Xi…”
“I’m here.”
Gu Mang’s fingers tightened around him.
The intimate closeness between them made it increasingly difficult for either of them to maintain their composure.
There were no declarations of love, nor any elaborate sweet words.
Only their names.
Again and again.
Yet every time Gu Mang called him, Mo Xi’s heart burned hotter.
They had been lovers for so many years. Mo Xi knew exactly where Gu Mang was most sensitive, when he would tremble, when he would cry, and when he would lose himself completely in the moment.
“Mo Xi…”
Gu Mang’s voice was broken by emotion.
Mo Xi held him close and kissed his berry-red lips, drawing his soft sounds and uneven breaths into their entwined kiss.
Their hearts beat rapidly.
The temperature around them seemed unbearably warm.
At that moment, everything else appeared distant—the passage of time, hatred, sin, even the dawn.
They were once again like the two young men who had fallen in love more than ten years ago, wanting nothing more than to remain entangled with the person they loved until the end of time.
When another wave of emotion overwhelmed Gu Mang, he wrapped his arms around Mo Xi’s neck and began to cry, unable to bear the intensity of it.
Mo Xi heard Gu Mang call his name.
Then he called him shidi.
Then he called him “princess.”
Then he called him “brother.”
Every identity and relationship they had ever shared throughout their lives—all the beautiful ones—Gu Mang murmured them to him amid their overwhelming intimacy.
It was as though he wanted, in this single moment, to make up for every sincere word of love they had left unsaid throughout the fourteen years they had spent loving one another.