【Afterword I · The Founding of the Academy】
Chonghua’s first academy to broadly admit disciples of cultivation was established in Linyi. It was called Wangshu Academy.
The academy was laid out very much in the style of Lord Wangshu, Murong Lian. Spiritual butterflies and drifting blossoms could be seen all year round, and winding covered corridors connected one section to another. Lazy curtains fluttered gently everywhere. Viewed from above, the academy, which spread across half a green mountain, seemed to be floating amid mist and clouds, like a fantastical dream drifting out of a smoke pipe.
The academy’s headmaster, Murong Lian, had an eccentric temperament and a notoriously unpredictable mood. During construction, he liked to wander into the academy whenever he had nothing else to do, pointing this way and gesturing that way.
“Make the Elegant Music Stage smaller! Why make it so big? Trust me, there aren’t that many people who want to be music cultivators. Yes, yes, listen to me. Make the Elegant Music Stage smaller and expand the Illusion Arts Stage.”
The foreman was even apprehensive.
“Lord Wangshu, there’s a small mountain next to the Illusion Arts Stage. We can’t expand it any further.”
“What are you afraid of? Blow it up.”
“…There’s another mountain next to that mountain.”
“Blow that one up too!”
“Next to the mountain beside that mountain, there’s a small village.”
“Keep going—oh, wait. We can’t blow that one up.”
With a smoke pipe clenched between his teeth, Murong Lian impatiently snatched the blueprint over, pretended to study it seriously for a moment, and finally said, “Fine. Leave the Illusion Arts Stage this size for now. It’ll do.”
The foreman: “…”
Could you even understand the blueprint when you were holding it upside down?!
Mo Xi was deeply contemptuous of Murong Lian’s behavior.
The first time he entered the academy, he had imagined that he would immediately witness a bright future in which students from all over the realm would gather and lessons would begin. He thought he would finally experience the responsibility and gratification of facing all those eager young eyes thirsting for knowledge.
Instead, he spent an entire day standing on a mountaintop with Murong Lian, watching the craftsmen work while listening to Murong Lian make one outrageous demand after another.
“The Headmaster’s Hall needs to be completely unique. It can’t resemble the academy in the imperial capital at all. Not even the style of a single brick or tile can be repeated.”
“The garden needs to be distinctive. Big, too, and winding. It’ll make it convenient for the academy’s disciples to fall in love. Yes, exactly. That’s what young people should be doing. Remember to plant lots of paulownia trees. They’re beautiful.”
“Remember to leave places where curtains can be hung. I want you to build covered corridors connecting all nine halls. Why? No reason. I don’t like being out in the blazing sun.”
Gu Mang, listening from the side, was clearly speechless as well.
“Have you calculated the cost? Do we have enough money?”
“What are you afraid of?” Murong Lian said. “If we don’t have enough, ask Mengze for more. He’d be delighted if I spent a little more extravagantly—it’ll make him look even more like a wise and frugal ruler. Trust me. I can’t be an emperor, but when it comes to being a prince beneath an emperor whom they can trust, there’s no one better suited than me.”
After saying this, he took another puff from his Fusheng Ruomeng pipe.
But before he could take a second puff, Gu Mang snatched the pipe away.
Gu Mang tucked it behind his back and looked at him with a smile.
“We agreed on ten puffs a day. You’ve already reached today’s limit. No more.”
Murong Lian: “…”
“Mo Xi, bring the candied fruit.”
Mo Xi glanced at Murong Lian’s pained and conflicted expression, then took out a packet of preserved fruit and candied snacks from his Qiankun pouch.
They had been sent by Jiang Fuli and had some effect in suppressing the cravings caused by Fusheng Ruomeng.
He handed the snacks to Gu Mang.
Gu Mang smiled and, without another word, grabbed Murong Lian by the head and stuffed the candied fruit into his mouth.
Murong Lian spat it out and angrily said, “This tastes absolutely horrible!”
“May you live a long and healthy life, may you live a long and healthy life.” Gu Mang grinned at him. “Headmaster, please take good care of yourself in your old age.”
Murong Lian snapped, “Get lost!”
And so the academy was built, day by day, as though they were building a dream the three of them had once shared.
For Murong Lian, this academy finally fulfilled the dream he had held since childhood: to be able to make his own decisions in all things.
Here, everyone’s preferences could be respected.
Everyone could choose the path they wanted to walk.
For Mo Xi, this gave him and Gu Mang a legitimate new identity, a home that belonged to both of them, and the future they had once dreamed of together during those years of constant warfare.
And for Gu Mang, Wangshu Academy perhaps meant even more.
Long ago, when he and Mo Xi were still young, they had walked along the long embankment at dusk. Gu Mang had plucked a stalk of foxtail grass and brushed it across the wildflowers in the countryside.
Back then, he had silently accepted the affection shown to him by the young Mo Xi, harboring a small, humble hope that perhaps, one day in the future, despite the enormous difference in their status, the two of them might somehow remain together for the rest of their lives.
Long ago, he had sat beside Lu Zhanxing around a campfire, laughing loudly as they drank a jug of fermented mare’s milk. He had talked with Lu Zhanxing about everything under the sun, his chest burning with a fierce passion, hoping that this blazing fire could spread across the wilderness and burn away all the weeds and thorns of the mortal world.
Long ago, when he was still a lowly slave in the Wangshu Residence, he had already carried a scorching dream in his heart.
He dreamed that one day, everyone, regardless of their birth, would receive fair treatment.
He had once hoped that every drop of a fallen hero’s blood would be honored, and that every flower seed would have the chance to sprout.
Now, at last, they had this fertile soil.
【Afterword II · A Drink Beneath the Stars】
In the second year after Mo Xi and Gu Mang had concealed their identities, Wangshu Academy was finally completed.
That night, Gu Mang was enjoying a drink beneath the night sky when he suddenly heard the sharp rustle of robes.
That familiar, low voice sounded behind him.
“It’s late. Why are you sitting out here?”
Gu Mang turned around and, sure enough, saw Mo Xi leap gracefully through the air using his lightness skill, drifting like a kite as he landed on the pitch-black roof tiles.
This was the tallest building in Wangshu Academy. It was called the Moon-Watching Tower, and Gu Mang liked to sit here whenever he had nothing else to do.
Over these two years, they had watched the cultivation academy rise from the ground, like a beauty slowly applying her makeup. Gradually, it had acquired delicate lines and intricate details, slowly becoming the image depicted on the blueprints.
And their hearts had grown increasingly peaceful.
Linyi was far from the imperial capital.
Although news about struggles within the royal family occasionally reached them from afar, by the time it entered their ears, it was already as faint as moonlight scattered before a window or wind drifting into one’s ear.
They could still smell the traces of bloodshed and political turmoil, but they no longer had much to do with them.
The affairs of the imperial capital were like a dream seen through a curtain.
Beneath the high heavens and the moonlit night, the land of the Nine Provinces stretched below.
On the far side of the dream lay royal power and wealth.
On this side lay firewood, rice, oil, salt, and ordinary family life.
Gu Mang sat on the roof tiles with a jug of warmed Pear Blossom White beside him.
Seeing Mo Xi arrive, he smiled and poured him a cup.
“The academy officially opens the day after tomorrow. I’ve been wondering what it’ll look like when that day comes. I wonder how lively this place will be. Hehe, I’m actually looking forward to it.”
Mo Xi walked over, draped the winter cloak he had brought over Gu Mang’s shoulders, and sat beside him.
Together, they looked down at the magnificent Wangshu Academy below.
Gu Mang rested his chin in his hands.
“Honestly, every time I sit here and look down, no matter how many times I’ve done it, I still find it hilarious. Lian-di really went overboard with the extravagance. Mengze is probably going to hate him to death. I heard Mengze cut back on the palace’s expenses to set an example himself. He doesn’t even use the better incense anymore. But Lian-di…”
“He probably wishes even the academy’s floor tiles were made of gold.”
Gu Mang burst out laughing.
“It’s not quite that exaggerated, but…”
He paused.
His two rows of soft, long lashes trembled lightly, and beneath the bright moonlight, he looked gently at Mo Xi.
“You’ve finally learned how to joke, too.”
Mo Xi felt a little embarrassed under his gaze, but at the same time, his heart stirred.
So he leaned down and kissed him, then quickly turned his face away to look at the buildings, terraces, and waterside pavilions below the tower.
He looked so serious, as though he hadn’t been the one who had just kissed Gu Mang.
Only his fair face had turned slightly red.
His skin had always been thin.
Looking at him, Gu Mang sighed inwardly.
No matter how many years passed or how much they had been through, his Mo-shidi was still so adorably reserved.
It was as though his heart contained a pool of sweet honey, yet he kept it hidden, unwilling to let anyone know or look too closely.
No matter how much time passed, Gu Mang could always see the faint shadow of that handsome young man from the Chonghua Academy in Mo Xi.
A boy sitting alone beneath a tree, taking small, polite bites of a white rice zongzi.
The sweat from his training beaded finely along the back of his neck.
A breeze stirred his broken bangs.
He turned his head, his eyes as clear and pure as the first light of dawn.
The longer Gu Mang looked at him, the more he adored him.
He stretched lazily and said,
“Mo Xi.”
“Hm?”
“I want to count the stars.”
Clearly, this was not the first time such a conversation had happened during these two years.
Mo Xi raised a hand and rubbed his head.
“Lie down.”
Gu Mang lay down on the roof tiles, resting the back of his head on Mo Xi’s lap.
He gazed up at the countless stars scattered across the heavens, the Milky Way brilliant above them.
Gu Mang stretched out his hand, feeling the night wind flow between his fingers like ribbons, and began counting the glorious stars.
“One, two, three…”
There was once a saying that after the soul of a fallen hero passed away, another star would appear in the heavens.
He was counting the seventy thousand stars that belonged to him.
Even now, he still remembered their names.
Mo Xi quietly stayed beside him, listening to his deep, gentle voice as he counted those numbers that represented far more than mere numbers.
Perhaps somewhere at the ends of the earth, some heroic souls had already been reborn.
Perhaps those brothers who had once ridden side by side with them, those people like Lu Zhanxing…
Perhaps one day, they would return to their side.
Perhaps they would become new disciples accepted by Wangshu Academy in some future year, returning from the darkness of the past to the good times of today.
By midnight, the night air had grown cold and clear, and Gu Mang had nearly finished the Pear Blossom White he had brought up.
His counting gradually became hazy and drowsy, until he slowly fell asleep.
Mo Xi lowered his head and gazed at his sleeping face.
By now, Gu Mang no longer frowned tightly in his sleep.
There was no trace of fear left.
He merely continued to mumble, clearly still thinking about counting the stars in his dreams.
“We’ll continue counting them tomorrow.”
Mo Xi spoke gently to him.
“We still have to prepare some things for the academy’s opening tomorrow. I’ll take you home.”
Gu Mang responded groggily, but then murmured indistinctly,
“…Cousin… Zhanxing…”
Mo Xi’s eyes trembled with sorrow, but the feeling was soon covered by boundless tenderness.
He cleaned up the wine jar Gu Mang had brought up, then raised his head and looked at the twinkling stars overhead.
“They’ll be watching over you. And they’ll definitely return to your side.”
Soon, more than a thousand disciples would enter the academy.
Year after year, new students would come and go.
Perhaps among them would be reincarnations of old friends, comrades, brothers who had been unable to let go.
This time, regardless of their origins, whether noble or poor, they would all receive fair treatment and patient instruction.
This was what your blood and tears had bought.
Will you come back?
Will you see it…?
The night grew deeper.
Gu Mang was fast asleep, and Mo Xi could not bear to disturb him.
He rose and carefully lifted Gu Mang into his arms.
The late-night breeze fluttered their robes as he leaped lightly down from the pagoda.
The person in his arms sensed the movement and instinctively nestled closer into Mo Xi’s warm embrace.
Then he settled peacefully again.
Across the vast天地, the two of them became tiny silhouettes.
He carried him home.
【Afterword III · Founding the Academy】
The day before the academy officially opened, Murong Lian, Mo Xi, and Gu Mang gathered at the Wangshu Residence to discuss one very serious matter—
Their names.
There was no need to discuss Murong Lian. He would naturally be Headmaster Wangshu.
The important question was Mo Xi and Gu Mang.
Neither of them could appear before the public under their former identities.
Fortunately, disguise techniques were no great difficulty for either Mo Xi or Gu Mang.
But what they should be called was another matter entirely.
After discussing it back and forth, Murong Lian unilaterally made the final decision.
After becoming academy elders, Mo Xi would be known as the Eastern Lord Yaoling, while Gu Mang would be known as Elder Qingguang.
Gu Mang was extremely satisfied with his new life, and he was also very pleased with this elegant title.
The only person who was probably dissatisfied was Mo Xi.
“Why does he get to be called Qingguang?”
Mo Xi narrowed his eyes, folding his arms across his chest as he looked down at Murong Lian.
“Qingguang is another name for Wangshu. What exactly are you implying?”
Murong Lian sneered.
“Then what should he be called? Should I find another name for Xihe? Elder Chiwū?”
Gu Mang immediately shook his head.
“…That sounds terrible. I’m voting for Qingguang.”
Mo Xi’s eyes suddenly widened, utterly incredulous at Gu Mang’s betrayal.
“Gu Mang, you—!”
Murong Lian was very pleased. He reached out and put an arm around Gu Mang’s shoulder.
“Heh. He’s my little brother. Why would he take a name from you instead of following mine?”
Gu Mang was quite reasonable.
“That’s not really why. I simply think Qingguang sounds better than Chiwū.”
Mo Xi was so angry that he went back and searched through classical texts, trying to find a more elegant alternate name for Xihe.
But no matter how much he searched, Wangshu always came out ahead.
In the end, he had no choice but to give up.
The next morning, during the Mao hour, the sky was just beginning to brighten.
The clear qi was vast and pure, and the clouds glowed brilliantly in the dawn light.
Amid the grand and solemn tolling of bells, the heavy gates of Wangshu Academy, carved with the sun, moon, and stars, slowly opened.
Murong Lian stood atop the crimson-and-gold reception tower, dressed in flowing royal-blue robes and ceremonial attire, looking down at the young disciples entering the academy one after another.
Beside him, Mo Xi and Gu Mang stood shoulder to shoulder.
The fresh morning breeze brushed their faces.
Like the elders who had once taught them magic in the imperial academy, they welcomed these brand-new lives, these brilliant sparks of hope.
“What tiny little things.”
Gu Mang curved his eyes into a smile.
The youngest children below the reception tower were barely seven or eight years old.
Many were obviously from poor families, wearing patched hemp clothing.
They stumbled and shuffled nervously inside, looking around at everything with the curiosity and anticipation of little beasts entering a forest for the first time.
They were like little carp flowing in from all corners of the realm, gathering in this hard-won golden pond.
There were no rigid hierarchies or strict rules.
And with so many children, most of them so young, all sorts of cute and ridiculous things happened as they walked.
One child stepped on another child’s shoe.
The other was so nervous that he didn’t even notice that he was now walking around with one bare foot, his little face still stern and solemn.
One of the younger disciples walked along for a while, looking left and right.
His expression became increasingly anxious.
Suddenly, he burst into tears.
“Waaah! Brother! Brother, where are you? I can’t find you!”
“Brother Song, you left your little brother behind…”
Amid a chorus of suppressed laughter, the older brother flushed red with embarrassment and hurried back to retrieve his younger brother, who was still standing there bawling at the top of his lungs.
Mo Xi also spotted a child chasing after another through the crowd.
“Nangong! Nangong! Wait for me!”
The child ran too fast and suddenly tripped, tumbling head over heels.
Mo Xi: “…”
Gu Mang burst out laughing.
He turned to look at his lover and his elder brother.
The two of them, however, did not look nearly as relaxed as he did.
Clearly, they were beginning to wonder whether an academy that accepted such a chaotic mixture of students without discrimination could really succeed in teaching them all.
Seeing their stiff expressions, Gu Mang laughed even harder, clutching his stomach.
“The road is long and difficult. The road is long and difficult.”
Murong Lian gritted his teeth and flicked his sleeve.
“You’ll be in charge of discipline from now on. What kind of idiots are these?”
“I’ll do it, I’ll do it!”
Gu Mang did not mind at all. He enthusiastically raised his hand with a grin.
But Mo Xi glanced at him and immediately exposed the truth.
“Forget it. If you were in charge, these disciples would be even harder to handle a year from now.”
Gu Mang: “…”
As they chatted, the rising sun slowly climbed into the eastern sky, illuminating the endless golden roofs of Wangshu Academy in brilliant splendor.
The three of them watched as more and more disciples below the reception tower were led by their instructors toward the academy’s enormous practice grounds, decorated with yin-yang motifs, where they would await the beginning of a new chapter in their lives.
The bell in the corner tower rang eighteen times.
Each peal represented the Six Elements, the Six Arts, and the Six Virtues.
When the final bell faded away, Murong Lian gave a huff.
Then, as though showing off his skills, he let his royal-blue robes billow dramatically, swept forward with his lightness technique, and leaped from the reception tower over the rooftops and pavilions.
He landed lightly before the main hall of the practice grounds, eliciting a chorus of awed exclamations from the younger disciples.
Mo Xi: “…”
Gu Mang helplessly shook his head and laughed.
“He’s still the same Murong Lian. He hasn’t changed.”
Mo Xi said to him,
“Let’s go too.”
“Okay.”
The two exchanged a glance.
Beneath their wide sleeves, they clasped hands.
Step by step, they descended the long staircase of the reception tower through the dazzling morning light, walking toward their future.
The Reversal Stone pendant hanging at the front of Gu Mang’s robe had already lost its radiance.
It had fulfilled its mission, and it no longer possessed the power to reverse anything.
But it was a token of everything they had endured between life and death.
It had witnessed their journey from the highest heavens to the Yellow Springs, their refusal to be parted in life or death, and the happiness that had finally become theirs.
When the morning light shone upon it, the black crystal emitted a warm, lustrous glow, sparkling brilliantly against his clothes.
Pitch-black, yet radiant.
Just like Gu Mang’s black eyes, finally restored to their original appearance.
They had once endured the deepest darkness.
And now—
They held the brightest light in the world.
【—THE END—】