Gu Mang couldn’t help frowning. He carefully examined the memorial tablet several more times.
The characters were neat, the woodwork meticulous, and it had been placed properly.
Everything was perfectly normal.
And yet he felt uncomfortable. The longer he looked at it, the more uncomfortable he became.
When he had examined every last detail for the fifth time, a sudden flash of insight struck his mind.
His heart gave a hard jolt.
He knew what was wrong with the memorial tablet!
It was the dust.
A thin layer of dust covered the exquisitely carved memorial tablet. It looked as though no one had tended to it in quite some time.
But wouldn’t a normal person who kept a memorial tablet for someone they worshipped regularly wipe it clean?
Gu Mang stared at it blankly.
Just then, the bamboo curtain at the doorway rustled softly, and a gentle, warm voice sounded behind him with a smile.
“What are you looking at?”
A layer of cold sweat instantly broke out across Gu Mang’s back.
He spun around. For some reason, an intense shiver of dread ran through him, making his heart race.
He raised the object in his hand.
“I… I was getting the nine-colored threads.”
Jiang Yexue sat at the doorway without coming inside, smiling at him against the light.
“Are the nine-colored threads really that difficult to find? Did I put them somewhere inconvenient?”
Gu Mang gradually relaxed.
What he’d discovered wasn’t anything particularly significant. It was merely a little strange, and he didn’t understand why he’d suddenly felt so horrified just now.
Perhaps Jiang Yexue speaking suddenly behind him had simply startled him.
Gu Mang said, “It’s not that… I just saw Sister-in-Law’s memorial tablet and thought I’d pay my respects…”
Jiang Yexue’s eyes, quiet and serene like willow fluff drifting over a spring river, rested on him for a moment.
Then he said gently, “Thank you. If Jin’er knows of your thoughtfulness from the afterlife, I’m sure she’ll be very happy.”
Gu Mang licked his lips and said nothing more.
One could hear the affection in the way Jiang Yexue spoke of his deceased wife. Ordinarily, there would have been nothing strange about it.
Jiang Yexue was famous for being outwardly gentle but inwardly unyielding, the sort of person who would stubbornly hold on to what he believed in. He had insisted on marrying Qin Mujin back then, and even after Madam Qin had been dead for many years, Jiang Yexue had never shown any intention of remarrying.
Perhaps once he had decided on someone, it truly was for a lifetime.
It was just that such devotion, paired with the layer of dust Gu Mang had noticed on the memorial tablet…
It really was somewhat strange.
Perhaps Jiang Yexue had simply been too busy lately and had neglected it.
“Little Lan’er has already finished wrapping one zongzi outside. She’s only waiting for your threads. If you still want to reminisce with Jin’er for a while, she’s going to start getting impatient.”
Jiang Yexue lifted the bamboo curtain, smiling.
“Come out.”
“…All right.”
Once the reed leaves and glutinous rice were in their hands, it became clear what people meant by saying that “even a hero can be defeated by a single zongzi.”
Xiaolan’er often liked helping her father with things. She was nimble-fingered and clever, so she was the fastest at wrapping them.
Jiang Yexue and Gu Mang—one an artifact refiner, the other a man who had spent part of his childhood as a slave in Wangshu Residence—couldn’t compare with Xiaolan’er, but at least their zongzi were passable.
Yue Chenqing, on the other hand, was something of a spectacle.
Greedy for good food, he took one small, elongated, four-cornered pillow-shaped zongzi and proceeded to stuff it with eight different fillings: ginkgo nuts, fresh meat, ham, chestnuts, salted egg yolk, kidney beans, chicken, and peanuts.
He packed it until it was practically bursting.
Jiang Yexue took one look and laughed.
“That one is definitely going to fall apart.”
“It won’t! It’s called an Eight-Treasure Zongzi. The Yue residence makes them every year.”
“Eight-Treasure Zongzi require an experienced cook to make,” Jiang Yexue patiently advised. “Since you’re a beginner, you should start with a simple sweet zongzi made with plain white glutinous rice.”
“I just want to try. How would I know if I don’t?”
In the end, after tying and retying it four or five times, either the leaves tore or the meat fell out.
When he finally managed to tie the whole thing together, it was a fat little zongzi with rice leaking out from all four corners.
“It’ll fall apart as soon as you boil it. Brother Yue is too greedy,” Xiaolan’er said crisply.
Everyone burst out laughing.
Yue Chenqing looked deeply troubled as he held up his pillow-shaped zongzi, then awkwardly rubbed his nose.
Once the water came to a boil, everyone scrambled to put the first batch of zongzi into the pot.
Cooking zongzi was all about controlling the heat. They couldn’t be cooked over a fierce flame; they had to be simmered slowly over low heat.
While they waited, they used the remaining rice and leaves to make all sorts of zongzi.
Besides the pillow-shaped ones, they also wrapped horn-shaped zongzi, beauty zongzi, and even several of the most traditional bamboo-tube zongzi.
But it was tedious work, and before long Yue Chenqing began to lose interest.
He couldn’t resist craning his neck toward the pot.
“When will those be done?”
Jiang Yexue laughed.
“Not for a while yet. Can’t sit still anymore?”
“…It’s not that.”
“Why don’t you make a Nine-Sons Zongzi and take it home for your little uncle to try?”
Yue Chenqing’s eyes immediately lit up at the suggestion.
But after a moment, his excitement faded.
“Fourth Uncle and my father are arguing again. Lately he doesn’t want to talk to anyone whenever he sees them. Forget it.”
“They’re arguing again?”
Jiang Yexue sighed softly.
“That temper of his…”
He shook his head and said nothing more.
The remaining zongzi were soon finished. There were more than enough for everyone to eat.
Jiang Yexue said, “Why don’t you distribute the extras among the neighbors? There are quite a few elderly people here who live alone. Most of their children died in the years of continuous warfare against Liao. The old folks aren’t very mobile, and during holidays they often don’t have anyone to look after them. Since we’ve made too many, let them have some too.”
“Big Brother, you’re such a good person,” Yue Chenqing said.
Xiaolan’er spoke softly and shyly.
“Teacher, I want to go too. Can I go with Brother Yue?”
Jiang Yexue took two bamboo baskets and lined them with clean cloth.
He was meticulous, choosing only the smaller zongzi with vegetarian fillings, which would be easier for the elderly to eat.
“These are the ones Xiaolan’er made, with honey beans and white glutinous rice filling. These are the ones I made.”
As he carefully arranged the zongzi, he selected them one by one.
His fair, slender fingers paused briefly over a pile of long zongzi that were almost too terrible to look at.
In the end, he moved his hand away and gave an awkward little cough several times.
“Chenqing, yours… and Lord Xihe’s are actually wrapped quite well, but they’re a little… unsuitable for giving to other people. I won’t put them in.”
Yue Chenqing: “…”
Mo Xi: “…”
As he spoke, Jiang Yexue lowered his head and selected several of the ones Gu Mang had wrapped.
But the moment he put them into the basket, Gu Mang took them back out.
“Don’t put mine in either,” Gu Mang said with a smile. “We’ll keep them for ourselves. No need to embarrass ourselves.”
Jiang Yexue was stunned.
Gu Mang’s zongzi were wrapped tightly and beautifully. There was absolutely no reason to be embarrassed by them.
He couldn’t understand.
But Mo Xi immediately realized what was going through Gu Mang’s mind.
Gu Mang felt guilty.
He was worried that among those who had lost their children, spouses, or parents, some might have been people whom he himself had once killed.
Whatever the reason might have been, Gu Mang had always felt uneasy about the blood that had stained his hands.
Mo Xi was silent for a moment.
Then, with his long legs carrying him over in a few strides, he walked to Jiang Yexue’s side and took the bamboo basket from him.
“Gu Mang and I will make a round too. There are quite a lot of zongzi to deliver.”
Without giving him a chance to object, he grabbed Gu Mang by the wrist.
“Let’s go.”
“Eh? Wait—wait—”
Mo Xi wasn’t listening.
The man was strong, stubborn, and as silent as a gourd with its mouth sealed shut. Gu Mang had no choice but to let himself be dragged along.
Before leaving, he reached into his Qiankun pouch and pulled out a silver-edged face covering, putting it over his face.
“Why do you insist on bringing me?”
Mo Xi: “…”
The neighborhood around Jiang Yexue’s little courtyard consisted mostly of old houses and narrow lanes. The alleyways twisted and turned, winding deep into the quiet streets.
Mo Xi put the zongzi into his Qiankun pouch, then dragged Gu Mang through several streets.
Along the way, he ignored everything Gu Mang said.
He simply refused to let go of his hand and didn’t say a word.
Only after they were far away from Jiang’s residence, when there was no one left in the depths of the narrow alley, did he finally release Gu Mang.
Before Gu Mang could walk away, Mo Xi had already anticipated it.
He planted one arm against the blue-brick wall of the narrow alley, blocking him in, and lowered his head to look at him.
“I’m going to tell you this one more time.”
Gu Mang’s blue eyes darted around uneasily.
“Tell me what?”
“People like this exist in Chonghua not because of you, but because of Liao. Over the years, you’ve sent every warning you could, and you’ve done everything you could to prevent bloodshed.”
As he spoke, Mo Xi took Gu Mang’s hand.
Feeling Gu Mang’s fingertips move slightly in his palm, he tightened his grip and laced their fingers together.
“Stop thinking that your hands are covered in blood, all right?”
He lifted Gu Mang’s hand and gently kissed the back of it.
Under the tender gaze that filtered through his long lashes, Gu Mang’s rigid back slowly relaxed, vertebra by vertebra.
Gu Mang licked his lips, seemingly wanting to say something but unable to find the words.
“But I—”
“No buts.”
“But—”
“No buts.”
“I—”
Mo Xi finally sighed and covered his mouth.
Looking down at him, Mo Xi’s eyes held both heartache and helplessness, along with a sadness he thought he’d hidden very well.
Softly, Mo Xi said,
“You’re the best. You always have been.”
Gu Mang blinked his blue eyes, then shook his head.
“…”
Mo Xi raised his other hand and pressed it against the top of Gu Mang’s head, forcing him to nod.
Gu Mang was both exasperated and amused.
Yet somewhere inside that battered old heart of his, something young and bittersweet began to flow like a warm current, spreading through his entire body along with his blood.
Then he licked Mo Xi’s palm.
Caught completely off guard, Mo Xi instinctively loosened his hand.
Gu Mang immediately turned the tables.
He jumped up and shoved Mo Xi against the wall instead.
It was just that Mo Xi was so much taller than him.
When Mo Xi had one arm braced against the wall, pinning Gu Mang there, both his posture and his imposing presence had been perfectly convincing.
But once their positions were reversed, Gu Mang had to tilt his head up to look at him, and his shorter stature immediately cost him a great deal of momentum.
Seen this way, it didn’t really look like he was overpowering Mo Xi.
It looked more like…
He was acting spoiled.
The thought made Gu Mang’s mouth twitch.
But when he looked at Mo Xi, who remained completely calm despite being pinned against the wall, merely narrowing his eyes as though silently asking, What exactly are you planning to do?
Gu Mang became even more indignant.
He felt that he absolutely had to teach this man a lesson.
So he simply jumped up and headbutted Mo Xi with the metal edge of his face covering.
Thunk.
Gu Mang looked smug.
“Well? Does it hurt?”
Mo Xi: “…”
“Good. Then today, your Brother Gu Mang will teach you about respecting your elders and treating your brothers with proper fraternal affection.”
In response, Mo Xi seized him and pulled him heavily into his arms.
Then his other large hand caught the silver-edged face covering and removed it, pushing the mask up onto Gu Mang’s forehead.
Revealed beneath it was the face that had once been soft and radiant, but was now pale and delicate.
Long, gentle eyes.
A smoothly sculpted jaw.
A fine, graceful bridge of the nose.
Lips as sweet and red as ripe berries.
And beneath lashes that were too long and soft, eyes of blue deeper than rivers, lakes, and seas.
Mo Xi’s thumb, its surface softened by a thin layer of callus, brushed gently across Gu Mang’s lips.
He turned his face slightly, his gaze slowly traveling upward from Gu Mang’s mouth before sinking into those two pools of deep blue.
“Mm. I’ll take your lesson to heart.”
“…”
“Please teach me more, Senior Brother.”
As he spoke, he leaned down and kissed him—
But at that very moment, a rustling sound suddenly came from around the corner.
Mo Xi was far too perceptive not to notice.
He immediately raised a hand and pulled Gu Mang’s face covering back down, shielding him completely behind his own body.
“Who’s there?!”
A small cultivator dressed in the uniform of the Northern Border Army trembled as he emerged from the corner.
He had clearly just returned from buying groceries. His arms were full of a basket of fresh vegetables and radishes, along with a bundle of calamus leaves.
His face had gone completely white with terror.
Shaking violently, he stumbled out and stammered,
“F-F-F-F-Father-in-law… hello!”