Mo Xi was stunned for a moment, then slowly said, “…No need.
“If you don’t like the steamed buns… there’s meat too. I’ll share it with you.”
Mo Xi turned his face away, using it to conceal the slight redness and heat in his eyes. “I just ate. All of this is yours.”
Only then did Gu Mang安心地 continue chewing.
After they finished eating, the two descended the mountain together. The road was both steep and long. Gu Mang did not like relying on others, so he limped along ahead, one step at a time, while Mo Xi followed behind him, silently watching his back.
This figure was so familiar. Many years ago, there had also been a young general who stubbornly led his brothers and comrades across mountains and rivers, cutting through thorns and brambles.
He was not particularly tall. Because he had no time to concern himself with military bearing, he was always filthy, and even looked somewhat disheveled, somewhat stooped, like a mayfly foolishly attempting to shake a tree. Anyone could crush him to death simply by extending a little finger. Yet this mayfly had been knocked down once and climbed back up again, then again and again—shamelessly clinging on, tenaciously alive, impossible to defeat.
He had once been the undefeated God of War of the entire army, giving countless people the faith that they could win and the hope of returning home.
Perhaps precisely because of this, Mo Xi had once thought he desperately wanted to see Gu Mang repent and apologize. Yet when he truly saw Gu Mang bowing before row upon row of tombstones, kowtowing his guilt to the heavens, what Mo Xi gained was only a deeper pain.
The way Gu Mang bent his spine was not pleasant to look at. The shattered expression on his face was not pleasant to look at.
—Few people like watching a strong person become stooped, much less when that person had once been your light.
Just as Mo Xi was lost in thought, Gu Mang suddenly stopped and looked back at him.
“What is it?”
Gu Mang pointed at the three-way fork ahead. “I don’t remember which way to go. The left?”
Mo Xi gazed toward the left. He saw trees fallen there, clearing out a patch of open ground. A cordon chain had been drawn across it, with two high-ranking guards of the Royal City standing there. Behind them, the radiance of a barrier cut off the way, making it impossible to see what exactly lay beyond it.
Mo Xi said, “That is War Soul Mountain’s forbidden ground. No one may enter. Go right.”
Gu Mang thoughtfully looked at that mysterious forbidden ground. His eyes gradually became somewhat unfocused and hazy, as though he had sensed something, and a trace of sorrow appeared in his expression.
Mo Xi asked, “What’s wrong?”
Gu Mang did not answer. Just then, the evening bell at sunset happened to ring. The desolate sound of the bell came from deep within the city, distant and profound, echoing between heaven and earth. Wind arose among the mountains and forests, surging from deep within the forbidden ground and rolling toward the winding mountain road.
For a moment, all the trees rustled bleakly, birds fluttered into flight, and Gu Mang slowly closed his eyes amid the clear breeze.
“I don’t know.” Gu Mang said, “But I seem to have dreamed of this place before…”
Naturally, there was no reason to believe this strange remark of his. When this forbidden ground had been designated by the Sovereign, Gu Mang had already betrayed them. No matter what, it was impossible for him to have ever come here.
Mo Xi said, “No one has ever been able to enter this place. There are heavily guarded barriers protecting it at all twelve hours of the day. How could you have come here?”
Gu Mang moved his lips, but he did not know what to say either. He could only give an “Mm,” then walked away in the opposite direction, turning his head back three times with every step.
After returning to the residence, Gu Mang was both exhausted and hungry from the days of kneeling. He ate a little, took a bath, then crawled into bed and fell into a deep sleep. He never mentioned the matter again.
He slept for an entire day and night.
When he woke again, he saw Mo Xi standing inside the Osmanthus Main Hall, dressed in black-and-gold robes, his hands behind his back. Hearing the movement behind him, Mo Xi turned around and tossed him a scroll.
“Catch.”
“What is this?”
“A combined record of An Initial Glimpse of Spellcraft and The Old History of Chonghua,” Mo Xi said. “You have the intention of turning back. I spoke with the Sovereign about it yesterday. He ordered me to give this to you.”
Gu Mang had originally been flipping through the bamboo slips back and forth with a rustling sound. Upon hearing this, he suddenly raised his head, his eyes lighting up.
“He agreed to let me start over?”
Mo Ran did not answer immediately. Instead, he looked at him with a strange expression.
“…I’ll tell you again. I warned you before: no matter how much compensation you make, the Sovereign will absolutely never withdraw the decree sentencing you to the ultimate punishment. No matter what you do to make amends, you cannot change the final outcome.”
The flower shadows in the Main Hall were gentle, but his words were cruel.
“You will still be used for black-magic experiments. Once you have completely lost your value, you will still die.” Mo Xi paused, then asked, “Do you understand what I mean?”
“I know.”
Mo Xi closed his eyes briefly. “Think it through. Give me your answer after you’ve thought it over carefully.”
“I’ve knelt for four days. I’ve thought it through very clearly.” Gu Mang was completely calm. His calmness even made it easy for Mo Xi to think of that man from the past, the one who could carry even the collapse of the heavens upon one shoulder.
“I know the Sovereign is letting me learn these things only because he wants to ‘use’ me again. Rather than let me eat for nothing, it is better to have me do something before I eat. I understand that principle.”
Mo Xi said, “That’s not all. He wants me to teach you these things because he also hopes you can recall some useful memories.”
“What’s wrong with that?” Gu Mang said. “I also want to know what happened to me before. I want to know whether what you people are saying is true.”
His fingers tightened around the bamboo slips, sinking into his palm.
Mo Xi said, “…I’ve made everything clear to you today. If you choose this path, then when the day of execution truly comes, don’t blame Chonghua for treating you without mercy. Don’t be unwilling to accept it.”
“I definitely won’t want to accept it, but you’ll die too, and I’ll die too.” Gu Mang lovingly rubbed the bamboo slips in his hands, as though he were caressing his own future. His thoughts were straightforward to the point of seeming almost animal-like. “But as long as I can live a little better before then, then I’ll live a little better.”
After saying that, he raised his head. His clear blue eyes stared straight at Mo Xi.
“Otherwise, why wouldn’t I just die tomorrow? Wouldn’t that be better than suffering day after day?”
Mo Xi was actually rendered speechless.
It seemed that whether he was facing the shameless Marshal Gu of the past or the ignorant Gu Mang of now, he would ultimately end up in this same predicament.
Mo Xi silently met Gu Mang’s gaze for a while before saying, “From now on, come before my study every day at the hour of Xu. I’ll do my best to teach you.”
Gu Mang hugged the scroll and nodded.
From that day onward, Mo Xi began teaching Gu Mang some elementary spells that did not require the use of too much spiritual power, while also telling him about some of Chonghua’s old history. According to Jiang Fuli, these were things Gu Mang had once learned. Studying them a second time would help awaken Gu Mang’s missing memories, and was indeed a relatively good method of recovery.
And so, day after day, time unknowingly arrived at late spring.
During this period, Gu Mang gradually recalled some things from the past. But perhaps because the calming medicine prescribed by Jiang Fuli was too effective, what Gu Mang remembered was often nothing more than fragments that were neither painful nor significant. Most of them were related to cultivation at the academy.
These memories were not of much practical use. Their greatest purpose was probably to help Gu Mang recover some traces of his former self, so that he was no longer quite so foolish and dazed.
Sometimes he would walk around swaggeringly like Marshal Gu. Other times, he would squat silently in a corner like a wolfhound. Sometimes he spoke with exceptional cleverness, producing one witty remark after another; other times, he would stammer, stumbling over every word and unable to explain anything clearly.
What most troubled Mo Xi was that as some of Gu Mang’s memories returned, he began unconsciously repeating many things he had said in the past. For example, several times he referred to himself as “this old man,” nearly getting his legs broken by Li Wei.
On several other occasions, he called Mo Xi “Junior Brother Mo,” nearly getting his legs broken by Mo Xi.
Thus, Gu Mang had to find a balance between instinct and rules. This often resulted in him saying half a sentence before forcibly swallowing the rest.
For instance, once he had wanted to help Li Wei sweep the courtyard. Suddenly, inspiration flashed through his mind. He waved his hand, rolled up his sleeves, and strode over, shouting, “Come, come, come, let this old—”
Before the final word could leave his mouth, he met Butler Li’s scrutinizing gaze. He immediately startled out of Marshal Gu’s shadow and hurriedly shook his head, cautiously stammering:
“Sw—sweep the floor. I-I’ll help you.”
As time went on, Gu Mang no longer knew how he should speak at all. He would often stand blankly in the courtyard, mouth slightly open, lost in thought. Whenever someone unexpectedly called out to him, he would turn around with an expression that seemed to be struggling between Gu Mang and Marshal Gu.
Even he did not know what exactly he should do to be right, or how he should speak without making people dislike him. This directly caused him to interact with others in a dry and awkward manner, pursing his lips for a long time without uttering a single word.
Butler Li gave a fair assessment: “Setting aside his identity as a criminal, that little appearance of his is actually quite cute and pitiful.”
Mo Xi responded only with a cold snort.
A cold snort was still a cold snort, but whenever it was a day off from court and he had nothing else to do, Mo Xi would still supervise Gu Mang’s reading in the residence.
Just as when he was young, Gu Mang liked writing cursive script and disliked copying regular script. He liked An Initial Glimpse of Spellcraft, but did not like reading The Old History of Chonghua.
However, on this particular day, Gu Mang was completely unlike his usual self.
When Mo Xi returned, he saw him sitting beside a Taihu rock, accompanied by the shimmering water in the courtyard pond. He was biting into an apple while reading The Old History of Chonghua with great interest.
Something was clearly unusual.
Mo Xi could not help walking behind him, bending down to look at the page Gu Mang had been staring at for a long time. He spoke:
“What, interested in this section?”
His voice was low and slow, rich with magnetism. His lips happened to be right beside Gu Mang’s ear. This startled Gu Mang so much that he jerked around and glared at him, half a piece of apple still held between his moist lips and teeth.
This movement brought the two of them extremely close. Mo Xi almost had his lips brush against Gu Mang’s cheek.
Gu Mang did not seem to think there was anything unusual about it, but Mo Xi instinctively felt the roots of his ears grow hot. He abruptly straightened.
After a long pause, he said stiffly:
“Don’t turn around like that so suddenly in the future.”
Gu Mang made a gulping sound as he swallowed the apple, then licked his lips.
“You suddenly spoke behind me, and you were standing so close. How is that my fault?”
“…”
This sort of thing was something the completely wolf-like, foolish Gu Mang from several months ago would absolutely never have said. But now Gu Mang could say it, and when he did, there was even quite a bit of the old Senior Brother Gu’s unreasonable swagger between his brows and eyes.
Although Mo Xi knew that, at present, the unreasonable one was himself.
“If you keep talking back, come to the study tonight and copy Record of the Fuzhou Heavenly Tribulation.”
Gu Mang opened his mouth. The arrogant soul of the God of War Gu Mang wanted to say something, but the shell of the traitorous subject Gu Mang ultimately lost its nerve. His blue eyes once again changed into that obedient, submissive look of one who accepted whatever came his way.
Mo Xi could not decide which version made him more unhappy.
Not intending to continue this irritating comparison, Mo Xi slightly raised his chin and pointed at the bamboo slips in Gu Mang’s hand.
“Why do you keep reading this page?”
“Oh…” This volume was about the foremost of the Three Gentlemen of Chonghua, the “Wisdom” of Jie, Ding, and Hui. Over the past hundred years, the titles of Jie and Ding had both been bestowed upon later generations. Only Hui—apart from him, no one to this day had been worthy of the title.
Gu Mang suddenly pointed at the small portrait of Gentleman Hui and said,
“Because this person looks a little familiar to me.”