Chapter 17

The commotion startled the fireflies that had been drifting lazily, making them scatter and flee quickly.

A fleeting glint of firefly light lit Wen Qingyin's face in the moonlight; the alcohol flushed his already gorgeous face with a rouge red more striking than the sunset, and the red trace at the corners of his eyes exuded an indescribable allure.

The heat on his face eased a little; Wen Qingyin grabbed Pei Junheng's lapel with his pink-tinged knuckles, affectionately rubbing his face against it.

How rare, his obedience.

Feeling the arms around him tighten, Wen Qingyin's voice, as if soaked in night's coolness, fell from above his head.

"Wen Qingyin, have you been drinking?"

Pei Junheng's voice was icy, his tone revealing an unswerving resolve he himself hadn't noticed. Wen Qingyin's alcohol tolerance was always poor; after just a sip he'd be dead-drunk, only able to curl up in his arms muttering about his headache, his face flushed and eyes tightly shut, a pitiable sight.

The face of the person in his arms was a beauty that could not be concealed even overnight, and even his breath carried an intoxicating wine scent; Pei Junheng seemed to smell a familiar fragrance again.

The gossamer, resembling scattered stars, flowed with a shimmering light under the moonlight; Pei Junheng held Wen Qingyin, light as a bouquet of flowers in his arms.

After Wen Qingyin left, Pei Junheng stayed alone in the room for a long time, until the sky grew completely dark without seeing Wen Qingyin return. The candlelight flickered a few times; Pei Junheng, who had been reading while leaning on the bed, rose and walked out of Falling Star Cottage under the myriad stars.

Unexpectedly, Wen Qingyin did not return to Falling Star Cottage; instead he was hiding here, secretly drinking.

How much does Wen Qingyin not want to see him?

Thinking of this, Pei Junheng tightened his grip on Wen Qingyin's wrist.

Sensing Pei Junheng's voice, Wen Qingyin, who had been behaving peacefully in his arms, suddenly struggled, as if trying to get down from his embrace.

The movement was so vigorous that, had Pei Junheng not reached out to shield him, Wen Qingyin would have already rolled out of his arms onto the ground.

"Wen Qingyin." Pei Junheng warned softly, originally intending to keep Wen Qingyin from hurting himself, but he hadn't expected that after this word, Wen Qingyin in his arms would actually calm down.

Pei Junheng:?

He's actually this obedient?

The calmed Wen Qingyin was like a fairy fallen into the mortal world.

Perhaps even in the immortal realm one could not have a face as lush and beautiful as Wen Qingyin's; he thus obediently closed his eyes, thick lashes drooping, rouge smeared on his cheeks, his whole person like a drunken sea‑begonia.

It makes one reluctant to break this beautiful scene.

The sword cultivator's posture was straighter than the forest pines, like a sword about to be drawn, yet in his arms he held a soft bundle like a moon about to fly to the clouds.

After the silence, the scent of wine among flowers became clearer, faintly teasing the nose, actually causing the sword cultivator's Dao heart to waver, and he slowly lowered his head.

It seemed that if one drew a little closer, that floral scent would grow stronger, as if the surroundings were not a dark green forest but a mountain wild covered in blossoms.

Just like the Dragon Ridge Mountain of years past, blanketed in pink and white apricot blossoms.

As Pei Junheng's nose tip was about to touch the gauze, pale as drifting clouds, the person in his arms suddenly moved, and Wen Qingyin's muffled voice sounded: "Let me down."

Those four words were like a bucket of cold water dumped on his head; the eyes that had been bewitched suddenly cleared, and Pei Junheng jerked back, having actually lost his senses in a fascinated daze before Wen Qingyin.

The held‑upon moon fell to the ground.

As soon as Wen Qingyin landed, he swayed from drunkenness and almost fell to the ground.

He shook off Pei Junheng's hand that wanted to help him up; his gaze, like a mist‑filled gemstone, was stunningly beautiful.

"How come you're here?"

"Pei Junheng?"

Although Wen Qingyin felt dizzy, as if he might fall asleep any second, he struggled to stay conscious at this moment.

He sensed Pei Junheng's cold aloofness, a chill that seemed able to freeze a person.

"Are you angry?"

As if discovering the most astonishing thing in the world, Wen Qingyin staggered up to Pei Junheng's face; the alcohol not only made his head swell but also gave him unprecedented courage, even though he was already bold.

His face, flushed with rouge, drew near; he lifted his hazy eyes to size up Pei Junheng's stance before him. Pei Junheng's lowered eyes emitted a chill, but it could not frighten Wen Qingyin at all.

He strained to focus his gaze, taking several looks at Pei Junheng, and a clear scoff sounded in the quiet night.

"What do you have to be angry about?" Wen Qingyin tilted his head in confusion, his eyes full of innocent doubt, "You no longer have any right to control me."

Pei Junheng used to love using his big‑brother aura from a few days older to press him down, and he had actually enjoyed it then. The Cloud Immortal Sect always treated Wen Qingyin as the apple of its eye, only Pei Junheng was different, but even so, they now have nothing to do with each other.

Saying this, Wen Qingyin turned, seeming ready to leave just like that, but before he could take a slow step, his wrist was seized by the person behind him, and Wen Qingyin could no longer move forward.

"What is this person doing?"

Wen Qingyin turned back in a dazed blur, and before him Pei Junheng gazed with his deep, dark eyes.

"Wen Qingyin." Pei Junheng's voice was hoarse, as if he were straining to endure something, "Back then, the immortal vein of Dragon Ridge Mountain—was it you…?" Even though he had already asked for an answer back then, …

Wen Qingyin could not make out what Pei Junheng was saying, his mind fuzzy; he only felt the hand gripping his wrist tighten, tight enough to cause him pain.

They had gripped his hand until it hurt.

Wen Qingyin furrowed his brow in anger and forcefully shook off Pei Junheng's hand.

As Wen Qingyin's expression changed, Pei Junheng had already relaxed his grip, so Wen Qingyin easily shook off his hand; but he exerted too much force at once, causing his already unsteady body to sway in the direction of his push.

A few uneven footsteps sounded hurriedly, then fell silent, only the steady breathing could be faintly heard.

Pei Junheng looked down at the fluffy head resting in his arms, the slender, thick lashes drooping obediently, as if already asleep.

The icy, repressed anger in his pupils slowly faded, giving way to a hint of helplessness.

Wen Qingyin actually fell asleep just like that, leaning against his chest.

He must have been really, really drunk.

Asking about the past again is pointless; he and Wen Qingyin, ever since their falling out years ago, are destined never to go back.

"Wake up." Pei Junheng called out coldly twice to the person in his arms, but Wen Qingyin was already fast asleep; his face was soft, and after the flush of drunkenness it resembled a perfectly ripe peach.

His lips were still coated with a transparent layer of wine, and the protruding little bead of lip looked perfect to be taken into the mouth. Such sweet lips would only not utter harsh words when closed.

He let out a deep sigh from his heart, Pei Junheng's arm brushed against Wen Qingyin's thigh, and he scooped Wen Qingyin up in one motion.

The empty wine bottle, drained to the last drop, rolled slightly on the ground; Pei Junheng held Wen Qingyin and walked step by step back to Falling Star Cottage.

The myriad stars and fireflies were left behind them; each of Pei Junheng's steps was extremely steady.

Lying in the warm embrace, Wen Qingyin felt as if he were aboard a small boat drifting on the sea.

The wind and rain were strong, whipping up black waves on the sea that struck the small boat, causing it to sway with the waves.

When a wave hit, the small boat he was on nearly capsized sideways; Wen Qingyin could only grab the gunwale with one hand and use his inner energy with the other to steady the boat and prevent it from overturning.

The rain poured down, drenching Wen Qingyin from head to toe; the damp cold seeped into his bones, and icy rainwater trickled down his cold face to his lips.

His hand hurt badly.

Wen Qingyin lowered his head and saw that the right hand gripping the gunwale was bleeding bright red blood that the heavy rain could not wash away; the sword tassel soaked in the blood was even redder than the blood itself.

In the Falling Star Courtyard, the yellowish candlelight was almost burnt out.

In the dim light, Pei Junheng held the drunken Wen Qingyin, preparing to lay him on the bed.

But Wen Qingyin seemed to sleep uneasily; his fingers, placed on Pei Junheng's collar, clenched nervously, his lips opening and closing as if whispering something.

Pei Junheng gently laid Wen Qingyin on the bed and leaned in close.

The intoxicating scent of flowers and wine mingled again, and he finally heard Wen Qingyin murmuring something.

Wen Qingyin softly called, "Brother..." his voice pitiful like that of an abandoned kitten.

His heart stirred, yet Wen Qingyin's next words made the softened expression in Pei Junheng's brows and eyes freeze over like wind and snow.

"Zi Shu Zhi."

Wen Qingyin murmured, buried in the blankets.

He muttered as he turned, revealing a snowy white nape amidst his disheveled hair, like a piece of soft white jade.

Pei Junheng paused in tucking the blanket corner for Wen Qingyin, then pulled the blanket over him and turned to walk out of the room.

Sensing Pei Junheng's departing aura, Wen Qingyin still dared not move, pretending to remain asleep.

His heart pounded violently, as if it might burst from his chest.

When Wen Qingyin had buried his face in Pei Junheng's embrace earlier, he had been half-asleep, half-awake, but still felt as if he were dreaming until his face touched the jade pendant at Pei Junheng's waist, which cooled him awake.

Fortunately, the alcohol concealed his reaction; realizing what he had shouted, Wen Qingyin felt his face flush to the point of bleeding, but if Pei Junheng discovered he was awake now, he would rather kill himself right there, dying of shame and indignation by smashing his head.

Fortunately, he came up with shouting "Zi Shu Zhi" just in time; otherwise he wouldn't know how to stop Pei Junheng from developing a mistaken affectionate assumption while he remained undiscovered as awake.

Even as he heard Pei Junheng's footsteps fading away, Wen Qingyin still dared not open his eyes, fearing all his efforts would be wasted.

With his eyes closed in total darkness, his other senses became all the more acute.

He could clearly hear his own heartbeat, thump after thump almost leaping from his chest, feeling tense and afraid.

He could not show weakness in front of Pei Junheng.

Wen Qingyin relied on that thought to sustain himself.

He carefully sensed the movements outside, but soon the alcohol made him dizzy again, and the drowsiness he had suppressed welled up. Wen Qingyin struggled to feign sleep, and after pretending long enough, he actually fell asleep.

Most likely due to the alcohol, this time Wen Qingyin slept deeply, dreamless through the night.

The next day, after waking, he saw no sign of Pei Junheng, and the neighboring bed showed no trace of having been slept in; he did not know whether Pei Junheng had not returned the previous night or had left early that morning.

But regardless, this had nothing to do with Wen Qingyin.

He and Pei Junheng had had no relationship whatsoever three years prior.

Unless that relationship was between Wen Qingyin and Pei Junheng, his defeated subordinate.