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Ch134 - Harmonious Union




Something in Chongjue’s sleeve seemed to glow faintly.
By that light, Xiaoxiao stared blankly at the man’s stern features beneath him, their breaths mingling in the narrow quilt.
Suddenly, Xiaoxiao asked, “Uncle, are we secretly together?”
Chongjue: “…”
Whether it was the wine or the return of his evil thoughts, Chongjue thought for a moment, then nodded, his voice low and soft. “Are you afraid?”
Xiaoxiao wasn’t afraid, but his heart pounded as if it would leap from his throat. He relaxed, pressing his whole body against Chongjue, and imitated Chongjue’s earlier kiss, planting a peck on his forehead.
Their chests rose and fell together. Xiaoxiao felt as if his uncle was smiling.
He pushed up from Chongjue’s chest, tilting his head to look at the lingering smile in his eyes, confused. “Why are you smiling?”
He shouldn’t be smiling.
Chongjue whispered, “Isn’t it good?”
“It’s wrong,” Xiaoxiao said, his eyes full of confusion. “You should…”
He thought for a moment, but didn’t know what Chongjue should do. He just instinctively knew his uncle shouldn’t be so happy.
Chongjue seemed to understand his confusion. His heart ached, feeling as if it had been stabbed, a mix of bitterness and sadness. The wine stripped away his restraint, and with a strong arm, he pulled Xiaoxiao’s waist and flipped him over.
The quilt surged.
Xiaoxiao felt the world spin, instinctively reaching out. He opened his eyes, dazed, to see Chongjue pinning him down, his tall, powerful form like a cage, trapping him completely.
“U-Uncle?”
Chongjue leaned down, kissed his forehead again, then, carrying the faint scent of wine and bodhi flowers, moved down, finally landing on Xiaoxiao’s lips.
Xiaoxiao’s heartbeat soared.
“I love you,” Chongjue whispered, their breaths mingling. “I’ll never reject you again.”
Xiaoxiao had been afraid of rejection, even his subconscious remembered it. Even a simple kiss made him feel it was wrong.
In his mind, after a kiss, Chongjue should scold him harshly.
That was normal.
Chongjue shouldn’t smile.
Xiaoxiao stared at him, finally realizing, “You love me?”
“Yes.”
Chongjue supported himself with his arms, his messy black hair falling over his shoulders, revealing Xiaoxiao’s beautiful, confused eyes.
The boy, with no memories, untouched by malice, was pure and innocent.
Then the innocent Xiaoxiao asked, “Then shall we practice dual cultivation?”
Chongjue: “…”
One drunk, one clueless, they stared at each other.
Chongjue gazed into Xiaoxiao’s eyes for a long time, about to speak, when Su Xuanlin’s voice came from outside.
“Really, I’ve run all over. I haven’t seen a trace. Yingxu Sect has its mountain protection array. If he left, I’d know…”
Xie Zhizhi’s voice came faintly, “Didn’t you say he came to see Xiaoxiao?”
Su Xuanlin: “But my spiritual sense checked. There’s no one in Xiaoxiao’s courtyard.”
Xie Zhizhi seemed to sneer, “Check again, report again.”
Su Xuanlin quickly checked and reported, “Reporting, Elder. There’s only Xiaoxiao.”
They chattered outside, but Xiaoxiao on the bed played with Chongjue’s loose hair, winding it around his fingers. Hearing their voices getting closer, as if they were about to come in.
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Xie Zhizhi coldly pointed at the bed.
Su Xuanlin almost laughed. “Chongjue and Xiaoxiao are from different generations. How could he, an elder, lie on a junior’s bed? Zhizhi, you haven’t drunk much tonight. Why are you so confused?”
Xie Zhizhi gave him a cold look and pulled the bed curtain open, letting him see the scene of “elderly disrespect.”
“Whoosh—”
The curtain was pulled aside. Su Xuanlin stepped forward, glanced down, and frowned.
Xie Zhizhi sneered, turning to look, but his expression changed.
The bed was messy, with Xiaoxiao lying listlessly on the pillow, rubbing his eyes.
Only he was there.
Su Xuanlin quickly pulled the quilt up, seeing Xiaoxiao’s eyes dazzled by the candlelight, and extinguished a few lamps. “Why aren’t you covering yourself while sleeping? What if you catch a cold?”
Xiaoxiao looked at him, confused. “Father, Elder Xie, what are you doing?”
Xie Zhizhi’s face turned pale, then red. He refused to believe it, searching the entire Hanmang Garden, but found no trace of the “disreputable elder.”
Su Xuanlin comforted his son. “It’s nothing, nothing. I was just shooing bugs. Go back to sleep.”
Xiaoxiao said “oh” and pulled the quilt to sleep.
Su Xuanlin extinguished all the lamps, dragging Xie Zhizhi out of Hanmang Garden. “After all these years, your wine tolerance has declined as much as Chongjue’s chess skills.”
Xie Zhizhi: “…”
Xie Zhizhi was silent for a long time, then smiled. “Yes, it’s my fault.”
Let him die or live, I don’t care.
Su Xuanlin frowned, feeling that Xie Zhizhi’s smile was strangely creepy.
Inside the room, Xiaoxiao pretended to sleep, only sitting up and peeking out from the bed curtain after the voices outside faded.
“Uncle?”
No answer.
He called a few more times, but Chongjue seemed to have really left. Xiaoxiao sighed and lay back down.
—
The next morning, Xiaoxiao woke up early, happily humming a tune and practicing swordplay in the courtyard without needing to be prompted.
Su Xuanlin, who could drink a thousand cups without getting drunk, even developed a craving for wine. He sat under the tree, leisurely drinking and guiding Xiaoxiao’s sword techniques, a peaceful scene.
After finishing a set of moves, Xiaoxiao sheathed his sword, ran to Su Xuanlin, poured himself a cup of tea, and drank it in one gulp.
He seemed about to ask something, but hesitated and swallowed his words.
Su Xuanlin felt that Xie Zhizhi had been acting strangely yesterday. He knew Xie Zhizhi was careful and steady, and wouldn’t make up such an outrageous story without reason.
After a moment’s hesitation, Su Xuanlin asked cautiously, “Xiaoxiao, did you see your uncle last night?”
Xiaoxiao paused mid-sip, letting the water drip down his chin.
He coughed a few times, looking confused. “Huh? What? Which uncle?”
Su Xuanlin narrowed his eyes. “The most handsome one.”
“Oh.” Xiaoxiao looked away, dryly. “No, I didn’t. I was just sleeping in bed last night. Didn’t see any handsome uncle.”
Su Xuanlin became even more suspicious. “Really? Swear on it.”
Xiaoxiao coughed again, pretending to be dumb. “Huh? Why should I swear?”
“Don’t lie,” Su Xuanlin said. “If you say one false word, then…”
Before he could finish, Xiaoxiao suddenly stumbled. A strange, complex formation appeared beneath his feet, and countless black hands pulled him down.
Su Xuanlin: “…”
Su Xuanlin nearly spilled his wine, his lip twitching. “See? Even lying brings out the formation from Infinite Hell.”
Xiaoxiao’s pupils widened in shock. “Ah?!”
Could lying really bring such a punishment?!
“I’m sorry!” Xiaoxiao quickly said. “I lied. I did see the handsome uncle last night. He told me to use my spiritual energy… um!”
Before he could finish, the formation yanked him down.
Su Xuanlin clicked his tongue, continuing to leisurely drink, as if he weren’t worried at all.
He was just curious—what had Chongjue made Xiaoxiao do last night?
It couldn’t really be something as disgraceful as “elderly disrespect,” could it? No, he’d have to ask him.
If it really was, Chongjue deserved to die.
—
Xiaoxiao was suddenly dragged down into Infinite Hell, flailing and screaming. Even after landing, he kept crying and apologizing to his father. “Father, save me! I won’t lie again, Father! Father!”
“Shut up!” someone said impatiently. “You’re so noisy!”
Xiaoxiao was startled, wiping his tear-blurred eyes and sniffling as he looked up.
The place was covered in pools of blood, dark and sunless, with only a few candles nearby.
He was in a lavish spirit hall, with countless strips of white cloth covered in strange talismans hanging around, fluttering in the wind like soul-summoning banners from hell.
But inexplicably, Xiaoxiao wasn’t afraid, as if he’d been here for years.
He looked around, following the voice, and saw a man in ink-stained robes sitting nearby, his amber eyes full of impatience.
Xiaoxiao tilted his head, looking at him, confused.
Qifu Yin raised an eyebrow. “Do you remember who I am?”
Xiaoxiao shook his head.
“I’m your uncle,” Qifu Yin said, standing up and walking over. In the blood-soaked Infinite Hell, he looked like a grim reaper, towering over the dazed Xiaoxiao, and sneered. “Can’t you greet people?”
Xiaoxiao, not sensing any malice from him, looked up obediently. “Uncle.”
Qifu Yin: “…”
Qifu Yin crouched down, pinching Xiaoxiao’s chin and examining him. “Looks like you really are stupid.”
Xiaoxiao obediently let him twist his chin as if he were a toy.
But Qifu Yin, looking at Xiaoxiao’s innocent, foolish face, was extremely dissatisfied. “When you act stupid, you don’t look like her at all.”
Xiaoxiao: “…”
He hadn’t lost his mind, just his memories, and his body and mind had already recovered to the state of adulthood. He could naturally tell good from bad.
Xiaoxiao frowned, suddenly opened his mouth, and bit down hard on Qifu Yin’s hand, which was still pinching his chin.
Qifu Yin immediately cried out, desperately trying to pull his hand away, but Xiaoxiao bit even tighter.
“Xiaoxiao!” Qifu Yin roared. “You’re just like your good-for-nothing father! You look like him, and your temper’s just like his… Let go!”
Hearing him insult Su Xuanlin, Xiaoxiao bit down even harder.
In the end, Qifu Yin had to shove a flower dripping with nectar into Xiaoxiao’s mouth to free his hand.
Qifu Yin shook his hand, coldly watching Xiaoxiao, and started thinking about the boy’s eyes again.
Might as well dig them out.
“Uncle,” Xiaoxiao said, already treating Qifu Yin as a kind elder like his father and uncle, since Qifu Yin hadn’t hit him after being bitten. He licked the nectar and asked, “Do you know about the red book?”
Qifu Yin, still rubbing the tooth marks on his finger, said coldly, “I only know the Book of Life and Death. You’ll be seeing King Yama soon.”
Xiaoxiao was taken aback, said “oh,” and fell silent.
Qifu Yin frowned for a while, looking at Xiaoxiao’s clear, amber eyes, which seemed like a deep pool. He thought of something, then impatiently kicked a nearby skeleton and sat down beside Xiaoxiao, grumpily asking, “What red book?”
It didn’t sound like anything good.
Xiaoxiao said, “My uncle gave it to me.”
He pulled something from his chest.
Qifu Yin glanced down casually, but when he saw what it was, his hair nearly stood on end, and he roared.
“Wen, Jing, Yu—!”
Infinite Hell had long lost its boundary gate, but the furious roar pierced through eight thousand zhang of earth, shooting straight up to Yingxu Sect.
—
Chongjue woke up with a splitting headache.
He hadn’t drunk this much in years. Sitting on the bed, he was dazed for a while before finally regaining some clarity. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t remember what foolish things he’d done.
It seemed he’d blacked out.
Chongjue frowned, sat cross-legged, and circulated spiritual energy through his meridians a few times. The fatigue and exhaustion from drinking finally faded.
But his memories were still hazy. He vaguely remembered going to see Xiaoxiao.
He probably hadn’t done anything… outrageous.
His good and evil thoughts had merged, and Chongjue couldn’t guarantee he hadn’t lost control and done something unforgivable. Frowning, he changed his clothes and washed up, planning to go find Xiaoxiao and test the waters.
Just as he took off his wine-soaked clothes, a bright red object fell from his chest.
Chongjue frowned, gently moving his hand. The wind carried the object to his palm.
Square, bright red, and festive, it looked like some kind of invitation.
Chongjue flipped it over, saw a few lines of text, and froze completely.
“Harmonious union, playing the flute and zither.”
It was a brand-new, ink-scented marriage contract.
Chongjue’s expression was blank, but his fingertips trembled involuntarily. He opened the contract, and the two names inside nearly made him stagger backward.
Xiaoxiao.
Wen Jingyu.
The contract clearly showed the intertwined spiritual energy of the two.
Chongjue: “…………”
***