Compared to Jiang Ci lying awake in bed and staring blankly at the ceiling, Lu Yan's method of dealing with his emotions was far cruder and more direct.
Dressed in his pajamas and slippers, he pushed open Yao Wu's door without even knocking. He dragged Yao Wu, who was sleeping like a dead pig, straight out of bed. Before the bewildered man could even process what was happening, Lu Yan casually tossed out a line: “The moonlight outside is quite nice...”
Yao Wu's response was to curse Lu Yan's mother, the mother of all humanity, and every other mother in the world.
He sat on the edge of his bed for about seven seconds to clear his head, then slowly got up and stumbled after Lu Yan into the backyard of Huamanlou, where he found a spot to sit down.
He expressionlessly slapped dead a male mosquito that was attempting to find sustenance on his skin, before asking, “So, what exactly did you drag me out here for?”
He watched Lu Yan stare up at the moon at a forty-five-degree angle with a look on his face that resembled severe constipation, and his mouth twitched.
The guy looked absurdly solemn, as if he were about to burst into some profound poetry that even he wouldn't understand.
Yao Wu cursed inwardly. Damn, look at how melancholic he is. This bastard is posing again.
Lu Yan didn't look at him, his gaze remaining fixed on the cold, glowing moon in the sky.
After a brief silence, he spoke in a slow, quiet voice. “Tell me... what do people live for anyway?”
He pursed his lips and tilted his head back, his long black hair cascading down the edge of his robe.
The black blindfold he usually wore to block out the light had been replaced with a translucent white silk ribbon; he could see now, and though his vision was still blurry, he could at least tell which direction the moonlight was coming from.
If he were holding a cup of wine right now instead of crouching on the ground with a cigarette between his fingers, he might actually look like a “banished immortal of poetry.” Unfortunately, he had no wine. Nor could he drink it.
He lit his cigarette and took a deep drag, the harsh smoke filling his lungs and slightly easing the tightness in his chest.
The smoke he exhaled drifted slowly through the moonlight like a thin veil, obscuring half of his conflicted, irritated face.
Yao Wu stared at him, his tone carrying the weary resignation of someone who saw right through him. “So you dragged me out here in the middle of the night just to smoke a post-coital cigarette and share your post-battle reflections?”
As he spoke, he lit a cigarette of his own and popped it between his lips.
After coughing a few times, he stopped putting the little lit paper stick to his lips. He simply held it between his fingers, watching the faint red ember flicker in the night breeze.
Lu Yan didn't answer. He remained silent for so long that a long cylinder of ash fell onto the hem of his robe before he finally murmured, “I just can't figure out what it actually feels like to like someone.”
He exhaled a cloud of white smoke that hid his expression. He didn't know how to describe the feeling—the sudden flutter that surged with every beat of his heart, bringing a touch of joy, a hint of panic, and a constant fear of loss.
Every single one of his emotions was tied to Jiang Ci, leaving him completely helpless. He didn't even know what category to put this state of mind in.
Yao Wu studied Lu Yan's slumped figure with a bizarre expression. “What, did you and Jiang Ci have a fight?”
Lu Yan didn't answer right away. He lit another cigarette. “No.” He didn't even have the right to fight with her. He didn't even know why he was being so moody.
Yao Wu didn't press the issue. He leaned back in his chair, shifting into a more comfortable position. “Then what exactly is the relationship between the two of you right now?”
Lu Yan's hand paused mid-air, cigarette clamped between his fingers. Debtor? Benefactor? Or something else? He had never deeply examined this question before, but now he was forced to confront it.
Seeing his prolonged silence, Yao Wu realized the situation was far more complicated than he had assumed.
“Are you two not cultivation companions?”
Lu Yan's temper flared, and he bolted upright from his chair. “When did I ever say she and I are cultivation companions? We are completely innocent! Nothing has ever happened between us! How on earth are we cultivation companions?”
Yao Wu's expression turned even more bewildered. “If there's nothing between you two and you're completely clean, then why the hell are you so miserable?”
The question struck Lu Yan like a physical blow. He collapsed back into the rocking chair—one usually reserved for Hua Er—and murmured under his breath, “Yeah... I don't even know myself. What exactly am I obsessing over?”
The realization in his heart grew clearer and clearer—he had fallen for her.
But he shook his head. She had the looks, the figure, and a wonderful personality, while he was nothing but a wanted criminal. What right did he have to like her?
Even if he mustered up the courage to confess and she accepted, it would probably just be the suspension bridge effect at play, or she would only agree because she felt indebted to him.
He still remembered the dead-serious expression on her face when she talked about paying him back, her insistence on calculating every detail so they owed each other nothing. Watching her bow her head to write that contract had made his chest tighten.
All he wanted was to make her happy. But she had reduced everything to numbers and obligations.
He didn't want to use her gratitude to force her affection; that felt too much like leveraging a favor for personal gain. He refused to do that. Rather than forcing her to be bound to him, he would rather she live a happier, freer life.
He lit a third cigarette, but before he could take more than a couple of puffs, Yao Wu snatched it right out of his hand.
“Stop fucking smoking. If you keep this up, living past forty will count as dying of old age. Look at how dramatic you're being. She's literally in the next room. What do you have a mouth for?”
Lu Yan reached for his cigarette pack, only to find it empty. He glared at Yao Wu, who looked entirely unfazed. “Easy for you to fucking say, you—” He cut himself off before he could finish.
Yao Wu drag a chair over, sat down, and let his cigarette dangle from his lips. “Yeah. But at least if you say it, she's still around to hear it.”
Lu Yan knew about Yao Wu's past. He fell silent for a moment before asking, “Don't you still have Nannan? Have you really never thought about finding someone else and settling down again?”
Yao Wu stood up and brushed the grass clippings and dust off his clothes, his voice carrying a forced, carefree lightness. “Once I raise Nannan and she can stand on her own, I won't have any lingering attachments. When I go down to the underworld to see her, I can look her in the eye with a clear conscience.”
Lu Yan knew that this easygoing attitude was just a facade.
Yao Wu's anchor to this world had shattered long ago. Only the shackles of responsibility kept him bound here.
Once he was freed of that responsibility, he would depart this world faster than anyone.
Yao Wu didn't look back, simply waving a hand over his shoulder. “Alright, stop talking about me and worry about yourself. If you drag me out here in the middle of the night again, I'll fucking kill you.” With that, he walked away, pocketing Lu Yan's last two cigarettes on his way out.
Lu Yan let out a helpless chuckle, leaned back in the rocking chair with his hands behind his head, and stared up at the moon, which had yet to set.
Since he couldn't sleep anyway, he decided he might as well count the stars.
Rate on N.U.
