Chapter Seven: The Five-Year Promise

The moonlight was bleak and pale, the faint scent of green bamboo lingered softly around Mo Shen, stirring an itch deep within his heart. Though he didn't yet understand what love truly was, he knew with certainty that he did not wish for Su Raochen, standing before him, to leave.

After Su Raochen had killed Hua Ku, he didn’t release his hand from Mo Shen’s eyes until they had walked a distance from the bloody scene. Yet, he had no inkling of the longing and nascent obsession already taking root in Mo Shen’s heart. Mo Shen only felt an emptiness inside, as if Su Raochen had taken something from him. But it was of no matter—he would reclaim it in time.

"It's best that children don't witness such things," Su Raochen explained, perhaps to ease the awkward silence that had fallen between them. This simple sentence startled Mo Shen to awareness; only then did he realize they were following the signposts down the mountain path.

“Um… Brother, aren’t we going the wrong way? This road leads down the mountain,” Mo Shen called out suddenly.

The unexpected “brother” tripped Su Raochen up, nearly sending him sprawling, his face inexplicably burning. Yet he made no attempt to correct the address, instead latching on to the heart of Mo Shen’s words.

“In truth, I only wished to show you the way out, then return home. You should go back now. Thank you for everything these past days.”

Mo Shen had long sensed that Su Raochen wanted to leave, but he had tried to deceive himself, unwilling to let him go just like that. His tangled emotions warred within him, making it difficult to let go, while the desire to become stronger for Su Raochen’s sake only deepened.

“It’s all right. Let me walk you down the mountain,” Mo Shen said, his voice filled with longing.

Su Raochen merely nodded and agreed, lapsing into silence. The two walked the rest of the way down the mountain without another word, as if by tacit agreement. Mo Shen’s mind was full of thoughts of how to grow stronger and the origin of his inner turmoil, while Su Raochen was resolved to study pharmacology from Uncle Zehai in the future.

Time spent in enjoyment always slips away quickly, just as it did for Mo Shen. No matter how long the road, it must come to an end, and the mountain path was no exception. Standing before Su Raochen, with the myriad lights of the city behind him, Mo Shen’s reluctance to part grew almost unbearable.

“This is far enough. If fate allows, we will meet again.” Su Raochen halted, looked back at Mo Shen, and smiled—a smile as gentle as a spring breeze.

Su Raochen only wished to bid Mo Shen a proper farewell, but to Mo Shen, that smile took on a different, deeper meaning.

The countless lights behind Su Raochen flickered like stars, casting a glow across his face, softening his features. Su Raochen’s gentle smile carved itself deep into Mo Shen’s memory, into his heart, into his future—a mark he could never escape.

Mo Shen stood dazed, unaware when Su Raochen had left. Only when a cold wind roused him did he realize Su Raochen was already gone.

Brother, wait for me five years. In five years, I will—I must… Mo Shen vowed silently, his resolve hardening as he returned home, embarking that very night on a five-year journey of cultivation.

Yet the heavens are often jealous of remarkable talent. A year passed, and Mo Shen’s progress in cultivation was meager, but he trained as if possessed, pushing himself to the brink. At last, Ye La Xiang could no longer bear to watch. Out of regard for Mo Shen’s pure character, he revealed the truth of Mo Shen’s demonic lineage, watching him anxiously at first, fearing he might be forced to root out the threat.

But fortunately, Mo Shen did not disappoint. Under Ye La Xiang’s careful guidance, his cultivation advanced by leaps and bounds.

Rain fell in a steady drizzle, each drop like a broken string of pearls bouncing at the feet of a young man—so beautiful, it was as though even the raindrops were drawn to his peerless appearance. Five years had passed.

“Brother, the wisteria we collected this time fetched a good sum,” called a voice.

“Yes, you did most of the work. Tell me, what would you like to eat? My treat,” Lin Fan replied, his eyes full of indulgence.

“I want the iced jelly from the street vendor. Is that all right, brother?”

“Of course. Wait here for me a moment.” Lin Fan gazed at his younger brother, who still seemed so boyish. But then, who could blame him for being so fond?

Watching Lin Fan walk away, the young man feigned nonchalance and slipped into a nearby alley. Curiously, a dark figure flitted past not long after. Their meeting was fated, not by design, but by destiny.

Suddenly, a sword-umbrella slick with rain pointed straight at Mo Shen. Ordinarily, he would have approached with a smile, eager to spar and perhaps even help the other lose a bit of cultivation. But this time, Mo Shen stood frozen.

“Who are you? Why have you been following me and my brother?” Su Raochen asked coldly.

“Brother? You mean the man from just now?” Mo Shen’s only concern was the person who stood on equal footing with Su Raochen. Unlike five years ago, when he had been ignorant of his own feelings, he now understood, ever since he had lost control a year before.

“You’re awfully rude. Let me teach you on behalf of your master,” Su Raochen declared, advancing with his sword.

Raindrops blossomed into dazzling flowers upon their clothes, soaking them through, but neither cared. Su Raochen grew increasingly perplexed—the stranger seemed to be toying with him, not fighting at all. It was clear the other was far stronger.

Mo Shen, meanwhile, watched with amusement as, under his careful orchestration, Su Raochen’s movements brought him ever closer. Finally, with a feigned misstep, Mo Shen’s arms encircled the waist he had yearned for these past five years, locking firmly in place, refusing to let go.

“Brother, did you miss me?”