Ch86 - Brief Flames

The autumn market at Yingxu Sect’s bazaar was bustling with activity.

As Su Hansheng descended from the spirit boat, he spotted the crowded street in the distance and said cheerfully: “It’s so lively, Uncle.”

Chongjue rarely ventured near such crowded streets. Since getting off the spirit boat, his brow had been lightly furrowed.

Yet seeing Su Hansheng so enthusiastic, he didn’t dampen the mood. He gave a soft “mm.”

Su Hansheng bounded down excitedly, then suddenly remembered something and turned back: “Uncle, with so many people here, you…”

He hadn’t finished when he suddenly recalled he still needed to probe Chongjue. He gave a dry cough and switched topics with a mischievous smile: “Will you be scared?”

Chongjue glanced at him indifferently: “Disrespectful.”

Su Hansheng expected him to scold him again for “audacity,” but hearing this mild reproach, his eyes curved in delight. Boldly stepping forward, he grabbed Chongjue’s sleeve: “Come on. It’s really fun.”

Having already decided to accompany him, Chongjue was prepared to spend half the day squeezed among crowds. He gave an “mm” and let Su Hansheng pull him into the bustling bazaar.

The sun sank westward. The bazaar was lined with stalls hung with autumn lanterns, the hawking and clamor deafening, utterly lively.

Chongjue had assumed Su Hansheng’s idea of “fun” would simply involve buying things and eating snacks. He’d even prepared spiritual stones in his sleeves to purchase items for him, but unexpectedly, Su Hansheng didn’t dive into the crowds. Instead, he led him to a secluded alley.

Through the deep alley lay the bazaar’s long river, filled with floating lotus lanterns.

Yingxu Sect, wealthy beyond measure, had dug a river several zhang wide beside the bazaar just for the autumn market. Spirit trees laden with spiritual stones lined both banks, gleaming golden—more brilliant than any lantern.

Stone benches and tables dotted the riverbank. Su Hansheng found a quiet spot and had Chongjue sit and wait while he ran off alone. Soon he returned, arms laden with snacks, sweating profusely.

“Uncle, can you drink cold tea?”

Su Hansheng dumped everything from his arms onto the stone table. The oil paper wrapping around the crispy fish hadn’t been secured properly, leaving oil stains all over his collar. He paid no mind, licking the salt and pepper from his fingers as he said indistinctly: “Lots of people were buying cold tea—they say it has sugar crystals in it. Try some.”

Chongjue frowned at the conspicuous oil stains on Su Hansheng’s collar, seeming about to scold him. But after hesitating, he silently sighed and accepted the cold tea Su Hansheng offered.

The cold tea came in a bamboo container. Before even tasting it, he could smell the cheap sugar crystals.

Chongjue said nothing, taking a sip. Seeing Su Hansheng sweating profusely while gnawing on small fish, he took out a handkerchief to wipe the sweat from his brow.

“Didn’t you say we’d browse the market? Why are we sitting here?”

Su Hansheng kept eating, saying casually: “Uncle doesn’t like crowds, right? It’s so peaceful here—look, there’ll be a Nuo dance on the stage across the river, and fireworks later tonight.”

Chongjue’s fingers paused.

Though Su Hansheng had such a lively, active temperament, he was now willingly hiding in this deserted spot eating snacks alone.

Seeing Chongjue suddenly stop wiping his sweat, Su Hansheng looked at him confused: “Uncle?”

Chongjue smoothly withdrew his hand: “You needn’t do this. Finish eating and we’ll go browse together.”

“No need.” Su Hansheng shook his head. Though his eyes kept drifting toward the bustling crowds across the river, he said the opposite: “With so many people, we’d get covered in sweat from the crowds. Sitting here is much better.”

Chongjue lowered his eyes, seemingly smiling, but said nothing more.

Though Su Hansheng appeared thin, his appetite was enormous. Before long, he’d devoured most of what was on the table.

Chongjue continued holding the bamboo container, sipping the strangely flavored cold tea. Though it was a rough bamboo tube, in his hands it resembled a delicate porcelain cup fired in a dragon kiln—utterly captivating.

Su Hansheng inadvertently glimpsed Chongjue’s slender hand. Thinking of something, his ears flushed as he choked uncontrollably, nearly spitting out what was in his mouth.

“Cough, cough, cough!”

Chongjue froze, setting down the bamboo container. He rose with furrowed brows to pat Su Hansheng’s back.

Su Hansheng coughed until his shoulders trembled slightly. He forced down the coughing fit, his eyes reddening as he looked up quietly: “I’m fine. Just choked.”

Seeing Chongjue sit back down, Su Hansheng no longer dared let his gaze rest on those well-defined hands.

He cursed himself internally: “You accuse others of being lechers, but you’re the hopeless pervert yourself!”

It was just a pair of hands—how had he managed to imagine such obscene, lustful thoughts?!

Damn it. It was all the previous life Chongjue’s fault.

Thinking this way, Su Hansheng felt at ease again.

After all, it was the previous life Chongjue who’d corrupted him. Now the tables had turned—if he fantasized about Chongjue himself, that was his own karmic retribution. No one else to blame.

Su Hansheng righteously drank some cold tea to cleanse his filthy, sullied heart, yet he didn’t dare even look at Chongjue anymore.

They sat in silence for some time.

Su Hansheng finished the table of snacks while Chongjue, frowning, sipped his way through the cold tea Su Hansheng had bought.

Chongjue set the bamboo container on the stone table, coughing once. His throat felt coated by that sickeningly sweet cold tea.

He’d never touch this tea again in this lifetime.

No—this couldn’t even be called “tea.” It was clearly just water with sugar added.

Su Hansheng glanced over, thinking: He likes it that much? I’ll buy him two more cups later.

There was still time before the fireworks. Su Hansheng was about to rise and buy more things when Chongjue also stood.

Seeing Su Hansheng’s puzzled expression, Chongjue explained: “I need to visit the Ink Workshop to collect something.”

Su Hansheng made acknowledging sounds without thinking much, following him as they left the alley and returned to the main street.

The bazaar was even livelier than when they’d arrived. Su Hansheng dove into the crowd like a fish to water, happily darting about. He liked this, he liked that—wanting to buy everything and stuff it in his pockets.

Chongjue followed behind him constantly. The bustling street was packed, and Su Hansheng was swept away by the crowd several times. But struggling back each time, he always saw Chongjue three steps away, watching him calmly.

As if he’d never leave.

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Chongjue froze.

Every time Su Hansheng kissed Chongjue, nothing good came of it—either beatings or scoldings. He was immediately frightened, his ten fingers tangling anxiously: “I… I didn’t mean to.”

Though it wasn’t his fault at all, his first reaction was still to apologize.

Chongjue’s hand instinctively reached for prayer beads, only to grasp at nothing.

He couldn’t quite describe what he was feeling. His heartstrings seemed plucked by a gentle breeze, ripples of emotion disturbing his composure. Even if he were on Mount Sumeru now, meditation would be impossible.

Su Hansheng stammered: “Uncle… I’m sorry.”

Chongjue felt an inexplicable sourness in his chest and was about to speak.

But Su Hansheng thought he was about to scold him. He quickly changed the subject: “Uncle… th-that place—the Ink Workshop is here. You should go attend to your business first.”

Finished speaking, he didn’t dare look at Chongjue’s expression. Not waiting for a response, he bounded away in three strides toward the Ink Workshop.

Chongjue withdrew his slightly raised hand and followed silently.

After the two left, Yuan Qian and Wu Baili, still crouching by the roadside stall, remained frozen in place, their bodies rigid. The jade artifact in Yuan Qian’s hand fell directly to the ground, shattering into pieces.

The stall owner finally found his scapegoat and immediately scolded: “You damned brat! This jade artifact is worth two thousand spiritual stones! Priceless in the market, and you broke it—you better pay up!”

Yuan Qian didn’t hear a word the stall owner said. His jaw was slack enough to dislocate, his usually squinted eyes wide as saucers, threatening to pop from their sockets.

He murmured: “Heaven sees all. Mother of mercy, am I blind?”

Wu Baili was rarely at a loss for words. After a long while, he hesitantly ventured: “Perhaps… it was just an accident.”

Yuan Qian’s entire serpent form went numb, ignoring the stall owner’s continued ranting: “Don’t think being academy students lets you avoid payment! If you don’t produce two thousand spiritual stones today, I’m going to your academy director!” He said in horror: “Young Lord… didn’t the Young Lord say he was meeting a female cultivator?!”

The figure had a tall build, wore jade-blue robes, and appeared like a pristine lotus blooming at the clouds’ peak—elegant and noble.

No matter how beautiful, there was no way to connect this person to “female cultivator”!

Wu Baili said coldly: “Stay calm. It was just an accident!”

Yuan Qian couldn’t calm down at all: “Ahhhhh! Young Lord said he had ‘plans,’ and here he is out with his superior, tugging and holding hands, being intimate! That’s not ‘plans’—that’s a secret rendezvous!”

Wu Baili: “It’s an accident!”

Yuan Qian: “Stay calm yourself!”

Wu Baili: “I am calm!”

Yuan Qian: “…”

If you’re so calm, why are you shouting so loud?

The stall owner raged: “Hey! Little brat! You trying to test my temper?!”

Yuan Qian finally heard the stall owner’s roar. He coldly turned, his serpent pupils glinting strangely as he fixed them on the man: “What’s so fierce about it? Show me.”

Stall owner: “…”

Serpent-kin were the most vengeful—best not provoked. The stall owner immediately backed down: “N-nothing, honored guests, please go ahead.”

Yuan Qian and Wu Baili straightened up, looking like thieves as they crouched beside the stone lion at the Ink Workshop’s entrance.

“It was probably an accident,” Yuan Qian said, feigning composure, “Young Lord is into men, but not so deeply into the World-Honored One. We… we should track— no, we should observe from afar.”

Wu Baili: “Yes, stay calm.”

Su Hansheng had no idea his two classmates were watching him. He sat dejectedly in the chair where the Ink Workshop greeted guests, utterly dejected, feeling like he’d ruined everything.

The two had finally gotten along for a moment, and he’d made Chongjue angry again.

Yet it wasn’t intentional.

Su Hansheng regretted silently, sneaking glances at Chongjue beside him.

The Ink Workshop owner, seeing Chongjue arrive, became respectful as if welcoming a deity, nearly prostrating himself. With both hands, he slowly placed a jade box on the table and smiled ingratiatingly: “World-Honored One, this is what the Vice Presiding Minister ordered. Please examine it.”

Chongjue nodded, his finger brushing his storage ring about to pay.

Su Hansheng quickly rushed over, enthusiastically volunteering: “Such a small amount—no need to trouble Uncle! I’ll pay, I’ll pay. How many spiritual stones?”

Chongjue was mildly surprised.

The youth had been gloomy just now; he thought he’d be dispirited all evening. Unexpectedly, he was lively again so quickly.

Seeing Su Hansheng eagerly holding his storage ring to pay, Chongjue simply stayed silent, watching him with lowered eyes. A gentle smile appeared at the corners of his brows—something even he hadn’t noticed.

Su Hansheng quickly settled the payment and gave Chongjue an ingratiating smile.

The youth not yet of age still bore lingering childishness on his face. Even his deliberately compliant and obedient smile couldn’t hide the cunning and vibrant vitality in his eyes.

Yet seeing this smile, Chongjue inexplicably felt heartache.

It was just an accident, yet he trembled in fear of being scolded, terrified of receiving another rebuke.

Su Hansheng had powerful senior brothers and sisters granting him capital to be reckless and wild. He was the Celestial Immortal’s son, the Young Sect Leader of Yingxu Sect—his status let him act tyrannically. Even causing trouble wouldn’t result in punishment.

No one in the three realms was more honored than him.

Yet somehow, he still lived in fear and trepidation, as if walking on thin ice. A single careless mistake could lead to irredeemable damnation, never to be reborn.

Chongjue had thought he feared him, but now it seemed otherwise.

The two retrieved the jade box and returned to the secluded alley, awaiting the evening fireworks.

Su Hansheng didn’t dare speak carelessly, obediently sitting while watching lotus lanterns drift past one by one.

Suddenly, Chongjue said: “Xiaoxiao.”

Su Hansheng immediately sat rigidly upright, thinking: Here it comes—is he going to scold me?!

Chongjue said: “…It was my fault.”

Su Hansheng’s heart pounded. Sure enough, he’s scolding me—but it clearly was an accident! How could he be so unreasonable…

Wait.

What?

Su Hansheng looked up in confusion, staring blankly at Chongjue, unable to process for a long moment.

“Huh?”

Chongjue’s dark blue eyes seemed to reflect an entire river of lotus lanterns—brilliant as starlight.

“I’ve been too strict with you,” he sighed soundlessly. “I clung to how obedient you were as a child, unable to accept your willful, troublesome nature…”

Chongjue’s obsession with virtue had only sought to find in Su Hansheng the flawless fantasy that existed only in that child’s youth.

Perfect without blemish, devoted entirely to goodness—even gods and Buddhas couldn’t achieve this. How could a child who’d been “imprisoned” for years?

Chongjue indulged and loved Su Hansheng, yet couldn’t use “rods” and “scolding” to forcibly trim him into the image of “virtue” he desired.

Only trees could be pruned.

Su Hansheng was a living person.

Chongjue said warmly: “Hereafter, you may act unbridled and follow your heart.”

No longer constrained, timidly obliging, trembling at every small matter—it was heartbreaking and helpless to watch.

Su Hansheng should be like a sun-facing tree, growing freely. As long as his trunk remained straight, he didn’t need to be pruned by others.

Su Hansheng seemed to be shocked into numbness by these words, more bewildered than if Chongjue had scolded him. His eyes didn’t dare blink as his voice turned sour: “You… you don’t want to manage me anymore?”

Chongjue said: “No. I’ll protect you and help you grow safely.”

Su Hansheng looked at him fearfully: “Then th-then why are you suddenly saying this?”

Chongjue said patiently: “I just want you to stop living so carefully. It’s too exhausting. Wouldn’t you prefer having no one to manage you—to do whatever you want?”

Su Hansheng shook his head: “I don’t.”

Chongjue: “…”

Since youth, Su Hansheng had been confined in the Hanmang Garden, cared for by two powerful senior brothers. Though Xu Nanxing could be careless and Ying Jianhua constantly threatened to beat him, Su Hansheng never felt anything was amiss.

Conversely, he seemed to instinctively enjoy Xu Nanxing’s control and Ying Jianhua’s threat to hit him—it gave him a strange, twisted sense of security.

So after falling into Infinite Hell, even the previous life Chongjue’s treatment hadn’t generated deep hatred within him.

Su Hansheng was accustomed to being managed, more accustomed to being “imprisoned”—like an exquisite golden songbird living in a beautiful cage. Suddenly released, his first instinct wasn’t to spread wings and soar into vast skies, but to chirp and fly back into his cage.

Essentially, Su Hansheng was no different from Gong Handan.

Chongjue vaguely grasped the problem. After watching Su Hansheng for a moment, he suddenly said: “Give me your hand.”

Su Hansheng obediently extended his hand, palm up, instinctively pleasing—as if terrified Chongjue truly wouldn’t manage him anymore.

But Chongjue didn’t write anything on his palm. Instead, he carved a strange dark blue talisman on his ring finger.

It resembled the talisman Qifu Yin had given him.

Su Hansheng looked confused.

“This is from A-Yin… your uncle,” Chongjue said, withdrawing his hand. “The talisman connects with my divine soul and can sustain for three days.”

Su Hansheng asked puzzled: “What does that mean?”

“For these three days, you can act completely unbridled—do whatever you want. I won’t punish you for anything,” Chongjue said. “This talisman is the constraint.”

Su Hansheng was frightened and immediately reached toward Chongjue’s face: “No, no! I don’t want this. Take it back!”

Chongjue didn’t move.

Su Hansheng remained frozen for ages before realizing Chongjue seemed serious and had no intention of abandoning him.

“Really…” Su Hansheng coughed. “I can do anything?”

Chongjue nodded: “Yes.”

Su Hansheng quietly confirmed again: “You’re sure?”

Chongjue sensed something off about Su Hansheng’s tone. The earlier terror in his eyes had changed. After hesitating, but knowing the talisman couldn’t be withdrawn, he could only say: “I’m sure.”

Su Hansheng’s heart went “ha!” and his eyes brightened.

Heaven helps me indeed.

With this talisman, wasn’t he finally allowed to commit the mad act of crawling into bed in the middle of the night to test whether Chongjue had memories—without getting beaten or scolded?!

Su Hansheng understood completely.

But thinking it over, he quickly asked: “Will this talisman hurt you?”

Chongjue raised his eyebrow slightly. So he was ready to act unbridled now?

Well, that was a good thing.

Chongjue: “No, it’s merely a constraint.”

Hearing this, Su Hansheng rose leisurely from the chair, strolling to stand before Chongjue, bending slightly to look him in the eye.

Chongjue met his gaze calmly.

Su Hansheng squinted, deliberately baring his teeth to scare him: “Uncle, can I try first?”

Chongjue: “…”

Misled by Su Hansheng’s earlier sorrowful expression, Chongjue had nearly forgotten how daring this child was.

Try? Try what—did he want to overstep his bounds and offend his superior like before?

Chongjue watched Su Hansheng coldly, as if meditating in the Buddhist hall, showing no sign of being frightened. Instead, he was curious how bold this child would become with his shackles removed.

“Yes, you may.”

Su Hansheng bent forward, his beautiful amber eyes gleaming with mischievous anticipation.

They were so close that Chongjue could see his reflection in those bright pupils—himself in blue robes.

Thump.

His heartbeat echoed faintly in his ears.

One beat louder than the last.

Suddenly, fireworks from across the river “whooshed” with a tremendous boom, exploding high into the night sky in brilliant, blooming splendor.

…Su Hansheng abruptly lunged forward, wrapping both arms around him in a firm embrace.

Chongjue froze.

This embrace held no intimacy, only like a young wanderer who’d journeyed a thousand miles finally finding a place to lean on. This broad chest could shelter him from wind and rain, indulging all his chaos and troublesome nature that others despised.

Su Hansheng held Chongjue tightly, burying his face in the curve of his neck, inhaling that faint bodhi flower fragrance. It seemed he’d completely broken free from his previous life, exhaling wearily as if released from endless burden.

He whispered softly: “Thank you.”

Thank him for seeing his pain and struggle, for extending a lifeline when he was about to drown completely, saving him from repeating the tragedy of his past life.

Chongjue’s entire body went rigid.

With their bodies pressed together, feeling whose heart was beating so violently, the World-Honored One who remained unmoved even as Mount Tai crumbled before him finally experienced the unfamiliar sensation of being at a loss.

However, it didn’t last long. Su Hansheng withdrew with proper discretion.

The two stood face to face, the atmosphere inexplicably awkward.

Su Hansheng gave a dry cough, rubbing his nose as he spotted the box on the stone table and quickly changed the subject: “Uncle, what is… cough, what is this? Is it for me?”

He hardly knew what he was saying. Chongjue seemed equally distracted, lowering his gaze as he said quietly: “Yes.”

Su Hansheng hadn’t expected to guess correctly. He blinked and directly opened the jade box.

Inside lay a beautiful string of warm jade prayer beads.

Su Hansheng hadn’t anticipated Chongjue giving him another set of prayer beads, but he said nothing, happily putting them on his wrist.

The prayer beads were of superior quality—they appeared to have been custom-made.

When Chongjue’s mind finally returned, his gaze swept across and fixed on Su Hansheng’s snow-white wrist adorned with that rarely-seen-once-in-a-millennium warm jade prayer bead string.

Chongjue: “…”

Chongjue rubbed his brow, sighing helplessly.

As the fireworks across the river exploded into a sky full of golden sparks, Chongjue suddenly froze.

He slowly placed his hand over his heart, suddenly becoming acutely aware that beneath the thin fabric of his robes, his heart—which had remained as still as an ancient well for eons—was now beating violently, one beat after another.

Su Hansheng had already returned to normal, in high spirits as he dangled his leg watching the next round of fireworks.

As if sensing Chongjue’s gaze, he turned his head. The firelight from the explosions fell across Su Hansheng’s radiant, beautiful profile, bright and vivid as if merging with the short-lived pyrotechnics themselves.

Su Hansheng tilted his head and smiled brilliantly amid the blazing fireworks.

Chongjue’s breath caught silently.

In the World-Honored One’s world atop Mount Sumeru, there existed only immortal companions who’d lived thousands of years, the eternal snow at the mountain’s peak, and deities and Buddhas that never faded. Ephemeral humans or things like mayflies never left traces in his heart.

Chongjue stared at Su Hansheng’s upturned smile, his heartbeat like thunder.

The gods and Buddhas seemed to have departed.

A smile as brief as fireworks left an eternal, indelible mark across his ice-cold heart, lasting countless eons.

**