The Husky and His White Cat Shizun

Chapter 101: Master, The Last Flame in This World

Mo Ran didn't reply. After a long while, he smiled radiantly.

"What a wonderful principle of one pavilion for one master. What a delightful tale."

He strolled over with his bare, well-proportioned feet stepping on the cold stone floor, his veins barely visible on the soles of his feet as he stopped in front of Song Qiutong.

Then, Mo Ran lifted one foot and tapped her chin with his toe, forcing her to look up at him.

"Have you been holding these words back for a long time?"

He gazed at her panicked expression with a grin. "Empress Song, there are many things in the past that I haven't properly asked you about. Since you've opened up to me today, let's be completely honest with each other. Come, let's have a chat."

"Let's start with recent events. On the day we went to Treading Snow Palace, I clearly locked Chu Wanning in his chambers. Tell me, how did he end up on Kunlun Mountain? Who lifted his restrictions so he could come find me?"

Song Qiutong's body trembled violently. "I don't know!"

In her haste to defend herself, she forgot to use the humble "this concubine" and instead used "I."

Mo Ran smiled and said, "Alright, you didn't know about that. Let me ask you about the next one. That year when I appointed you as my Empress to assist me in managing the Peak of Life and Death, I had to go to Yin Mountain on an errand. When I left, Chu Wanning was locked in the underwater dungeon for disobedience..."

Upon mentioning this, Song Qiutong's face turned pale, and her lips trembled uncontrollably.

"You visited him under the pretense of inspecting the prison, but he scolded you fiercely..."

"Yes, yes," Song Qiutong hurriedly agreed. "But Your Majesty... Ah Ran, I told you about this back then. Master Chu told me to get out of the Heavenly Prison and spoke many insults. Not only did he curse at me, he also criticized you. I couldn't stand it at the time... I..."

"I'm aware," Mo Ran smiled slightly. "You were angry at the time, but Chu Wanning was a criminal awaiting severe punishment. Without my permission, you couldn't mete out any arbitrary punishments. So, you inflicted a light punishment, ordering someone to pull out all ten of his fingernails and pierce thorns into each of his fingertips."

Song Qiutong's eyes filled with fear as she protested, "Your Majesty, you praised me for doing a good job when you returned!"

Mo Ran smiled gently. "Oh... Is that so?"

"You... You said that people who speak impurely should be treated this way. You even told this concubine that the punishment was too light, and if he were to speak disrespectfully again, his... his fingers could be cut off..." Her voice grew softer as she spoke, and finally, staring at Mo Ran's terrifying smile, she collapsed to the ground, tears welling up in her eyes. "Ah Ran..."

Mo Ran sighed softly. He chuckled and said, "Qiutong, too much time has passed. I've forgotten what I said or didn't say back then."

"..." The woman had already guessed Mo Ran's intentions from earlier, but her body still shook violently when she heard these words.

"Recently, I've been having dreams. I dream of the day when I returned from Yin Mountain and entered the water prison, seeing his hands ravaged, covered in blood..." Mo Ran spoke slowly, his voice tightening abruptly towards the end, his eyes gleaming with a chilly light. "I am not pleased."

Song Qiutong said helplessly, "Your Majesty, Your Majesty... No, Ah Ran... Listen to me... Please listen to me calmly..."

"I am not pleased."

But it was as if Mo Ran hadn't heard a word, his face expressionless as he lowered his head, looking coldly at the woman curled up on the ground.

"Can you soothe me, just a little?"

His frosty expression, paired with such a haughty plea, even made Song Qiutong, who had been at the emperor's side for years, shiver in discomfort, her scalp tingling. She sensed the impending storm and lifted her dark brown eyes to look up at him submissively. She crawled over and nestled by Mo Ran's ankle.

"Alright, whatever you say, Ah Ran. What would make you happy? I'll do it well... very well..."

Mo Ran leaned down, pinching her chin and lifting her face.

He smiled, looking adorably innocent.

It was just like the first time he saw her at the Confucian Wind Sect, his deep dimples appearing as he tugged on her sleeve and pleaded, "Little junior sister, what's your name? ...Oh, don't be afraid, I won't hurt you. Just talk to me, okay?"

A chill ran down her spine.

After so many years, he was using the same expression and tone, but with an entirely different message.

He spoke tenderly and sweetly, "Qiutong, I know your feelings are genuine. You'd do anything to please me..."

His fingertips brushed over her soft lips.

This was the one feature on her face that resembled Shi Mingjing's the most.

Mo Ran's eyelashes fluttered slightly as he gazed at those flower-like lips without revealing any emotion. Eventually, he said, "Then, you can wait for me along the Yellow Springs Road."

"!"

He asked gently, "Is that alright?"

Tears instantly welled up in Song Qiutong's eyes, not from sorrow, but fear. She had already anticipated the worst when Mo Ran brought up the past where she had tormented Chu Wanning. However, she had only imagined punishments like caning or demotion. She never could have imagined that Mo Ran would...

He actually would! He actually had the heart to!

He... He...

Madman.

Crazy... Crazy...

Mo Ran looked up and laughed in a low, resonant tone. His laughter grew more uninhibited, more arrogant. He kicked open the palace gates with a laugh, striding out into the courtyard with a bold step.

His elegant sandals trod on the lives of countless others, and now it was her turn.

Crazy... Crazy!!

Mo Weiyu had gone mad!

Song Qiutong fell to her knees on the cold golden bricks and chilly stones. The passion that had filled the palace had yet to dissipate, but the flames of hell were already raging. She opened her mouth, lifted her head, and struggled to gaze at the light of dawn filtering into the hall.

Daybreak arrived, and the sky was tinged with blood-red light.

It dyed her vision with red threads.

She heard Mo Ran's distant cry, as casual as if he were ordering the evening meal.

"Fetch someone, drag the queen out."

"Your Majesty!" The panicked response of the attendants outside echoed. "Your Majesty, this...?"

"Throw her into the cauldron, fry her alive for a spectacle."

Song Qiutong suddenly couldn't hear anything. It was as if she had sunk into an endless ocean, deaf to all sounds.

"Fry her alive, fry her for excitement, fry her for a thrill, ha... hahaha..."

He walked further and further away, but his laughter and cries lingered like vultures circling the peak of life and death.

The morning sun stretched his shadow long and solitary, a trail etched on the ground as he walked slowly, steadily.

At first, it seemed as if two youths in luxurious attire and a tall, majestic man in white were standing by his side.

Later, those ethereal figures vanished, leaving only the figure in white to accompany him.

Continuing on, the man in white vanished into the golden dawn.

The sunrise was pure and sacred, taking with it another pure and sacred soul, leaving him alone in his hell, in a sea of blood, amidst the malevolent spirits and phantoms.

Alone, he walked on, growing increasingly desolate and cold.

By the end, he felt as if he had already died, that he was already dead...

His steps grew more and more frenzied.

Mo Ran recalled that during the last year before he took his own life, sometimes when he gazed into the copper mirror, he wouldn't recognize the monster reflected within.

He even remembered that fateful night before his death, when he leaned against the bamboo pavilion of the Red Lotus Water Pavilion, accompanied only by an old servant.

He asked the old man, his voice listless, "Uncle Liu, tell me, what kind of person was this seat originally?"

Before the other could respond, he looked at his own reflection in the pond water and continued talking to himself.

"This seat did not wear such braids in my youth, nor did I ever touch these beaded caps. Would you agree?"

Uncle Liu sighed in response. "His Majesty is correct. The imperial headdress and braids were indeed what Empress Song pondered over for you after your ascension."

"Oh, you mean Song Qiutong," Mo Ran scoffed, lifting his head to take a sip of pear blossom white wine. "So it turns out I once followed her orders?"

Perhaps because there wasn't much time left, and he no longer feared being perceived as simple-minded or offending the emperor, the elderly man spoke the truth without reservation.

Uncle Liu lowered his gaze, folding his sleeves. "Yes, when His Majesty first ascended the throne, Empress Song was greatly favored. For a period of time, whatever she said, His Majesty would do. Have you... forgotten all that?"

"Forget?" Mo Ran chuckled. "I haven't forgotten, how could I forget..."

After marrying Song Qiutong, someone had leaked information to her, revealing that the emperor favored her solely because her appearance resembled Shi Mingjing, his late lover, by five points.

Being an astute woman, she constantly probed Shi Mo's behavior and mannerisms, subtly hinting at their resemblance during their conjugal life, as if her lost love had returned.

How could he forget?

Mo Ran smiled wryly, suddenly removing the headdress from his hair bun and tossing it into the pond without a second glance. The sudden movement startled a school of carp, causing ripples that distorted his reflection in the lake, making it appear more grotesque.

Amidst this grotesqueness, he untangled his braids, letting his ink-black hair cascade down his shoulders. Leaning against the lakeside, he allowed the shimmering water to cast a mercurial light on his face.

"Alright then, my headdress is gone, and my hair has come undone. Uncle Liu, think for me, what else do I need to regain my appearance before ascending the throne?"

"Well..."

"Is it the headband?" Mo Ran gazed at his reflection and suggested, "The ordinary blue headband that disciples of the Peak of Life and Death usually wear. Is there still one in the palace?"

"There is, Your Majesty. When you first ascended the throne and changed out of your Peak of Life and Death disciple's attire, you instructed this old servant to keep it safe. If Your Majesty desires it, I shall retrieve it for you."

"Excellent, go ahead. Fetch the headband and anything else that might be needed."

Uncle Liu returned with a stack of worn-out garments. Mo Ran sat up and touched the cotton and linen fabric, stirring up distant memories that floated up like fallen leaves onto his scarred heart. On a whim, he picked up an outer robe, intending to drape it over himself.

But the clothes from his youth were now too small, no matter how he tried, they would no longer fit.

Suddenly, a fierce anger erupted within him.

"Why can't I wear it? Why can't I go back?!"

He paced around like a caged beast, his face contorted with madness, and his eyes glowing with an eerie intensity.

"This is this Sovereign's robe! Is this really this Sovereign's robe? ! ! Have you taken the wrong one?! If it's my robe, then why can't I wear it?! Why can't I wear it—!!"

The old servant was accustomed to seeing his master in a frenzied state.

He had once found Mo Ran's behavior terrifying, but for some reason, he now pitied the man today.

He wasn't searching for clothes at all; he was searching for the self that could never return.

"Your Majesty," the elder sighed softly, "let go. You're no longer the young man of yesterday."

"…" Mo Ran, who had been burning with rage, turned back with a vicious glare when he heard this. He stared at the old man's withered face but seemed to be struck dumb. His eyes reddened, and he panted heavily. After a long while, he managed to say, "No longer…?"

"No longer."

"…Can't go back?"

"Can't go back."

For the first time, a look of confusion and helplessness akin to that of a child appeared on the face of the 32-year-old man. He closed his eyes, his Adam's apple bobbing. The old servant, standing by his side with his head bowed, had expected him to reveal his fangs in a fit of rage, tearing apart everything before him when he opened his eyes again.

But when Mo Ran opened his eyes again, they were slightly wet.

Perhaps that moisture quenched the raging fire in his heart.

Mo Ran spoke, his voice hoarse with exhaustion: "G-Good… It’s good… We can’t go back… We can’t go back…"

He laid his cloak down with weary resignation, sitting at the stone table and burying his face in his palms.

After a long while, he said, "Then tie me a headband."

"…Your Majesty… Why must you do this to yourself…?"

"I've already lived past my time," Mo Ran said, his hand still covering his face, hiding his expression. "I don't want to be too alone when I die. I want to change my attire, as if an old friend is still by my side."

Uncle Liu sighed. "That's just an illusion."

"Even an illusion is fine," Mo Ran replied.

"Even an imitation is better than nothing."

His long hair was tied up, wound round and round, then he picked up an old, faded hairpin from the pile of clothes. He wanted to pin it to his side like in his youth, but as he gazed at his reflection in the water, his hand paused.

Should it be on the left or the right?

It had been too long since he'd used this hairpin, and memories had grown hazy. Mo Ran closed his eyes and said, "Old Liu, do you remember how I used to style my hair?"

"Your Majesty, this old servant started serving in the palace only in the second year after your ascension. I'm afraid I don't know."

Mo Ran replied, "But I can't recall. I wish someone could tell me."

"..."

"You say, where might there be such a person who could tell me?" Mo Ran murmured. "Who could tell me what I... looked like back then."

Old Liu let out a long sigh but couldn't bring himself to name anyone. In truth, Mo Ran knew the old man had no answer for him. With a sense of uncertainty, he held the black hairpin, hesitating between left and right, before finally securing it on the left.

"It seems about right," Mo Ran said. "I'll go ask him."

He strolled into the depths of the pavilion, arriving at the edge of the Crimson Lotus Pond where Chu Wanning's remains lay, indistinguishable from a peaceful slumber.

Mo Ran sat on the ground, propping his cheek in his hand as he said, "Master."

The wind carried the scent of lotus blossoms. Gazing at the man with closed eyes, immersed in the intoxicating sea of crimson, Mo Ran suddenly felt a great deal to say, yet found himself at a loss for words.

Towards Chu Wanning, he seemed to harbor a myriad of emotions, yet they were so convoluted. The bitterness, sweetness, sorrow, and joy were intertwined to such an extent that he could not discern whether his hatred outweighed his other feelings or vice versa. He genuinely did not know how to treat this person.

He had once convinced himself that keeping Chu Wanning by his side was solely for the purpose of venting his hatred and satisfying his selfish desires. But after Chu Wanning's death, he held onto the lifeless body, unable to part with it even though it could no longer share intimacy. The grave was already prepared, but he refused to bury him.

What was the point in preserving this cold, motionless, and silent corpse?

Perhaps he himself was unsure.

After experiencing so much, the initial purity had been utterly submerged.

When Chu Wanning was alive, they rarely had days where they could peacefully coexist.

Now that Chu Wanning was gone, a cruel tenderness emerged between the living and the dead. Mo Ran often came to visit, bringing a flask of Pear Blossom White, simply watching in silence without saying much.

At this moment, the rebel forces surrounded the mountain, and he knew his lifespan was drawing to an end. Among the shifting tides of life and death, Chu Wanning's corpse was the only remnant of the past that remained by his side.

Mo Ran suddenly found himself longing to have a good conversation with this cold body. After all, Chu Wanning was now just a lifeless corpse, unable to resist or scold him. Whatever he said, the corpse would have no choice but to listen obediently.

Yet, as he moved his lips, his throat choked with emotion.

In the end, he could only manage to say one sentence.

"Shifu, please acknowledge me."

Author's Note: Deranged 0.5 - I'm going crazy again, covering my face... Who will drag this puppy away to get a rabies vaccine? 233333