Lán WàngJī versus Alcohol: Chapter 13
Four years ago, word had it that after Yílíng Lǎozǔ returned to life, HánGuāng-Jūn kept him under his protection.
Once news of his return spread across the world, most sects rallied and rushed to Jīnlíntái to discuss the matter and decide how to respond.
Later, however, Jīn GuāngYáo* lured them into a deceitful trap.
*Jīn GuāngYáo is the former leader of the LánlíngJīn sect.
Putting aside past grievances, Wèi WúXiàn risked his life to save them.
In the end, the truth behind grudges and entanglements of the past was finally brought to light, causing a tremendous uproar in the martial world.
Although Yílíng Lǎozǔ’s name had been cleared, some sects remained sceptical.
However, as the time passed, their suspicions gradually subsided – common people widely praised HánGuāng-Jūn and Yílíng Lǎozǔ for quelling disturbances and restoring order, regardless of social status.
After a whole year of travelling across many lands, Lán WàngJī and Wèi WúXiàn finally returned to Yúnshēn Bùzhīchù.
Soon after, another shocking piece of news circulated throughout the martial world – the GūsūLán and YúnmèngJiāng clans officially recognised them as a legitimate couple.
Three years had passed since then, and the young nobles looked at GūsūLán disciples standing nearby but noticed no sign of displeasure or reproach from them on the matter.
Furthermore, the couple were well-known figures worldwide, which piqued their interest. They cautiously approached and greeted them.
Then, one of them said, “Please forgive us. We had no ill intentions. We were just curious.”
The GūsūLán disciples, long bound by their Three Thousand Rules, rarely displayed the liveliness that characterised Lán JǐngYí. Because of their profound reverence for Lán WàngJī, they also remained reserved.
Their Shī-xiōng*, however, returned the greeting and said, “It’s all right.”
*Shī-xiōng is a seniority title for someone (male) starting martial arts (and other disciplines) before others, regardless of their age.
The young nobles breathed a sigh of relief, noting how easy he was to talk to. They quickly gathered around him, bombarding him with questions.
“Gōngzǐ, are Yílíng Lǎozǔ and HánGuāng-Jūn on good terms?”
“I’ve heard my father say that they didn’t get along in the past.”
“What does Yílíng Lǎozǔ look like?”
“He doesn’t resemble the suppressed demon from the stories, does he?”
“Who is more powerful, Yílíng Lǎozǔ or HánGuāng-Jūn?”
The disciple was at a loss – he hadn’t expected that simply returning the greeting would cause such a commotion.
Although he was reluctant to answer their questions, he knew it would be impolite to remain silent. He also wanted to clear up their misunderstanding about Lán WàngJī and Wèi WúXiàn.
He began, “HánGuāng-Jūn and Wèi-qiánbèi are on very good terms. As for Wèi-qiánbèi, he–”
He suddenly interrupted himself, realising he was about to comment on Wèi WúXiàn and that it was inappropriate to do so in front of outsiders.
The young nobles, however, misread his hesitation and murmured among themselves, “Could it be that Yílíng Lǎozǔ really looks just like the fairy-tale demon?”
“Not at all!” all the GūsūLán disciples exclaimed in unison. They then realised they had reacted impulsively and felt somewhat embarrassed.
Zhao-gōngzǐ couldn’t suppress his curiosity and probed, “Why don’t you tell us what he looks like, then?”
Shī-xiōng replied, “Our sect rules forbid us from speaking ill of others.”
“How could telling the truth be considered bad-mouthing someone?” Li-gōngzǐ quickly chimed in.
Then the other young nobles also urged him to speak.
“That’s right! Why can’t you just say it?”
“Is their relationship really as good as you said?”
A small voice defensively cut through the noise. “Everything is true.”
Everyone turned to look at the young disciple who had just spoke. Shī-xiōng frowned and said, “Dūnrú, be quiet.”
Dūnrú’s status was the lowest among all the disciples gathered there. He lowered his head and said, “But Shī-xiōng, Wèi-qiánbèi is truly very good-looking. And also, they get along just fine. You also saw it when HánGuāng-Jūn walked past everyone with Wèi-qiánbèi in his arms.”
“Dūnrú!” Shī-xiōng scolded him. However, he couldn’t help but blush as the scene flashed in his mind. He then noticed some of his juniors’ faces had also turned red.
Another disciple said shyly, “I saw it too.”
At first, the young nobles didn’t believe it – HánGuāng-Jūn was someone whose every action and demeanour was admired by others. He was a true gentleman, known for his elegance and outstanding personality. Even if he had a good relationship with his partner, he wouldn’t behave like that in public, would he?
As they watched the GūsūLán disciples’ expressions change, one by one, from impassiveness to rosiness, the young nobles finally accepted that what they had learned was true.
“The Lán family’s ancestor was deeply devoted to his wife, and so is HánGuāng-Jūn,” Zhao-gōngzǐ remarked.
Li-gōngzǐ frowned and said, “Even so, behaving like that in broad daylight was –”
Suddenly, he could no longer speak. Alarmed, he thought, “I can’t open my mouth.”
His eyes widened in confusion, and just as the other young nobles were about to ask what was wrong, they realised they couldn’t speak either.
As they exchanged glances, they came to a horrifying realisation – the Silent Spell had been cast on them. Filled with righteous indignation, they all turned to the GūsūLán disciples, demanding an explanation.
All of a sudden, however, the disciples went rigid, staring at something behind them.
Before the young nobles could turn around, a faint scent of sandalwood reached their nostrils, followed by a spiritual pressure that made them feel as though they stood on the brink of the abyss.
Those with profound cultivation had highly developed five senses. Their presence and breathing could be regulated to become undetectable, and Lán WàngJī and Wèi WúXiàn belonged to that category.
As they turned around, the young nobles saw Lán WàngJī holding Wèi WúXiàn in his arms, staring at them with an expressionless face.
Although he hadn’t said a word, the spiritual pressure he exerted on them kept increasing rapidly.
They felt that day would be their last and dared not look him in the eyes.
As he watched the teenagers grow extremely nervous at the sight of them, Wèi WúXiàn smiled wryly.
“It looks like I failed to prevent this déjà vu scenario from happening again,” he thought.
He had agreed to go to the kitchen. However, what he hadn’t quite understood was that instead of heading there directly, Lán WàngJī had insisted on making a detour past the place where the innocent young people usually gathered.
Wèi WúXiàn sighed quietly, blaming himself and admitting that it was undeniably his fault.
Lán WàngJī finally spoke. “What did you say about doing it in broad daylight?”
“Ha!” Wèi WúXiàn stared at him, stunned.
Li-gōngzǐ was also taken aback by the question. He opened his mouth without thinking, then realised that he was no longer under the Silent Spell and could only brace himself to speak.
In a trembling voice, he repeated, “I mean, although HánGuāng-Jūn and Wèi-qiánbèi have a very close relationship, wouldn’t doing that kind of thing in broad daylight be inappropriate in terms of etiquette?”
Lán WàngJī remained silent while Wèi WúXiàn smiled and praised him. “You’re quite bold, daring to speak your mind. Not bad at all.”
Li-gōngzǐ, who had been waiting to be punished for his impoliteness, stared at Wèi WúXiàn in bewilderment.
“What you said makes sense,” Wèi WúXiàn continued. “There’s no need to be afraid. However, haven’t you learned yet that, once married, the clansmen of GūsūLán are no longer bound by that rule in front of their partners?”
Suddenly, the young nobles recalled the earlier lecture and admitted that it was indeed true. They then risked a quick glance at Lán WàngJī. Seeing no sign of displeasure on his face, they breathed a sigh of relief.
Since they had been curious about what Wèi WúXiàn looked like, they could not help but stare at him before blushing – he was completely at ease in Lán WàngJī’s arms, a bright smile on his face.
The young nobles noticed that he was slightly shorter than Lán WàngJī, his beautiful face resting against his shoulder. Slung diagonally across his sash at his slender waist was a jet-black, glossy flute adorned with a blood-red tassel that swayed with each of Wèi WúXiàn’s movements.
Not wishing to linger there any longer, Wèi WúXiàn said, “Since things are settled, Lán Zhàn and I will take our leave. I’m not feeling well. I need to rest.”
All the disciples of the GūsūLán sect, who had remained silent until now, instantly showed concern and hurriedly asked, “Wèi-qiánbèi, are you sick?”
“Hmm, it’s nothing serious,” Wèi WúXiàn replied with a mischievous smile as she tightened his arms around Lán WàngJī’s neck.
Lowering his voice and pretending to be in pain, he added, “It’s just that I can’t walk because my back hurts terribly.”
Lán WàngJī’s body arched in anticipation, his fingers clenching slightly, while his ears, hidden behind his hair, turned red.
Meanwhile, unaware of Lán WàngJī’s reaction, the youngsters noticed that although Wèi WúXiàn looked relaxed, his complexion was pale and he seemed exhausted. No wonder Lán WàngJī was carrying him. It was only natural for him to take care of his unwell partner.
As he saw that all the youngsters had been convinced by what he had said, Wèi WúXiàn felt proud, thinking that only a genius like himself could achieve such a thing.
His words had carried another hidden meaning, and only Lán WàngJī had grasped it, which set him on fire. At the time, those same words had helped those young people regain their innocence and virtue.
Since he had cleared things up, Wèi WúXiàn got close to Lán WàngJī’s ear and whispered, “Lán Zhàn, let’s go. I’m staving.”
As he spoke, he slid his arm across Lán WàngJī’s back and ran his fingers suggestively along it from top to bottom, giving him a gentle pinch from time to time along the way.
The teasing felt like torture to Lán WàngJī. He pressed his lips together, trying to suppress his growing lust, and hurried away.
Before Lán WàngJī walked past the youngsters, Wèi WúXiàn swiftly brought his arm back in front of him and buried his face in Lán WàngJī’s shoulder to stifle a laugh that nearly made his chest tighten. He looked just like a mischievous cat up to no good.
The teenagers stared blankly in the direction Lán WàngJī had gone. The same person who, just a minute ago, had been composed and imposing had moved so fast that he was almost a fleeting shadow.
Feeling the pressure disappear, Li-gōngzǐ hurriedly bent over and gasped for air. He didn’t care about losing face because, a moment earlier, he had almost been scared half to death.
He thought, “Yílíng Lǎozǔ is not as the rumours describe him. Not only is he a nice person, but he’s also very good-looking. In comparison, HánGuāng-Jūn is quite intimidating. He’s not easy to talk to. However, when it comes to his partner, he is very caring.”
“A mutual love between partners is the best, after all,” he then said with a sigh, expecting others to agree with him.
Instead of agreement, he heard muffled sounds and quickly turned to look at them in confusion.
They were trying to open their mouths to gasp for air but failed and were forced to breathe through their nostrils instead. Soon, their faces turned red. Apparently, Lán WàngJī had forgotten to lift the Silent Spell on them.
Li-gōngzǐ, being the only one to have the spell lifted, didn’t know how to console them.
As for the GūsūLán disciples, they breathed a sigh of relief. This time, thanks to Wèi WúXiàn, they had neither been scolded nor punished.
Shī-xiōng walked over to his junior and said, “Dūnrú, next time, remember not to act rashly.”
“Shī-xiōng…” Dūnrú said in a low voice.
“Do you have something else to say?” Shī-xiōng asked.
“Just a moment ago, Wèi-qiánbèi said they were going back so he could rest,” Dūnrú remarked. “Why have they headed towards the kitchen instead?”
Shī-xiōng remained speechless.
… … …
Before meeting Wèi WúXiàn, Lán WàngJī hadn’t had much contract with people, including the members of their clan.
His father had been living in seclusion even before Lán WàngJī’s birth, and his mother had died at a young age. He had been close only to his elder brother and uncle.
After they became a couple, Lán WàngJī began interacting with the staff and chefs at the various restaurants they often frequented. The same was true of shopkeepers, boatmen, the sugar-painting candy seller, and the girl who sold loquats, who always smiled at them and asked whether they would like to buy some.
With Wèi WúXiàn by his side, Lán WàngJī was like a black-and-white painting slowly blossoming into a vibrant landscape filled with colour and life.
