Bouquet

Returning to an old place stirred up some not-so-pleasant memories for Cen Shuangluo. He sat under a tree, allowing the maple leaves to fall on him. He wasn’t someone skilled at disguises, and pretending to be Ning Chengying was exhausting. Luckily, Ying Wuchou was blind, saving him a lot of trouble. Even so, Cen Shuangluo was already worn out.

Even if Ying Wuchou wasn’t planning to meditate and adjust his breathing, Cen Shuangluo wanted to find an excuse to get some fresh air. He looked at the leaves on his lap, and Ying Wuchou’s face flashed through his mind, making him sigh for some reason.

Lost in thought, Cen Shuangluo leaned against the tree trunk and fell into a deep sleep, unknowingly slipping into a dream.

In the dream, he found himself in a lush bamboo forest. He crawled out of a dark, sturdy, narrow house and smelled a sweet fragrance. He felt very hungry and ran towards the delicious smell, only to find his limbs short and small, unable to stand up, crawling like a gecko through the grass.

Fortunately, he seemed to be a natural at crawling, moving quickly and soon reaching the food. In the dream, he had no worries, only the joy of being full. The bamboo forest was very safe, with no one to compete with him for food. He ate until his belly was round and slept on a soft grass mat.

He spent his days eating and sleeping, sleeping and eating, and after some time, he grew a little and began exploring his surroundings. At first, he was timid, only daring to crawl within the bamboo forest, hiding when he saw a few small snakes. Later, he discovered that those snakes were more afraid of him and couldn’t approach his dwelling, wouldn’t steal his food, and even brought him some.

However, he didn’t like the insects and frogs the snakes brought; he preferred sweet-smelling things, so he ventured out of the bamboo forest and into a sea of flowers.

Cen Shuangluo, who had only seen green since birth, was overjoyed to see so many vibrant colors. He rolled around in the flowers, scratched his itchy scales on the grass vines, and followed bees to their hives, stealing some honey.

The bees stung him with their poisonous stingers, but his scales were thick, making him unafraid of attacks. But his eyes and nostrils were weak, and he feared the swarm, so he jumped into a pond to escape them.

He could breathe freely underwater, and the koi in the pond brought him sweet water plants to eat. He was having a great time in that paradise-like valley, growing bolder, exploring further, and eventually discovering a small thatched hut.

Peeking through the window, he saw someone lying inside, dressed in white, with their clothes open, revealing a large expanse of skin. The first time he saw that person, Cen Shuangluo instinctively hid, his heart pounding and his body heating up, forcing him to lie in the pond all night until his burning scales cooled down.

The creatures he interacted with in the valley were small snakes and fish, all with scales like him. They revered and loved him, played well with him, and he felt that creatures with scales were his kind. He had no interest in befriending bees, frogs, or insects.

It was his first time finding a creature without scales beautiful.

After hiding for two days, he still wanted to see that person, so he nudged the door open with his head and quietly crawled inside. The person slept peacefully, their profile extraordinarily handsome, leaving Cen Shuangluo entranced.

After that, Cen Shuangluo visited the hut daily to see if the person had woken up, but he never saw them open their eyes. He began to anticipate their awakening, feeling that the white hut lacked vitality, wanting to add some color to it.

So, he ran to the flower field, picked the largest, most colorful, and prettiest flowers, found some grass vines, and with great difficulty, tied them into a bouquet with his front paws.

Carrying the bouquet in his mouth, he crawled to the hut, only to find a second person inside. That person was Ning Chengying.

Ning Chengying, like the person on the bed, had no scales, but his skin was slightly darker, and he wasn’t as good-looking, making Cen Shuangluo a bit afraid.

Ning Chengying sat by the person’s bed, gazing deeply at them, saying, “Master, I will definitely save you.”

Ning Chengying reached out, wanting to touch the person’s face, his hand trembling slightly, as if mustering the courage to do something outrageous.

His hand was blocked by an invisible force a foot away from the person. Ning Chengying pressed harder, trying to break through the barrier, but was repelled by a strong force, causing deep cuts on his palm, blood dripping down.

Outside the window, Cen Shuangluo was so shocked he stepped back, making a noise that alerted Ning Chengying.

“What is it?” Ning Chengying walked out of the hut, looking down at Cen Shuangluo with the bouquet in his mouth.

Ning Chengying’s gaze was completely different from Ying Wuchou’s. He looked at Cen Shuangluo coldly and ruthlessly, as if he were looking at something lifeless.

“A snake raised by Master has gained spirituality?” Ning Chengying muttered to himself.

Cen Shuangluo slowly retreated.

Ning Chengying bent down, snatched the bouquet from Cen Shuangluo’s mouth, and tossed it aside, saying, “Vulgar.”

A black aura emerged from his palm, and the bouquet withered upon contact, turning gray-black.

Cen Shuangluo instinctively sensed danger and quickly crawled away, trying to return to his birthplace. There was a barrier there, just like in the hut, keeping the small snakes out and making it very safe.

But he was too slow, barely crawling far before Ning Chengying grabbed him by the nape and lifted him up.

“Master is kind-hearted. Even when poisonous snakes crawl to his bedside, he doesn’t harm them but releases them back into the mountains. I can tolerate snakes in the valley, but since you’ve gained spirituality, you’re a demon and can’t be allowed near Master,” Ning Chengying said coldly.

Cen Shuangluo struggled desperately but couldn’t break free from Ning Chengying.

He envied Ning Chengying’s flexible limbs, while he only had paws.

Ning Chengying’s palm was full of black qi, carrying a deathly aura that made Cen Shuangluo very uncomfortable, finding it hard to breathe and feeling weak.

Soon, he was stiff all over, his limbs cold, like he was dead.

This was Cen Shuangluo’s instinct; he was born knowing how to play dead, indistinguishable from actually being dead.

“So weak,” Ning Chengying said coldly.

He carried Cen Shuangluo to the flower field, swung his palm, and the black qi spread, withering all the beautiful flowers.

Then, Ning Chengying threw Cen Shuangluo’s “corpse” out of the valley with a strong toss.

Cen Shuangluo was flung far away, flying over the valley and landing on the cliff outside.

His head hit the ground hard, rolling a few times, his whole body in pain.

The scales on his body were eroded by Ning Chengying’s black qi, slowly falling off and weathering away upon touching the ground.

Cen Shuangluo instinctively knew he couldn’t stay here, gritting his teeth and using his small paws to crawl away from the valley.

As he crawled, he felt dizzy, as if someone were shaking him…

“Chengying, Chengying?”

Cen Shuangluo jolted awake, opening his eyes to see Ying Wuchou’s face very close to his, the white cloth over his eyes seemingly watching him.

Ying Wuchou held a wooden staff in one hand and gently shook Cen Shuangluo’s shoulder with the other, waking him up.

“Master,” Cen Shuangluo felt they were too close. He wanted to back away, but behind him was a huge maple tree, leaving no escape.

He had to turn his face away from Ying Wuchou.

“Were you asleep?” Ying Wuchou asked. “I heard your breathing was rapid and seemed painful, unlike meditating, more like having a nightmare, so I woke you up. Are you feeling unwell?”

Even with his eyes covered, Ying Wuchou’s concern penetrated the thick white cloth, reaching Cen Shuangluo.

Cen Shuangluo wasn’t used to such care. He stood up, pushing away Ying Wuchou’s hand from his shoulder.

“No, just sleeping lightly,” Cen Shuangluo said.

The autumn breeze brushed his face, bringing a slight chill.

He wiped his face, realizing it was wet, as if he’d shed tears in his sleep.

At fourteen, Cen Shuangluo was beaten, his leg crippled, lying on the cold floor of the main hall with a cracked statue, developing a high fever.

After that night, he began dreaming frequently.

The dreams were of things he hadn’t experienced, people he hadn’t met.

In the dreams, he was severely injured by people he’d never seen, who hated him and wanted to kill him, shouting, “Avenge Master.”

Initially, Cen Shuangluo didn’t understand the dreams, only feeling anger and sadness.

Later, some things gradually came true, and he realized these weren’t just dreams but events that would happen in the future.

He used the dreams’ hints to avoid disasters and find treasures, gaining some strength, no longer easily harmed or crippled like before.

Cen Shuangluo knew the dreams would come true, that he would be killed by some people in the future, and he had to do something to fight against the impending disaster.

But today’s dream was different from usual; it seemed like events from a past life rather than the future.

Cen Shuangluo was adopted by the Cen family as a baby, like a blank slate, with no past.

As a child, he genuinely considered himself a Cen family member, filial to his parents, respectful to elders, helping them from a young age.

When his mother was pregnant, he was very happy, thinking he would have a brother or sister, waiting by his mother’s bed every day for the baby to be born.

As his mother’s belly grew, he wanted to touch it secretly, to feel the baby’s vitality.

But as soon as his hand touched her belly, his father entered the room, pulled him away, and slapped him hard, saying he was trying to harm the unborn child.

That slap left Cen Shuangluo stunned, and he never had sweet dreams again.

Today’s dream, at least the first part, was unusually happy. The joy of rolling in the flowers, even awake, made him smile at the thought.

Cen Shuangluo knew his dreams weren’t baseless; they were events that had happened or would happen.

But when had he ever been so happy? Was this a past life?

“Chengying?” Ying Wuchou asked, concerned.

Cen Shuangluo felt a surge of irritation, hating the name “Chengying.”

But he still had things to do.

Meeting Ying Wuchou in the town was unexpected, but he had planned to go to the Hidden Valley to awaken Ying Wuchou anyway.

According to his dreams, at this time, it should be Luo Qingyu, Ying Wuchou’s third disciple, who found an immortal herb capable of extending life, refining it into a pill for Ying Wuchou, waking him after fifty years of slumber.

Cen Shuangluo originally planned to wait until Luo Qingyu exhausted his power refining the pill, then steal it and take Ying Wuchou away.

He would then disguise himself as Luo Qingyu, getting close to Ying Wuchou, making him see Cen Shuangluo as his most trusted disciple.

Unexpectedly, he met the already awakened Ying Wuchou in the town, dressed so… casually!

With reality diverging from the dream, Cen Shuangluo had to change his plans, now posing as the hardest-to-escape Ning Chengying to get close to Ying Wuchou.

Next, he needed to find a way to bring Ying Wuchou to Ning Chengying, making them become enemies.

Ideally, Ying Wuchou would kill Ning Chengying with his own hands.

Being killed by the master he respected and loved most, Ning Chengying’s expression would surely be priceless.

Thinking of this, Cen Shuangluo couldn’t help but smile maliciously.

He quickly remembered Ying Wuchou was beside him.

Luckily, Ying Wuchou couldn’t see, or his expression might have given him away.

Cen Shuangluo returned to a respectful demeanor, stepping forward to support Ying Wuchou, saying warmly, “Master, why didn’t you call for your disciple?”

The breeze lifted the cloth tied at the back of Ying Wuchou’s head, brushing lightly against Cen Shuangluo’s cheek, the soft touch softening his cold heart a little.

He heard Ying Wuchou say, “I heard your breathing was off and worried you were cultivating. If I called you, it might harm your mind, so I used a staff to find my way out to check.”

“Your disciple is useless, worrying Master,” Cen Shuangluo said.

Ying Wuchou was good in every way, except for taking in a bunch of unworthy disciples. If the disciples failed, it was the master’s fault, and Ying Wuchou should take responsibility.

Thinking of this, Cen Shuangluo’s heart, which had just softened, hardened again. He asked Ying Wuchou, “Where does Master plan to go next? Are you thinking of returning to the Hidden Valley?”

If Ying Wuchou wanted to return to the valley, he would need to come up with a way to lead Ying Wuchou to the real Ning Chengying’s location.

Ying Wuchou shook his head, “You know, I’ve been lying down for a long time, and I want to travel and relax. I can go anywhere, just not back to the valley.”

“Master suddenly woke up after sleeping for so long. Did you recover on your own, or did the senior brothers find some spiritual medicine?” Cen Shuangluo probed the reason for Ying Wuchou’s awakening.

Ying Wuchou’s awakening didn’t match his dream, making Cen Shuangluo feel uncertain.

Ying Wuchou shook his head, “I woke up on my own. I used the turtle breathing technique to enter a state of suspended animation, prolonging my life. But now I feel it’s better to wake up and see the world than to waste time in false death.”

This… Ying Wuchou’s awakening was a final burst of energy before death?

No wonder his eyes were completely blind; his body must be extremely weak.

If his health was so poor, would having him kill his own disciple cause him mental distress and lead to his death?

Thinking of this, a trace of reluctance flashed across Cen Shuangluo’s face.

Ying Wuchou smiled lightly at him, “Life and death are destined; this is my fate. Chengying, don’t worry.”

I’m not worried; I’m concerned you’ll die after killing just one disciple. There are six more. Cen Shuangluo thought to himself.

Ying Wuchou said, “I want to travel the world, to wander freely. But my eyes are inconvenient, and I need someone to guide me. Chengying, would you be willing to accompany me and help me see the beauty of this land?”

The proposal was exactly what Cen Shuangluo wanted. He happily supported Ying Wuchou and suggested, “While traveling the world, I passed through a village where the people still maintain some primitive customs. I found it strange but didn’t understand why they did it. Could Master help me understand?”

“We’ll have to see to know,” Ying Wuchou placed his hand on Cen Shuangluo’s, “I need you to lead the way.”

“Okay.” Cen Shuangluo took out a flute from his waist, gently waving it, preparing to ride the clouds.

At this moment, Ying Wuchou said, “I almost forgot.”

From his sleeve, he took out Cen Shuangluo’s clean outer robe, personally helping him put it on and fastening his belt.

Ying Wuchou was very attentive, his hands skillfully tying a knot at Cen Shuangluo’s lower back, making the belt hang neatly with the robe.

When the wind blew, the excess belt would flutter like two white feathers circling Cen Shuangluo.

“All done,” Ying Wuchou smiled.

He tucked the jade slip that almost fell out when taking the robe back into his sleeve.

The jade slip, upon seeing Cen Shuangluo, flashed with green light, as if trying to convey something.

Earlier, he had asked the jade slip about the whereabouts of the other half of the statue, and the information given was—

[The statue, cared for over the years, “came to life” and developed preferences. It would actively follow someone it liked. After the person who cared for it left, unable to bear the dust, it split in two, with the sentient half seeking the caretaker.]

And the last person to wipe the statue was Cen Shuangluo.

Ying Wuchou, under the guise of adjusting his sleeves, pinched the jade slip, preventing it from displaying words.

His scales had followed someone else; such an interesting matter couldn’t be revealed immediately. He wanted to observe Cen Shuangluo closely, to uncover the secrets hidden within him.

Author’s Note:
Cen Shuangluo: The happy times in the Hidden Valley weren’t dreams; they were from a past life, definitely not something I experienced in this life.

Ying Wuchou: The weather’s getting cooler, autumn’s here, time to kill a disciple to vent.

There’s still a 300 random red envelope today, love you all (づ￣3￣)づ╭～