Chapter Text
As soon as the sun rose, Mo Ran lingered somewhere near Naihe Bridge out of sight, trying to catch a glimpse of his disciple that he hasn’t seen since the boy fled from Mo Ran’s room. Though he had wanted to go to Chu Wanning’s room, to even just check on him…he thought it would be too selfish, when his disciple was probably finally getting proper rest for the first time in days.
He couldn’t help but fret the entire day and night, though. Chu Wanning had just recovered from a fever, not to mention he had been injured prior. He closed two barrier breaches in two days—and apparently summoned a dragon? Even after all that, he had stayed with Mo Ran the entire time, and even made him food…
His aunt had advised to start small. Mo Ran could see the wisdom in that—Chu Wanning, despite the composed appearance he usually showed, got overwhelmed and flustered quite easily. So…a simple greeting was a good first step, right? Difficult conversations could be reserved later, when the time was appropriate.
Mo Ran wondered if it was normal to instantly recognize your disciple’s figure amidst a sea of other disciples wearing the same colored robes. But then again, Chu Wanning easily stood out from a crowd without trying—hell, Mo Ran could argue that his disciple fought to not stand out, sometimes…
His disciple tended to stand out in both a good and bad way. The way he held himself, the way he walked, was unmatched in poise and noble if aloof aura—he looked untouchable, to put it succinctly. And it was reflected in the way crowds tended to part where he walked. As if there was a constant invisible barrier between Chu Wanning and the world that none were allowed to breach.
A duo of girls that had been standing near the end of Naihe Bridge walk up to Chu Wanning, giggling and pushing at each other before addressing Mo Ran’s disciple. An unpleasant feeling different from the guilt, worry and sadness he had been stewing on suddenly bursts forth. Bitter and acrid and unbearable in a way that felt like a trapped beast writhing and slamming against its cage to break free.
In a blink of an eye, he was right beside his disciple, smiling his usual smile as he greeted them, “Good morning, Wanning! And to you two as well.”
The other two look up at him in surprise, but both greet him back pleasantly, one of the girls tucking a ‘stray’ hair behind her ear. Chu Wanning only looks at him at first, expression neutral, before bowing formally and greeting him respectfully. Mo Ran feels his heart twist at the cold reception, but then he hears the girls titter again, with one of them addressing him, asking how he was. So it turns out all of Sisheng Peak was aware that he was brought back unconscious on a dragon, huh. Gossip sure flies fast.
It was only a few seconds of distraction—with the girls fawningly speaking to him about how chivalrous his disciple looked as he descended from a mighty dragon, the nobly beautiful yet sorrowful expression on his face as he pleaded with the Sect Leader to help his shizun. Mo Ran, who once would have cringed and snorted at the hyperbolic, dramatic retelling and adjectives these girls used even if it wasn’t about Chu Wanning, found himself wanting to hear more.
A mere few seconds, and Chu Wanning was already a great distance away, having quietly disentangled himself from the three of them earlier. Mo Ran quickly ends the conversation and jogs to catch up to his disciple.
Chu Wanning slows down when he notices Mo Ran, acknowledging him with a simple, “Shizun? Is there something you need?”
“Are you going to Mengpo Hall?” Mo Ran casually ignores the fact that his disciple thinks Mo Ran only voluntarily talks to him if he or the sect needs something.
Chu Wanning looks at him uncomprehendingly for a few moments, before saying, “If there is something shizun or the Sect Leader need me to do, I can attend to it immediately.”
“Nothing, everything’s fine, don’t worry,” Mo Ran laughs a little forcefully, “I was going to Mengpo Hall as well…why don’t we walk together?”
For a second, his disciple looked as if he was about to say something, but in the end Chu Wanning only nods briefly and continues walking. The walk to Mengpo Hall isn’t that long, as Naihe Bridge was quite close to it. Yet it was still awkward, the silence stifling and oppressive.
As they were picking their food, Mo Ran notices Chu Wanning glance sideways at him, seemingly sneakily though Mo Ran catches him at it anyway. Cute. Poor thing was probably really confused, though. Mo Ran notices him getting a few spicy dishes, and he feels the oppressive grip of remorse and pity envelop his heart. Mo Ran ends up not taking a single spicy dish—instead choosing and picking food that he knows Chu Wanning was partial to.
Mo Ran trots behind his disciple, and as soon as Chu Wanning sits down, Mo Ran sits across from him. His disciple looks up at him with slightly wide eyes, before his eyes look from right to left, as if observing his surroundings. Chu Wanning’s brows furrow slightly, but he doesn’t say anything.
It felt like an uncanny, heartbreaking parallel of the first time Mo Ran had sat down with Chu Wanning in Mengpo Hall. When he had looked 10 years younger and had only started learning what he misunderstood about Chu Wanning. Only a month has passed, yet it felt like ages ago, now.
“I heard you stayed with me the entire time I was unconscious,” Mo Ran genuinely is curious, but he still cringes at his opening topic,
His disciple glances away from him and looks down, fiddling with his food, “It was shameless of me. Please forgive me for staying without shizun’s permission…”
“No, that’s not why I brought it up,” Mo Ran mentally kicks himself, “I don’t mind at all, I’m grateful. I was just surprised to hear—you left as soon as I woke up, after all…”
“I did not wish to overstay my welcome any longer,” Chu Wanning explains, head slightly bowed, never meeting his eyes.
“You didn’t,” Mo Ran reassures his disciples, though it felt futile; his disciple seemed convinced that Mo Ran didn’t want him there, “Actually…I asked because I was wondering if you were okay. Did you sleep well? You must have been tired, what with the past few days…”
“Hn. I slept adequately,” Chu Wanning responds simply. Mo Ran has since learned not to take his disciple’s seemingly neutral responses at face value.
“That’s good,” Mo Ran replies, feeling a little useless, but unsure how else to prod.
Mo Ran watches his disciple put a tiny piece of spicy fish in his mouth and immediately still, coughing ever so subduedly and subtly. With a smooth, graceful movement, Chu Wanning quickly reaches for a cup of water and downs it. Really, this silly boy.
“Actually…I’m kind of craving fish too,” Mo Ran sighs longingly in an exaggerated manner, “Can I trade with you? Please?”
Chu Wanning narrows his eyes suspiciously at him, but nods his head anyway. Well, that was one spicy dish successfully retrieved.
The rest of the meal proceeds in the same stilted, awkward manner. With Mo Ran occasionally working out a way to spare his disciple from eating any of the spicy dishes Chu Wanning had brought with him. He tries to start a casual conversation here and there, but only gets a measuring look or curt answer in response.
When they exit Mengpo Hall, Mo Ran puts a hand on Chu Wanning’s shoulder before he can go anywhere further, “Um…where are you going?”
“Training. Unless we have lessons today, shizun?” Chu Wanning asks, half-turned, half a step already forward.
“Uh yeah, let’s go back to my place,” Mo Ran knows how unconvincing he sounds; lessons, his ass. As if Chu Wanning was going to believe that. They only ever trained together occasionally, and they never had proper lessons because Mo Ran felt too uneducated and inept to teach his genius disciple.
They once again walk in silence, with Mo Ran’s mind racing on how to find an opener to start explaining. As soon as they reach his home, he busies himself with making tea, remembering to add honey to Chu Wanning’s share to give his disciple a bit of a treat at least.
He sits across from Chu Wanning, lamenting all the times they sat across from each other in these very seats, not too long ago. When his disciple had been more open with himself and what he felt, because he saw Mo Ran as a friend who cared for him.
“So what’s this dragon shizun’s been hearing about?” Mo Ran blurts out, tapping his fingers against the cup, “Uncle and auntie mentioned you bringing me back while riding one?”
Chu Wanning turns his head to the side slightly, pursing his lips, “It’s not a real dragon. Just some paper dragon…”
“Still, it’s very impressive,” Mo Ran praises, trying to find his footing, “Being able to fix a rift, then even summoning a dragon to save me…”
“I was only doing my duty,” Chu Wanning replies firmly. Mo Ran knows that was a lie. This boy who rarely showed how he felt, letting himself cry in public over someone like Mo Ran all because he had been worried? That was beyond duty.
“I’m still thankful,” Mo Ran coughs into his fist, trying to hide his smile at the familiar slightly indignant expression his disciple was wearing, “You’ve done a lot for me. Healing me, bringing me home, even staying with me…”
“Anyone would have done the same,” Chu Wanning rebuffs his thanks easily, “Shizun need not to feel indebted towards me.”
“You even cooked me food, even though you must have been tired,” Mo Ran waits for Chu Wanning to comprehend his words, his composed expression suddenly shifting into a slightly panicked one.
“I…” Chu Wanning starts, then trails off. He looks down on what Mo Ran imagines to be his tightly closed fists over his robes, “I’m sorry.”
“Why are you apologizing?” Mo Ran huffs out a small, pained laugh, “Silly boy. It tasted good, don’t worry.”
Upon hearing Mo Ran’s words, his disciple’s shoulders slumps down in what seems to be simultaneous relief and resignation.
“Don’t be upset at Mengmeng, your disappointment might actually break his heart,” Mo Ran teases slightly, “He did his best to cover for you. But I recognized your cute dumplings.”
“Recognized…?” Chu Wanning echoes, brows furrowing slightly in confusion.
“How could I not?” Mo Ran braces himself, heart pounding in his chest when he says, “I’m the one who taught you how to make dumplings, remember?”
Chu Wanning’s confused face doesn’t compose itself back to something more neutral. If anything, it only shifts into something even more uncomprehending and painful. Like he’s too confused and hurt to even think of hiding it, now. Mo Ran lets his words sink in properly, waits for his disciple to break the silence instead.
“Shizun remembers?” Mo Ran’s heart twists painfully at Chu Wanning’s small, confused tone, “But…I thought…”
“Why would you think I didn’t?” Mo Ran asks gently, genuinely curious as well, “Shizun remembers everything. From the first day I introduced myself to you as ‘Mo Weiyu’.”
“Oh,” Chu Wanning says, though he was still clearly befuddled, “Shizun had his memories, even as Weiyu?”
“I did,” Mo Ran replies honestly, and tentatively tries to start apologizing, “I’m sorry for lying in the first place, about my identity…”
“Shizun doesn’t need to apologize or explain,” Chu Wanning dismisses his paltry attempts at apologizing, finally shifting into something more neutral.
“Of course I need to,” Mo Ran leans forward slightly, his hand reaching towards the center of the table, closing into a fist, “Please, let me explain, okay?”
“But first…can I ask why you think I didn’t have my memories as an adult?” Mo Ran thinks he’s put a few pieces of the puzzle together, but he was unwilling to accept the picture he was building.
“Because…” Chu Wanning’s cheeks pinken ever so slightly, a delicate and beautiful sight. His disciple mumbles his answer slightly, “Weiyu said…he was my friend. So.”
The twisting in his chest turns into stinging in his eyes and nose, his stomach curdling nauseatingly at the admittance. Right. Of course. Mo Weiyu was friendly and kind and caring and everything that Mo Ran had failed to be towards Chu Wanning. Of course the dissonance between their treatment of him must have been jarring, when his disciple found out the truth. So jarring his disciple somehow convinced himself that the only reason Mo Ran had been friendly with him was because he couldn’t remember Chu Wanning in the first place.
“And that’s the truth, Mo Weiyu is your friend,” Mo Ran says gently, but firmly, “Shizun is also your friend. Just because I’ve turned back, doesn’t make it not true anymore.”
“Shizun doesn’t need to feel obligated,” Chu Wanning’s cute, shy embarrassed expression instantly flattens into something stoic and aloof, “What happened in the past few weeks when shizun was cursed need not be spoken of again. I can keep my mouth shut.”
“It’s not out of obligation!” Mo Ran clenches his fist tighter, frustrated at himself for not being able to form the proper words to convince his disciple, “I’m still Mo Weiyu…just because I’m also your shizun—just because I lied about my identity, doesn’t make what happened in the last month any less real.”
“Is this out of pity?” Chu Wanning all but spits the word ‘pity’ out, “Because of what I’ve shared? I must have looked laughably pathetic, lamenting about trying to…to be more acceptable as your disciple to you.”
Ah, his little disciple was angry—and Mo Ran really can’t describe Chu Wanning’s wrath as anything but radiant. As beautiful and scalding as the golden rays of the sun. He would rather deal with an angry A-Ning than a sad one, any day—his heart wouldn’t be able to take the second one.
Mo Ran stands up and goes to kneel beside where Chu Wanning was sitting, who backs away from him slightly, eyeing him with suspicion, “It would be a lie if I said that had no factor at all…but not in the way you might think.”
“If anything, it made me realize that you never had to change anything about yourself,” Mo Ran reaches out a tentative hand, lightly brushing the back of his fingers against Chu Wanning’s cheekbone, “I was the one who had been wrong about you all this time. And it hurts to realize that…that I made you think like you had to twist or mold yourself into something—something that you think I would like better…”
“You aren’t lacking…or—or whatever it is you think. Whatever I made you think,” Mo Ran speaks past the choking in his throat, “Shizun likes A-Ning perfectly well, the way you are now. Whatever else you decide to be for yourself, shizun will still like you. I’ll always care about you, whether I’m Mo Weiyu, or your shizun.”
“But…I don’t—” Chu Wanning’s breath hitches slightly, and Mo Ran feels his heart jump in reaction, “Why?”
“Why?” Mo Ran repeats back, confused at the question.
“Why does shizun…” Chu Wanning trails off and purses his lips. It takes a beat before he continues, “Care?”
Before Mo Ran could process the utter heartbreak he feels at that seemingly simple question, Chu Wanning continues, “Shizun—didn’t really like me…before. So. Why suddenly…and as Weiyu?”
“I was wrong about so many things,” Mo Ran admits gently cradling the side of his disciple’s face to get him to look at Mo Ran, “I misunderstood you. I was blind to how sweet and caring and earnest you were…I don’t only care about you because I found out you cared for me too.”
“I was surprised with how patient you were with me despite not knowing me, during that first day,” Mo Ran chuckles melancholically, “Then I was worried about you, when I found you practicing the Imperial Sword Technique on your own. It scared me, how little you seemed to care about the idea of you getting hurt.”
“You’re the cutest thing, do you know?” Mo Ran pauses to laugh at his disciple’s fervent denial and flushed face, “It’s so adorable, how you tend to chew at the end of your chopsticks when you feel sleepy or don’t like the food. When you frown sulkily when I tease you. You sleep like a kitten huddling for warmth, and it’s both sad and cute.”
“I could go on,” Mo Ran pinches Chu Wanning’s cheeks a bit, feeling his hand immediately slapped away,, which he takes in stride and as he beams at his disciple, “Once I realized that…that you cared more than you let on. That you felt things deeper than you let on…”
That I adored and treasured every little bit of discovery I made about you. That I realized I don’t need a reason to like you at all—that I liked those little things simply because they were about you.
Mo Ran doesn’t say any of that, and instead he says, “I realized how much I liked my precious, adorable disciple.”
“That’s silly,” Chu Wanning crosses his arms and glances away again, though his cheeks redden adorably, “Shizun doesn’t need to exaggerate to placate me. I already know what I’m like—what I am.”
“What do you mean?” Mo Ran asks with just the slightest hint of an edge in his voice.
“I’ve already said it before,” Chu Wanning pauses and bites his lips, looking up at Mo Ran with glassy eyes, “I know I’m not cute or whatever. I’m standoffish and I have a short-temper—I’m not exactly…likable. People don’t like me. And I understand why.”
It wasn’t the first time Mo Ran had heard Chu Wanning say that people don’t like him. It wasn’t even the second time. That second time, Mo Ran had hugged his disciple—had the freedom to do so. Back then, he had wondered whether it was the first time anyone had hugged this boy. And he still doesn’t know the answer to that question.
Mo Ran carefully takes Chu Wanning into his embrace, who had looked at him with a dubious, anxious expression, but let Mo Ran do so anyway. His heart felt soft and tender, feeling how much smaller Chu Wanning felt in his arms now. How completely and utterly Mo Ran could engulf him in his hold. He inhales the sweet scent of haitang blossoms, and leaves a kiss on top of his disciple’s head.
“I like you, and I’m ‘people’,” Mo Ran mutters to his disciple, still not letting go, “You accepted it before, when I was Mo Weiyu…what makes it so different now? What made him different from ‘people’?”
“It’s not that…” Chu Wanning mumbles slightly, his cheek against Mo Ran’s chest, almost inaudible, “We’ve only known each other for a few weeks…I wasn’t sure…”
“You weren’t sure…if he would continue being the same, in the future?” Mo Ran squeezes Chu Wanning close just a little bit tighter, “Just like me?”
“Not just shizun…” Chu Wanning raises his head slightly, sneaking a peek at him. Mo Ran feels the pain in his heart get soothed momentarily by the precious sight.
“My A-Ning is very smart, and shizun is very stupid and wrong about a lot of things,” Mo Ran starts, chuckling slightly when Chu Wanning’s head snaps up to look at him angrily.
“Shizun isn’t stupid,” Chu Wanning defends Mo Ran unnecessarily. How sweet.
“But even your stupid shizun can be right about things, and even my genius little disciple can get some things wrong right?” Mo Ran smiles down placatingly at his disciple, “You’re not unlikable. Shizun adores you very much. The entire Xue family adore you. Other people are just blind.”
“Then why did you lie?” Chu Wanning suddenly asks in a small, scared voice that Mo Ran nearly doesn’t hear. Mo Ran wonders if his aunt heard the same tone, when his disciple asked her if Mo Ran was going to be fine. He wonders how anyone could leave that conversation with their heart intact—feeling his heart break into tiny irreparable pieces at the vulnerable tone.
“I’m sorry,” Mo Ran pushes away slightly, wanting to look Chu Wanning in the eyes as he says so. He tilts his disciple’s head up gently with a curled finger, “I was stupid. At first, I didn’t want you to see how careless and stupid I was…getting cursed like some inexperienced cultivator.”
“But then I continued lying for a different reason, but it was still selfish,” Mo Ran tries his best to continue looking at his disciple’s confused, hurt expression, tentative as if he was bracing himself for Mo Ran’s words, “It was easier for me…to get to know you better. To get you to open up to me, as Mo Weiyu. Because he hasn’t hurt you in the way I have.”
Chu Wanning doesn’t refute Mo Ran’s statement about hurting him—doesn’t make any comment about it at all. Which was as damning as confirmation itself.
“And then…at the end of it all, I didn’t want you to lose your friend,” Mo Ran chokes on the words slightly, “But at the same time, I was scared to tell you the truth, too. It felt like no matter what I chose to do at that point, it would hurt you either way.”
“I know just my words won’t be convincing,” Mo Ran reluctantly releases Chu Wanning from his hold, and instead takes both of his disciple’s hand into his own, “But only my identity had been a lie; everything that happened the past few weeks, they were genuine, okay? I’m still Mo Weiyu…just, you know, older. Taller.”
“But if it would be easier…” Mo Ran swallows slightly, then continues, “Why don’t we start over? This time…shizun will do it right this time. No more lies, no more shortcuts. I’ll take care of you properly this time as myself…so please. Let me do things right, this time…”
“I don’t need shizun to take care of me,” Chu Wanning looks to the side, but doesn’t outright deny Mo Ran’s offer, “I can handle myself just fine.”
“But I’m saying that I want to,” Mo Ran insists gently, “I want to take care of you.”
Without any warning at all, a precious little tear falls from Chu Wanning’s eye, followed by another—until they were streaming down his fair cheeks. Each one is like a dagger to the heart. Panic and worry seize him, feeling all air escape him. Such a heartbreaking sight didn’t have the right to be this beautiful.
“What’s wrong?” Mo Ran gently wipes at his disciple’s tear tracks with the back of his trembling hand, “Did I say something wrong?”
Chu Wanning shakes his head slightly, wrapping his arms around himself, “Nobody’s ever said they wanted to…to take care of me, before.”
“I’m here now,” Mo Ran gathers Chu Wanning back in his arms, hugging him tightly, trying to make up for all the times no one had been there to comfort him. Trying to make up for all the years this boy had thought no one loved him, “Shizun’s here now. I know it’s too late, but I care about you, okay?”
Mo Ran feels Chu Wanning burrow his face closer, as if hiding—he’s not quite hugging Mo Ran back, but he is clutching tightly at Mo Ran’s robes. It takes him a few moments to notice the slight, nigh imperceptible trembling of his disciple’s shoulders. Only then does he hear the quiet, occasional hitching sound his disciple makes.
Mo Ran hugs Chu Wanning closer, gently running a hand through his disciple’s hair in a soothing motion, fighting his own tears at the realization that this was probably as close to sobbing as Chu Wanning was going to get.
It was unfair, how Chu Wanning was quick to accept the notion of being unlikable, barely sparing a single tear over it before. As if it was an inevitable, unchangeable thing. Yet the idea of someone liking him, of wanting to care for him had been what had driven him to what would constitute as breaking down crying for anyone else.
How long has Chu Wanning been convinced that no one cared for him, for it to hurt him this much to hear Mo Ran say it? Mo Ran dreaded to know the answer. But no matter what, the fact remained that he was here now. He’ll keep saying it over and over again, until it no longer hurts to hear it—and beyond that too.
Eventually, Chu Wanning cries himself to sleep in Mo Ran’s arms. Mo Ran carefully catches his disciple, cradling him close with one arm, while the other gently brushes away some stray hair over Chu Wanning’s fair face. Despite the reddened corners of his eyes, nose, and the tears staining his face, Mo Ran still feels his breath get taken away; Chu Wanning is heartbreakingly beautiful and wonderfully human.
Gently, he plants a kiss on Chu Wanning’s forehead, unable to resist, before fully lifting the boy up in his arms and carrying him to bed. Predictably, Chu Wanning immediately curls up into a tight ball when Mo Ran lays him down on the bed. Mo Ran really, truly, helplessly adores this boy with all his heart.
He understands now that the truth of his identity truly was only one of the first hurdles they needed to get through. There were still so many things he needed to convince Chu Wanning of; ones that will take painstaking work and effort and patience. But that was okay, they had the luxury of time; and if his disciple lets him—the rest of their lives for Mo Ran to convince Chu Wanning and to take care of him.