As the two had not yet returned to their room, Sang Luojiu happened to be carrying wash water, intending to go out and pour it away. Seeing the two, he greeted them meekly, "Master Ruyi, Mas..."

He raised his eyes and caught sight of the matching rouge on Feng Rugu's lips and Ruyi's forehead. He was tongue-tied for a moment. "...Master, you're back."

Feng Rugu was unaware of the mysterious rouge on his own lips. He tossed the peach into Sang Luojiu's arms. "For Fuchun. Eat it and go to bed early."

Sang Luojiu took it and mumbled a "yes". He then quickly shut the door with the peach, even forgetting to pour out the water.

Feng Rugu didn't know why, and laughingly cursed, "Little madman."

Ruyi knew the reason, but was unsure whether he should enter the same room as Feng Rugu. He gave Feng Rugu a slight nod and went around to Hai Jing's room.

Hai Jing was in good spirits, saying he had slept well the entire afternoon and had finished his homework. The bed here was soft, quiet and far from others, very comfortable to stay in. There were no lute girls to disturb him, and the vegetarian meals suited his tastes.

At this time, the singing of songstresses came through the half-open lattice window, drifting over from the painted pleasure boats on the small lake. It carried a hint of mist, empty and vast, heart-wrenching to hear.

Hai Jing suddenly said, "Martial Uncle, Lord Yunzhong is actually not a bad person."

"I asked the sister who delivered the vegetarian meal. She said Lord Yunzhong had specifically instructed that the bald little monk is at the threshold of cultivating his heart, having gone through eighty-one of the ninety-nine difficulties, just short of the last step. He must not be casually teased, lest it ruins his merits."

...It was indeed typical of Feng Rugu's utter nonsense.

Ruyi was silent.

Of course he knew Feng Rugu was not an evil man.

Someone his adoptive father held so dear to his heart could not be evil.

...But he was a detestable person.

From the first day he met and accompanied his adoptive father, this name had been wedged between him and his adoptive father like a specter, never leaving.

His adoptive father wrote three characters and told him to copy them by tracing.

He respectfully traced them a hundred times, afraid of not doing it well. He then took them to the literate account keeper at the inn to look at.

The account keeper was a scholar. He praised his adoptive father's destined and unrestrained calligraphy without end. "Good characters. Good name. Feng Rugu, a sealed clear edict, a loyal heart as always."

The young You Hongchen felt aggrieved at the time. He found his adoptive father and asked him haltingly why he wanted him to trace someone else's name.

After his adoptive father understood his meaning, he stared at the paper for a long time, hesitating. "This is my junior brother's name..."

You Hongchen was a little angry. He threw the papers filled with "Feng Rugu" written a hundred times, scattering them like snow.

He stood amidst the fluttering silver snow, stubbornly saying, "Hongchen wants adoptive father; doesn't want this person."

His adoptive father apologized to him, but still couldn't let it go. He would always say "my junior brother" this and that, seeming to try every way to convince him that his junior brother was an extremely good person.

From the moment the name "Feng Rugu" appeared in his life, Ruyi disliked him.

Even though he never had the chance to do anything.

Later, Feng Rugu took his adoptive father away from his side.

But Feng Rugu couldn't be blamed for this either.

If not for the demon sect causing chaos and setting a trap, Feng Rugu and the others wouldn't have been captured by them. His adoptive father also wouldn't have been so angry and hurt that he refused to see him, even saying the heartless words, "I don't know any You Hongchen. My junior brother is in imminent danger. There is only him in my heart. I don't know anyone else."

But he couldn't hate his adoptive father.

What wrong was there in his adoptive father, as the sect leader's senior brother, doting on his junior brother?

Moreover, it was said Feng Rugu was also raised single-handedly by his adoptive father, and the two had a deep bond no less than his own with him.

He couldn't hope for his adoptive father to be like him, viewing himself as the only spark of fire in his dark life.

That would be an improper thought.

He couldn't hate his adoptive father, so he could only hate the demon sect.

As for Feng Rugu, whom he had never met, Ruyi had always had complex feelings towards him. It couldn't be called hate, but dislike.

Ruyi thought, he should have the right to dislike him.

Ten years later, because someone targeted Feng Rugu, disciples of Hanshan Temple lost their lives for no reason. Ruyi finally had a righteous reason to despise Feng Rugu.

...But when it came down to it, this matter couldn't be blamed on him either.

As Ruyi thought this, the four-cornered flower on his forehead felt a little hot.

Hai Jing also saw the eye-catching mark on his forehead. He stared at it curiously, but knew his junior martial uncle was observing a vow of silence. Even if he asked, he wouldn't get an answer, so he had no choice but to refrain.

Before leaving, Ruyi cast a layer of cyan mist-like protective energy around Hai Jing to ensure his safety.

When Ruyi returned to their room, he found Feng Rugu had already washed up and gone to bed.

He slept on the outer side, only taking up a small area, leaving a large empty space on the inner side.

Somehow, seeing this scene, Ruyi found it a little familiar. His heart also felt a subtle tenderness.

When he was young, he had never slept on such a high bed and would always roll off in the middle of the night.

This problem persisted. His adoptive father simply slept on the outer side.

The few times he woke in the night, he had bumped into his adoptive father's arms. His awakened adoptive father would always blink his sleepy eyes, laughingly curse him as a little ancestor, then press down the quilt over his head to block the candlelight, kiss him through the quilt, and tell him to go back to sleep quickly.

Ruyi looked at the man sleeping soundly while hugging the quilt and secretly thought he was overthinking.

...With Lord Yunzhong's personality, most likely he was just too lazy to move a little further in.

Having old matters brought up, with his cold and proud temperament, Ruyi absolutely refused to share a bed with Feng Rugu.

Ruyi took a quilt, preparing to sleep on the floor.

When cleansing his face with clear water, he slowly wiped away the garish red flower on his forehead, dyeing the water a layer of light red.

When he took a soft towel to wipe his face, what flashed before his eyes was Feng Rugu's lips with a thin layer of rouge.

Ruyi tightened his grip on the soft towel.

When he put down his hand, his face was still a picture of ancient well-like tranquility.

However, after washing up, the tranquil Master Ruyi did not return to his bedding. As if possessed, he picked up a candle and soundlessly came to the bedside, bending over to look at his face.

...That bit of rouge on his lips actually hadn't been washed off.

Ruyi was a little speechless.

However, few people would specifically clean their lips when washing their face. The copper mirror in the room was also blurry and wouldn't show it, so it was normal.

Ruyi no longer allowed himself to think otherwise. With a wave of his hand, he enveloped him in a layer of thin protective mist.

Although he knew with Feng Rugu's cultivation, he was probably doing something superfluous, but...

Ruyi sat on the edge of the bed, maintaining his raised hand posture, also unable to understand why he would act this way.

Perhaps it was Feng Rugu tonight that kept reminding him of his adoptive father from his youth.

With heavy thoughts on his mind, he slept on the ground as if it were a mat.

At midnight, the entire city was quiet, with only an occasional chirp or two of early summer cicadas, which sounded sparse and listless.

Moonlight spilled through the half-open window, illuminating a pair of neatly placed monk's shoes on the ground.

A slim, snow-white figure stood swiftly and silently in front of the young monk Hai Jing's bed, leaning over and reaching out, his palm passing through the mist to touch the top of his head...