Entangled Heartstrings Part 1

Faced with the sudden softness from a person as hard as steel, Feng Rugu was rarely confused.

... Does it hurt?

It should hurt, right?

Ten years ago, it was the first time Feng Rugu knew that pain was something that could drill into the stomach.

In the first month of recuperating from his injuries, half of the world before his eyes dimmed. He couldn't drink the medicinal soup or swallow the pills. The pain from the wounds penetrated to his bones, hurting in a lively manner, as if there were thousands of firecrackers in his body, exploding repeatedly day and night without rest.

The most direct symptom that befell him was that he vomited whatever he ate. He vomited even if he didn't eat.

To make matters worse, he ran out on his own once and found that his little Hongchen was gone.

Feng Rugu lay in bed, thinking about where he could have gone alone, feeling as if the whole world had turned upside down. When he came back to his senses, he found that he had vomited again.

That period must have been difficult to endure, because even Feng Rugu himself didn't know how he got through it.

But he got through it. Looking back, it was actually alright.

"... It was alright." Feng Rugu described the incessant vomiting from ten years ago based on his memory, making an analogy, "That feeling... was about the same as eating something bad."

Ruyi frowned.

Feng Rugu said sincerely, "Really."

Ruyi said in a deep voice, "Does Lord Yunzhong take me for a three-year-old child?"

It was an eye, half of his flesh. How dare he speak of it so lightly?

Moreover, speaking of it so lightly was nothing more than treating him as an outsider, unwilling to answer in detail, just brushing him off.

Ruyi couldn't tell if he was angry at Feng Rugu's playful attitude or angry that he regarded him as an outsider. He tugged at the monk's robe on his chest, trying to relieve the suffocating feeling in his chest that was difficult to eliminate, like a mountain.

Seeing him pursing his lips like that, Feng Rugu felt both angry and amused.

A good monk, how could he have such a big temper?

"How the injuries from ten years ago hurt, I really forgot long ago." Feng Rugu said innocently, "If it were you, would you remember such a thing? Forgetting it early is for the best."

These words were not wrong, but Ruyi's expression became more and more inappropriate.

Tonight he treated him well, and Feng Rugu didn't want to argue with him. He crossed his arms and laughed brightly, "Does Master Ruyi have any other questions?"

This was telling him to leave.

Ruyi also realised that he was completely controlled by the evil technique.

No matter how Feng Rugu answered, his heart, deluded by the evil obstacle, would not be satisfied.

He knew that he was under such a despicable evil technique, so he shouldn't have come. He should stay far away from Feng Rugu, the farther the better.

... It's just that tonight, the symptoms became more severe.

After exhaling a hot breath, he felt dizzy and had to reach out to support the door frame.

Feng Rugu saw that he was swaying and reached out to support him, "What's wrong?"

However, Ruyi's senses were amplified a hundredfold out of nowhere. When Feng Rugu's cold fingertips grabbed his arm, it was as if he had grasped his heart.

He reacted quickly, slapping away Feng Rugu's hand, which felt as though it were stirring trouble in his very heart.

Feng Rugu's hand was slapped, making a slight cracking sound.

Thinking of all the foolish things he had done tonight, Ruyi knew that he had lost his composure too much tonight and could only say in a muffled voice to cover it up, "I drank alcohol, that's why I'm so muddled."

Feng Rugu covered his hand, his thoughts turning slightly, and his brows furrowed, "Your drunkenness is hitting you a bit too late."

With that, he was about to grab Ruyi's hand to diagnose if there was anything wrong, but Ruyi pushed him away fiercely again.

He had lost control of his palm, and Feng Rugu was pushed back several steps by him. The back of his knees hit a stool before he sat down, almost falling over sideways.

Feng Rugu knew something was wrong and called out, "Hongchen!"

However, his little Hongchen had already stumbled out of the courtyard.

Feng Rugu chased after him for a few steps, but quickly lost track of him.

- At the stone arch where he disappeared, a new palm print was embedded half an inch deep in the stone!

...

Although the Qingyang Sect had few people, the place was quite large.

The welcome this time was quite grand, and even Hai Jing was allocated a separate small courtyard.

When Ruyi returned to his small courtyard, his steps were already staggering.

His mind was too clouded to comprehend that he had been poisoned. He took off his shoes in a hurry and rolled onto the bed, lying on his side, chanting scriptures in a low voice to quell the fire in his heart, "Vow to save the countless sentient beings of one's own mind, vow to sever the endless afflictions of one's own mind, vow to learn the inexhaustible Dharma doors of one's own nature, vow to accomplish the unsurpassed Buddha Way of one's own nature-"

But what's the use?

Buddhist scriptures could never cure his heart's illness.

This illness had taken root in his heart since he parted with his adoptive father at the age of thirteen, and no medicine could cure it.

From the day he bid farewell to his adoptive father, the young You Hongchen only did one thing.

- Waiting for his adoptive father to come back.

Actually, during the waiting period, he did many other things.

At the hour of the Rabbit, he would get up, dress himself, tie his trouser legs, and run a lap around the city, inside and out. After bathing, he would pick up a brush to practice calligraphy.

Every day he needed to practice fifty sheets of characters, half in semi-cursive script and half in cursive script.

His adoptive father didn't ask him to practice regular script, saying that regular script was horizontal and vertical, all in the right place, which was quite boring, so he obediently didn't practice it.

The rice paper was stacked sheet by sheet, accumulating day by day, gradually piling up into a mountain of writing.

This was just his morning lesson.

He didn't like to take afternoon naps, fearing he would feel lethargic, so he meditated instead to preserve his spirit.

In the afternoon, there were two hours of practicing the Fengling sword technique.

After dinner, he would talk to the wall for a while.

He started learning to speak at the age of nine, nine years less practice than ordinary people, so this skill was not very proficient and still needed to be consolidated.

You Hongchen was worried that when his adoptive father returned, he would forget how to speak and be disliked by his adoptive father for being dull.

At the hour of the Pig, he went to bed.

You Hongchen lay in bed, reviewing the day, trying hard to think, but couldn't think of what exactly he had done.

He only knew that another day had passed, and his adoptive father might return the next day.

Thinking of this, he was happy. He turned over, lifted a corner of the layers of brocade bedding to reveal the shallow marks on the bed board, and added a stroke with his thin and evenly trimmed fingernails before considering the day complete.

Who would have thought that his adoptive father, who said he would return in a few days, would leave and never return.

Half a month after his adoptive father left, every night before going to bed, You Hongchen would curl up in a ball uneasily, fearfully thinking back to see if he had done anything that displeased his adoptive father or said anything naive and willful before his adoptive father left, until he was sure he hadn't, before falling into a heavy sleep. He irrationally believed that perhaps tomorrow, when he opened his eyes, he would find his adoptive father by his side, travel-worn and sleeping in his clothes.

Therefore, every morning when he woke up, he would keep his eyes closed and slowly feel around on the bed, only opening his eyes after confirming no one was there, continuing his unchanging days of waiting.

News traveled slowly in the world. By the time word reached this small town that over a hundred disciples of the Dao Sect had fallen into the Forgotten World, You Hongchen had already carved twenty-seven or twenty-eight marks on his bed plank.

He could no longer sit still.

Because in the rumors, he heard the two words "Fengling".

Fengling Lord Xiaoyao's second disciple Feng Rugu, along with disciples from various sects, were trapped in the Forgotten World, their fates unknown.

He had heard this name before, but what did it have to do with him?

You Hongchen began packing his bags. He was afraid of becoming a burden to his adoptive father, afraid that his adoptive father would be heartbroken over his junior brother, so he had to rush to his adoptive father's side.

Before his adoptive father left, he had left almost all his silver and money to You Hongchen.

In the past, whenever the two of them traveled, his adoptive father would always carry him on his back as they rode a single sword together. Therefore, You Hongchen was not very skilled in sword riding.

For this journey of thousands of miles, he first relied on the little sword riding skill he had comprehended on his own, then a horse carriage, and finally just his own two feet. After three days, he finally arrived at the boundary tablet of Mount Fengling.

At that time, the seasonal rain was falling heavily, but You Hongchen was unwilling to even open an umbrella, afraid that it would hinder his steps and cause him to be a moment late in seeing his adoptive father.

He trudged up the mountain, entering the secret realm of Fengling, exploring all the way up.

In this extraordinary time, Fengling's defenses were strict. The disciple guarding the mountain sensed an unfamiliar aura from afar and, not daring to be negligent, immediately drew his sword and landed in front of You Hongchen. After sizing him up, he sternly questioned: "Who goes there!"

You Hongchen's long hair had long been dampened by the misty rain, making his features appear especially soft. "I... I'm looking for my adoptive father... a man named Chang Boning."

"Senior Brother Boning?" The mountain guardian disciple discerned that You Hongchen did not have any demonic aura about him. Before he could breathe a sigh of relief, he was baffled by You Hongchen calling Chang Boning "adoptive father". "Little one, you know our Senior Brother?"

You Hongchen was inevitably awkward when speaking to outsiders. "I know him. If you tell him my name is You Hongchen, he'll know who I am... Please."

"Senior Brother is ill..." The mountain guardian disciple's face showed a difficult expression. "If you're some young master he saved in the past who wants to come repay a debt of gratitude, please go back. He has no time to see you."

A heaven-shaking thunderclap struck from above, startling You Hongchen and causing his face to change dramatically. "What happened to my adoptive father?!"

The mountain guardian disciple had no heart to laugh at his strange form of address for "adoptive father", and no inclination to explain much to an unfamiliar child. "Because of the matter with Junior Brother Feng, he forcibly... Ah, even if I tell you, you may not understand. In any case, he coughed up blood again yesterday and stayed up all night. With Lord Xiaoyao's persuasion, he only went to sleep for a short half-hour before getting up again..."

You Hongchen could no longer bear to listen. He wanted to go in immediately, to be by his adoptive father's side.

Even if he could only sit outside his hall, crouching at his feet, doing nothing.

He should still be able to provide this little bit of comfort to his adoptive father, right?

The mountain guardian disciple did not dare to easily allow him in. But seeing his young age and that he had climbed the mountain in the rain, he felt a bit of pity and prepared to go inside to report.

After walking a few steps towards the door, he turned back and handed You Hongchen an umbrella, then rushed into the solemn ancient mountain hall while letting himself get drenched in the rain.

You Hongchen quickly forgot that he was holding an umbrella.