Chapter 4: Song Yilou Speculates: Could He Have the Longyang Fetish…
Yun Wuxiang brought the slumbering Song Yilou back to the Daoist temple, his movements clumsy and unpracticed as he placed the man onto the bed.
He then stood by the bedside, staring at him in a daze.
He has body temperature. He moves. He speaks. A living person capable of communication.
A living person!
And then? What was he supposed to do?
Yun Wuxiang lowered his head, his wandering gaze settling on a clean, pure sleeping face.
Song Yilou’s skin was excellent—fair and tender—which only served to highlight the five small moles beneath his eyes, like tiny beads adorning a block of white tofu.
Yun Wuxiang stared at those moles for a moment before extending a finger to poke one. After poking one, he moved to the next, as if he were counting them.
When he finished counting, a faint smile appeared on his face. It was a simple, uncomplicated happiness, like a child delighting in the most trivial of things.
[Host…]
It had been a long time since it saw the Host smile so happily.
The next moment, realizing what it was thinking, System 3339 felt like it had been struck by lightning. A violent shiver ran through its code, leaving the entire System scorched on the outside and tender on the inside.
What the hell was I just thinking? Which household butler’s persona did I just channel? And why a butler?!
This isn’t a wealthy CEO romance novel! And Song Yilou isn’t the Female Lead!
Yun Wuxiang heard the System call him, but after waiting a while without hearing a follow-up, he turned his attention back inward: [Sanjiu?]
[I’m here, Host.]
[What were you going to say?]
[Nothing. I’m going to go knock on the World Consciousness’s door. I’ll try to wake it up.]
Yun Wuxiang asked with concern: [Can you wake it?]
3339 misunderstood the source of his worry and replied with high morale: [I will work hard at it!]
Yun Wuxiang whispered: [3339, actually, you don’t have to work too hard.]
[Hmm?] 3339 was confused for a moment before realizing the implication in Yun Wuxiang’s words. [Host, you want to keep him?]
Yun Wuxiang retracted the hand that was poking the moles: [I haven’t seen a real living person in a long time. Can I keep him for a few more days?]
Since Song Yilou was clamoring to learn immortal arts and wasn’t in a rush to go home, it proved he had no urgent matters attending to him. So what if he stayed on the island a while longer? He couldn’t leave right now anyway.
The System fell silent, torn. The Host was so pitiful, but… this was a bug!
[Actually, the probability of me waking the World Consciousness is very low.]
Hearing the relenting tone, Yun Wuxiang said happily: [Thank you, Sanjiu.]
[But you must promise me, stay away from this guy. Maintain a social distance where ‘a gentleman’s friendship is as pale as water’.] 3339 was still uneasy.
[Okay.]
Yun Wuxiang agreed readily. He turned his head, picked up Song Yilou’s hand that was resting on the side closest to him, and played with it curiously. [Sanjiu, his hand is hot.]
3339: […]
Did you actually understand a word I said?
[What did you just promise me?]
Yun Wuxiang replied with righteous confidence: [He isn’t awake yet, he won’t know. Once he wakes up, I will definitely maintain an appropriate social distance.]
After its exasperation passed, 3339 felt a pang of heartache.
The Host really hadn’t walked out of that psychological shadow yet. How could a normal person find the warmth of a human hand so novel?
It was because that corpse had been cold all over!
The System, having stabbed itself with its own imagination, suddenly developed a massive tolerance for Yun Wuxiang.
Forget it. It’s just one person. If the Host likes him, let him keep him for amusement.
Its Host didn’t have any impure thoughts anyway; he was just observing this human like a rare species.
[System, look, he has a tattoo as well. Is it a scorpion?] To see the tattoo clearly, Yun Wuxiang pulled Song Yilou’s collar open a bit.
The scorpion, composed of black and red ink, looked mighty and sharp. The head rested on the collarbone, while the long tail wound around the neck to behind the ear. The design was incredibly realistic; at first glance, it looked as if a real scorpion was lying on the person’s body.
After his surprise, Yun Wuxiang touched it curiously. He didn’t know if it was an illusion, but the skin covered by the scorpion tattoo seemed hotter than the surrounding area.
3339, who had spaced out for a second only to see its Host stripping the man’s clothes: […Yes, it is a scorpion.]
Calm down! The Host is just curious. Just looking. It’s no big deal.
But this scene is so easy to misinterpret…
Stop thinking!
Don’t overthink it.
I won’t overthink it…
3339 kept hypnotizing itself until Yun Wuxiang’s novelty wore off. Yun Wuxiang tucked the quilt around the person on the bed, smoothed the corners, and stood up to leave.
The door opened and closed.
Song Yilou, lying on the bed, opened his eyes. First, he scanned the tightly shut doors and windows, then he surveyed the layout of the room. Finally, he lowered his head to look at his collar, which had been loosened and then pulled back together.
He raised his hand into his field of vision. The skin on the back of his hand and his fingertips seemed to still retain the tactile sensation of another pair of fingertips sweeping over them.
The way that person had played with his fingers just now had nothing to do with checking a pulse.
“Does this White Crane Immortal have the Longyang fetish?” Song Yilou’s expression shifted several times. His eyes flickered, and a murderous intent surged for a moment before he slowly reined it in as a thought occurred to him.
If an Immortal falls in love, what would that look like?
In the dim room, Song Yilou gazed at the door, as if seeing the retreating figure of the Immortal through the wood. His bright red lips curled into a smile brimming with interest.
Early the next morning.
Song Yilou walked out of his room and opened the door. The first thing he saw was a magnolia tree in full bloom. White flowers were accented with pale pink, swaying in the wind that filled the branches.
Petals drifted down in a chaotic dance, landing in the hair of the person standing under the tree, like hairpins made of flowers.
A white crane flew over from the distance, circled twice above the courtyard, and landed beside the person. Man and crane seemed to be communicating.
Song Yilou took a step forward.
The white bird, much larger than an ordinary crane, heard the sound and turned its long, graceful neck to look at him. The figure with his back to Song Yilou turned around at the same time.
In that moment, Song Yilou felt as if he were seeing two cranes. One was spirited and extraordinary, far surpassing ordinary birds.
The other had successfully cultivated and transformed into a human.
There were other birds and animals in the courtyard—seagulls, pheasants, wild rabbits, hedgehogs, spotted deer… Every single one was unusually large.
When Song Yilou attempted to approach, all the animals lifted their heads one after another to look at him.
“Awake?” Yun Wuxiang opened his hand. A small bowl flew out from the house and landed in his palm.
The bowl was empty. Yun Wuxiang reached in and grabbed a handful of air, but when he opened his hand, his palm was full of Spirit Grain. He scattered it casually, and the beasts swarmed to eat.
Yun Wuxiang dubbed the scene in his mind: A new day begins. The Zookeeper starts feeding the animals.
Song Yilou walked through the courtyard full of animals to Yun Wuxiang’s side and asked, “Immortal, how did I fall asleep yesterday?”
Because you were talking at the same time as the System and I couldn’t hear clearly.
Yun Wuxiang replied offhandedly, “You were sleepy.”
Song Yilou fell silent for a moment, then said, “Isn’t the Immortal’s excuse a bit too perfunctory?”
Yun Wuxiang switched to another excuse: “You were too noisy.”
Song Yilou: “Who told the Immortal not to answer my question?”
“Immortal, do you really not want to accept me as a disciple? You won’t lose out by accepting me.”
As Song Yilou spoke, he leaned his body forward, getting closer to Yun Wuxiang. His expression was obedient, bearing a slight resemblance to the rabbit on the ground that was tilting its head to look up. He looked exactly like an innocent, simple-minded young man, yet his words carried a hidden implication. To put it more bluntly: seduction.
“Shifu.”
The voice had a hook at the end, and every word was imbued with deep affection. That single “Shifu” sounded like he was whispering a term of endearment to a lover.
This “Shifu” made the System explode.
[Do not accept a disciple! Do not accept a disciple! Absolutely do not accept a disciple!]
Yun Wuxiang’s ears hurt from the shock. He quickly coaxed: [Okay, okay, okay, I won’t accept him. I absolutely won’t accept him as a disciple.]
While appeasing the System on one side, he rejected Song Yilou again on the other: “I do not accept disciples. No need to call me Shifu.”
“This is the Qingdi Temple. You may address me as Guanzhu.”
Song Yilou narrowed his eyes slightly. “Since the Guanzhu has no intention of accepting disciples, why ask about my family yesterday?”
Yun Wuxiang: “You trespassed on my island. Before I figure out how you got in, you cannot leave. If you had family, I would have sent a letter to inform them of your situation.”
The System forbade revealing the existence of the World Consciousness to others. He had to take the blame for the barrier himself. Being locked up was one thing, but having to be the scapegoat for the thing locking him up… Ugh, the World Consciousness wasn’t even a ‘thing’. It was too much.
Song Yilou blinked. “Is the Guanzhu intending to forcibly keep me on the island?”
Yun Wuxiang said, “Not for long.”
I’m not the one forcibly keeping you. Who told you to drift through the barrier yourself?
Song Yilou was quiet for a while, then asked again, “So? What does that have to do with the Immortal not accepting me as a disciple? I am already here, and you won’t let me leave, so why can’t we be master and disciple?”
“…” Why won’t you give up?
Yun Wuxiang could only make up a random reason: “My Daoist tradition… ordinary people cannot learn it.”
If you learn it, you’ll be locked in the quarantine island by the World Consciousness. The higher your cultivation, the harder it is to leave.
“Ordinary people cannot learn it?” Song Yilou suddenly let out a light chuckle and asked, “Are you saying my aptitude is mediocre and unworthy of the Guanzhu’s eyes?”
As for whether Song Yilou’s aptitude was mediocre or not, how would Yun Wuxiang know? he could only give a vague answer: “We simply have no fate.”
“Is that so? Then I was forcing it.” Song Yilou lowered his head as if struck by a blow. In his pupils, hidden by his hair and eyelids, was a dark gloom.
Aptitude? Heh.
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