Legend Of Fuyao 180 Untitled

"I heard that you trespa.s.sed the Changhan Secret Forest, raided the Gun Tribe's ancient tombs, fought against Cloud Soul and Mist, winning and losing, winning and losing, breaking a front tooth, filling your entire body with scars. How heroic, how brave, worthy of adoration! Your servant has only heard these stories and has been thinking about it, dreaming about it, wanting to witness it himself, but he knows he's not worthy of asking for it."

Meng Fuyao's mouth fell wide open, her saliva almost dripping out. 'What, what, what, what is he saying? He, he, he, he looks like he's angry? Why, why, why, why is he angry? Wasn't he not angry earlier so why is he suddenly angry now?'

Zhangsun Wuji continued giving her his usual elegant and amiable smile. "It's such a rare occasion today that the great general has allowed your humble servant to witness the scars of your heroic deeds. Your servant extends his utmost grat.i.tude…"

'What, what, what, what did he mean?' Meng Fuyao thought hard for a long moment before realizing, "Ah! You want to take off my clothes!"

"Wrong." Zhangsun Wuji continued smiling as he corrected her, "I want to see the general's wounds with my own eyes."

"What difference is there- Ahhh…!" Meng Fuyao cried out, "Zhangsun Wuji, you're such a scoundrel, if you try to touch my clothes, I'll drown you—"

"Whoosh—"

The ferocious, murderous General Meng was shocked motionless.

She suddenly felt a cooling sensation tickle her back as a breeze blew in through the unclosed window. That feeling made her confirm—her clothes had really been taken off!

Meng Fuyao immediately opened her mouth, ready to scream when a certain someone instantly tapped on her vital point, effectively cutting her voice.

Meng Fuyao bit hard into her pillow as she cursed Zhangsun Wuji, 'Did you eat the wrong medicine today or have you suddenly developed such urges, taking off my clothes in the middle of the day? I've lost my spring, n.o.body had ever seen my beautiful back which I've maintained for eighteen years, ahhh…'

A slightly cool finger pressed against her back, as though there was ointment on the tip of the finger, cooling and smooth, rubbing over her various scars. The finger moved over each scar carefully, its touch extremely light and gentle like the wind gently ripping over water, igniting a certain feeling against her skin, spreading directly to the depths of her heart.

Meng Fuyao stiffened slightly and bit her lip, her fingers curling discreetly around the blanket covering her bottom half.

The rays of the sun shone through the window as specks of dust danced in the air, creating a kind of warm, hazy effect. Under the rays sat an elegant man, his fingers gently caressing a woman's scar-ridden back—her skin was clear and translucent, the curves of her back exquisite like a finely crafted porcelain vase, yet the scars marred its perfection. The man gazed deeply at those faint red scars with a hint of pain in his eyes, as though burning their imprint into his memory.

There was an inexplicable heaviness in the air, and in its density, Meng Fuyao suddenly felt a little guilty and a little surprised as she slowly let go of the pillow she was biting.

After a long time, the person whose fingers were ma.s.saging her scars slowly finally spoke, "Fuyao, I won't stop you from wanting to live life vivaciously. Although I don't agree with it, I also won't stop you from pus.h.i.+ng yourself to your limits every time. However, I really don't like the fact that you always have to do everything to the extreme. I don't like that you know how to treasure others yet you don't know how to treasure yourself, that with regards to such things, you could have done it some other way, yet you always have to use the most dramatic and extreme methods to do it. For example, you went hunting today, if you wanted to earn the trust of Zhan Nancheng, why did you still have to injure yourself? Was it just because you wanted to leave an even deeper impression? Tell me, are you worth it?"

Meng Fuyao felt her eyes moisten. 'I didn't have my weapon with me then… I wasn't thinking so much then…'

'Then again…' She blinked guiltily, it seemed like she could have avoided getting injured…'d.a.m.nit, how is Zhangsun Wuji not tired of living, even worrying about me hitting too violently?'

"Fuyao, you can be fearless and brave, but you shouldn't seek fights and be too vicious. I just want you to treasure yourself more unless you want me to say another string of nonsense," Zhangsun Wuji finished applying ointment on the scars and kept the bottle before continuing quietly, "Have you ever thought about how I feel when I hear your words and see these scars?"

Meng Fuyao lowered her eyes, her gaze flitting about as she refused to meet Zhangsun Wuji's eyes… 'Fine, I was wrong, I won't be petty about you seeing me, big brother can you return me my clothes now?'

However, the person got up gracefully, tucked the medicine bottle in his robes and adjusted his sleeves, saying lightly, "I know you're a stubborn person who always can't listen to what others say, so to leave a deeper impression… You can put on your clothes yourself."

Thereafter, he drifted out the room, leaving Meng Fuyao raging. 'You've tapped on my vital point so how am I supposed to put on my clothes!?'

Just as he reached the doorway, Zhangsun Wuji suddenly stopped, and Meng Fuyao rejoiced, thinking that he had remembered to release the lock on her vital points. However, he merely leaned against the door frame, looking as if he had just thought about it and said, "Oh right, next time if you endanger your life needlessly again, I'll treat you as such." With that, he flicked his finger and left.

Meng Fuyao grimaced as she looked up at the sky—he had only unlocked her voice, clearly forcing her to ask Ya Lanzhu for help, and given Ya Lanzhu's personality, she would definitely laugh for at least half a month. Thus, her impression of this incident would inevitably be even deeper.

Wasn't it that her mouth was a little too fast and she said the wrong things… Alas!

He truly was a vicious man!

When Ya Lanzhu was finally summoned over by Meng Fuyao's raucous shouting and unblocked her vital points, true enough, she had doubled up in laughter for a good half day, and after laughing she had patted her shoulder and said, "I really have to say this, you're quite a sc.u.mbag, but you're really lucky."

Meng Fuyao rolled her eyes at her as she watched Ya Lanzhu leave, her face still red from laughing. She hugged her knees and sat in the darkness alone, and after a long time, she heard a little sigh.

When the sky turned dark, she stood up and remembered that Yun Hen had gone drinking the previous night. This person clearly had no tolerance for alcohol, and after he came back, he had developed a fever, and till now he still couldn't get up. Hence, she made lotus eight treasures soup. Originally, she had only made one bowl, but thinking that the vicious doctor had also worked hard, she added more ingredients. Then, thinking that she shouldn't show favoritism since Ya Lanzhu had helped her out of her trouble and that Lord Yuan Bao liked sweet things, she unwillingly added more ingredients—as for who it was meant for? Who knew!?

She lugged the huge pot and went to each individual room personally, but Yun Hen was still asleep, looking uncomfortable as though he was having a nightmare. His breathing was soft and short, constantly getting disrupted as beads of sweat rolled down his forehead. Meng Fuyao put down the bowl and grabbed a towel to clean his sweat, but unexpectedly, he suddenly grabbed her hand.

Alarmed, Meng Fuyao immediately tugged her hand backward, but Yun Hen's grasp was extremely tight as though he was someone who was unable to swim, was drowning and had managed to grab onto a piece of driftwood. He even used inner energy, and Meng Fuyao could sense that his inner energy was unstable due to his nightmares. If she acted in haste and challenged his inner energy with her own, she might hurt him, so she could only remain motionless.

Just when she was feeling rather awkward in that position, Yun Hen suddenly pulled her down towards him. Meng Fuyao struggled desperately, twisting her body here and there trying to get up. From a certain angle, it looked as if Meng Fuyao and Yun Hen were doing something unspeakable.

The entire house was dark, and the moonlight only shone on a part of the house. Both of them were in the dark portion and in the silence, only a slightly rushed breathing could be heard. Meng Fuyao kept feeling like it was not appropriate, using her free hand to light a candle, but after grasping around for a long time, the candle fell onto the ground, and she could only sigh in defeat.

Yet, the person in the darkness suddenly brought her hand to his cheek and gently rubbed against it. Meng Fuyao stiffened and hastily tried to retract her hand only to hear Yun Hen murmur, "… Mother…"

Meng Fuyao stopped moving as she heard him sigh softly, his warm breath against her breath, moist, and after the breath had pa.s.sed, all that remained was a cool mist, as though it were the feelings of a long-buried past.

"… Mother, have you climbed out already? Have you climbed out already?"

What did that mean?

"You've pushed me out already… Why can't you climb out yourself…"

"All this dirt… It's so smelly…"

'Dirt?'

Meng Fuyao stiffened in the darkness as she watched a pale-faced Yun Hen flinch. This cool and quiet youth had always suppressed all his thoughts and feelings within his own heart, until yesterday when he met Yan Jingchen at the alley after drinking. Those long-buried feelings and memories began slowly resurfacing, starting from the moment Yan Jingchen called him "Little Brother". It was as though his memories had been summoned from the depths of his nightmares, stirring slowly and dragging him into the depths of his b.l.o.o.d.y and painful past.

'The mother who was buried alive… The mother had pushed out her son… Was it like that? Was it like that?'

Meng Fuyao's fingers started trembling. She had guessed the story of Yun Hen's birth before as for why an honorable family like the Yan Clan would abandon their own flesh and blood and become the enemy's adopted son, there must have been some unspeakable past. Yet she had never imagined that it would be this tragic.

Her trembling fingers were caught by Yun Hen, as though he had sensed her thoughts through the slight trembling, He held on even tighter onto her hands, his five fingers locked around her own as he mumbled, "I'll pull you up… I'll pull you up…" Suddenly, he gave a powerful tug.

Meng Fuyao was still thunderstruck by Yun Hen's past and was caught unaware as her body jerked forwards and she fell onto Yun Hen's chest. Yun Hen immediately hugged her tightly.

Meng Fuyao immediately struggled to get up when she suddenly heard some movement from behind. She turned around only to realize—

Zhangsun Wuji was standing right by the door, watching her intently.

Lying awkwardly on Yun Hen's chest, Meng Fuyao smiled sheepishly at the "hero".

Zhangsun Wuji's face was expressionless as though he were stuck in the darkness of a dream. Upon seeing Meng Fuyao's sheepish smile, his eyebrows shot up wordlessly.

Following that, he pushed open the door and walked towards them. He glanced at their intimate position, then at Yun Hen, then pointed at Meng Fuyao and chastised, "Why are you still lying on him, do you really want him to have nightmares about being pressed down by dirt?"

Meng Fuyao glared at him tearfully as she thought, 'This person really is one of a kind at insulting people, what am I, dirt? I'm the most beautiful dirt in the world…'

Slowly, she removed herself from Yun Hen's grasp, but just as she managed to extricate herself, Yun Hen immediately flailed his arms desperately trying to grab her again.

Zhangsun Wuji reached out and tapped his vital point as he pulled Meng Fuyao to one side, saying, "You've already sent him the soup, cleaned his sweat, and even let him hug you. Is it my turn to drink some soup now?"