Chapter 88

Chapter 88

Meng Yuan turned her face away, and Shang Mang rubbed his fingers together, saying, "It seems you don't want to go out." Meng Yuan turned back, and with great effort, she straightened up on the chaise lounge, looking him straight in the eye: "I have never lied to you."

The more openly and honestly she looked at him, the more painful it became for Shang Mang. He couldn't speak, nor did he know how to express it. He only knew that every inch of his skin would burn whenever she looked directly at him—that was his only feeling. He had been stillborn, born a dead man. Whenever she looked at him, he wanted to look away. Shang Mang lowered his eyes and let out a soft laugh.

"Not lying to me is lying to me," he said.

You can lie about anything, but you can't lie about feelings. Meng Yuan knew this very well, and when he pointed it out, the corner of her heart was torn open, unbearable. She was indeed so despicable—no, it couldn't be called despicable. Just because she came into this strange world, did she have to fall in love with him and stay for him? Meng Yuan couldn't do it. If she were an orphan, she could make that choice. Meng Yuan wasn't an orphan; her grandmother was still waiting for her to return, two lifetimes, the time that had been spent. For an old woman, every minute and every second was precious.

This feeling was something she couldn't face directly; she was unwilling to pursue Zhou Xiuqi or Shang Mang.

Feelings cannot be deceived; the heart will take them seriously.

“I’m not lying to you.” Meng Yuan finished speaking and looked at him. Shang Mang no longer hid from her, his bloodshot eyes rising: “Everyone can be deceived, so why can’t I?”

Meng Yuan was bound, with only her head showing. She leaned forward, her forehead touching hers.

"Yes, I can deceive everyone, but not you."

Shang Mang's expression froze, as if a rope was tightening around him. He didn't need to breathe, yet the movement still occurred. Shang Mang pressed his forehead against hers and rubbed it hard twice: "Little liar."

His red eyes receded, and he closed them tightly, as if time had stopped at this moment, allowing him to savor the addictive power of deception once more.

Hate is a poison that gnaws at your bones, love is a slow-acting medicine that heals all wounds. What you want to give me is like drinking sweet dew.

What's the point of exposing it? Let's just continue to hate each other and keep our love hidden from the light.

Shang Mang curled his lips into a smile: "You're still so troubled."

"Then don't listen," Meng Yuan retorted.

*Gurgle, gurgle, gurgle* Meng Yuan felt a little embarrassed. She hadn't eaten since yesterday, and her stomach was growling. Meng Yuan separated her forehead from his and, like an old man, ordered, "Find me something to eat, I'm starving."

Shang Mang crossed his arms and said, "Wouldn't it be better to starve to death?"

Meng Yuan looked up, but there was nothing there. There was no sign of him, only a wisp of blood mist drifted past her nose, gently brushing against it. She lay flat on the chaise lounge, which was covered with thick bedding. She rolled around a few times without feeling any pain. Her face was cool, but her body was warm. Meng Yuan rubbed her nose and looked at the dry cave ceiling.

"Idiot." Who kidnaps someone like this?

The cave was full of sharp rocks, and a drop of water slid down and ran onto her face. She was in a really bad mood, wondering if Zhou Xiuqi and the others had started looking for her yet.

Meanwhile, Zhou Xiuqi was also in a bad mood. Ling Daozi pointed his finger at him and scolded him for a long time. Ling Daozi cried out in pain, with a cold handkerchief on his head.

"If I had known this would happen, I shouldn't have let her go down the mountain in the first place. What a tragic fate."

"Now, how am I supposed to explain this to your master's wife, how am I supposed to explain this to her parents?" he asked Zhou Xiuqi weakly.

Zhou Xiuqi wiped the blade of the Evil-Slaying Sword, and saw his own eyes reflected in its cold sharpness: "I will bring her back."

Ling Daozi sighed: "Xiuqi, I know that although you have been obedient since childhood and practiced diligently every day, your hatred is hidden in your heart. Even if you kill those ghosts, you cannot fully understand the hatred in your heart. The burning of Xinghua Village had nothing to do with you. Fate has no right or wrong."

Zhou Xiuqi gripped the hilt of his sword, sheathed it, and placed the handkerchief on the table: "If fate had no right or wrong, there wouldn't be so many people in the world who regret their actions." Ling Daozi opened his mouth, and Zhou Xiuqi bowed: "I'll go find Meng Yuan."

After he walked away, Ling Daozi sighed deeply: "All things in the world are insignificant; how could a child understand the concept of destiny?" In the eyes of a young person, destiny is never taken seriously.

Therefore, each generation is more capable of climbing upwards than the last.

Shang Mang, carrying the rabbit, wobbled as he climbed the mountain. Beside the cave, a white flower suddenly grew. He lowered his head and stared at it: "It really looks like one." The cave was on the rock wall, and cold wind kept blowing into it. Meng Yuan didn't know how many times she had been woken up by the cold, her body stiff.

A man was squatting on the ground, pulling at his fur with his fingers. He seemed to be hot and had thrown his clothes on the ground.

Meng Yuan shrank her neck, feeling almost freezing herself, while this idiot had actually taken off his outer clothes, completely oblivious. The firelight illuminated him, and Meng Yuan realized he was quite tall, almost touching the top of the cave. He was slightly bent over to avoid hitting his head. The only colors of clothing she had ever seen him wear were white, red, and green.

No matter the color, with a face like his, it wouldn't be ugly. She described his figure: slender waist, long legs, so thin. It was rare to see a man so thin. Shang Mang squatted down, picked up a twig, and shook it to ignite it; sparks flew up. He wasn't afraid and smugly tossed the twig back in.

His collar was pulled up, revealing the back of his neck, where the bones stood out, like the iron chain whip in his hand, protruding in sections.

He took another thick branch, skewered the meat on it, and roasted it over the fire. Smoke rose, and he rubbed his face. That feeling of being a normal teenager returned. The last time was during the New Year. She brought him dumplings, and in that everyday scene, he was no different from any other person.

The same applies now.

"It smells so good!" Meng Yuan exclaimed.

Shang Mang turned around, his eyes crinkling: "You're full from looking, so you shouldn't be hungry."

This guy always has this embarrassing habit. He clearly knew she was awake a long time ago, and she'd been staring at him the whole time. Who was he trying to impress with that expression? Meng Yuan chuckled twice, "I don't know either. Someone went out specifically to hunt rabbits for me."

Shang Mang turned around, grabbing the meat as he spun around: "Don't flatter yourself, who said you were getting any?"

"If you won't give it to me, then who will? The ghosts?" she asked, puzzled. "But a ghost clearly told me that ghosts don't eat."

Shang Mang's back was stiff, and he didn't say anything.

Meng Yuan couldn't help but chuckle to herself. She always sensed a strange awkwardness in him; he wanted to be nice to her, yet he didn't want her to say it. His way of being nice to others was also odd. In short, he was a strange person in every way, and it was always amusing for Meng Yuan to tease him.

After a while, Shang Mang finished baking and picked it up. The aroma was irresistible, and Meng Yuan's stomach rumbled again. Shang Mang walked over and waved it in front of her: "Want some?"

Meng Yuan gritted her teeth, wishing she could bite his hand.

As expected, Shang Mang made a condition, opening his narrowed eyes: "Call me 'Senior Brother'."

Meng Yuan's expression was strange. Was this guy a pervert? What kind of wicked thing was he doing at a time like this? She could easily call Zhou Xiuqi by his name, but she just couldn't bring herself to say it to him.

Shang Mang held the dagger close to her: "It smells very good."

"It's especially fragrant."

"I don't know if it will taste good or not." He gave a fake compliment.

Meng Yuan gritted her teeth, her face flushed red, "Senior brother."

Shang Mang gripped the branch tightly, and Meng Yuan heard a cracking sound. The next second, the bedding was scattered, and meat was stuffed into Meng Yuan's mouth. He turned his back and said, "Calling him is always so intimate."

Meng Yuan sat up from under the covers, her body making crunching sounds as she chewed on the meat and stretched. Her eyebrows relaxed, then she raised one, and once she felt better, she took the meat and walked over: "You wouldn't happen to be..."

Shang Mang glanced at her

"You've been jealous of my senior brother all this time?" She herself found it difficult to say it out loud.

"snort."

"snort."

"snort."

He snorted three times in a row.

Meng Yuan took a bite of meat, covered her face, and kept shaking. He seemed so stupid. Meng Yuan couldn't help but laugh, chewing the meat while looking around, trying to suppress her laughter.

She looked up and saw a shadow fall.

Their noses touched, and Shang Mang bit into the meat in her hand, tearing off a large chunk. A little oil splattered onto the back of Meng Yuan's hand. He pulled back, still chewing on the meat, and said, "Disgusting."

"It tastes awful." He kept repeating it, as if he couldn't speak.

Meng Yuan lowered her eyes, unsure how to put her mouth down, as a loud clattering sound echoed in her ears.

She opened her mouth and said, "Can you tell me about your childhood?"

Shang Mang swallowed the meat and poked at the fire: "I don't have anything worth mentioning from my childhood."

Meng Yuan coughed and said, "Then let me tell you about my childhood."

“When I was little, my grandma would take me to the market and buy me my favorite steamed buns. The tree in front of my house was also planted with my grandma’s help. Every year, she would carve the height I had grown on the tree. That tree grew up with me and is now much taller than me. When I was little, I was in poor health and often stayed in the hospital. I hated the smell of disinfectant in the hospital.”

Shang Mang looked up as she vividly described the world as if it were unfolding before him.

"What does disinfectant smell like?" he asked.

Meng Yuan pondered, "It's probably like a room where medicine is stewed, filled with the smell of medicine."

"Are you unwell?" Shang Mang asked again.

Meng Yuan ate the meat, twitched the corners of her mouth, and tapped her heart: "There's something wrong with this part of me. Every day when I wake up, I take a few deep breaths. Because I don't know when I'll die."

He can say these things that he has never shared with his real-life friends.

She looked at Shang Mang, completely stunned. His eyes were serious, reflecting her image. Suddenly he spoke: "When I was young, I couldn't remember anyone. Even if I saw someone yesterday, I would forget them the next day. I only remember my mother, my father, and Shang Jingrong."

"Until one day, I was able to remember, I don't know why. I remembered the nose, the eyes, the mouth, the voice, I remembered everything. Later, I was able to remember many people."

For some reason, Meng Yuan had a feeling that the person he was talking about was her.