Even If It Were His Own Father, He’d Still Beat Him Up
Ji Chaoyun knew about divine covenants.
Back then, when Feng Xiao gave him the pouch, he had told him that the Phoenix Golden Feather was a priceless treasure and must never be discovered by others, or disaster would surely follow.
That was why he had placed a divine pact on it. Only the two of them, as well as Feng Xiao’s blood relatives, could open it.
However, Feng Qi... wasn’t he a prince of the Phoenix Clan?
Ji Chaoyun asked, “But you’re clearly a prince of the Phoenix Clan. How could you...”
A strange expression appeared on Feng Qi’s face.
He hesitated for a moment, then leaned closer to Ji Chaoyun and lowered his voice.
“This is a secret. My brother and uncle have never allowed me to tell anyone. If I tell you, can you keep it for me?”
Ji Chaoyun nodded.
“Mm.”
“I am not my father’s biological son,” Feng Qi said. “During the war between the gods and demons, my father led the Phoenix Clan into battle. He was the one who found me on the battlefield and brought me back. Father treated me as his own son. Later, he succumbed to his injuries, and my elder brother succeeded him as clan leader. In accordance with Father’s dying wish, he granted me the title of Second Highness and took good care of me.”
“You were found on the battlefield...”
“That’s right. I don’t even know who my birth parents were. When Father found me and brought me back, I was still a phoenix egg, so I don’t remember anything.”
Feng Qi thought for a moment before continuing, “Still, none of that matters much to me. My father, my elder brother, my uncle, and everyone else in the clan have all treated me very well. Fengming Valley is a good place to live in peace. Why should I remain preoccupied with my origins?”
Ji Chaoyun murmured, “So... the Phoenix Clan had such a hidden history.”
He lowered his eyes as a strange, indescribable ache spread through his chest.
He knew Feng Xiao had no wife or children, but he did not know whether Feng Xiao had siblings.
Their meeting had been far too sudden.
During those short three months, simply being able to stay together had already been difficult enough. There had never been time to ask about such things, but Feng Xiao had lived for a very long time and held an extraordinary status.
It was entirely possible that he had blood relatives or descendants still living somewhere in the world.
In truth, when Ji Chaoyun first met Feng Qi, he had already wondered whether Feng Qi might be a descendant left behind by that person.
Now, it seemed that might truly be the case.
Then didn’t that mean he had...
With Feng Xiao’s descendant...
It was too absurd.
“I pried into your secret before, so now I’ve told you mine. That makes us even.” Feng Qi watched Ji Chaoyun’s expression carefully.
However, Ji Chaoyun kept his eyes lowered, making it impossible to tell what he was thinking.
Feng Qi paused, then said gently, “Still, where I came from isn’t important, is it? My father has already passed away, and neither my uncle nor my elder brother knows anything about my origins. Whether that person and I are blood relatives or not, none of it could ever stand in the way...”
None of it could ever stand in the way of my feelings for you.
The last few words were spoken so softly that Ji Chaoyun, lost in his thoughts, did not hear them.
“What did you say?”
“...Nothing.”
This was not the right time to say it.
Feng Qi closed his eyes, suppressing the impulse that was nearly bursting out of him.
Ji Chaoyun had not accepted him yet. After the absurdity of last night, their relationship was even more fragile than before. One wrong move could ruin everything.
He could not provoke him any further.
Feng Qi looked at Ji Chaoyun’s profile again.
His expression was icy, revealing none of his true emotions.
He was always like this.
He never showed his feelings to outsiders. The heavier something weighed on his heart, the deeper he buried it.
The last traces of sunset slowly faded away. A cool evening wind swept across the cliff, lifting their robes. Beneath the lead-gray sky, Ji Chaoyun faced the vast mountains stretching endlessly before him, his figure looking even thinner than usual.
Feng Qi suddenly regretted bringing this up today. He rubbed his brow. “Chaoyun, it’s getting dark. Shall we go back?”
Ji Chaoyun seemed to snap out of his thoughts.
He said softly, “I... I’m going to practice my sword.”
Feng Qi frowned and instinctively grabbed him.
“Your body only just recovered. You can’t...”
“It’s fine.”
Ji Chaoyun still did not look at him.
He tried to pull away but failed.
His eyes stung, and he turned his head aside.
“I haven’t finished today’s lessons... I need to make them up. Just let me... let me be alone for a while. Please.”
All day, he had hidden his emotions perfectly. He knew this was not the time to think about such things. He had no time to blame himself.
What he needed to do was clear his name and remain in the academy. Yet now, every emotion he had kept perfectly contained seemed to collapse all at once.
Ji Chaoyun’s voice trembled slightly, his tone even carrying a hint of pleading.
Feng Qi stood rooted to the spot for a moment, his grip unconsciously loosening. Ji Chaoyun pulled free of his hand and softly said, “Sorry,” before turning and quickly leaving the cliff.
The sky darkened rapidly. In the dim light, Feng Qi could barely make out the young man’s retreating figure.
The crescent moon hung like a hook above the bamboo forest, spilling its eternal cold light over the clearing. In the center of the open space, a thin figure dressed in white moved with his sword, one strike flowing into the next without pause.
No one knew how long he continued. Then suddenly, his sword stance faltered.
A streak of sword qi swept toward the bamboo forest ahead before abruptly stopping. Ji Chaoyun dropped to one knee and drew a deep breath.
His trembling hand, completely drained of strength, finally lost its grip on the sword. It fell weakly to the ground.
A fine sheen of sweat covered his forehead. His breathing came fast and uneven, and his cheeks were flushed from overexertion.
Ji Chaoyun’s shaking hand slipped into his robes and pulled out the pouch.
His fingertip traced the delicate phoenix embroidery. He could still remember how that person had sat outside the house, stitching the pattern one careful stroke at a time.
Those hands were accustomed to wielding divine weapons and possessed the power to shake heaven and earth. Yet even when doing such delicate work, they had still been so beautiful that Ji Chaoyun had found it difficult to look away.
“How do you even know how to do this?”
“Live long enough and naturally you learn a bit of everything. Come take a look. Do you like it?”
“...I do.”
Ji Chaoyun knelt on the ground, his eyes red. “I really... really like you, but I think I’ve done something terrible. I... what am I supposed to do?”
He pressed the pouch against his chest, as though by doing so, he could still feel that person’s presence.
After a long while, Ji Chaoyun whispered, “But I still want to see you.”
Even after so many years. Even after making such an absurd mistake. He still wanted to see him.
That was why he had to stay.
No matter how much effort it took or how many obstacles remained, he had to stay here. He had to pass through the Gate of Ascension.
Wallows in regret would accomplish nothing.
After a long time, Ji Chaoyun’s breathing gradually steadied.
He opened his eyes again and took a deep breath. His fingers no longer trembled.
He carefully put the pouch away, picked up his fallen sword, and rose. Then his gaze fell on the bamboo forest around him, now reduced to a complete mess.
He froze.
When he usually practiced here...
Was it always like this?
Meanwhile, Feng Qi paced restlessly around the courtyard, constantly glancing toward the gate.
Nearly three shichen had passed since Ji Chaoyun left, but he had yet to return. Feng Qi wanted to go look for him, but in Ji Chaoyun’s current state, appearing before him might only make things worse.
He paced back and forth, Ji Chaoyun’s pale face repeatedly flashing through his mind. Yesterday, Ji Chaoyun had just lost control of his spiritual power.
Then his heat cycle had tormented him through the entire night. Today he had spent the whole day running around, and now he had gone off to practice his sword. How could his body endure that?
Did he think he was made of iron?
The more Feng Qi thought about it, the more worried he became. At last, he could no longer sit still. He got up and headed toward the courtyard gate.
He had just pulled the door open when he saw Ji Chaoyun walking slowly toward the courtyard from a distance, his expression somewhat strange.
Their eyes unexpectedly met.
Feng Qi guiltily looked away.
“That... I wasn’t going to look for you. I just opened the gate to get some air!”
“?”
Getting air... By opening the courtyard gate?
“...” Feng Qi had spoken without thinking. Only after the words left his mouth did he realize how stupid they sounded. Unable to save face, he calmly retreated back inside.
A moment later, Ji Chaoyun pushed open the half-closed gate and entered.
Feng Qi carefully studied his expression.
The flush left behind from sword practice still had not faded from his face. His hair held traces of dampness, and his dark eyes looked freshly washed, clear and beautiful.
His expression was still as cold as ever, but the suffocating heaviness from before seemed to have disappeared from his eyes.
Instead, there was a hint of hesitation.
And guilt.
...Guilt?
Feng Qi’s heart abruptly sank.
He asked cautiously, “What happened?”
Ji Chaoyun refused to look at him.
He said quietly, “Didn’t you tell me before that the bamboo forest outside the courtyard was personally transplanted by you, one stalk at a time, and that they’re extremely rare immortal bamboo?”
“...Yes.”
Ji Chaoyun continued, “And didn’t you also say each stalk is worth a fortune? That one alone costs over a hundred high-grade spirit stones, and even then there’s nowhere to buy them?”
“............That’s right.”
Ji Chaoyun pressed his lips together.
His voice became very small.
“Then if I... damaged your immortal bamboo...”
Ji Chaoyun led Feng Qi out of the courtyard.
The moment Ji Chaoyun asked that question, Feng Qi already had a rough idea of what had happened.
The immortal bamboo had indeed been difficult to obtain.
From saplings to the thriving forest they were now, Feng Qi had spent an enormous amount of spiritual energy nurturing them.
It would be a lie to say he did not care at all.
If anyone else had done it, Feng Qi would probably have fought them to the death, but this was Ji Chaoyun.
Feng Qi sighed and forced himself to suppress the pain in his heart.
“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it. One or two stalks of bamboo, I can still—”
He raised his head while speaking then his voice died.
What had once been a lush green bamboo forest was now completely barren for several zhang around one particular spot.
Nearly a hundred bamboo stalks had been severed halfway up, slashed into a scattered mess by arcs of sword light. They were well and truly dead, clearly beyond saving.
“................”
Ji Chaoyun lowered his head guiltily.
His voice was barely louder than a mosquito.
“S-sorry. I don’t know why this happened either... I usually practice here too, and nothing like this has ever happened, but today my mind wasn’t steady. By the time I noticed...”
Feng Qi did not respond.
Ji Chaoyun secretly glanced at him.
With absolutely no confidence, he said, “...I’ll compensate you.”
“No... no need.”
Feng Qi forced the words through clenched teeth.
“...Really?”
“Mm. Really.” Feng Qi suppressed the twitching at the corner of his brow and did his best to appear completely unconcerned. “They’re only material possessions. If they’re ruined, they’re ruined. Don’t worry about it.”
“But you said before...”
“No, I was lying to you about that.” Feng Qi decisively cut in, declaring with perfect righteousness, “It’s just a bamboo forest. It may be a little expensive, but it’s not that precious. I’ll have someone come clean this up later and transplant some more bamboo here. As long as you... as long as you’re not upset anymore.”
Ji Chaoyun paused, realizing what he meant, then shook his head. “I’m fine now.”
The weight that had been hanging over Feng Qi’s heart finally lifted. He let out a soft sigh. “That’s good. We—”
“Let’s not mention it again.”
Ji Chaoyun interrupted him gently. “Let’s just pretend none of it happened. Neither of us should bring it up again.”
“...All right.”
The night had grown deep.
The two walked slowly through the bamboo forest, one ahead of the other.
Feng Qi looked at Ji Chaoyun’s back and finally sighed helplessly. He had lost an entire bamboo forest, but at least Ji Chaoyun seemed all right again.
As long as Ji Chaoyun could be happy, forget one bamboo forest.
Even if Ji Chaoyun wanted every feather on his body, Feng Qi would gladly pluck them all out for him.
Although in Ji Chaoyun’s heart, they probably still wouldn’t compare to the single feather some bastard had left him.
...That bastard Feng Xiao.
Feng Qi felt there could not possibly be anyone in the world more aggrieved and miserable than him.
He silently swore that if he ever met that bastard one day, he would beat him properly to vent his anger.
So what if he was some blood-related elder?
Even if that bastard turned out to be his own father, he would still beat him up.
After thinking about it the entire way back, Feng Qi finally felt a little better.
Just as the two reached the courtyard gate, a birdcall suddenly sounded from the forest.
They turned at the same time.
A spirit magpie flew toward them from the distance.
Feng Qi exchanged a glance with Ji Chaoyun, then raised his hand and let the bird land on his fingertip.
A storage ring was tied around the spirit magpie’s slender ankle.
“It’s Ah-Tao.”
Feng Qi briefly explained, removed the storage ring, then casually stroked the magpie’s feathers.
“Thanks. You can go back now.”
The spirit magpie acted as if it had not heard him. It affectionately rubbed against his finger, chirping nonstop, and even tried to burrow into his robes.
It simply refused to leave.
Feng Qi glared at it in warning.
The spirit magpie immediately froze. It let out an aggrieved little chirp, then reluctantly turned and flew away.
Feng Qi brushed the loose feathers from his clothes.
“I already told Ah-Tao not to send these little birds to deliver messages. Every single one is clingier than the last.”
Ji Chaoyun said, “The phoenix is the king of all birds. It’s natural for them to like you.”
“I don’t care whether they like me. I only want...”
Feng Qi glanced at Ji Chaoyun and did not finish, but Ji Chaoyun’s attention was entirely on the storage ring in his hand.
He did not notice Feng Qi’s unfinished words at all.
The two quickly returned to the courtyard and opened the storage ring.
Inside were the bottle of medicine and the wine flask they had given Ah-Tao. There was also a sealed letter.
Feng Qi unfolded the letter and quickly read through it. His expression darkened immediately.
Ji Chaoyun’s heart gave an uneasy jump.
“Miss Ah-Tao found something?”
Feng Qi nodded, his expression grim.
“Ah-Tao says she found traces of Blood Lotus Lingzhi in the medicine from Lingyuan Sea.”
☁︎₊˚⊹ The Author’s Jade-Slip Aside ⊹˚₊☁︎
Feng Xiao: Virtuous, domestic, capable at everything around the house.
Feng Qi: Hopeless at daily life. Can’t even tidy a room.
Feng Xiao: I’m deeply concerned about the way Fengming Valley educates its youth. :)
————
I wasn’t sure whether everyone would find the first half of this chapter painful. I was really worried while writing because I forgot to give a warning yesterday orz
Gong’s identity is basically becoming obvious now. The explanation for how Gong and Shou met three hundred years ago, along with what happened with the Dragon Clan, is coming very soon. This section won’t be too painful, so don’t worry~
Recently, some cuties have asked when the identity reveal will happen. It won’t be too soon, so please wait a little longer, but I can give one small spoiler: Shou will figure out Gong’s identity a little earlier than Gong himself does.
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