After returning to the room, Guozhao Zhiqiang gently placed Deming on a chair, his movements careful and deliberate, a silent promise of comfort. He grabbed a soft towel and, with infinite tenderness, wiped the clinging rain from Deming's head and face, his touch gentle. Then, three soft, hesitant knocks sounded at the door.
Tam Qiu stood outside, holding a tray with a steaming bowl of medicine and a fresh set of clothes. She looked at Guozhao Zhiqiang, her expression concerned. "Senior Brother, it's me," she announced softly.
Guozhao Zhiqiang nodded at Tam Qiu, a silent invitation. Tam Qiu walked in with a warm, comforting smile, placing the tray on the small table.
"Brother Deming, I'll change your bandage for you," she said, her voice kind and reassuring. She looked at Guozhao Zhiqiang, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Senior Brother, I have Ah Kun ordering food downstairs, do you mind getting it? He might need some help."
Guozhao Zhiqiang stood up and, without a word, walked out the door, knowing his presence was unnecessary and that Deming needed the comforting touch of Tam Qiu.
Tam Qiu smiled gently at Deming, sensing his unease. "Don't take it to heart, Brother Deming, Senior Brother is always like this. You know it's rare to see Senior Brother so caring towards others, and you can see it yourself. He has a cold attitude, usually so reserved. I didn't expect that he would be so worried about you." She carefully wrapped his wound, her fingers nimble. "You are the second person he truly cares about outside of our immediate classmates and masters, you know."
"Who is the first?" Deming asked, his voice soft, curious, finding solace in her open nature.
"You met him. Hu Dingxiang from Snow Sector," Tam Qiu replied, a simple statement. "You look so much like him, it's uncanny. Maybe you two are twins, or close relatives like Ah Kun mentioned. It's truly amazing."
Guozhao Zhiqiang was walking along the corridor, heading towards the bustling main hall of the inn, when his path crossed with Hu Dingxiang. He slowly walked past Hu Dingxiang, his gaze fixed straight ahead, but then Hu Dingxiang, with a calculated swiftness, grabbed his wrist, stopping him.
"How is he?" Hu Dingxiang asked, his voice clipped, an edge of thinly veiled anxiety.
Guozhao Zhiqiang said, his voice cold, not looking at Hu Dingxiang, "He will live."
"Zhiqiang, did he say anything?" Hu Dingxiang pressed, his grip tightening, desperate for information. "Anything about me?"
"He didn't say you were involved," Guozhao Zhiqiang said, his voice flat, his gaze still avoiding eye contact, a deliberate ice. "He hasn't seen the boss's face, or so he claims."
"What are you talking about?" Hu Dingxiang asked, his voice laced with feigned confusion, though a flicker of unease crossed his features.
"What did I promise you nine years ago, Hu Dingxiang?" Guozhao Zhiqiang countered, finally turning, his gaze piercing, cutting through the pretense.
"I don't remember," Hu Dingxiang replied, his voice calm, too calm, a practiced denial.
Guozhao Zhiqiang chuckled, a hollow, bitter sound. "Of course, how do you remember things you haven't heard of?" He looked at Hu Dingxiang, his eyes burning with a terrible realization. "Do you know what the interesting part is?"
"What?" Hu Dingxiang asked, feigning casualness, though his guard was rising.
"Even though nine years had passed, he still remembered every word I said to him in that bamboo guesthouse, every tender touch, every desperate promise," Guozhao Zhiqiang stated, his voice low, filled with a chilling clarity. "And you, standing here, did not remember a single word of our conversation. Not one."
"You mean I have something to do with this?" Hu Dingxiang questioned, his voice carefully controlled, attempting to sound offended.
Guozhao Zhiqiang stared straight at Hu Dingxiang, his gaze unwavering, a cold, hard accusation in his eyes. "You took me back to Mountain Village because you needed me to help you win the competition, in order to marry Deputy Zhou's daughter, to secure your power. To ensure that I, would help you, you let Deming, your twin brother, replace you, and he spent those two days and one night with me, enduring the intimate demands you set. Am I right, Hu Dingxiang?" His voice was low, yet each word was a hammer blow of truth.
"What are you talking about? I don't know anything about it!" Hu Dingxiang protested, his voice rising in a desperate, panicked denial. "So, when you asked me, I didn't understand what you were talking about? I just met Deming today. I am as confused as you are. I want to talk to him. I want to know if he is my lost cousin that my mother often mentions, the one she longs for."
"You have a cousin brother?" Guozhao Zhiqiang asked, his voice laced with disbelief, sensing the desperate lie.
"Yes. I always go out hunting because my mother told me to find him," Hu Dingxiang said, his voice now tinged with a feigned sadness, a desperate attempt to manipulate Zhiqiang's empathy. "Do you think I want to marry Zhou Caihong? I did it because my mother asked me too. She's getting older. This is the only way I can repay her, by bringing prestige to the family."
"I see. You can be a good son and continue to fulfill your mother's wish," Guozhao Zhiqiang said, his voice dripping with icy sarcasm, his face devoid of warmth. He took three deliberate steps forward, then stopped. He turned to look at Hu Dingxiang, his eyes blazing with a cold fury. "A warning to you," he snarled, his voice low and menacing. He stared directly into Hu Dingxiang's eyes, his gaze unwavering. "Stay away from Deming. I will not let anyone harm or take him away from me. If you try, you will regret it more than anything."
"When I tell you I like you, I'm serious," Hu Dingxiang said, desperately grabbing Guozhao Zhiqiang's arm, trying to regain some control, some emotional leverage.
"Back then when I told you that I wanted you to go with me, I was also very serious," Guozhao Zhiqiang said, his voice raw with past hurt, pulling his arm away with a sharp, decisive movement, and walking towards the main dining hall, leaving Hu Dingxiang stunned and exposed.
Tam Qiu smiled gently at Deming, finishing the bandage. "There... all done. You'll feel much better now." She poured a cup of warm tea from the tray and handed it to Deming. "Brother Deming, why were you running away? You were limping so badly."
"I don't want to be a burden to anyone," Deming replied softly, his voice still tinged with the ingrained fear of being unwanted.
Tam Qiu smiled kindly at Deming. "I don't think Senior Brother would mind; he worries about you. I'm stepping out, you can change your clothes now." She walked to the door and closed it, giving him privacy.
After a while, Guozhao Zhiqiang walked back into the room with a tray of steaming food, the savory aroma filling the air. He placed the dishes carefully on the table. He picked up a pair of chopsticks and handed them to Deming.
"Eat something," Guozhao Zhiqiang said, his voice gentle. "Didn't you tell me you're hungry?"
Deming slowly stretched out his right hand, his movements hesitant, reached out, and grabbed the food directly with his hand, as he had been accustomed to. Deming stuffed some food into his mouth, eating ravenously. This unconscious habit immediately reminded Guozhao Zhiqiang, with a fresh pang of sorrow and a chilling certainty, of the night they had dinner nine years ago. Deming ate with his hands, just like before.
Guozhao Zhiqiang stood up and sat beside Deming. He took out his clean handkerchief and, with the same tenderness, wiped the oil stains from Deming's mouth and hands.
"Don't you know how to use those chopsticks?" Guozhao Zhiqiang asked gently, gesturing to the utensils.
Deming shook his head, his face a little embarrassed. Guozhao Zhiqiang, without another word, picked up the rice in the bowl with the chopsticks and, with infinite patience, fed Deming himself, spoonful by spoonful. After eating, Guozhao Zhiqiang gently carried Deming back to bed.
"I can walk to the bed. You don't have to hold me," Deming protested softly, a faint blush rising to his cheeks.
Guozhao Zhiqiang blew out the candles, plunging the room into darkness, then climbed onto the bed beside Deming.
"Why don't you go to your room?" Deming asked, confusion and lingering fear in his voice.
"This is my room," Guozhao Zhiqiang replied, his voice soft but firm.
"Should I go to another room?" Deming questioned, his voice small, unsure of the protocol.
"You have no money to pay for your own room," Guozhao Zhiqiang stated simply, a practical reality.
"Then I will sleep on the floor. I don't want to..." Deming began, his voice trailing off, afraid to articulate his deeper fear.
"I will do nothing, Deming. You are injured. Go to sleep," Guozhao Zhiqiang said, his voice gentle but resolute. He stared at Deming in the dark, his gaze filled with a protective tenderness. He had never told anyone, not even his Shimu, that he could see perfectly in the dark. Deming blinked slowly in the darkness, perhaps lost in thought, or simply resting. Deming's cute, innocent face, even in the dim light, brought a genuine, soft smile to Guozhao Zhiqiang's face, a rare sight.
It was close to midnight when a deafening thunderclap resounded across the night sky, and heavy, relentless rain fell on the roof tiles, its drumming sound filling the room. Deming's sharp cry for help, a terrified, muffled sob, awakened Guozhao Zhiqiang from his light sleep.
Deming murmured frantically in his sleep, caught in a terrifying nightmare, "Please let me go! I didn't see your face! I promise, I didn't see anything!" He started sobbing softly, his body trembling. "Someone helps me! Please help me!"
Guozhao Zhiqiang stretched out his hand and gently hugged Deming into his arms, holding him close, pressing him against his warm chest. "I am here, Deming," he whispered, his voice deep and soothing, "and I will always protect you. You are safe." His words, imbued with profound sincerity, immediately calmed Deming's ragged breathing, his sobs quieting. He kissed Deming gently on the forehead. "I am here. Don't be afraid, I will protect you."
Early the next morning, the Guozhao hunters and the four disciples of Snow Sector sat together in the dining hall, having breakfast before they parted ways, a shared meal for the last time. Hu Dingxiang's eyes, sharp and calculating, fell on Deming, who was seated beside Guozhao Zhiqiang.
Deming, sensing the gaze, also stared back at Hu Dingxiang, his eyes wide with a mixture of confusion and an unsettling recognition.
The first Snow Sector disciple, oblivious to the unspoken tension, remarked loudly, "Second Senior Brother, that person looks so much like you! It's uncanny!"
The second Snow Sector disciple added, "Indeed! If you two stand together, it will be hard to tell who is who at first glance!"
"My mother told me that I have a cousin who has been lost since childhood," Hu Dingxiang said, his voice calm, a practiced facade, a plausible explanation for the resemblance. "We look exactly the same. When I have a chance, I want to talk with him."
The first Snow Sector disciple, still chatting, noted, "He is with the Guozhao hunters, it seems."
Tam Liang put his bag on the table, signaling readiness. "Senior Brother, we are ready to leave whenever you are."
Tam Kun looked around the table, taking in the scene. "Senior Brother," he observed to Zhiqiang, "the Snow Sector disciples are also going to Capital City."
Tam Qiu, ever the peacemaker, smiled gently. "The road is for everyone to share, not just us. We must keep an open mind and share the journey."
The Guozhao hunters and Snow Sector disciples, seemingly by coincidence, shared the same road to Capital City. They knew that from here to the outskirts of Waterfall City, there would be no villages, no inns. During the next two days of their journey, they would have to seek shelter in abandoned temples or sleep on the side of the road, braving the elements.
Almost at dawn, the large group of young hunters discovered an abandoned temple, its ancient stones worn by time, a silent testament to forgotten deities. This temple was old and desolate, vines and trees growing into its crumbling walls, reclaiming it. The Guozhao hunters rested on one side, settling in, and the Snow Sector disciples rested on the other, maintaining a subtle distance.
Guozhao Zhiqiang sat beside Deming, his presence a quiet anchor. "You tired?" he asked softly, his voice full of concern.
"A little," Deming replied, his voice small, still unused to such solicitousness.
Guozhao Zhiqiang moved closer to Deming, his body radiating warmth, and gently put Deming's head on his lap, a tender gesture of intimacy. He felt a faint blush rise to his cheeks, a rare vulnerability, as he carefully wiped the hair from Deming's face. He smiled softly at Deming, who had closed his eyes, seemingly asleep.
Across the temple, on the other side of the dividing line, Hu Dingxiang stared intently at them, his eyes burning with cold fury, watching the intimate scene.
Deming wasn't truly asleep but had closed his eyes because Guozhao Zhiqiang wanted him to rest, a conditioned response to authority. He was afraid that if he didn't follow Guozhao Zhiqiang's requests, Guozhao Zhiqiang might hurt him, might revert to the cruelty he had always known.
According to Tam Qiu, Guozhao Zhiqiang was a good person, kind and principled. If he was a good person, as Tam Qiu mentioned, then why would he make friends with an evil person like the boss? This question tormented him.
Then he heard familiar footsteps approaching him, soft and deliberate. His heart beat fast, a frantic drum against his ribs, and he tried desperately to keep his breathing steady, feigning sleep. He dared not open his eyes, terrified of what he might see.
The boss's footsteps came steadily towards him, closer and closer. He thought, with a faint glimmer of hope, there are so many people here, the boss dares not hurt him in public.
Tam Qiu and others had treated him very well, and if the boss struck him, they were most likely to help him. He knew that there were so many witnesses, so many Guozhao Hunters and Snow Sector disciples. No matter if it was the boss or the kind man, they would not hurt him publicly.
His heart trembled wildly in fear, but at the same time, a fierce, desperate curiosity bloomed within him. He wanted, more than anything, to look into the eyes of the wicked man who had been torturing him since he was six years old, to finally see his tormentor. He gathered all the encouragement, all the courage in his heart, and slowly, deliberately, he opened his eyes. He was staring directly into the cold, calculating eyes of Hu Dingxiang.