MW CH64

Chapter 64: Only Love Endures Forever (End)

After that, I got updates on He Nanyuan in Haicheng through Mochuan.

Before New Year, He Mingbo returned to Haicheng—He Nanyuan reached out first, setting a spot to return Bai Zhen’s Xin Yin.

I asked Mochuan if He Nanyuan should have backup meeting He Mingbo—just in case. Same line from him: He Nanyuan’s grown—let go, trust him to handle it.

High schooler or not, He Nanyuan’s steady. Haicheng’s safe, civilized—worst case, he’d thrash the jerk—no biggie, right?

New Year’s Eve—Shen Jing sent a news link.

Clicked—headline hit hard: Male Artist Obsessed with Young Boys, Serial Online Romances.

Gossip-rag style—recapped a coffee shop ruckus from days back.

Scanned it—summed up: He Mingbo got coffee splashed—perp, a teen—claimed to be his online fling, duped, while He Mingbo was conning another kid.

Video attached—passersby footage—two boys blurred, He Mingbo’s face crystal clear.

I: “…”

No faces—but Cenglu garb’s a dead giveaway. Instant—knew one’s He Nanyuan. Other? Guessed—laundry kid.

[Old scumbag’s vile—preying on kids?!] Shen Jing—fuming—ready to shred him live.

Kept it short—joined the roast.

[Beast once, beast forever.]

He Mingbo—minor celeb. News didn’t blow up society-wide—circle insiders? All knew. He cried misunderstanding—still a total clown show.

No clue what went down—but damn, satisfying.

Guys like him—fake lofty, true slime—tanking his rep hurts more than a beating.

Forwarded the link to Mochuan—post-text-fail fiasco, he’s on WeChat now.

[Little Yuan’s grown—nailed this big time.]

Soon—his reply.

[Didn’t mention it—just said he got the Xin Yin back. Coffee-splasher’s the laundry one?]

[Looks like it.]

[Good kid.]

New Year’s Eve—streets near empty. Window open—leaned on the balcony—smoked. Down jacket on—still shivered in the gusts.

Far off—outer ring, maybe—faint fireworks flickered.

Lively. Checked my phone—top left—just past ten.

Wait… this late—Mochuan’s up?

“Still awake this late?” No hands free—sent voice.

“It’s New Year’s Eve.”

His voice—wide awake—quick back.

More puzzled. “Cenglu celebrate Xia New Year?”

Never heard that.

“We don’t…” Pause. “But you do.”

Heart thudded—distant fireworks burst in my chest—cold wind couldn’t touch the heat inside.

Voice call—one ring—he picked up.

“Staying up with me?” Cigarette pinched—grinned.

“Mm.”

“Not sleepy?”

Quiet—then: “Drank lots of strong tea this afternoon.”

Laughed harder—poor guy, toughing it out.

Finished the smoke—back inside.

“By the way—no silence this trip back?”

Slept in my bed—did all that unmonastic stuff—should’ve triggered silence. Nothing—weird.

No dodging—owned it. “Can’t silence for Winter Abundance… plus—far off—let it slide.”

Blinked. Far off—from the Mountain Lord? Excuses piling up—funny.

Breaking vows—first time’s raw, second’s easy—third, fourth? No sweat. Victory’s close—year or two, he’ll ditch that Nine-Colored Deer crap.

Outside noise faded—inside, pure quiet. Faint page-turns—asked what’s up—he’s reading a thriller from He Nanyuan’s shelf.

Odd. “Why that?”

“Wanted something gripping—stays awake.” Yawned right after.

Shed my coat—hit the bed. “Not gripping enough, huh?”

“Writing’s meh.”

“Want me to spice it up?”

Long silence.

Up—into the closet—opened the safe—pulled a waist chain—ruby, sapphire, emerald.

“Made you a waist chain—wear it with ‘Immortal’ next time…” Worried he’d miss it—added, “No clothes kind.”

Green leaves, red berries, blue blooms—woven into a vivid fruit pouch—center, a cornflower-blue sapphire. Bare—drapes right over the lower belly’s tease zone.

Works clothed—still gorgeous—but I love him in my pieces—state just for me: ornate, holy, solemn, fallen.

Thrilling thought.

“What’s it called?” Snapped a pic—sent. Later—he asked.

“Eden.”

Lush divine garden—tempting forbidden fruit—paradise and lust—purity and seduction. No name fits it—or him—better.

“Eden…” He echoed—sounded perkier. “Can’t wear it clothed?”

Locked it back—stifled a laugh. “Sure—less punch. Oh—post-holiday, skip school lodging for that Haicheng meeting—stay with me—I’ll drive you to Haida daily.”

Soon—Haicheng reunion—rare us-time—giddy, humming.

He crushed it fast.

“Might not make it this year.”

Half-in-bed—shot up—face fell. “Why?”

“Qia Gu’s back tomorrow—with his little friend. Guests here—I can’t dip.” Explained.

“They’re leaving tomorrow?”

“Mm.”

“Then I’m with ‘em. You’re not coming—what’s here for me? I’m out.” Quick call—dragged the suitcase from the closet—flung it open—stuffed clothes. “How they going? Plane?”

“High-speed rail, then train.”

“How long—dozens of hours? Brutal. Tell Little Yuan—they fly with me.” Feared he’d balk—spoiling kids—pushed. “Little Yuan alone’s fine—but with a friend?”

Toughening He Nanyuan’s fair—guest too? Overkill.

He mulled—saw sense. “I’ll call him.”

“Say it’s your idea.” Else that brat’ll dig in—reject my tickets.

“Got it.”

Hung—kept packing. My stuff—Mochuan’s—Wan Yi’s haul for Yan Chuwen.

Guo Shu stayed in Pengge this year—no homecoming. Yan Chuwen—couldn’t leave her solo at the institute—stayed too.

New Year’s dinner—expected Wan Yi to rag on him. Nope—beaming—quizzed me on Guo Shu.

Sudden—dots connected—epiphany—hit me like Yan Chuwen clocking me and Mochuan: Yan Chuwen? Guo Shu? Them?! Since when??

Wan Yi knew my bi-monthly Pengge runs—piled me with stuff for him.

Sea goods Cuoyansong lacks—sea cucumber, bird’s nest, two ejiao boxes—obvious who’s really getting ‘em.

Phone buzzed—Mochuan sent He Nanyuan and the kid’s IDs.

Kid’s “Mi Xia”—fits him—summer-hot.

Booked three business-class seats—tomorrow morning—screenshot to Mochuan.

Minutes—he called—sent it to He Nanyuan.

Braced for fuss—none came.

“No ‘troubling me’ this time?” He nags—I’m annoyed; he skips—curious.

“Found out saying it bums you out,” he said slow. “Don’t want that.”

He noticed—thought he missed it…

“Not bummed—just hate you playing polite.” Coughed light. “Family—what’s trouble?”

Wan Yi’s line—first time saying it—awkward.

Switched gears. “Winter clothes—thick—box’s bursting… Pengge cold lately? Wear more—don’t cough again… Little Yan’s got drama—today I—”

Chatted—time slipped. Bang—fireworks, his end.

“Institute direction.” He stepped out—snapped a downhill firework pic.

Checked—past midnight—new year.

Yan Chuwen—romantic bastard.

“Happy New Year.” His voice—soft wind—filled my ears.

“Happy New Year.” Rubbed the phone on my cheek. “See you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow.”

Hung—stared at my bulging suitcase—racked my brain—what’s missing?

Hit me—yep.

Bedside drawer—dozen-plus 001s—dumped ‘em in—already stuffed case overflowed.

Amused—snapped a pic—sent Mochuan.

No reply—asleep, maybe.

New Year’s Day—WeChat turned greeting central. Contacts—silent or not—popped post-midnight—mass texts.

Replied “Happy New Year” to a few—Sun Manman’s stopped me.

Hers—hand-crafted—pure heart.

[Bro, Happy New Year! Wishing you health, success, no creeps! Mom and I welcome you home for eats anytime!]

Bai Qifeng—caved to Lawyer Cai—pleaded guilty. Barring shocks—sentenced this year. Good attitude—Sun Lin repaying loot—Cai says lighter term likely. Sun Manman—burden lifted—smiles back.

[Happy New Year! Wishing you and Auntie peace, joy, health, luck. Bro’s your rock—chase anything—boldly. Your happiness—I’ll back every call.]

10 a.m. flight—up early—hit the airport by 7—ate breakfast—waited. Mochuan—awake—text lagged in.

[Guests here—chill a bit.]

Raised a brow—ignored it.

[Nope.]

Near 9—two kids hit the lounge.

“Uncle!” Mi Xia—lively as ever. “You’re early—when’d you get here?”

“Hour ago.”

He Nanyuan—same old—air around me.

Friends with Mi Xia—hating me’s not Xia bias. Confirmed—he knows something.

Haicheng to Shannan—five hours. Shannan to Pengge—two-three more. Deer King Temple—past 5 p.m.

Luggage—had the driver detour—up the back hill—parked at the gate.

Mochuan—waiting—saw us—sent He Nanyuan and Mi Xia with bags.

Mi Xia went—I moved—he blocked.

“Didn’t say you’re in.” Eyes warned.

Leaned on my suitcase—blind to it. “Why? Temple skips Xia—fine—sent me elsewhere before. Mi Xia’s in now?”

Not serious—two rooms—who’d I bunk with? Just… love riling him—him stumped.

Steps up—eye lock—few seconds—lashes dropped. “Too much worldly lust.”

Oh? Now I’m too lusty? Forgot his own starving glares.

“Your words.” Pointed—dragged my case—walked off.

Institute—Guo Shu out—Yan Chuwen alone—prime grilling time.

“Little Yan—sneaky—big moves, quiet.” Shoved Wan Yi’s supplements at him. “Thought you stayed for science—turns out it’s the junior.”

Shy grin. “Both, both.”

Balcony—cold wind—I smoked—he spilled on Guo Shu. He Nanyuan and Mi Xia strolled—waved—chatted a bit.

Guo Shu—back pre-dinner—saw the haul—refused. Said I won’t haul it back—she’d tell Wan Yi herself—no choice—thanked me—took it.

Figured—he’d text by night. Nope—held out—11 p.m.—nothing.

Asleep for real?

Backpack on—trekked up—temple doors shut—no sweat—scaled the high wall.

Hall window—Mochuan’s gap habit—I’ve warned him.

Fingers under—flicked—latch gave. In—shut it behind.

Bad habit—too easy a breach.

Twisted his doorknob—unlocked—sighed. Worse habit—outer lock’s enough—inner’s free. Winter—doors shut. Summer—wide open—windows too.

Pengge’s safe—low crime—no fool robs a Cenglu temple. Still—prep beats chance…

Parted the bead curtain—pushed in—not quiet—roused him.

“Who?” Dark—bed’s edge—voice low, cool—no edge.

“Who else?” Dumped my backpack and coat at the door.

Straddled his lap—leaned to kiss—hand to chest—stopped.

“Kids are here…”

“Back rooms—won’t come.”

Still low. “What if they’re up?”

“Bathroom’s far—they’d never know.” Grabbed his hand—scraped his knuckles—hushed hot in his ear. “I’ll prep—you jump in.”

Fingers jerked—push turned grip.

No next move.

Time for the big guns.

“Pinjia—past mind’s ungraspable, present mind’s ungraspable, future mind’s ungraspable. All ungraspable—why not seize now?” Diamond Sutra bait.

Fingers curled harder—wavering.

“Don’t want it—I won’t push.” Lifted his wrist—off his lap. “All me—wishful thinking.”

“Bai Yin.” Voice sank—broke silence.

Ignored—grabbed my coat.

Chased—gripped my hand in the dark. Faked a struggle—he scooped me—horizontal toss—bed.

Rolled—milking the act—propped to leave—he pinned me—kissed hard.

Kiss—edged with ire—rougher—bites fierce.

Plan worked—wrapped him—offered my neck—smug. “Mmm… too lusty, huh? What’s this?”

No restraint—he’d hear the glee—know I played him.

Bit my neck—hand down my waist—pants off. “Shut up.”

Gasped—pain—still pushed. “…Pinjia—betraying the Mountain Lord—feels good, huh? Me too…”

Yes—sink in lust—forsake faith—yield to me.

Pissed—retaliation—no buffer—charged.

Breath caught—choked—cursed. “Fuck—easy!”

Brow knit—tough to take—arms tightened.

“Pāśuṇ.” Lips parted—two words.

Pāśuṇ—demon king—shapes to derail Buddha’s crew. Rules desire’s realm—thrives on love’s fall—drags escapees back.

No defense—spot on.

Hooked his neck—lips to ear—shaky whisper. “I’m Pāśuṇ—wrecking your path.”

Next—he’s a feral bird—tongue stormed my mouth—devouring inside out.

Peak—sobbed—rubbed his cheek—cracked “I love you” by his ear.

Froze—seconds—then mad—Mountain Lord, guests—gone—gripped my waist—demanded repeats.

“I love you… I love you…” Nails raked his sweaty back—wanted to scream—held it—bit his shoulder.

He tensed—sat me up—arms locked—no gap between.

“Bai Yin—you’re mine forever.” Kissed my wet eye corners—soft.

Night—wild. Maybe—under the Mountain Lord’s nose—no dodging this—he silenced again next day.

Fine—used to it now. Sometimes—no words—eyes and face say it all.

Days after—daily temple runs. He Nanyuan—busy with Mi Xia—less lightbulb duty. Mochuan silent—Li Yang’s English fell to him.

Winter break—days oddly calm.

“Afternoon—Bazhai Sea?” Read his note—asked. “Can I tag?”

Frown—I knew—no-go.

“Tell Lei Lang skip the pickup—I’ll drive. Promise—stay far.”

Dead’s an elder from Zuochang—custom—village head Lei Lang ferries Pinjia to Bazhai Sea.

“Here—if I beat you at chess—I go, deal?” He wavered—I pressed.

No words—face screamed: You? Beat me?

Pouted. “No Go—Gobang.”

Gobang—hesitated.

Taunt. “What—Pinjia scared?”

Glared—scribbled “Yes” sharp.

Go—he’s pro, I’m rookie—no chance. Gobang—tables turn—I’m ace, he’s green—I win.

Tossed pieces in—smirked. “I won—you agreed…”

Fast learner—except Gobang—always loses.

Stared—irked—looked past me—froze. Next—Mi Xia’s voice.

“Uncle, Uncle—chess?”

Turned—Mi Xia—beaming—strolled in.

Bold kid—saw our Gobang—scoffed—challenged Mochuan to Go.

Mochuan—pro-level—Mi Xia alone? Dream on.

“Play this… trust me—here… Uncle, why bully kids!” Solo—no shot. Plus me—him easing up—two-on-one—tie’s doable.

Got fun—Mi Xia—hooked—kept going—‘til I nudged Mochuan—time.

“Love it? Take it—play with Little Yuan.” Saw his itch—suggested the board for the lodge.

Paused—eyed Mochuan—hopeful—nod—grabbed it—bounced off.

Winter Bazhai Sea—same as my first—bleak, barren—miles, no souls.

No wind—huge lake mirrored snow peaks—clearer than glass—like a world below.

Gust hit—waterbirds skimmed off—shore grass flattened—lake’s mountain shattered.

Mochuan—grand Yan Guan robes—rowed to the center—funeral rite—I’d seen once.

Promised—stayed back—far from the family dock.

Leaned on the car—pulled my smokes—lit one. Glove off—tricky—sent it to my lips.

Puffed white—lake lapped shore—rustled—center horn wailed, long, mournful.

Horn faded—center figure shifted—looked my way.

Bit the cig—raised both hands—waved big.

He held—watching—face unclear—felt like a smile.

Dead—a 103-year-old—passed in sleep. Anywhere—joyful mourning. Kin—light grief—rite done—dispersed quick.

Waited ages—saw him trudge over.

Rubbed numb fingers—ten meters—couldn’t hold—rushed up—snuck his hand—walked back.

Winter gear—thick—his sleeves wide—close eyes miss it. Still—cautious—just fingertips.

Our love—maybe never blessed. Ahead—trials loom.

Once—unknown scared me. Now—no fear.

Past mind—ungraspable. Present mind—ungraspable. Future mind—ungraspable.

Past, present, future—a river of time. Humans drift—past’s gone, future’s unborn, now slips to then.

So—drop dread of what’s not—past’s knots—follow the heart. Cherish each meet, each hold, each wild rush.

This world—nothing lasts—only love endures.

“Oh—Kun Hongtu texted—Solan Auntie made tons of pastries—for me, you, the kids—wants me to grab ‘em. Drop you—hit Zuochang…”

Mochuan squeezed—took my whole hand.

Looked—he pointed—car, himself—mouthed: “Together.”

Laughed. “Good—together.”

From now—one splits two—two fuse one. Together—hot love, years, forever.