Chapter Text
“Will Mo Ran be returning today?” Chu Wanning asks in a sedate, almost indifferent tone. His expression remains restrained and stoic; rigid and cold like carved marble.
One likely would have never guessed that such a dignified, lofty man would even ask after his estranged husband—and once wayward disciple. Much less everyday for the past two weeks, and always, consistently, at the same hour.
Liu-gong doesn’t pause from his work, carefully clearing the dishes on the small table after Chu Wanning has finished eating breakfast.
Likewise, Liu-gong responds in much the same calm, unhurried manner, albeit with a touch more warmth, “As a matter of fact Chu-zongshi, the young master is indeed due to return today. A brief message arrived just earlier.”
At the words, Chu Wanning feels his stomach flip momentarily. Though all he does outwardly is to move his gaze to look at Liu-gong, away from where it had been distractedly staring out the window. A brief message, huh? And it was addressed to the caretaker instead of Chu Wanning.
“Please take no offense, Chu-zongshi,” Liu-gong glances up briefly, giving Chu Wanning a ghost of a smile that reminds him of Xuanji Elder, in a way, “Mo-gongzi’s dominant hand has been injured, and did not wish for you to read his handwriting at that state.”
“Injured?” Chu Wanning asks sharply as his body tenses, his attention honing in on the word and pushing aside the rest.
“He has healed enough to be able to write again,” Liu-gong calmly meets Chu Wanning’s gaze, his expression soft and patient, “And Mo-gongzi will arrive later today for Chu-zongshi to see for himself.”
Slowly, Chu Wanning lets the spike of anxiety bleed out of his body. Shortly after, he feels his cheeks heat up slightly out of embarrassment at his display of irrational worry. Liu-gong is right, of course; if Mo Ran was still in any sort of danger, he wouldn’t have been able to send a message here.
How shameful it is, to be comforted by this kind, old man, despite all of Chu Wanning’s extensive experience with battles and wounds. As if Chu Wanning is some dewy eyed, sheltered omega, fretting over his injured mate away from home. The thought makes Chu Wanning shudder internally.
“Would you like to get ready for the day, Chu-zongshi?” Liu-gong asks as he stands near the doorway, holding the tray of used dishes.
Chu Wanning gives a short hum of assent, and stands to follow the man outside of the room.
—
In the morning that followed their wedding night, Chu Wanning had awoken to an empty house. He hadn’t known what to expect during that night. After they had entered the bedroom, Mo Ran stood behind him, and slowly, carefully peeled the layers of red and gold wedding robes off his body. Done with such attention and care as if Chu Wanning was an exquisite gift being unwrapped.
Each layer of clothing had slid off of his body, guided attentively by Mo Ran’s hand. Chu Wanning had felt his heart flutter faster with each and every one, until all he had been left wearing was a thin and plain white robe. He had held his breath after, the trepidation of what was to come causing him to freeze entirely in place.
But Mo Ran hadn’t done anything in the moment that followed, Chu Wanning couldn’t hear anything from the other man, even his breath. Not until what felt like an eternity later, when he had heard a long, deliberate exhale from behind him.
Yet instead of doing anything that Chu Wanning had been anxiously bracing himself for, Mo Ran’s hands began working on removing the accessories on Chu Wanning’s hair instead. All done with the same deliberation as he had when he had been undressing Chu Wanning, like he had all the time in the world.
When the last of the hairpin was removed from Chu Wanning’s hair, leaving it all down and completely unstyled, Mo Ran stepped around to face him, and looked at him with a level of intensity he’s never seen from anyone. Twin dark pools had traveled downwards in a slow, almost sensual manner. Going from Chu Wanning eyes and down to his body, which was clad in nothing but a thin, sheer layer of simple, white robes.
Mo Ran’s gaze had returned to meet his, and the other man had reached out, gently taking the end of a lock of Chu Wanning’s hair, and pressed it against his lips.
‘Wanning looks very beautiful with his hair down,’ Mo Ran had said in a low, husky voice, never breaking eye contact as he spoke.
Perhaps it is a mark of how foolishly desperate Chu Wanning is, to have heard that, and hoped, very briefly, that maybe…maybe it meant something more. That it might have even been true, even if it was only in the eyes of one person—and the only one that mattered.
The air had been thick and heavy with Mo Ran’s strong, earthy and heady scent. Chu Wanning thinks he remembers it to be best described as intoxicating, overpowering, and just on the verge of overwhelming. It had wrapped around him almost protectively, possessively. As if he was something worthy enough to be desired and coveted.
And yet, Chu Wanning had gone to bed alone that night. And alone still, when he had woken up in the morning that followed. The bed had been far too large and cold for one person to sleep in alone.
But what was there left to do for someone with already limited time as he did? Even before, he would never be one to mope around and lament in his bitterness for too long. Chu Wanning had done as he always had, which was to pick himself back up and move forward with his life. Besides, being unwanted was hardly new to him. Though perhaps marrying the person you love for a second time, whilst still being unwanted, could be described as being more than a little pathetic.
As big as the room he stayed in was, the scent permeating in the room from the night before had clung persistently. Chu Wanning’s primal instincts basked in their mixed, twined scents despite his better judgment. It had felt right…it had felt good.
Shame had curdled the fluttering sensation at the pit of his stomach, twisting further when he had felt his own slick wetness between his thighs as he had moved to get up.
It would not be a stretch to say that, one of the greatest humiliations Chu Wanning had to endure, had been the walk from that room to the pond outside. An old, withered omega past his prime feeling his slick running down his bare thighs from his own unconsummated wedding night.
—
“...Chu-zongshi?” Liu-gong’s muffled voice sounds through from outside.
“Hm?” Chu Wanning responds absent-mindedly, abruptly taken out of his musings.
“Please let me know when the water gets cold,” Liu-gong continues, “It wouldn’t do for you to catch a cold, Chu-zongshi.”
Though he knows the old man meant well, he can’t help the way his eyes roll briefly. It’s a sign that he’s spent too long in the bath then, probably an hour or two and the poor man was worried Chu Wanning had fallen asleep in the tub. In Chu Wanning’s defense, that had only happened once.
The water is still lukewarm, thanks to the bright, sunny summer day prolonging its warmth. And though Chu Wanning would love to spend the rest of the day indulging himself, he knows he should make better use of his time.
The luxury of a hot bath is something all members of Sisheng Peak are granted, they need only go to Miaoyin Springs for it. But Chu Wanning valued his privacy over the comfort of a hot bath, and has never tried to go back after the first time.
A bit sardonically, Chu Wanning can’t help but think that if there was any undoubted benefit to agreeing to this marriage, then it was this small indulgence Mo Ran had allowed for him.
Not long after Chu Wanning had settled in the pond in the morning after their wedding night, Mo Ran had found him. It was the first time he had ever seen Mo Ran appear so unrestrained in his worry. Needless to say, though he had felt a bit guilty, Chu Wanning had not disliked his attention.
‘Chu Wanning,’ Mo Ran had sharply barked his full name, so far removed from the way he would usually say Chu Wanning’s name or title.
He barely had the time to realize what was happening before he had found himself wrapped back in his robes, which had clung uncomfortably to his wet skin. And with Mo Ran’s robe joining it soon after. Though Mo Ran had scooped him up, it had felt less romantic and more like he was some unruly pet, especially when Chu Wanning had started to struggle.
‘What were you thinking? Do you want to catch a cold?’ Mo Ran had hissed at him, and the genuine worry in his tone made Chu Wanning pause in his attempts to break free, ‘What if you get sick?’
At that point, Chu Wanning had stopped squirming, instead feeling both ashamed yet indignant at being scolded by his own disciple. A petty, childish part in him had sullenly thought to respond that it was summer, anyway. The water was as warm as it would naturally get. Even he wouldn’t catch a cold from that.
‘What if someone else saw you?’ Mo Ran had continued in a low, dark, almost inaudible tone. His scent had curdled into something harshly astringent and overpowering. Were it directed at someone else, at someone who wasn’t Chu Wanning, maybe he would have described the tone and scent as possessive.
But for all that Chu Wanning is Mo Ran’s spouse, he is not Mo Ran’s mate. After all, who would covet an old, defective omega like him? If anything, it must have been out of shame, which Mo Ran had been doing a semi-decent job of trying to hide from him. Yet even Mo Ran must draw the line at the possibility of someone witnessing his old, unsightly shizun’s bare body in his home.
The day after that, Mo Ran had introduced Chu Wanning to Liu-gong, who was apparently the caretaker of Mo Ran’s home, usually when he was away. Mo Ran explained that, starting from then on, Liu-gong will attend to Chu Wanning’s needs, including preparing a hot bath every morning.
In the past, maybe Chu Wanning would have tried to protest, being treated like a spoiled wife. But Chu Wanning has resolved to himself that, with what remaining time he has, he will at least try to spend it happily. A kindness that he thinks he can finally allow for himself, in this time of peace.
—
“How would you like your hair styled today, Chu-gongzi?”
Instead of replying with his usual answer, Chu Wanning pauses and quietly thinks of Mo Ran’s words to him during their wedding night, and ends up saying before he can catch himself, “Leave it loose.”
“Oh?” The young girl behind Chu Wanning peeks her head to the side to meet his eyes in the mirror, “Are you planning to sleep in today, Chu-gongzi?”
Chu Wanning raises a brow at her words, a mix of amused and indignant, and doesn’t dignify her with a response. Did he look like the type to sleep in?
“Aw, are you sure you don’t want it braided?” The girl’s sister pipes up from beside her, holding up a few silk ribbons of different colors, “Your hair’s so nice and soft, Chu-gongzi, it’s gonna look really pretty in a braid.”
“No, thank you,” Chu Wanning replies with as much dignity as he can muster. Though he has to give the twin girls credit for never failing to ask him everyday anyway. At least they haven’t offered to put his hair up in twintails, he supposes.
It’s strange, to wake up to a world that has moved on without him, and for enough time to have passed for most disciples and servants of Sisheng Peak to be unfamiliar with him. These girls must have only been nine when the Heavenly Rift opened—years before they arrived in Sisheng Peak. And they regarded him with none of the same distance or fear that the disciples of Sisheng Peak did from before.
Once, his pride would have never allowed it, being addressed in this way by these children as if he was anywhere near their age. Liu-gong, despite always being affable and calm, had pointedly but not unkindly told the girls to address Chu Wanning properly.
He himself had been in a rare, maudlin mood back then. What even would be the proper way to address him, when he no longer had the cultivation or strength to back up that status? And so he waved the old man off, and told him to let them address Chu Wanning as they wished.
Most of the time, Chu Wanning drowns out the girls’ idle chitchat, only half-listening to whatever topic they so happily share together and giggled at from behind him. Such noise would have annoyed him before, but now it’s a welcome distraction. He spends all his days in Mo Ran’s home now, and though Chu Wanning enjoys the silence and appreciates Liu-gong’s quiet company, he occasionally misses the bustle of Sisheng Peak’s disciples.
Today, they seemed to be talking about their shixiong who had snuck out to go to a brothel last night, but was caught just as he was about to escape it this morning. Such a thing, of course, is punishable by Sisheng’s rules, he comments disdainfully before he can stop himself. Chu Wanning is more than familiar with it thanks to Mo Ran’s inclinations in his youth.
The older of the twins, Li Yun, now sitting to his right, nods furiously from the corner of his eye, “Shizun was really mad. Well, mad that shixiong got caught, anyway.”
“And by the Sect Leader’s nephew, no less,” the younger one, Li Xing, whispers loudly from his left.
For a moment, Chu Wanning pauses, then blinks. Firstly, surely these girls know whose house they’ve been tending to the last few weeks? And second…if Mo Ran caught the girls’ shixiong, then he must have been there himself in the first place.
As if reading his mind, Li Yun giggles from beside him, which grates at him today in a way it never has before, “Doesn’t that mean Mo-gongzi was there himself?”
“That’s enough, Miss Li,” Liu-gong’s voice calls from the doorway, his footsteps fast approaching, “Please don’t bother Chu-zongshi with such mindless gossip.”
The old man gestures to the doorway, offering to escort the girls outside. They both whine at Liu-gong that they weren’t done, unsubtly looking to Chu Wanning for help. On a better day, Chu Wanning might have even indulged them. Yet today, he can’t even bring himself to look their way to bid them farewell, or to raise his gaze at all. It’s not their fault. They don’t even know about Chu Wanning’s current connection to Mo Ran. Even then, what the two of them shared was not romantic in any way. And yet, he still feels an irrational sting of resentment that flares up, which he tries to extinguish viciously.
Once Liu-gong returns, he kneels close to where Chu Wanning was sitting, “Please don’t let such gossip affect you, Chu-zongshi. Mo-gongzi wouldn’t do that to you.”
It was the first time Chu Wanning has seen or heard Liu-gong be anywhere close to flustered. And while the old man’s scent has always been unobtrusive, almost nonexistent—due to both being a beta and his age—this is the first time Chu Wanning even notices it’s there. And perhaps that’s the most telling of them all.
Liu-gong must know or at least have guessed that Mo Ran’s marriage to Chu Wanning is not out of love. But of course, the old man cares about Mo Ran, and so he likely still wants to defend his image in Chu Wanning’s eyes.
Chu Wanning doesn’t acknowledge Liu-gong or his words, only slowly lifts his gaze to meet his own reflection in the mirror again. It takes all his self-control not to visibly recoil at the familiar, revolting sight that greets him. It has been a while since he’s felt this level of repulsion upon looking at his own image. Perhaps having the girls around helped in their own naive, silly way, always giggling about how ‘pretty’ he looks, how nice his hair was.
Time has not been kind to Chu Wanning. His features have always been too sharp, too cold. Cutting and rigid, in a way an omega should never be. His eyes lacked the softness and warmth that an omega should have, which should be nurturing and gentle. Perhaps if you looked at his skin in a certain light, it would seem fair and even enticing. But for most of the time, his paleness just adds to his sickly pallor. None of the healthy, glowing vigor that seemed natural for most omegas and even some betas.
With the combined lack of his cultivation, as well as being in seclusion for the last five years, Chu Wanning has lost even his body’s well-kept form. His muscles had atrophied in the time he was in seclusion, and he tires far too quickly these days to try to even gain it back. There had been nothing remarkable about him when he was young, and yet, it seems like he has only grown more unsightly in these last few years.
Truly a pitifully far cry from the countless, lovely, delicate omegas Mo Ran must always have, throwing themselves at him, be it from a brothel or somewhere else. Sweet and soft, beautiful and desirable in a way that Chu Wanning can never even imagine himself being.
And how, despite having such beauties throwing themselves at Mo Ran, the man only had his gaze trained on one person. Someone who wasn’t even an omega, yet all but embodied one perfectly. From his looks, down to his personality. Soft, peach blossom eyes, complementing his peerless beauty, with a demure and gentle soul. A paragon of the kind of unrivaled beauty that men went to war for.
Chu Wanning casts his gaze back down to the floor and bites his lower lip, resenting himself for even thinking of feeling envious. Of his own disciple, no less. Shi Mingjing has always been kind to him, just as he was to everyone. It was only the natural order of things for Mo Ran to hold Shi Mei as the most precious in his heart, too. For Chu Wanning to even think of comparing himself is foolishly, disgracefully, hubristic. There is not even a competition.
—
“Chu-zongshi, wouldn’t you like to wear these robes?” Liu-gong fusses over him, holding up a light blue set of robes that looked very clearly made of fine material, “Mo-gongzi had it tailored especially for you. They’re soft and comfortable to wear especially in the summer.”
There were also various hairpins and accessories on the table of varying levels of gaudiness that Chu Wanning barely glanced at. Liu-gong must understand his preferences, as he seemed to not even try to convince Chu Wanning to wear any of them. And the old man had picked the simplest-looking robe out of the selection in the wardrobe, too.
The robe was undoubtedly beautiful, even in its simplicity. With its silver-colored lotus patterns and trimmings, subtle and delicate. It would likely frame and hug its wearer’s form and highlight their natural appeal. It might even be the kind of style Chu Wanning would maybe consider for himself, before.
But what use was there in trying to dress up now, anyway? What difference would it make if Chu Wanning wore these same, plain white robes he owns in bulk that he wears everyday, instead of those beautiful, light blue robes? If anything, won’t he just look uglier, trying to wear something nice and pretty to make up for the rest of himself? No, he’ll stick to these plain and drab white robes.
“What about these, Chu-zongshi?” Liu-gong brings out a set of white robes with silver trimmings, similar to what he used to wear on more formal occasions. The collar is high enough to cover almost the entirety of his neck. The style is far more severe and sharp than the previous set. One that far better suited himself from five years ago, when he had still been the respected Yuheng Elder of Sisheng Peak.
The faintest hint of a familiar warm, fresh and earthy scent causes Chu Wanning to freeze in his seat, turning his head to look at the doorway in trepidation. Liu-gong has stopped talking as well, and Chu Wanning can’t see his expression, but he does hear the shuffling of his footsteps, hurried and brisk.
“I will greet the young master, Chu-zongshi,” Liu-gong, bows to him, but he looks at Chu Wanning with seeking eyes when he continues, “Would you…like to come with me to welcome him home?”
Should he? Would Mo Ran even want to see him so soon after coming back? Perhaps it would be better to let the man come to him in his own time, as Chu Wanning has always let him.
“Mo-gongzi would be happy to see you again after a long while, Chu-zongshi,” Liu-gong adds, almost as if reading Chu Wanning’s thoughts.
Happy is quite the generous adjective to describe it, Chu Wanning muses. Though he would like to see for his own eyes that Mo Ran is well and safe. And, quite selfishly, which he can barely acknowledge even in the safety of his own thoughts…
Chu Wanning has missed Mo Ran.
—
Hesitation slowly builds within Chu Wanning, with every step closer he takes towards the doorway that will lead him to where Mo Ran is. What should he even say to greet the man, who is not quite his disciple anymore, yet not quite really his spouse? Anything he can think of is either too cold and distant or too familiar and unearned. Yet a greeting is better than none at all, he thinks, should Mo Ran mistake his silence for disdain.
As Chu Wanning steps around the doorway, with his eyes cast downwards, he bravely lifts his gaze up to look at Mo Ran. Yet Chu Wanning’s first intake of breath to speak withers and dies in his throat, cutting off abruptly, almost chokingly.
Mo Ran’s fond, smiling expression freezes from where he was turned towards Shi Mei’s placid yet equally pleasant expression. It’s obvious to anyone that they had been laughing together. It’s nothing improper or even particularly special, even if Chu Wanning was truly Mo Ran’s mate. And yet, Chu Wanning feels his heart constrict in an agonizingly painful yet familiar way anyway. Always so humiliatingly, greedily envious and coveting of even the most innocent of interactions. Of a gentle moment filled with mutual affection.
“Shizun,” Mo Ran and Shi Mei greet him in sync, turning towards Chu Wanning simultaneously. The synchronized movement causes his chest to squeeze further. It’s always these simple, subtle ways of how they display that they’re in tune with each other that bothers Chu Wanning the most. It’s petty and ugly, and he hates himself all the more for it.
Shi Mei’s expression remains unchanged, if a bit surprised, still as sweetly pleasant as before even as it turns towards Chu Wanning. Mo Ran’s gaze, however, flattens quite visibly. His smile falters just the slightest bit in the corners, and yet that’s all it takes for it to appear from genuine to forced.
“Welcome back, Mo Ran,” Chu Wanning pauses. and swallows to wet his dry throat, before continuing, “Hello, Shi Mei.”
Deep, dark purple eyes look Chu Wanning in the eyes, before it roams down on his person in a seeking way that would make the hair on his skin stand. That is, if it weren’t for the clear, increasing displeasure in the other man’s expression.
Liu-gong’s voice comes from behind Chu Wanning as he hears the old man step closer, “Welcome back, young master, it’s good to see you again.”
If it weren’t for Chu Wanning closely watching Mo Ran’s expression, he likely wouldn’t have noticed the way Mo Ran jumps slightly, as if surprised. He blinks deeply once, looking at Chu Wanning for a moment, before turning to smile at Liu-gong as he greets him back, “Liu-gong, it’s good to see you too.”
“Shizun,” Mo Ran’s gaze turns back to him, though he’s not quite looking Chu Wanning in the eyes as he steps closer slightly, “I didn’t expect to see you come out here. Has shizun been well?”
The words speak of concern for Chu Wanning’s well-being, yet Mo Ran’s actions reflect a different purpose. The movement Mo Ran takes in which he gets visibly in-between Chu Wanning and Shi Mei is so excruciatingly obvious, slightly obstructing Chu Wanning’s view of the man. The possessive, protective gesture is unmistakable especially in the instinctual way Mo Ran does it.
“Fine,” Chu Wanning grunts, crossing his arms as he turns away from his disciples. He told himself he would strive to be more accepting of his place, to be grateful of what little he shares with Mo Ran, and yet…
“I apologize, shizun, did we disturb your rest?” Mo Ran asks, and for a moment, the question confuses him, before Chu Wanning realizes how he must look right now. With his unkempt appearance and unstyled hair, he must seem like he rolled out of bed just now.
Humiliation stings his cheeks and ears heatedly. How utterly embarrassing. It’s one thing to be seen by Mo Ran in this state, which he had been prepared for. But to be seen in this disheveled state while in the same room as Shi Mei? To remind Mo Ran painfully of the extent of what he had to sacrifice, even temporarily, for Chu Wanning. All out of some misguided sense of respect or duty to preserve his shizun’s dignity.
“No,” Chu Wanning says shortly, before turning around, unable to let Mo Ran endure focusing his attention on Chu Wanning, when Shi Mei was right behind him, “And it’s your home, how could you be disturbing anything?”
He intends for the conversation to end there, and to exit the room and the conversation with as much dignity he can put together. But a hand grips his wrist, just as he hears Mo Ran call him, stopping him in his tracks. And he unthinkingly pulls away, startled by the sudden contact. It’s immediately followed by a low grunt that sounded pained and caught off-guard. Chu Wanning is suddenly reminded of Liu-gong’s words from earlier, of how Mo Ran had been injured, which was the cause of his delayed return.
Quickly, Chu Wanning turns back around and steps closer, reaching out towards Mo Ran, “Mo Ran—?”
Chu Wanning’s hand lands on the side of Mo Ran’s arm, both to steady the other man and attempt to soothe him. Yet just as he does so, Shi Mei reaches out as well, holding Mo Ran’s other arm and doing a much more effective job of steadying him.
“A-Ran, we just talked about how you should move more carefully,” Shi Mei comments from where he was, on Mo Ran’s other side. Though the words are scolding, his tone and expression are light and gentle. If the words had come from Chu Wanning, Mo Ran would have likely taken it the wrong way. But coming from Shi Mei, he just huffs out a sheepish laugh.
“Yeah, my bad,” Mo Ran smiles as he shrugs lightly, “Thanks.”
As Chu Wanning watches the interaction from up close, he fights the urge to flinch away, even as he feels his stomach curdle and sink nauseatingly. Mo Ran is hurt, and Chu Wanning wants to make sure he’s okay, and that’s the only thing that should matter right now.
“What’s wrong?” Chu Wanning wilts internally at how he sounds, always so stiff and unkind, “Are you injured badly?”
“It’s nothing, shizun,” Mo Ran turns his head away, before pulling away from Chu Wanning’s touch, “Please don’t worry yourself over me.”
“Don’t be stubborn, Mo Weiyu. Clearly it’s not nothing if even moving slightly hurts you,” Chu Wanning lowers his hand and tries not to clench his fist at the side, unwilling to be deterred by the sting of Mo Ran rejecting his touch.
“Me, stubborn?” Mo Ran repeats, sounding offended by the very word, “Seriously?”
And for the first time in a while, he looks at Chu Wanning with something else in his gaze, something more familiar. He lowers his head and scoffs lightly, but then he shakes his head. And quite unpredictably, he looks back up at Chu Wanning with a brilliant, amused seeming smile.
“I really am fine, just bruised,” Mo Ran explains, patient and gentle, “I just need to rest for a bit, and I’ll be good as new. Right, Shi Mei? Back me up here, will you?”
“A-Ran will be fine, shizun,” Shi Mei smiles and nods serenely at Chu Wanning to confirm, “I’m here to help him walk to his room to rest. Shizun doesn’t need to worry.”
Something sharp and blazing erupts from within Chu Wanning’s chest, and he has to bite his lower lip to stop himself from having an unwarranted, jealous outburst. The surge of bitter self-reproach follows immediately. Who does Chu Wanning think he is, to even think of acting like a jilted lover?
“I can help, too,” Chu Wanning offers, perhaps a bit too heatedly. He looks at Mo Ran from beneath his lashes, trying to subtly check whether the other man noticed. He tempers his embarrassingly eager words with an addition of, “If you’d like.”
Mo Ran stares blankly at Chu Wanning, blinking once, before he shakes his head with a laugh, “Mm, it’s alright. I'm afraid I might be too heavy for shizun to support, anyway.”
Chu Wanning already expected Mo Ran’s answer before he even asked. And so, he swallows his indignation, and after a pause, accepts the dismissal for what it is, “Very well then.”
Despite everything, Chu Wanning is not a masochist, nor is he utterly unable to read social cues. He refuses to willingly stay here a second longer, when it all but feels like his heart is being carved out of him once more. To once more, over and over again, be faced with the undeniable proof of how Mo Ran has eyes for one person alone. How Mo Ran will always prefer Shi Mingjing’s company over anyone else's, much less Chu Wanning’s.