"How long have I been out?" Xue Laohu croaked, his voice rough as sandpaper, as if he hadn't spoken in days. His body ached, and even breathing felt like dragging his lungs over shards of glass.
"Ten days," Xue Tuzi replied flatly, seated at the edge of the bed. His expression was unreadable, though the faint dark circles under his eyes suggested he hadn't slept much.
"Ten days?!" Xue Laohu blurted, bolting upright before regretting it instantly. A sharp pain shot through his ribs, forcing him to slump back against the thin, uncomfortable pillow. His mind reeled, panic swirling through his veins like poison. Ten days?! How could that be?
"That's impossible," he muttered, more to himself than to Xue Tuzi. The system said an hour. One damn hour. He swallowed thickly, his throat dry as a desert. That lying, conniving bitch! He screamed the thought inwardly, teeth grinding together as frustration bubbled beneath the surface. An hour? An hour, my ass!
The memory came rushing back like a tidal wave—the endless, chaotic chase, the piercing shrieks of those damn monkeys, the way their shadows stretched impossibly long in the dark, lunging for him again and again. His chest tightened involuntarily. It had felt like forever, like being trapped in a nightmare that refused to end.
"Well, enough about that," Sect Leader Mao said, flicking his wrist with a graceful flourish, the hems of his wide sleeves fluttering like the wings of a bird. The movement, though light, carried an air of authority. "I was worried you wouldn't be able to participate in our annual Dingbu Disciple Showdown."
Xue Laohu, who had been absently staring at the ceiling, turned his head sluggishly to face Sect Leader Mao. The old man stood tall with his signature brilliant smile, his almond-shaped eyes gleaming with an enthusiasm that matched the sun itself. The wrinkles at the corners of his eyes crinkled deeply.
"Huh…" Xue Laohu let out a reluctant grunt, his expression unreadable.
The reaction immediately wiped away Sect Leader Mao's good cheer. His whiskers twitched, his lips quivering in frustration as though holding back an exasperated reprimand. "Don't tell me you've forgotten about our annual showdown?" he said, his tone carrying a sharp edge.
Xue Laohu blinked. Before he could say anything, Sect Leader Mao had already begun pacing the room, stroking his beard with dramatic flair. "Well, I suppose it is the first time you've had disciples," he continued, his voice a mix of irritation and mild pity. He paused mid-stride, turning his head slightly to glance at Xue Tuzi and Li Zhameng, who stood quietly in the corner. "Perhaps you've never cared for it before. But now…" He hesitated for effect, his voice deepening, reverberating. "Now, you have two disciples of your own. You must participate!"
Before Xue Laohu could so much as form a response, Sect Leader Mao strode toward the door, the sharp echo of his footsteps filling the room. He turned back briefly, his expression leaving no room for debate. "The showdown will be held in two weeks. Rest well, Grandmaster Xue."
With that, Sect Leader Mao swept through the door, leaving it ajar behind him, his presence lingering like a gust of wind.
"Two weeks?!" Xue Laohu exclaimed, clutching his head as if it might split open. He groaned loudly, sinking deeper into the mattress.
"Shizun, mustn't stress," Xue Tuzi said softly, stepping closer and patting Xue Laohu's back with a surprisingly gentle touch. His brows were drawn in worry, though his usual doe-eyed gaze had sharpened with a hint of something far more serious. "Does Shizun not believe his disciples are capable?"
Xue Laohu looked up, startled by the subtle accusation in the question. "No, no, it's not that," he said quickly, waving a hand dismissively. His gaze landed on Xue Tuzi first—his sharp, determined eyes, his unwavering posture. Of course the Shou MC would win. That was never the problem. If anything, Xue Tuzi could probably take the whole tournament blindfolded with one hand tied behind his back.
His gaze then slid toward Li Zhameng, who stood off to the side, unusually quiet. The disciple fidgeted with the hem of his sleeves nervously, his shoulders hunched inward as though he might disappear if he stood still enough. Xue Laohu sighed heavily. And then there's him… The poor NPC. What chance did he have? What luck could a minor character like him ever hope for?
"I—I will try my best… for Shizun," Li Zhameng mumbled finally, his voice barely above a whisper. His cheeks flushed faintly, and there was an almost fragile sweetness in the way he uttered "Shizun"—a hesitancy that made Xue Laohu's heart soften slightly.
Xue Laohu managed a grin, flashing his signature pearly-white smile, but the expression froze halfway as his eyes swept across the room. A sudden realization struck him. "Wait a minute… Where's Shudu?"
He attempted to sit up, but Xue Tuzi immediately pressed him back down, brows furrowing deeply. "Why does Shizun care about that insignificant insect?" he asked, voice sharp with barely concealed disdain. His fists clenched at his sides, knuckles white.
Ugh, not this again, Xue Laohu groaned internally, rolling his eyes as he ignored the jab. Without bothering to respond, he pulled up the system screen in his head, scanning the stats. As expected, Shudu's relationship meter blinked with two bright pink hearts, while Xue Tuzi's sat at a glaring zero.
What a bitter guy, Xue Laohu thought solemnly, massaging his temples. You'd think in ten days, something—anything—would've happened. But no. Of course not. He sighed again, his lips twitching as determination flared in his chest. I guess I'll have to do everything myself. I am the narrator, after all.
Before Xue Tuzi could say anything more, a breeze swept into the room, rustling the curtains. In a sudden blur, Shudu appeared on the windowsill, crouched low, his long braid flowing dramatically in the wind. A smirk curled at his lips as he peered in with that familiar, lazy arrogance.
"My, my," he drawled, voice like silk. "This venerable one wasn't aware he was so esteemed by Grandmaster Xue. What an honor this is."
Shudu hopped lightly into the room, landing with cat-like grace. His sharp-toothed grin was aimed squarely at Xue Tuzi, who stiffened, his face darkening like a storm cloud.
"Shizun is surely not considering asking this vermin to participate," Xue Tuzi said tightly, his voice cold as ice. He turned his glare toward Shudu, every muscle in his body taut with barely contained hostility.
"No, no!" Xue Laohu said quickly, hands flailing nervously as he tried to diffuse the tension. "I was just wondering where he was, that's all!"
Shudu seized the opportunity to step closer, his hand darting out to clasp Xue Laohu's. His grip was warm, his touch surprisingly gentle. "This venerable one is honored to be at the forefront of Grandmaster Xue's mind," he murmured, his voice low and velvety, as though savoring the words.
Xue Laohu froze, his cheeks twitching as a wave of secondhand embarrassment hit him. He could already feel Xue Tuzi's burning glare drilling holes into the side of Shudu's head.
"Please!" Xue Tuzi snapped, rolling his eyes as he slapped Shudu's hand away from his Shizun's. His tone was sharp, his movements aggressive. "Is being annoying the only thing you know how to do?"
Shudu didn't flinch. Instead, he grinned lazily, his sharp teeth flashing like the edge of a blade. "How cold. This venerable one only wished to show his gratitude." He stretched his arms languidly, his posture nonchalant as if Xue Tuzi's irritation was no more than an amusing spectacle.
Xue Laohu sighed loudly, rubbing the bridge of his nose as he sat up. The air in the room was thick with tension, Xue Tuzi's sharp gaze was fixed on Shudu, throwing daggers as though he could flay the man alive with a look alone. Shudu, by contrast, lounged carelessly against the wall, yawning every now and then, deliberately stoking the flames of Xue Tuzi's rage with his insufferable calm.
"Alright, that's enough!" Xue Laohu said, his voice cutting through the building hostility. "We only have two weeks to prepare, and none of us can afford distractions."
He glanced between the two men, shaking his head at their complete lack of harmony. Their chemistry is a disaster, he thought, almost exasperated. How the hell am I supposed to narrate this mess?
Suddenly, an idea flashed through his mind. His eyes landed on Li Zhameng, who had been quietly standing in the corner, looking more like an awkward ornament than a disciple. "Meng Meng," Xue Laohu said, his voice softening, "can I have a word with you… alone?"
Li Zhameng's eyes widened instantly. His cheeks flushed a deep crimson, and he stiffened as if struck by lightning. Shizun wants to speak to me alone?! he thought, heart pounding wildly. His mind raced, conjuring up increasingly fantastical scenarios. Does he know? he wondered nervously. Does he know I fed him the medicine through my mouth?The thought made his face burn hotter, his fingers fidgeting against the sleeves of his robe.
While Li Zhameng silently romanticized about what this "private talk" might entail, Xue Laohu turned back to Xue Tuzi, ignoring the oblivious daydreaming disciple. "After I'm done speaking with Meng Meng," he said, tying the sash around his loose robes, "I'd like to speak with you as well."
Xue Tuzi nodded, straightening. "Of course, Shizun." He turned toward the table, where a bowl of steaming dumplings sat waiting. "But first, please eat these before they go cold."
Xue Laohu's gaze flickered to the dumplings, steam rising gently and carrying a savory, mouth-watering aroma. He paused, his wariness unmistakable as he eyed the bowl with thinly veiled suspicion. "Who made them?" he asked cautiously, as though the dumplings might explode at any second.
"I did," Xue Tuzi said with a touch of pride, his lips curling into a small smile.
Xue Laohu let out a long, relieved breath, the tension visibly draining from his shoulders, he could not afford to eat another one of Li Zhameng's concoctions. "Oh, thank goodness," he muttered. "Then I'll be enjoying them." He picked up the bowl, a grin breaking across his face. "A-Tuzi makes the best dumplings," he added sincerely.
As he brought the first spoonful to his mouth, Xue Tuzi's cheeks turned a faint pink, his expression softening with quiet satisfaction. Without another word, he turned and departed, the sound of his footsteps fading down the hall.
Shudu, who had been watching the exchange with narrowed eyes, stood stiffly, arms crossed over his chest. He frowned deeply, his gaze darting between Xue Laohu and the now-vanished Xue Tuzi. After a moment, his expression darkened further, and with a huff of irritation, he spun on his heel and stormed out of the room, his braid fluttering behind.
"Don't follow me!" Xue Tuzi's voice echoed faintly from down the hall, sharp and unmistakably annoyed.
"Why so cold?" Shudu's teasing response floated back, though his words were chased by the unmistakable sound of footsteps in pursuit.
The door swung shut, leaving behind a heavy silence. Xue Laohu let out a long, quiet sigh of relief, setting the bowl of dumplings back down on the table.
His eyes shifted to Li Zhameng, who remained rooted in place, still lost in thought. His cheeks were a faint shade of pink, and his lips twitched as though he were replaying an imaginary conversation in his head.
Xue Laohu stared at him for a long moment before sighing again, this time in resignation. What the hell did I get myself into?
"Meng Meng!" Xue Laohu called out, his voice carrying lazily as he leaned forward over the table. He brought the bowl to his lips, slurping loudly, the rich broth dripping down the corner of his mouth before he wiped it away with the back of his hand in a careless gesture.
Li Zhameng turned his head at the sound, his wide, emerald eyes with specks of gold brightening as his gaze landed on his Shizun. Xue Laohu sat there, utterly unbothered, his robes hanging loosely off his shoulders, exposing a tantalizing glimpse of his defined collarbone and chest. A mischievous grin tugged at the corners of his lips, and his sharp, fox-like eyes gleamed with a teasing light. Li Zhameng's heart gave an involuntary flutter at the sight—his broad-shouldered Shizun looked dangerously good.
Xue Laohu approached him, casually setting the now-empty bowl down on the table with a dull thud. "So," he started, licking the lingering soup off his lips absentmindedly, "has anything happened between Xue Tuzi and Shudu while I was out?"
The question blindsided Li Zhameng. He blinked, startled, and furrowed his brows. Out of all the imaginary scenarios he'd spun in his mind—ones far more intimate and dramatic—this was not what he expected. Pouting slightly, he replied in a sulky voice, "A-Tuzi has been here the whole time. He hasn't left Shizun's side."
Xue Laohu groaned loudly, dragging a hand through his tousled hair before planting it over his forehead. "Ugh… figures." He slumped onto the table, defeated. After a moment, he waved his hand dismissively. "Well, that's it. You're dismissed."
Li Zhameng froze. That's it? He stared at his Shizun sulkingly, his mood deflating like a punctured balloon. He glanced down, his fingers fidgeting with his sleeves, before looking back at Xue Laohu, who was now leaning lazily on the table, chin resting in his palm while his free hand tapped rhythmically against the wood.
"Call A-Tuzi over. I want to speak to him," Xue Laohu mumbled, his voice weighed down with resignation.
"Yes, Shizun…" Li Zhameng muttered dejectedly, turning toward the door. As he reached it, he paused, stealing one last glance over his shoulder. His eyes were soft and pleading, brimming with unspoken longing as they lingered on Xue Laohu.
Xue Laohu raised a brow, his expression bewildered as he propped his chin up on his hand. "What? What's wrong?"
"This… this disciple wants a hug from Shizun," Li Zhameng blurted out shamelessly, his gaze darting downward as crimson bloomed across his cheeks.
Xue Laohu exhaled slowly, a wry smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "How old are you?" he asked flatly, his tone edged with mock exasperation.
"Twenty-five…" Li Zhameng admitted quietly, his voice muffled by embarrassment as he tried to shrink into himself.
"And you still need a hug?" Xue Laohu's whisper cut through the silence like a brush of wind, startling Li Zhameng as he suddenly realized his Shizun had already crossed the room to stand right in front of him.
Li Zhameng's eyes widened, and he stammered nervously, "T-this disciple simply wishes to greet Shizun back with a—"
Before he could finish his thought, Xue Laohu pulled him forward into a tight embrace. Li Zhameng stiffened for a moment before melting into it, his arms coming up hesitantly to return the gesture. Xue Laohu's chin rested against Li Zhameng's chest for a beat, but something felt off. Frowning, Xue Laohu muttered, "Wait… have you always been this tall?"
The realization struck him belatedly—Li Zhameng was slightly taller. Just enough for Xue Laohu to feel, for the first time, the awkwardness of being on the shorter end of the embrace.
"If Shizun wishes," Li Zhameng said softly, his voice tinged with amusement as he looked down at him, "this disciple can crouch down."
Without waiting for permission, Li Zhameng bent his knees slightly, sinking lower so that he could wrap his arms snugly around Xue Laohu's waist. He pressed his cheek lightly against his Shizun's chest, a small, satisfied smile spreading across his lips.
"Wait—have you been crouching down this whole time?" Xue Laohu demanded, his tone a mix of disbelief and irritation.
Li Zhameng tilted his head up to meet his gaze, the smile still there as he nodded innocently. "Yes, Shizun."
Xue Laohu's eye twitched as he stared at his disciple, feeling the heat of embarrassment creeping up his neck. Dammit, he cursed internally. Not only am I a thousand-plus-year-old grandmaster trapped in this ridiculous world, but now I'm also shorter than the NPC?! The system is definitely screwing me over.