Slag Shou Cultivating Manual - Chapter 89

Chapter 89: Drinking Under the Flowering Tree and Moonlight

Jiang Hanzheng and Kong Huai shared the same master, inevitably leading to comparisons.

“Didn’t Jiang Hanzheng act all smug after forming his foundation not long ago? Now that Senior Brother Kong Huai, the real deal, is back, he can only keep quiet!”

“Kong Huai? That senior who was so impressive in the competition? But I think the master treats Senior Brother Jiang much better… I still admire Senior Brother Jiang more.”

“Ha, you’re new here, so you don’t know how much the master used to dote on Senior Brother Kong Huai. These two—one with a single spiritual root and the other with five—are worlds apart! Besides, Jiang Hanzheng got a few scratches during the competition, but Senior Brother Kong Huai? He finished off his opponent in just a few moves, leaving everyone dumbfounded.”

“Oh, I see…”

Whenever the grand competitions were held, aside from the duels among the experts, the newcomers and disciples unable to participate also had their own amusements. The daily events of the competition became topics of conversation after cultivation practice. By the later rounds, there were even bets placed with spiritual stones on the outcomes of matches.

At this moment, Kong Huai was naturally the favored choice.

He Lang was aware of these things and could imagine Jiang Hanzheng’s discomfort at being constantly compared to others. However, the young disciple never mentioned it.

Jiang Hanzheng was naturally reserved. When he felt down, he didn’t know how to vent his feelings and could only work harder on his cultivation. Worried he might develop a mental block, He Lang brought two flasks of fine wine and invited him to sit beneath a flowering tree on a bright moonlit night.

Jiang Hanzheng had never touched alcohol before and felt uneasy, politely declining when his master urged him to drink.

He Lang ignored his refusal, setting two luminous cups on the stone table, pouring the wine. “You’re already sixteen, no longer a child. If you were living among mortals, you could already marry and have children. A little wine won’t hurt.”

“Cultivators shouldn’t marry or have children…” Jiang Hanzheng shook his head, pursing his lips. The austere life of a cultivator had shaped his limited understanding.

“Cultivators aren’t monks; how could they not experience love?” He Lang chuckled, sipping his wine. His eyes sparkled as he looked at him.

Jiang Hanzheng blushed and finally complied, nervously holding the cup with both hands. His master wasn’t wrong—cultivators could indeed find companions to share their lives with.

A sudden, improper thought crossed his mind. He found himself wanting to know about his master’s past, wondering if He Lang had ever been touched by the mortal world’s emotions.

“What are you thinking about? Aren’t you going to taste it?” He Lang’s voice suddenly brought him back to reality, accompanied by a soft exhale. Startled, Jiang Hanzheng nodded and downed the entire cup of wine in one gulp, only to choke and cough uncontrollably.

The wine was, of course, spicy, and Jiang Hanzheng’s face turned bright red as he coughed, eyes filled with confusion and discomfort, clearly not expecting such a taste.

He Lang couldn’t help but laugh, patting his back to help him breathe. Covering his mouth to stifle a chuckle, he felt a childlike joy from teasing him.

The cool night, illuminated by the stars and moon, did not feel stifling or oppressive.

He Lang poured him another half-cup of wine, teaching him how to sip it slowly and savor the warmth as it went down his throat.

Jiang Hanzheng, half-bewildered, drank a few more cups, eventually discovering the pleasant aftertaste of the wine. His tense mood gradually relaxed as he let out a deep breath. Curious about his master’s familiarity with wine, he asked, “Master, how did you first come to drink?”

He Lang swirled his cup, sniffing the aroma wafting from the rim. The question gave him pause, his gaze drifting to the distant moonlight as memories of the past surfaced in his mind.

His first drink was to gather the courage to confess his feelings to He Zheng. The two were approaching adulthood, on the verge of marriage, and He Lang feared he’d regret it forever if he didn’t act. Back then, He Zheng was aloof and cold, hard to approach. After three cups of rice wine, He Lang found the nerve to make his move. Otherwise, his reserved nature might have kept him silent for a lifetime.

Later, why did he drink? Perhaps it was still because of He Zheng.

When he had to comply with his father’s wishes and marry, he drank himself into a stupor to drown out the festive noise and the sight of endless red decorations.

And, of course, he could never forget the cup that ended his life—the poisoned wine He Zheng personally handed him.

Lost in thought, He Lang didn’t notice Jiang Hanzheng setting down his cup and watching him closely.

“Master must be remembering something unpleasant,” Jiang Hanzheng thought, feeling a sudden ache in his heart as he noticed the faint regret and vulnerability in his master’s eyes. “Who is Master missing? What painful memories do they bring?”

Summoning his courage, Jiang Hanzheng reached out to clasp He Lang’s arm, bringing him back to the present.

He Lang rubbed his forehead, regaining his composure. “Just some trivial things, not worth remembering,” he replied nonchalantly.

“Doesn’t drinking only add to your sorrows?”

He Lang raised his cup and asked, “Are you sorrowful now?”

“Not at all. Drinking with Master feels quite lighthearted,” Jiang Hanzheng shook his head firmly, clinking his cup against He Lang’s and smiling shyly.

The two exchanged a glance and drained their cups together.

It was Jiang Hanzheng’s first time drinking, and he had no sense of restraint. Initially, he sipped cautiously, but later, he drank more freely, enjoying the rare opportunity to open his heart to his master. By the time he realized it, his head was already spinning.

As the alcohol clouded his senses, he found himself looking at He Lang’s bright, dark eyes. Following an inexplicable impulse, he leaned into his master’s embrace, rubbing against him like a kitten seeking warmth.

He Lang gently ruffled his hair, unbothered by his overly affectionate behavior. “Finally relaxed, are we? You’ve worked hard today. I haven’t even congratulated you on passing the first round yet.”

Hearing this, Jiang Hanzheng grumbled, downing a few more cups in frustration. His mood grew heavier, and he eventually murmured, “But I’m not happy at all…”

He was indeed drunk; otherwise, he wouldn’t have confessed so openly.

“What’s wrong? It’s just trivial matters…” He Lang reassured him, supporting his warm, flushed body.

Jiang Hanzheng looked up from his embrace, his reddened eyes filled with confusion and defiance.

“No matter how hard I try, will I never be Master’s only one? Since entering the sect, I’ve vowed to make Master proud, but no matter how much I strive, I can’t catch up to Senior Brother. Is five spiritual roots truly inferior to one? I want to be the best. I don’t want to be abandoned again or return to that dark, hopeless past. I want to stay by Master’s side forever… but I’m so tired…”

He rambled on incoherently, but He Lang listened to every word. Eventually, his voice faded, and he fell silent, resting his head on He Lang’s shoulder.

He Lang patted his flushed cheeks, damp from tears. Seeing the wetness on his hand, he sighed deeply, his expression unreadable.

Gently cradling him, He Lang intended to carry him back to his room. However, Jiang Hanzheng clung tightly to him, making it difficult to move.

Looking up at the vast moonlit sky, He Lang felt a sudden weariness.

With a soft sigh, he leaned back against the sturdy pear tree trunk, allowing Jiang Hanzheng to sleep in his arms for the night.

Unbeknownst to him, someone had been watching them from a distance for quite some time.

Kong Huai stood silently, observing their every move.

What could he feel in this moment? Could he only think that his master’s affection, once entirely his, had long been stripped away and given to Jiang Hanzheng instead?

He had left the sect because his master had suddenly expressed love for him, leaving him overwhelmed and burdened. He had fled under the pretense of going on a training journey.

But now, watching the gaze that once belonged to him shift to a mere five-rooted disciple, Kong Huai’s pride could not accept it.

Fixing his eyes on He Lang and the way he gently caressed the young man in his arms, Kong Huai realized how captivating his master’s features were—those dark eyes, slender fingers, and every graceful motion.

Perhaps the wine fumes had clouded his own thoughts, for he found himself wishing he were the one in his master’s embrace.

But as he stared at the peacefully sleeping Jiang Hanzheng, Kong Huai’s eyes narrowed, a frost settling over his heart.

He would show his master who truly deserved to be abandoned.

A waste like Jiang Hanzheng, with such lowly roots, had no right to covet what was not his.

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Author’s Note: I recommend my friend Qi Shi Sun Quan’s new novel Plain Congee and Side Dishes, a heartwarming story about daily life featuring a capable, loyal seme and a savvy, energetic uke!